Welcome to the "
Lie to Me
" party. Just some friends getting together to post stories about lies. We hope you enjoy them. Thanks to Laurel and Literotica for hosting our stories. I wish to thank the Spirit Initiatives team for all the work. Love you all. This is just a little something that was on my mind. Short, and hopefully, sweet. Back on my bullshit. Randi.
There I stood, barbecue sauce on my tiddies, wondering what I would say once I recovered the power of speech.
My husband of 14 years had just said some of the most shocking things I had ever heard in my life. I had no idea he felt that way. I had no clue. Either this was a new revelation, or he'd suddenly, in some introspective moment, come to an epiphany.
"What do you want me to say?" I asked.
"I'm not sure," he said, looking like he was in a bit of shock, as well.
I thought for a minute. "Lie to me," I said.
"What? What does that mean?"
"According to what you just said, you've been lying to me since the day we met," I said. "Why stop now?"
*****
I was at the gym. It was about 8:30 PM, and all the lights were out except the two over the basket. It was a small college, and I was by myself, just shooting three-pointers. The echo of the basketball bouncing in the empty gym, the squeak of my shoes on the floor, that was soothing to my soul. I had permission to shoot, any time I wanted.
"Pretty good, aren't you," I heard from the shadows. A guy came out of the shadows, carrying a basketball. "Mind if I shoot with you?" he asked.
"Hey, it's a free country and I don't own the gym," I said.
"Thanks." He was also carrying his shoes. They were the dope new Jordans, and I'd been trying to get a pair for a month.
I hit three in a row from the wing and moved down to the baseline corner. He shot for the first time, and it was an airball. He laughed, and I giggled a bit. "That wasn't how I saw this going," he said.
"You envisioned nothing but net?" I asked.
"Yeah, there's this smoking hot girl in here draining three-pointers and I was hoping to be a little more impressive," he said. He retrieved his ball, dribbled over to me and shot. It was money.
"You're dialed in now," I said. I got a closer look at him. He was, well, white, but very good looking, I thought. I guessed he was maybe ten years older than me.
He held out his fist and I bumped it. "Sheldon," he said.
"Peyton," I said. I shot, and missed. He chuckled.
"I've infected you with my bad shot."
I ran off to chase my ball, and we just shot around for a while. "Play horse?" he asked.
"Yeah, okay, but I getta go first," I said.
He agreed, and we both made two three-pointers in a row before he missed and picked up his H. He had HOR before I missed, and he started making the stupidest junk shots I had ever imagined in my life. Bouncing them in off the floor, over the backboard, left-handed. We were tied before he missed, and I finished him.
He laughed. "I was destined to lose."
"Yeah, you were. You pulled some tricks out, Sheldon."
"I grew up playing against two older brothers," he said. "The only way to stay in the game was tricks."
I was ready to leave, so I told him thanks for the game and went on my way. I saw him twice more over the next two weeks, and we played one on one, the second time. He was taller than me and I had to work at it, but I was quicker. I got enough steals and rebounds to win, but it was competitive. I think he went easy on me because I was a girl, and didn't bang me around much.
After we finished the game, he asked me if I'd like to get a drink. "You mean like club get a drink, or grab a Gatorade?" I asked.
"Well, I'd love the club idea," he said. "Didn't figure I stood a chance on that, so I was going to offer to buy you a bottle of something out in the lobby."
I laughed. "Yeah, kinda sweaty for a club, anyway."
"Would you go to a club with me?" he asked. "I mean, when we're not sweaty."
I looked him over. "Is there someone who thinks they are in a relationship with you who would be disappointed in you taking me to a club?"
He grinned. "Good question," he said. "No, there isn't. I'm divorced, Peyton. For about nine months."
"Why?" I asked.
He looked a little shocked. "Why am I divorced?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Well, my ex decided Wichita was too small a market for her talents," he said. "She may be right. If we see her on the anchor desk of some national news show, I'll agree."
"You decided not to make the move?" I asked.
"She decided," he said. "Her life was changing, and I wasn't part of the change."
"I see. Sorry, but it pays to ask questions," I said.
"Oh, trust me, I understand. I don't have the experience, but I'm glad you do ask questions."
I laughed. "Okay, dude. You got all the right answers."
"Yeah, somewhere in there. I am really out of practice coming up with them, though."
"Is that something recent, or you always struggled with that?" I asked.
He grinned at me, and it was seriously charming. "No, I think I was once pretty good at it. I haven't practiced much lately."
"Well, you picking it up pretty good," I said. "Now, if you could just shoot a mid-range jumper."
"Hey, that's the best part of my game," he objected.
"Right?" I said.
He laughed. "Okay, you're better than me at basketball. Probably everything. I'm still in there fighting, though."
"Yeah, props for that," I raised my blue POWERADE.
"I gotta get going, Peyton," he said.
"Hot date?" I asked.
"The hottest. I have a four-year-old daughter. I've never missed on reading her a story at night yet."