The Player's Club: Scott (8 page)

Scott quickly sat where Lincoln told him to, in front of the crowd of guys. The dancers had left, he noticed…and thinking of the dancers immediately made him think of Amanda.

Amanda, the neighbor.

Amanda, the dancer. The striptease artist.

The girl who had offered him a slice of pie, and then quite a bit more.

Girl next door, my ass!

Scott shook his head, forcing himself to focus. Considering he’d already been “hazed” with skydiving, he wasn’t quite sure what they were expecting him to do next. Walk over fire?

“We always start easy,” Lincoln said.

“Gawd,” George heckled from the bar. “The questions? Really?”

Lincoln silenced him with a cold stare. The rest of the rowdy crowd quieted.

When Lincoln talks, people listen.
What was George doing with this crew, anyway?

“Easy,” Lincoln repeated, this time with more of an edge. “Just getting to know you. What do you do for a living, Scott?”

“I’m an analyst,” he said. “I crunch numbers. Forecast. Stuff like that.”
Boring stuff like that,
he amended mentally.

“Ah-ah-ah-
nerd!
” George pretended to sneeze, causing a few drunken guffaws from the guys surrounding him.

Lincoln looked at the ceiling, as if praying for patience. “Let’s pose a hypothetical,” he said, ignoring George. “You have, say, a month left to live. What would you wish you’d done? What would you regret not doing?”

Scott blinked. “I don’t know. Haven’t really thought about it, I guess.”

“Well, don’t think about it too much,” Lincoln said. “Just spit out the first three things that come to mind.”

Scott frowned. “Sort of a bucket list thing?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“All right.” Scott took a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted to do one of those spirit quest things. You know, where you go out to the desert by yourself and just be with nature.”

He’d barely finished the sentence before George blew a loud raspberry. “Lame!”

“Damn it, George,” Lincoln snarled, turning to the guy and advancing on him. George actually retreated a little. “Be quiet, or wait outside.”

“You can’t kick me out,” George said, but he looked quickly at his posse, taking courage from their numbers.

“Try me.” Lincoln’s voice was low, and his hands were bunched in fists.

George quieted, even as several of his friends glared at Lincoln.

“Sorry, where were we?” Lincoln said. “What else would you do, Scott?”

Scott swallowed hard. George was a jerk, but he had to admit—this was The Player’s Club, not the Self-realization Fellowship. He needed to impress them.

What would a Player want to do?
He racked his brain, thinking of the shady rumors he’d read about them. They liked playing pranks. He sucked at pranks. They went on large-scale adventures.

They partied like rock stars…

“I’d, uh, want to crash a huge party,” he said. “Like, something epic.”

He could’ve sworn Lincoln looked disappointed. The frat boy contingent at the bar, however, hooted with approval.

“Anything else?” Lincoln said.

He took a deep breath. What was he missing?

He closed his eyes, trying to think of what he’d do, if he really knew he was dying. If he wanted to have one last, memorable adventure.

What would a nonboring person want to do?

“I’d…I’d run with the bulls. In Pamplona.”

Lincoln seemed solemn. Then, slowly, he smiled.

The rest of the room started murmuring and chuckling, punching each other on the shoulder.

“Do I need to add anything more?” Scott asked, his mind still racing for alternatives.

“No, that ought to do it,” Lincoln said. “All right. He’s got his three.”

Scott squinted at him. “What do you mean, my three?”

“In the next month,” Lincoln said, smiling, “you need to do a vision quest in the Mojave, crash a really epic party and run with the bulls in Pamplona.”

“Lucky thing it’s in July,” Finn noted. “Good choice, by the way. We haven’t been there in, what, two years?”

“At least,” Lincoln agreed.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Scott gaped.

“Don’t worry,” Finn said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll help. Part of being a Player is helping the pledges. Especially when they’ve got cool challenges.”

“Yeah, nobody wanted to help me when I said I’d write a novel,” another guy grumbled.

“You guys are like old ladies,” George said with a swagger. “Me ’n’ the boys are gonna go find some after-hours fun, since you kicked the strippers out.”

“Fine,” Lincoln said without looking at him.

“Hey, cuz?” George nudged Finn hard. “Tell your boyfriend not to be so damned touchy.”

With another raucous burst of laughter, George and about six of the guys left.

Lincoln sighed. “Finn…”

“I know,” Finn said. “He doesn’t mean it.”

“He printed up
business cards.
” Lincoln grimaced. “I know he’s your cousin, but…”

“I’ll talk to him.” With that, Finn trotted out.

“What’s up with them?”

“Finn and I started this club,” Lincoln said, shrugging. “It’s a long story but, basically, we brought George on kind of early. Let’s just say he has a different vision for the club.”

“Tappa Kegga Beer meets
Bachelor Party?
” Scott observed.

“Exactly. Anyway, it’s important that you don’t tell
anyone,
” Lincoln said. “They’ll kick you out for less. And I hate to say, but some of the club can be sort of vindictive if they think you’ve used the Club as a way to impress people.”

“Unless you’re one of George’s crew,” Tucker said.

“Not a problem.” Scott didn’t want to be part of George’s crew.

“And you need to complete the challenges in the time frame,” Lincoln finished.

“I know somebody who runs Vision Quests,” a short guy with a pencil-thin mustache said. “Give me your email, I’ll shoot you his website.”

“Great.”

“And you’re going to have a list of people who want to go to Pamplona,” Lincoln said, grinning. “I’ll be there, myself.”

“What about the party?”

Lincoln eyed the remaining Players. They laughed.

“Think you’re on your own with that one,” Lincoln said. “If you wanted to BASE jump from the Hoover Dam, we know people. Crashing a party isn’t really my bag.”

Tucker ran his tongue around his teeth. “Maybe George has some suggestions.”

“I’ll manage,” Scott said quickly, causing more laughter.

“All right. Next meeting’s in a week, same time, same place. And again,” Lincoln said sharply. “Don’t. Tell.
Anyone.
”

Scott headed back out to his car, cold, tired and a little blown away. He had one month to go camping out in the Mojave. Crash an epic party. And run with the bulls in Pamplona.

After his skydiving jaunt last weekend.

His life had suddenly gotten exponentially more interesting.
Who’s the nice guy now, Kayla?

He glanced at his watch. Three in the morning, and he still had a ways to get home. He yawned. He could really use some sleep.

Then, as he climbed into his Chevy, he remembered.

Amanda was at home. Waiting for him. Window open.

He had another adventure waiting. Wide-awake, he hit the gas and screeched out of the parking lot.

AT THREE-FORTY, AMANDA finally fell into a fitful, restless sleep. It had taken about an hour to finally calm down. The mental images of what she’d done buzzed around in her head, surreal, like remembering a vivid dream.

She’d stalked a neighbor to a seedy club in the industrial district.

Sneaked in with a lie.

Danced half-naked in a cage.

Practically had sex in an out-of-the-way corner…

She shivered. She wasn’t sure if she was shocked, appalled…or thrilled.

Tossing one way then the other, she imagined that the bed dipped slightly. A man’s weight. She tensed in reflex.

Then sighed.

Breathing deeply, she smelled Scott’s scent—a light mix of sandalwood-inspired cologne and a clean, masculine aroma that she imagined she could become addicted to. She curled, imagining his warmth at her back…the heavy, probing feel of his cock, smoothing against her back legs. She moaned softly, yearning.

His hands roamed over her hips as he nibbled on the back of her neck. By the time he’d sucked a hot kiss where her neck met her collarbone, his hands had finally discovered her breasts, kneading them gently.

Her moan was more insistent. Her body throbbed with desire.

I’m not dreaming.

She rolled over, her eyes picking out his outline in the dim moonlight. He was staring at her. Then he leaned in, kissing her slowly, tempting her lips, teasing out her tongue to tangle with his.

“Scott,” she breathed, and fit her naked body to his.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” he said against her mouth, his hips rocking against hers.

“You’re here now.” Which she could barely believe.

“You left the window open.” He sounded surprised, pleased. Hungry. He reached between them, his fingertips stroking down her stomach before reaching lower. He’d find her wet, she thought. She was slick for him, eager. She parted her thighs as he shuddered.

“I wanted to do this the first time I saw you,” he said, and she laughed.

“When I was threatening you with a golf club?”

His chuckle against her skin was like silk, and he leaned lower, kisses circling her aching, sensitive nipples. He drew one into his mouth, swirling around it with his tongue, and she gasped, arching her back involuntarily, filling his mouth with her. Each pulling suck made the wet heat between her legs pulse, and she rubbed her thighs together, whimpering. She felt the bead of wetness at the head of his cock, tracing against her thigh, and she tried to angle him closer to where she really needed him.

He pulled away, breathless. “I wanted you,” he repeated, and his eyes looked almost mystical in their intensity, “ever since I saw you in the moonlight.”

“Scott,” she echoed, and kissed him hard.

He pulled away long enough to grab a foil packet, and she watched as he rolled on the condom with hands that shook. She knew how he felt. It was still unreal—still dreamlike. But at the same time, she couldn’t
think.
She could only feel.

And she felt as if she was on fire.

When he covered her body with his, she parted her thighs, almost crying with gratitude when she felt the broad tip of his cock pressing into her. Her hand reached down to guide him. Slowly, he stroked along her passage, dueling with her now erect clit.

She cried out, arching like a bow handle, and he shuddered as he moved lower, pressed deep, her already slick pussy encompassing him.

She gasped at the feeling of his hard, long length filling her, and for a second, her mind went blank. It had been too long since she’d had sex. Way too long. And she couldn’t remember it ever feeling like this.

He moved back, then surged forward, the friction against her clit and G-spot nearly made her scream. She tilted her pelvis up, her knees hooking on his hips as she dragged her nails down his back, crushing her breasts against his chest.