The Quarterbac

Again, my apologies for breaking this story in half. I hope it didn't put too many people off. As I mentioned in the first half, I own all the mistakes. I did the best I could, but I'm sure I missed plenty.

The Quarterback - Chapter Two

Being a National Football League player is certainly glamorous, and millions of young men work their backsides off trying to make it into the NFL. But the reality is that fewer than two thousand men will earn a position on an NFL team during any season. So, when the announcement was made about my signing with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, my status at the bank headquarters suddenly changed. I was now treated like a mini-God, and I hated it. I had not made the team, and chances were that I would not. I finally sent out a memo to everyone I worked with that I would be annoyed if they did not stop treating me special. Fortunately, everyone took my request to heart and started treating me like a normal employee except Charlotte. She continued to treat me like shit.

Since the mini-camps did not start for a few months, I continued with my bank training. I also continued with my daily runs and workouts in the gym. Of course, I had the Tampa playbook and studied it each night. I was fortunate that I had a great memory. if I need to, I can absorb ninety percent of a playbook with only a day's study. After all, there are only so many different plays. The terminology changes and some assignments are different, but most plays were basically the same. Give me three or four days, and I can memorize my responsibilities and the responsibilities of every other player on the offense. From there, the practice reinforces it.

While most people at the corporate headquarters were thrilled about my signing, Charlotte was not. And she let me know about it the first time we were alone together.

"I don't know what my father sees in you," she said with a sneer. "If it were up to me, I would have tossed you out the front door. You may think you are special, but I am putting you on notice that I intend to ride your ass every day you are here. And I will try my hardest to get my father to bounce you out of here."

"And I thought you didn't like me," I said with a straight face of innocence before walking away.

By the time the NFL draft rolled around, I had two months under my belt at Century First, and true to her word, Charlotte had done everything she could to ride my ass. Fortunately, I reported to her father, and he did not pay any attention to her continuous complaints, poor reviews, and reprimands. Finally, he told her to stop writing me up unless I killed someone.

The draft itself proved to be extremely interesting. Coach Sullivan surprised everyone by trading the Bucs middle linebacker, Jerome Pittman, to the Cleveland Browns for their two second-round picks. Cleveland had the tenth and the sixteenth pick in the second round. Jerome had been with Tampa for seven years and had made the Pro Bowl six times. However, he was a prima donna in the locker room and only had one year left on his contract. Tampa would have to pay him at least fifteen million dollars a year to keep him.

As I usually did during the NFL Draft, I sat glued to my television. I made it a practice of watching the draft every year after my first year in the NFL. I wanted to see what my chances of making any team were. I would analyze each team's draft picks to see if they might need a backup quarterback. This year I was especially interested to see what the Buccaneers, under Coach Sullivan, would do. I wanted to see if I had a realistic chance of sticking with Tampa.

The Bucs had the second pick in the draft with only the Chicago Bears ahead of them. Everyone knew that the Bears were looking to rebuild their offensive line and had their sights set on Joey Wagner, an offensive tackle out of LSU. Joey had not given up a sack playing left tackle in the last two years. Barring injuries, people were already saying he was a future Hall of Fame player. The consensus amongst the talking heads was that Tampa would take Leonard Jackson, Alabama's great quarterback. Alabama had just won the National Championship on Leonard's strong arm. However, Coach Sullivan crossed everyone up. He traded the second pick to New Orleans.

New Orleans had two first-round picks that year, the tenth and the fourteenth. To move up the number two spot, the Saints gave the Bucs their first-round picks and a second-round pick. Tampa now had two first-round picks and three second-round picks. Usually, first and second-round picks were able to help their teams immediately.

Coach Sullivan continued to cross up the experts as the draft progressed in the first round. They all thought he would surely use one of those picks to take a quarterback. Instead, Coach Sullivan used all the Bucs' picks in the first three rounds to take only defensive players. He took two defensive tackles, a defensive end, a middle linebacker, a safety, and a cornerback. And in rounds four through seven, the coach took a mixture of defensive and offensive players, but no quarterbacks. Everyone thought he was crazy. But when questioned, he told the reporters, "Defenses win championships."

With Tampa not taking a quarterback, I knew my chance of staying with the team had dramatically increased. Of course, they could trade for an established quarterback, but I still felt my chances were good even if they did.

As the time for the first mini-camp approached, Charlotte stepped up her harassment. If I thought she could do me any damage, I would have been worried, but her father had her neutralized. However, it did bother me that she had such animosity toward me. I could not figure out what I had done to piss her off.

It was the middle of May, two days before I was to leave for the ten days of Organized Team Activities (OTAs) when I was thrust into a nasty situation. I had been working late to get ahead and just left the building at about ten o'clock. I was walking to my car when I heard a scream. I had no idea what was going on, but I took off in the direction of the sound. When I rounded the corner of the building, I could see some guy pinning a woman to the ground and trying to rip her clothes off. The assailant was also punching the woman to shut her up. I sprinted harder and plowed into the attacker. I knocked him to the ground with me on top. Quickly, I punched him twice in the face, and he lay still. When I got up, he came around and tried to grab my leg. I kicked him twice in the nuts, and he curled into a fetal position. Then I called 911 and asked for the police and an ambulance.

With my heart pounding, I turned around to ensure the woman was okay and was shocked to see it was Charlotte. She was sobbing hysterically, and I could see the blood on her face. I knelt and put my jacket around her.

"Charlotte, it's okay," I said soothingly, "the police are on their way."

I figured she was out of it because when I tried to stand up and call her father, she grabbed me and hung on for dear life. Somehow, I managed to get my phone out and dial Carl's number.

"Mr. Domino, it's Jason," I said hurriedly as Charlotte sobbed in the background. "Someone just tried to rape your daughter. I have called the police and have an ambulance coming."

"Oh my God, no!" he shouted and asked, "Is she hurt?"

"The guy punched your daughter in the face before I could get to him. Right now, I think she's more scared than anything. She is very upset, but I stopped him before he could anything else."

"Thank God, Jason. Thank God," he sounded like he was almost in tears. But then he composed himself. "Look, Jason, tell the ambulance to take her to the Mayo Clinic. And please stay with her."

"I will, sir," I said with a quiver in my voice as the adrenalin in my system was now running out. The gravity of what had just happened was crashing in on me. My stomach was feeling a bit queasy, and my legs felt shaky.

The EMTs agreed that the Mayo Clinic was the closest hospital, and I rode in the ambulance with Charlotte. She clutched my arm the whole way there and would not let me go even as she was wheeled into the emergency room. Finally, a nurse got her to let go of my arm so the doctor could examine her. Carl arrived fifteen minutes later and was as pale as a ghost.

Once Carl was there, I called for an Uber and had them take me back to my car. When I finally got home, I had a shot of scotch and went to bed. The next day, as I was shaving, I could see the little cuts and bruises on my face. One knuckle on my right hand was slightly swollen, and my left shoulder was black and blue. But other than that, I was fine.

After I finished my shower, I called the hospital only to find out that Charlotte had not been admitted. That was good news, so I headed to work. I called my assistant, Kelly, on the way in to find out if she had any news about Charlotte.

"The office has been in turmoil since before I got to work," Kelly said in a hushed tone. "Security is all over the building and outside in the parking lot. Mr. Domino has been on a rampage with the security and building maintenance people. Is it true that someone attacked Ms. Domino?"

"Unfortunately, it's true," I confirmed. "But Charlotte was not raped. The attacker just hit her a couple of times."

"How do you know all this? There are just rumors swirling around right now."

"It doesn't matter how I know," I did not want to go into chapter and verse with Kelly. "Did you find the reports I was looking for?"

"Yes, they are on your desk. Will you be in soon?"

"If the traffic gods are with me, I should be there in ten minutes."

When I stepped through the front door, I was shocked to see Carl standing there waiting for me. When he walked up to me, I put my hand out, but he didn't take it. Instead, he pulled me into a bear hug. I just stood there like a bump on a log.

"How's Charlotte?" I asked immediately.

"Charlotte is still really shaken up, and her face is swollen, but she's going to be okay," he said thankfully. "However, I must warn you, she is royally pissed at you."

"That's nothing new," I said with a smile. "I'll steer clear of her until she's in a better mood."

"That's not why she is pissed off," Carl said with a grin. "She is pissed because you slipped out last night before she could thank you. Why don't you come to the house on Saturday, we're having a BBQ, and Charlotte is staying with me until she's better."

"Thank you for the invitation," I said uncomfortably, "but I'll be in training camp by then."

"Oh yes, I forgot," Carl said with a wave of his hand. "We will get together when you get back. But I want you to know how appreciative I am for saving my daughter. I have not been sleeping terribly well since the incident. I still have nightmares about what could have happened."

I deflected with some lame comment and headed to my office. While I was thrilled that Charlotte was okay, this thing was really getting uncomfortable for me. I just wanted to finish the report I was working on, so I could concentrate on the upcoming mini-camp. Thankfully, Carl kept the media in the dark about the incident. He told me he did not want his daughter to be traumatized more than she was.

The training facility in Tampa was quite elaborate and well thought out. I thought I did quite well during the roughly two weeks there. But most players perform well when they are in shorts, and there is no hitting. The real test would be at the training camp in August.

Coach Sullivan was the consummate coach and treated all his players the same. In addition to the physical activities, I spent a fair amount of time in the film room with him and all the other quarterbacks. They had eight quarterbacks at that camp. Normally, most of them were what is known as "camp arms." Those were quarterbacks that had no shot at making the team. They were there, so the quarterbacks with a real chance did not overuse their throwing arms.

After meeting all the QBs, I could only pick out two "camp arms." All the rest had played in the NFL as backups for various teams. Still, I felt pretty good because I had a contract and had already been paid $100,000. But in the NFL, you cannot take anything for granted. Being a pro football player is unbelievably hard work, not just on the field, but it doesn't stop there. When you were not on the practice field, you were in the weight or the film room. And at night, you were studying the playbook. You had to know every aspect of each play.

On my first day back at Century, Charlotte was on a rampage. Somehow, a report that was supposed to go in with an application for three new branches had not been completed. The application might not be approved for months if the report was not submitted today. That meant that all three branches would sit empty, and a good number of the people hired to staff those branches would have to be paid, or the bank would risk losing them. Charlotte had a team scrambling, trying to gather the necessary information.

I felt responsible for this mess when I realized what the report was. Completing this report had originally been assigned to me. However, when I realized that I would not be able to finish it before going to camp, I had Carl turn it over to Charlotte. Somewhere along the line, the ball had been dropped, and all the data I had assembled had been lost. I quickly searched my hard drive and found that I still had a backup of everything. Downloading the forms, I told Kelly to drop everything else she was doing, so we could get the report done. By four-thirty, it was complete. Kelly scanned it and emailed the report to the Fed with a hard copy going out certified mail. I put copies in the interoffice memo envelope and sent them off to Carl and Charlotte before I went home.

The following day, I was in my office trying to get caught up when Charlotte appeared in the doorway. She stepped into my office and shut the door. I studied her face, but her expression was unreadable. I stood and waited for the dressing down, which I felt certain was coming. Instead, Charlotte stepped next to me and pulled me into a tight hug. Then she kissed me full on the lips and pressed her body against mine.

When she stepped away, I asked, "What was that for?"

"That's for saving my life twice."

"Okay, I maybe understand what happened in the parking lot but what was the other time I saved your life?"

"The report you sent in yesterday."

"I don't think that technically counts as saving your life," I protested with a smile. "However, I'm not complaining."

After that, Charlotte and I started to get closer. We established a good working relationship. Charlotte was more open with me and admitted to being very shy and insecure. Her mother, Caroline, had walked out on Carl and her when she was five.

The relationship between Charlotte and her mother was so toxic that it degenerated one night at a social event into a screaming and hair-pulling fight. In the end, Charlotte managed to rip her mother's blouse and bra off. Caroline had filed a criminal complaint against her daughter and sued for emotional damage. Carl immediately unleashed his "war dogs," also known as his corporate lawyers, on Caroline. They not only mounted an aggressive defense, but they countersued Charlotte's mother.

The upshot of the criminal case what that Carl's lawyers were able to produce a video of the incident that clearly showed Caroline throwing a glass of wine in her daughter's face first. After that, all hell broke loose. The outcome was that the criminal charges were dropped, and Charlotte won a $200,000 judgment against her mother. That was the beginning of the end of Caroline's marriage to her third husband.

What I learned over the next few weeks was that Charlotte was so traumatized by her mother's abandonment that her father became her everything. She desperately did not want to disappoint him. And she was jealous when he showed anyone else extra attention.

One day in a meeting, Charlotte and I reviewed a report I had finished for the Federal Reserve. It was a tricky report, typical of the federal government. If you followed their instruction pamphlet, you would fill the form out incorrectly and face a possible fine. Fortunately, Century's accounting firm had made up worksheets that helped but were still difficult to follow.

"Jason, thank you for handling this report," she said with a smile. "I know it isn't part of your job, but I've come to rely on you to get things done."

A couple of days later, I screwed up the courage and asked Charlotte to dinner. I was pleased that she not only agreed but seemed thrilled that I had asked. After that, we started dating. We had dinner dates, lunch dates, theater dates, movie dates, dancing dates, and even stay-at-home watching television dates. I was going slow because I liked the new Charlotte and did not want to take a chance of spoiling anything. Charlotte not only treated me well, but she extended her goodwill to everyone else at work. Carl even commented on how happy his daughter was and thanked me.

Over the next couple of weeks, our dates continued, but I had not pushed for sex. Like I said, I was going slow. The most we had done was a little petting. I had not even tried to touch Charlotte between her legs. Then one night, she invited me over for dinner. She made Chicken Cordon bleu, mixed vegetables, baked potatoes, and homemade bread. Charlotte proved to be an excellent cook.

After dinner, I told her to watch television in her family room because I insisted on doing the cleanup. After putting the last dish in the dishwasher and wiping down the counters, I looked for Charlotte, but she was not in the family room. I called out for her but got no response. I looked for her and found rose petals running up the stairs. I followed them to her bedroom and knocked. When I opened the door, the room was lit with dozens of candles, and on the bed was Charlotte with the sexiest black teddy I had ever seen.

All I could think to say was, "Wow."

"You're dressed a little formally for this, don't you think?" she giggled.

I caught the hint and immediately shed my clothes. I slid into bed with Charlotte and started to kiss her, rubbing her breasts as she moaned. After a few minutes, Charlotte sat up and pulled her top off. Her breathing got very raspy as I started to suck her breasts, and for the first time, I slid my fingers between her legs and past her panties. Charlotte gave a deep moan and shuddered.

Slowly, I kissed my way down Charlotte's stomach until I was just above her panties and hooked my thumbs on either side, sliding them down. With a giggle, Charlotte kicked them off. Immediately, I slid further down and used my tongue to penetrate her slit. As I began to methodically lick her clit, Charlotte began to buck. Then she arched her back, shuddered, and let out a stifled scream.

Positioning my penis at Charlotte's opening, I slid slowly in. When I reached a couple of inches, Charlotte gasped in pain. I instantly pulled back and looked at Charlotte's frightened face. She was a virgin.

"Please, don't stop," she begged.

"I don't want to hurt you, Charlotte," I said softly.

"Please, I want you."

So, I tried again, going slowly until I reached an obstruction and paused. However, Charlotte grabbed my rear end with both hands and pulled me toward her. My penis felt the obstruction for a second and then was through. Now I was buried deep within her.

I allowed her to adjust to me being inside her, and then I slid in and out gently. I went slowly at first so as not to hurt Charlotte. But when she started to moan, I picked up the tempo. Her moaning grew louder, and I could feel her insides clamp down on me. As she began to climax, I could not hold back and came full force, pumping my seed deep inside her.