Wingman for a While

I had no idea what I'd done wrong. Something, though, had happened after Lina kissed me and whispered 'Goodnight', and before I saw her at her car. For the life of me, though, I couldn't figure it out.

So I had to contact Lina, to apologize - or to find out what the hell had happened.

Unfortunately, I didn't have her phone or cell number, or her email address. Rob was no help - he didn't have Andrea's contact info either.

I googled her. Nothing. Maybe Lina was some kind of short form, or nickname. Her last name wasn't much help, either. I got 1.4 million hits. Turns out her last name is the 4th most popular surname in Hungary. Great.

She wasn't on any of the social networks that I'm familiar with. So I joined a few more. I even tried

fucking

Facebook - but she wasn't there, either. There were literally

hundreds

of Lina Horvaths, and Lina Horvats - but none of them were her.

Rob didn't know Andrea's last name, the dickhead, so I couldn't look for her, either.

I moped, and listened to sappy music. I listened to 'Wild Horses', over and over. 'Graceless lady, you know who I am, You know I can't let you slide through my hands.' That verse brought tears to my eyes.

I played the worst game of my short professional career. Coach benched me, and told me after the game to get my head out of my ass.

It cost me a case of beer to have a friend of a friend to get me access to the U of T Med School email directory. I hoped that she might have an account there. No. I also tried their Twitter account. No.

I went to the admissions office, and asked nicely if there was anyone by her name registered there. They wouldn't tell me.

In short, I did everything that I could think of, short of camping out at the Med School and hoping to run into her.

Rob wasn't very sympathetic.

- "Max - it's just a girl. You're losing your marbles, here."

- "She's not just a girl, Rob."

- "This is even worse than that chick from Tremblant."

- "Corinne. She wouldn't talk to me because you stuck your dick in her face! Hey - you didn't do something stupid with Lina, did you?"

- "Nah, man. You chose her. I got it. Besides - the blonde was smokin' hot."

- "Andrea."

- "Yeah, her."

Hire a private detective? Would they be able to do something I hadn't? I didn't have a picture of her. All I had was a pain in my chest.

Rob had a solution, of course.

- "Daytona. Spring Break."

- "No." I said.

- "Max, you need a break. You're killing yourself. And your lacrosse game is suffering."

- "Not interested. Besides, I have games every weekend. Away games."

- "I know." said Rob. "But after the Colorado game, you could meet me in Daytona. Unwind. Get that pickle out of your ass."

Being Rob, he wouldn't let it go. He kept at me until I finally agreed, just to shut him up.

It was a mistake. Spring Break is for younger people. Nineteen, twenty years old. Underage drinking, screaming their heads off, puking on their shoes. And the guys were pretty stupid, too.

The girls were all so young. Most of them looked like they were auditioning for a 'Girls Gone Wild' video. We must have seemed like a couple of old creeps perving on them.

Rob hit a cold spell. His magic wasn't working. He struck out repeatedly the first night there. That was actually ok with me, because I wasn't even sure that I wanted another girl.

- "Baseball, my friend. Baseball." said Rob. "Even the best hitters strike out. What's a good batting average? 300? That's three out of ten. Man, I must average 5 or 6 out of ten."

"So tonight is an off night. I think we're working the wrong places. These kids are too young. Got to find us some slightly riper hotties."

I got shitfaced while Rob preached his sports analogies to me.

But he was right. The next day, he found a women's beach volleyball tournament going on. We watched a match, and then Rob went over to hit on the losing team. They were better looking by far than the winners. And they seemed to like Rob's bullshit. There was only one problem.

The setter, Sharon, was 5'8'', a good-looking brunette with a slender, athletic build. The hitter was Jane. She was 6'2".

Care to guess which one I got?

- "No problem, Max." said Rob. "You can go

up

on her."

Jane was actually quite pretty, and had a nice body. It was just disconcerting to be with someone who looked down on me all the time. She had this habit of tilting her head down whenever I spoke to her.

These girls were in the mood to party. They matched us, drink for drink. They got pretty raunchy, too, with dirty jokes. Luckily, I didn't have to dance with Jane. That would have been ... weird. When Rob suggested continuing the party at our motel, they were all for it.

Given the difference in height between us, I thought that the sooner I could get Jane horizontal, the better. She was eager for it, too.

Damn, but her legs were long. Her skin was tanned, or sunburned, everywhere. Or maybe it was both. The only parts of her body that weren't burned was a bikini strip around her pussy, and her boobs. They were bright white, and stood out a mile in contrast with her tan. Her boobs were also surprisingly soft, compared to how hard the rest of her body was.

I did go down on her, and she returned the favor with a fairly proficient blowjob. By the time we got to the main event, I knew that missionary wasn't going to work, and I didn't dare to try doggy style, for fear that I'd need a stool.

Instead, I lay her half on her back, half on her side, with her legs together. That left her ass cheeks stacked one atop the other, with her wet, hairless pussy exposed between them. I knelt there, and inserted my cock.

It worked just fine. I could reach her boob, to play with her nipple, or grab her top leg and pull her back towards to me, impaling her even deeper on my rod. Finally I put my own right leg over both of hers, and started to pummel her hard and fast.

A good time was had by all. The girls left shortly after that, telling us that they had two matches the next day. They invited us to come watch them. There were no goodbye kisses, or exchanges of contact info. Jane was a good fuck, but we didn't kid ourselves that there would be a repeat.

- "Not bad, right?" said Rob. "The slump is officially over."

***

The next night, Rob found a funky little club with a cover charge. That would be enough to keep away most of the young'uns, who were on a tight budget. The pickings were fairly slim, but there were a couple of hot black girls on the dance floor.

The one facing us was statuesque, with a heroic set of boobs that she was happily shaking back and forth. Her friend, with her back to us, was much shorter, but with a tight little body and a super ass.

Both girls were wearing shorts, skimpy little tops that barely covered their treasures, and ... high heels. Not your usual attire for an evening of dancing - at least not where I'm from. But that may be why Rob spotted them. He went off to chat them up, while I tried to get us a couple of drinks.

It took me a while, but Rob seemed to be doing well with the tall one. He had moved, with them, to a corner of the dance floor. When he saw me, he waved me over.

- "This is Monica." he said, indicating the taller girl, whose big breasts were spilling out of her top on all sides.

"And this is Danielle." The shorter girl turned around, and smiled at me.

God help me.

I was tempted, for a moment, to run away. Screaming.

Danielle was ugly. She was maybe 5' tall, with a tight ass, a slim waist, and fake boobs that looked huge on her. But the first thing I noticed was that she had awful teeth. Crooked, with a huge gap where she was missing one of her front teeth. Her eyes were a bit too close together. And a ring through her nose didn't help.

I was very brave. I stood my ground, and took a second look, hoping to find some redeeming feature. She shouldn't have gotten a boob job: the tits looked good, but they were too big for her tiny frame. Her legs were long - relatively speaking. Longer than her torso, anyway. The end result was that her boobs were way too close to the top of her shorts, leaving very little space for a stomach. Finally, she had big hair, permed and straightened. It made her head look too big for her body.

I could have ignored or overlooked most of these oddities. After all, I had fucked Diane, the fat girl. But every time Danielle looked my way, she smiled. My dick was shrinking, and my testicles were retreating.

Rob avoided eye contact with me. He knew what I was thinking. But quite plainly he wanted the bigger girl, Monica. So he set me up.

- "This is my buddy Max." he shouted, to the girls. "

Best - wingman - ever.

"

I was stuck. Yeah, you might think that I should have just left. But I'm a team player. You don't leave a teammate hanging. In hockey terms, you pass the puck.

Even when the guy you're passing to is a puck hog

. The fact that Rob wouldn't take one for the team is immaterial.

Basically, I had two hopes. Maybe Rob would overdo it, and strike out with these two girls. Or, if he didn't, I could buy Danielle drinks and get her so hammered that she would pass out.

Uncharacteristically - for me - I chose dancing. That way, I could stand behind Danielle, and not have to see her face. She kept turning her head to smile at me, though.

I also thought that I might get used to her face. Not that I would come to like it - just that I would grow accustomed, and not shiver every time she showed me her teeth.

Wrong on all counts. Rob was on a winning streak with Monica, and though I poured drinks into Danielle like it was going out of style, that girl could hold her liquor.

Monica invited us back to their rooms, because they were staying in a fancier hotel than we were. They also had adjoining rooms - just in case, they said. Rob got us a taxi, and we all piled into the back seat. The only way we could fit was if Danielle sat on my lap.

- "Fine with me." she said, with a giggle. "Here's some Brown Sugar for you, Red."

She didn't sit still, though. She squirmed, and twisted, and gave me a reverse lap-dance as she shifted around. She turned her upper body so that she could kiss me.

I have a very strong stomach. I closed my eyes, and tried not to picture her teeth, and I managed not to gag. But I also have a traitorous dick. All of her squirming produced the anticipated result in my pants.

- "Now we're in business." she laughed.

You're thinking that I should have made a run for it. Even at the last minute, I could have gotten away. They couldn't have caught me, in high heels. But I was thinking of Diane. That poor fat girl would have been devastated if I had rejected her.

Now Danielle might not have had confidence issues. She was pretty drunk, so I couldn't tell. But it wasn't her fault that I had an asshole for a wingman.

I have to admit, too, that I was thinking about my own reputation. I didn't give a shit what these two girls thought of me. But if I bailed on Rob, there were plenty of people in Toronto, or even back home, who would hear about it. I've made a name for myself as a stand-up guy - the kind of guy you want on your team. Reputations take a long time to build, but only an instant to lose.

I think my attitude was about 50-50, between not wanting to reject Danielle, and risking my reputation. At least adjoining rooms meant that if I failed, Rob wouldn't be there to see it.

Danielle was very aggressive - maybe it was the liquor. On the way from the elevator to her room, she slipped her hand inside the front of my pants. She had to pass me her key, to open the door. As I did, she undid my pants completely. I entered her room with my pants around my ankles.

She was giggling drunkenly as she pulled her off her tiny top. Her store-bought boobies thrust out horizontally, like fully inflated balloons. Her nipples were dark brown, and they were pointing straight at me. She peeled off her shorts, revealing a tiny thong.

- "How about a drink?" I suggested. Maybe I could still get her wasted.

- "No." she giggled. "I want to see what you have there, for me."

She got to her knees in front of me, and pulled my underwear down. But it wasn't going to work. She was too short, for one. And if she was going to look up at me while she sucked my cock, then I was going to have a difficult time maintaining an erection.

I had an inspiration. I got my pants and underwear off, and stood her up, then knelt in front of her to remove her thong. That brought me up close to her crotch. Her pussy was dark brown, very fleshy, and, thankfully, fairly fresh. Danielle might have been ugly, but she had a pretty pussy.

Then I surprised her. I stood up, and grabbed her around the waist. I picked Danielle up. She wasn't very heavy - 90 pounds, give or take a few. I turned her upside down in mid-air. Then I lowered her a little bit, so that her face was level with

my

crotch.

- Ooh!" she said, and she went right to work, trying to gobble down my dick.

I had to lean over a bit, and bend down, but I was able to eat her pussy that way. I was quite pleased with my own ingenuity. I was getting a blowjob, with my nose in Danielle's most attractive parts - and I didn't have to look at her face.

She squealed when she came. I'll admit that I fucked her face for a bit, until she tapped out.

- "I want to fuck." she whined.

Well, there was only one position for Danielle and me. I got her on the bed, on her hands and knees, and took her doggy style. There was nothing wrong with her ass. It was firm, tight, and scrumptious.

Danielle was moaning, but she kept trying to twist around and look back at me. That wasn't helping me. So I growled, and got dominant with her. I pulled her ass up a bit higher, and pressed her head down into the pillows. Then I drove her home, slamming it to her hard and fast, until she squealed again, and I blew my load into the condom.

Luckily, she was nearly ready to pass out. I got her under the sheets, and then went to use the bathroom. I counted sheep until I thought it was safe. When I came out, she was asleep.

I got dressed, and got out of there. I went downstairs and waited in the lobby for Rob.

He came out of the elevator about half an hour later. He was smiling.

- "Hey, Max. Did you use one bag, or two? For her face, I mean."

I was in no mood. I grabbed Rob by the shirt, and pushed him back against the wall. He was taller and heavier than me, but I caught him off-guard. And I was angry.

- "Listen, fucknuts. That's the last fucking time you pull that stunt with me. You find a couple of girls, then you better be willing to fuck either one of them yourself. You are

not

sticking me with the fat one, or the ugly one, ever again. You got that?"

- "Max ... easy, man. I hear you. I'm sorry. I shouldn't make a joke, when you took one for the team like that. I was serious, before. You are the best wingman. Ever."

I was still furious, but Rob did his best to cool me off. By the time we got back to our motel, I didn't want to kill him anymore. Maim him, maybe. But not kill him.

***

For the next few weeks, I avoided Rob. I didn't answer his calls, or reply to his emails. Instead, I put my energy back into Lacrosse, and my regular job. It felt like I had been short-changing both of them, recently. So I worked my ass off, to make it up to my real teammates, and to my very tolerant boss.

But I was no closer to finding Lina. I couldn't forget her, though. Snapchat, Instagram, profiles ... I tried. I even went home, and enlisted the help of my friend Les, who was a math whiz and all-around computer geek.

- "Slow down, Max." he said. "Tell me what you know."

That wasn't much.

"That's it? All you have is her name? Are you sure that's her name?"

- "Of course that's her name. I know, it might be short for something else ..."

- "What kind of car was she driving? Did you get the license plate?"

- "It was red. A Honda, I think. Or ... maybe it was a Toyota."

- "That's helpful." said Les.

- "Really?"

- "No."

- "I'm sorry, Les. I think I'm losing my mind."

He insisted that I tell him the whole story, from the beginning. He asked a couple of pertinent questions, but otherwise, he just listened attentively. It felt good to have someone to tell my story to.

- "Thanks, man." I told him. Somehow, I was losing touch with what was real. I was spending too much time with assholes like Rob, and forgetting my real friends.

"How's Gerry?" I asked.

- "Excellent. I think ... I think he might pop the question. Trisha already knows, but he doesn't know that she knows."

- "That's great." I said. "How about you and Lucy?"

- "We're good." said Les. He was always a bit reluctant to share the details. "We're going to travel together this summer. Europe."

- "That's awesome. I'm really pleased for you."

- "Have you been in touch with Dean?" he asked.

- "I get his regular updates." I said. "I should probably send him something."

- "He asks about you all the time." said Les.

Well, I didn't find Lina, but going home hadn't been a bad idea. I felt more grounded - more connected to things that were real. People that mattered.

***

I played much better in our next home game. I scored early, and then scored again to kill our opponents' momentum. The crowd was a bit sparse - we usually only draw about 9,000 fans - but we put on a good show for them. We built up a lead, and kept it.

With only a couple of minutes left, I got a partial breakaway, faked low and then put the ball over the goalie's shoulder. It was only my second hat trick, and it felt great. The guys were happy for me, too - especially because they knew that I'd been struggling a bit.

Jim picked me up, and hoisted me in the air.

That's when I spotted the two pretty girls in the stands. They were on their feet, applauding. The blonde was hot - and I recognized her. It was Andrea.

And standing next to her was the girl I wasn't able to find.

I couldn't just stand there, gawking, so I sprinted to the bench. While guys were slapping me on the back, or pumping fists, I was looking into the stands.

Both girls were smiling, and both of them saw me looking their way. Andrea waved. But Lina's smile vanished, and she put her head down.

I had absolutely no idea why she did that. But I felt it in my chest, like a physical blow. Something was making Lina sad - maybe it was me. Once again, I experienced that urge to take her in my arms, to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be alright.

The game wasn't quite over. I got one more shift, did nothing useful, and then looked into the stands as the final seconds ticked away. They were still there. All through the post-game rituals, the handshakes, the congratulations, the thank yous to the fans, I tried to keep my eyes glued on the two girls.

Thank God they didn't leave. I stood on the court, and removed my helmet, and stared up at them. They were too far away to hear me, but we could see each other just fine. All I saw was Lina. And I knew - I just knew - that I was right to keep searching for her.

Andrea waved again, to get my attention. She pointed towards the lobby. I got the hint: they would wait for me.

I sprinted to the locker room. I showered and changed as fast as I could. The guys wanted to take me out, to celebrate, but I begged off.

- "Got a date, Max?" asked Jim.

- "I sure hope so." I said.

My heart was beating like a drum solo when I ran into the lobby. At the last second, I realized that it would have been so much cooler to just saunter in. But I was terrified that they wouldn't be there, that she wouldn't wait.