The Tenth Commandment

Commandment #10: "Thou shalt not covet...thy neighbor's wife..."

***********

I, Brent Walker, won the gene lottery when I was born but I wasn't one of those jerks that thought I had done something right. I knew that I was born on third base and wasn't there because I had hit a triple. I made sure to use my natural gifts to help other human beings and I never treated any group as inferior.

I say that I won the gene lottery because I'm smart, athletic, and good looking, and my parents were well off so I never lacked for any material things, and they were loving too so I always felt good emotionally. My parents also instilled the obligation to give back so I did at least two hundred hours of volunteer work a year every year since I turned sixteen.

As part of my athletic gifts I became a very good American football (not the world's football which we call "soccer') player. I got a scholarship to Stanford and was drafted in the third round of the NFL draft as a 6 foot 6 inch 245 pound tight end. I made the Pro Bowl my second year in the league.

So, you would think that at 23 years old that I had a perfect life. I did, except for one thing. I never had had a romantic relationship that lasted.

I really don't know for sure why I never had a relationship that lasted. My brother and best friends said that it is because I have weird/bad taste in women. Maybe they're right, but taste may also be something that you're born with. However, I don't think that weird/bad taste is the complete answer.

I never found any woman who I was passionate about. While I enjoyed sex (duh -- who doesn't) up until the meat of this tale I had never really had a completely toe-curling experience with a woman. I went through a stage when I was twenty one where I wondered if my lack of passion for a woman was because I was gay (even though I never had even the slightest attraction to another man) or I had an exceptionally low natural libido. By intellectually examining my situation I determined that neither was the case; but I still had no real explanation aside from the fact that I had never met, or at least had a relationship with, the right woman.

Then my view on things changed; when I met the wife of one of my NFL teammates.

*****************

To provide a little background, the only teammate I ever had in High School, college, or the pros, who I hated is a wide receiver who was drafted in the first round of the same draft, by the same team, that I was drafted in and by. His name is Alvin Canon. He is the grandson of a Heisman Trophy winner (best college football player), and was fourth in the Heisman voting himself his junior year in college, after which he turned pro. He is 6 feet 2 inches tall and weighs 205 pounds and can run a 4.3 40 yard dash (that's really fast).

Alvin is one of those people who was born on third base but unlike me thought that he had hit a triple. He is arrogant, obnoxious, opinionated, and a narcissist. He is the opposite of a team player only concerned about his own statistics. He probably hates me as much as I hate him because I never worshipped at his shrine and because the quarterback liked throwing to me more than he did to Alvin so in Alvin's mind I was his competition -- not the other team.

Of course it would be the wife of the biggest asshole I ever played with who would be the first woman that I felt passionate about; and I could never figure out why.

Alicia Canon is both beautiful and built, but I have seen, and even dated, more beautiful and built women. She is smart -- a quality that I consider very desirable in a woman -- and not a narcissist, again both positives. However, from people who knew her, and from my inexpert opinion at the start of this tale, after a middling amount of exposure to her, I thought that her personality was lacking. Whatever her characteristics, however, there is something about her that just rings my chimes.

Unfortunately, apparently my reaction to Alicia was not as subtle as I thought that it was, even though I never told anyone about my lust. This was made clear when during the pre-season of my and Alvin's second year as pros we had a team party which included wives and significant others. I didn't have a date -- yet another time in my life without real female companionship.

Alicia appeared to be drunk, or at least feeling no pain, when she cornered me in a secluded part of the party's venue when I had just completed a conversation with one of my teammates and his girlfriend. Positioning herself between me and the main part of the festivities Alicia stuck one of her fingers into my chest and slurred "So, Big Brent, it seems that you've got the hots for me. Why is that?"

"Uh...Alicia...isn't it?" I tried to soft-pedal my response by trying to pretend that I wasn't sure what her name was even though I had called it out several times when masturbating in the previous week. She interrupted.

"Don't try and bullshit me, you know that my name is Alicia," she snapped, then hiccupped and smiled.

"Uh...well...uh...Alicia...uh, why do you...uh think that I...uh...have the hots for you?" I stammered. Once I was done stammering the thought flashed through my mind "Stanford would revoke my degree in Communication if they heard that inarticulate rambling."

"Cause you're always staring at my ass, tits, or face, that's why. If you're trying to hide it I'm surprised that you haven't invested in some mirrored sunglasses," she snickered.

"Uh...look, Alicia," I continued my stammer; "uh...I...apologize if I gave you that impression, but I'd never hit on someone else's wife."

"I didn't say that you'd hit on me -- I just said that you have the hots for me. Don't be coy, Big Brent; just admit that you want to fuck my brains out, and I'll leave you be," she grinned.

"Uh...Alicia...uh...I really don't know what you're talking about. I never told anyone that I want to have sex with you," I replied, suddenly realizing that I was profusely sweating.

"Again, you're twisting what I said; I said that you want to fuck me, not that you told anyone you did. You're too straight arrow for that. Admit it or I'll expose my tits right now," she laughed.

I don't know what a really cool dude would have done under those circumstances, but what I did was to dodge her and then to flat out run to the main part of the party venue. Since there were well over 100 people there I was able to blend into the crowd.

Before slinking out early, I saw one of the other players' wives who I knew to be friendly with Alicia. I went up to her and after a little small talk said "Karen, I'm a little worried about Alicia Canon. She seems to be really drunk and maybe even has alcohol poisoning."

Karen laughed. "You must be blind, Brent. Alicia never, ever, has more to drink than one glass of wine. Plus, I just saw her a few minutes ago and she was completely sober."

"Really?" I intelligently replied.

"Really," she laughed. Then she grabbed me by the arm and moved me a few paces and pointed. "Look, there she is and she's 100% with it."

She was pointing right at Alicia. To save face I said "Oh, is that Alicia Canon? I must have her confused with someone else because that's not who I meant."

"You really are blind," Karen chuckled, "if you don't recognize that body."

"Sorry," I uncomfortably replied starting to sweat again, "I think that I'll quit when I'm only slightly behind."

Karen laughed as I scurried to my car and got the hell out of there.

As I drove home I wondered "What the hell is Alicia's game?" I concluded "She's probably a flake," but that didn't stop me that night from masturbating to a photo that I had surreptitiously taken of her at the party.

**********

As the season progressed there were dozens of times that I came into at least fleeting contact with Alicia. Every time that we made eye contact she winked at me. One time Alvin saw her. After he seemed to be chastising her but she gave no quarter he came up to me. "What's the deal with my wife winking at you Walker?"

I stared straight into his eyes. "I didn't see your wife winking at me, and if she did you need to ask her, not me because I have no clue."

"You better not be messing with her..."Alvin started to say pointing a finger at me.

I grabbed his finger and bent it, causing him to yelp. "Listen, dipshit," I snarled, "I don't mess with married women period, including your wife. Don't ever point your finger at me in anger again or you'll end up on IR." ["IR" means "injured reserve;" i. e. not able to play.]

After I let go he stomped off.

"What was that about?" one of the offensive linemen, and a good friend, asked me.

"Just Alvin being his normal asshole self..." I replied and would have said more except that as soon as Alvin returned to Alicia and he wasn't looking at her she winked at me again, causing me to be incapable of completing my thought. I quickly regained my composure and then my buddy and I took off.

I tried -- I really did -- to purge my mind of Alicia Canon, but I was completely unsuccessful. I had a real thing for her; I would never act on it, but it was like she had bewitched me.

***********

Just before the 2nd to last game of my second season, when I was still in full-blown "coveting Alicia mode" the announcement of the Pro Bowl rosters came out. Since our team had a shitty record, 4-10, I and our punter were the only two guys on our team that made it. Every single player and coach except for Alvin Canon and the wide receivers' coach, Butch Arnold, who seemed to be in love with Alvin, congratulated me.

We actually won the 2nd to last game, making us 5-10. On Monday, our day off, late in the afternoon there was a knock on my rental condo door. I opened it without looking through the peephole. I was shocked to see Alicia standing there in an outfit too skimpy given the outdoor temperature. "Hi Brent," she smiled as she pushed past me, "we have something to discuss."

I had no sooner closed the door when she turned to face me. "What...what do we...need to, uh have to, discuss?" I stammered.

"You're always tongue-tied around me, aren't you Big Brent," she chuckled. "First, congrats on making the Pro Bowl; next, let me get right to the point. I know that Alvin is cheating on me."

Making the most conscientious attempt ever to respond clearly without any stuttering or hemming and hawing, I slowly replied "That has nothing to do with me. That's not something that I can discuss with you."

"That's where you're wrong, Brenty-baby. Since he's cheating on me that implicitly gives me a free pass to cheat on him, don't you agree?" she smilingly said. Without giving me a chance to respond she continued "So I said to myself, who would really like to fuck me to nirvana, who looks like he'd be yummy in bed, and who would really piss Alvin off if he fucked me. That's where you come in Brent."

With that she closed the distance between us in an instant, pulled my head down to hers, smashed her body against mine, and passionately kissed me on the lips. I didn't want to respond -- however my traitorous cock had other ideas and instantly inflated. I unconsciously moved my hands to the ripe melons on her chest and was returning the kiss before I caught myself.

I moved my head away from hers, grabbed her arms with my hands, and gently moved her arms' length away from me. "Look...Alicia," I started out, again reverting to stammering, "you're a very attractive woman and if you weren't married...uh...yeah...uh...I'd love to date you. {Gulp} But I...can...can't...be with a married woman. I couldn't live with myself."

"You don't like Alvin -- wouldn't it be fun to fuck his wife?" she grinned.

"Whether or not...uh...I...uh...like him," I stumbled, "is beside the point."

We exchanged a few more platitudes before she left. I was somewhat surprised that she didn't seem pissed.

I couldn't help myself in passing her up -- it was simply against what I believed in. What I could help, but didn't seem to be able to, was chastising myself. "How in the fuck could you pass up porking the hottest woman you've ever seen in your life?" one part of me said. Another part countered "How hot she is shouldn't have an effect on your morals; you did the right thing." I was so preoccupied by this internal debate that I hardly ate anything, and by bedtime I hadn't resolved anything either. Fortunately I fell asleep from emotional exhaustion more than anything else.

The next day when I was in the locker room dressing for practice I heard "You motherfucker" off to my left. I turned in time to see Alvin holding a helmet by the face guard in his right hand and swinging it toward me. I was very fortunate to get out of the way enough so that I only got a glancing blow on my left arm because if he had hit me on my head -- the apparent target -- I would have been seriously injured or maybe even killed. As Alvin wound up for another swing one of the offensive linemen grabbed his arm, stopping its movement. As soon as his arm movement was stopped I charged him and summoning up all of the power that I could hit him flush on his nose with my right elbow. He fell unconscious onto the floor, blood streaming out of his face.

There was a real hubbub for the next few minutes as teammates crowded around asking what the hell happened -- two of the offensive linemen, Jake and Whit, had witnessed it and they were more willing to relate the details of the incident than I was. The trainer got there quickly, gave Alvin some smelling salts, put a temporary bandage on his nose, and got him conscious and up on his feet.

I was totally at a loss as to why Alvin would attack me until Jake, the offensive lineman who had stopped his arm, whispered to me "He mumbled something about you fucking his wife. Did you?"

"Hell no," I snapped. "He's delusional."

Of course there was another option besides him being delusional, and that is that Alicia told him that even if not true.

Practice started sans Alvin. It was hard to concentrate, but if you don't concentrate at practice you're likely to get injured, so I snapped out of it after the first five minutes or so and did concentrate.

After practice and showers, my little altercation with Alvin -- who had been taken to the hospital -- was the main topic of discussion, although I participated only in monosyllables. As I was getting ready to leave my position coach came up to me and said "Jerry wants to see you in his office." Jerry Orchard is the head coach.

I put my iPhone on "record" and then went to his office. To my surprise Butch Arnold, the wide receivers' coach and Alvin's stooge, was also there.

After a little chit-chat between Jerry and me he motioned for me to sit down. "You probably know what this is about, Brent -- your punching of Alvin."

"I thought it would be about Alvin swinging a helmet at my head trying to kill me; or did you not hear about that," I replied, my tone less than pleasant.

"No reason to get pissy; we're still trying to determine that..." Jerry started to say before I interrupted him.

"All you have to do is ask Jake and Whit; they both witnessed it, so what exactly else do you need to do to 'determine it'" I shot back, still with my "pissy" attitude.

"Well Alvin says that you fucked his wife so..." Butch started to say.

I again interrupted, with a snarl. "I don't know why you're even here Butch. What the fuck do you have to do with this?"

After a few more unpleasant exchanges between Butch and me Jerry got us to settle down.

"I'm afraid that you having sex with Alvin's wife and then punching him means that I have to suspend you for the last game," Jerry said.

"I didn't have sex with Alvin's wife. He's either delusional or working on false information, and I punched him in self-defense. You have no right to suspend me," I countered.

"Sorry, but my mind's made up," Jerry said.

"Then I'm filing a grievance with the Player's Union and suing Alvin, and I've played my last game for you," I said as I stood up, turned, and left to some words coming from both Jerry and Butch that I didn't really hear I was so steamed, but I was sure were recorded on my iPhone.

After turning off my iPhone I went upstairs in the complex to the office of the secretary to the General Manager. I have a good relationship with both her and her husband, who is a scout for the team. I explained the situation to Carolyn and asked for Alicia Canon's cell phone number. She clicked a few keys on her computer to display a screen and then said "Sorry Brent I can't give you that information," and with a smile Carolyn got up from her desk and said "I have to go to the ladies' room."

As she walked away I went behind her desk and looked at the screen. It had Alicia's number on it. I copied it down, said a silent "Thanks" to Carolyn, and went to a remote part of the facility.

I immediately called Alicia. "Hello Brent," she said in a sing-song voice. "I'm at the hospital waiting for them to clear Alvin to come home."

"That's why I'm calling, Alicia. I'm sorry that I had to deck him but he was swinging a helmet at me, apparently trying to kill me. Why would he do that?"

"Apparently he thought that you were screwing me," she chuckled; that's right, chuckled.

"How did he get that impression?"

"Well, when you so impolitely turned me down I went to Starbuck's for a latte and after thinking about it concluded that I shouldn't be mad at you for having morals -- unlike Alvin," she replied, the "unlike Alvin" said with disgust. "When he asked me where I was I told him at your place, congratulating you on making the Pro Bowl -- Alvin's very jealous of you making the Pro Bowl when he didn't, you know," she laughed.

"Did you tell him that we had sex?" I asked.

"No, I did not. When he asked me what else I had done besides congratulating you I told him 'None of your fucking business,' then took off and spent the night in a hotel."

"Listen, Alicia...you left him with the impression that we had sex. I think that's what caused him to go off, and now I've been suspended for the last game of the season, which will cost me thousands of dollars. I need you to call or go see Jerry Orchard and tell him that we did not have sex," I pleaded.

There was silence for a few seconds. Then back to her sing-song voice Alicia said "I will under one condition."

"What's that?" I apprehensively asked.

"If Alvin and I split you'll ask me out on a date; dinner, dancing etc." she retorted.

I knew what the "etc." was, but given the condition "if Alvin and I split up" even if she was too flaky to have a real relationship with I would be more than happy to accommodate her. "I agree," I replied, with genuine enthusiasm.

"What's his number? I'll call him right now."

I gave her his number and she concluded the call with "Can't wait."

The next day I arrived at practice. Butch saw me and asked "What are you doing here Walker? You've been suspended."

"Listen mental midget," I snarled right in his face, "I've been suspended from the last game not from practice."

He backed off.

Once the majority of players were in the locker room I stood up on one of the benches and described the situation to them. There was a lot of grumbling. The general impression that I got was that the general discontent with Orchard that had built up during the season was coming to a head.

As I was going through drills at the start of practice my position coach came up to me and said "Despite my attempt to talk him out of it Jerry told me that you're suspended from practice too."

I smiled at coach. "Thanks, Bill; but I need to hear it directly from him or I'm not leaving; it wouldn't be good for my grievance."

Bill smiled, and walked over to Jerry. A few minutes later Jerry came over to me. "Walker, you're suspended from practice to."