Note to the readers: I won’t mislead anyone – this does not mean that Serendipity Book Two is in the works. It just sort of happened that I was caught by the writing bug one day and JUST HAD TO WRITE this. This is Pansy’s story. If you are not familiar with Serendipity, here’s the link to the first chapter – enjoy reading! <3 Fauxscandinavian
Shump spotted her sneakers first – the very pair she posted on Instagram that morning. It had to be the rival brand, he thought with a smile.
Pansy loved Nike – a fact she constantly taunted him with, since he had Adidas as sponsor. As his gaze trailed upwards he took note of the way she was dressed. She looked almost Goth in all black – almost – until you noticed the pop of color from her sneakers and nails.
She was browsing through the glass displays – probably looking for something to put on her wrist, Shump thought. He knew Pansy was considering buying a new watch; her tweet a couple of days ago hinted at it.
Pansy lay somewhere between friend and acquaintance – met her through Jeremy – who was a Rocket now. They weren’t close at all – but they had been communicating through Twitter and Instagram since the evening they met at Club Avenue and discovered their common fascination – sneakers and watches – common expensive taste, that was.
Her dry wit and no-nonsense honesty was refreshing – for a girl. When he tweeted that statement, “You need to go out more,” was her response.
Shump hadn’t been out that much since his injury – even after he started being able to walk around. He felt the presence of the knee pad under his jeans; a constant reminder that he’s still recovering. At least, he’s out and about now – being cooped up at first in the hospital and then in his apartment had been suffocating. He could jog and shoot – yet scrimmages were still out of the question.
His teammates and friends were and still are a huge support for him. Spotting Pansy today reminded him that a lot of his friends were currently under the label “former teammates”. They all knew it was part of the business being traded, re-signed or let go, but it still felt weird for Shump. He’ll survive, but he did miss them. Landry will be in Canada, Jared in Portland and Jorts in Miami (that really stings, by the way).
He noticed a salesperson approach Pansy – a certain look in the lady’s eyes. Oh boy, Shump thought, the beez thinks Pansy can’t afford Gucci. He was about to approach when he saw Pansy tilt her head to face the saleslady. There was defiance in the body language, so he decided to stop and observe instead.
Pansy was irked; oh, do not go there, she quietly challenged the saleslady as she met the woman’s gaze head-on.
“The 1921 collection in black, please,” she said in a crisp voice, before the saleslady could say anything.
As she tried the watch on, Pansy tried not to let the stupid woman take the happiness away from her plan to buy the trinket – as Karin would call it. She had felt the salesperson’s stare since she entered Gucci’s 5th Avenue boutique and it raised her heckles a bit. Pansy reckons she’s new – or she would have known just how regular a customer Pansy was.
“It’s classy and understated,” the woman said, pasting a fake smile on her face.
“Which fits her just fine,” a voice said from behind.
Pansy turned her head to connect the voice with a face and saw Shump walk towards her – a slight limp visible in his walk, but it looked almost like he walked with a swagger.
“Don’t you have enough in your Gucci Collection, London?” he asked with a smile on his face.
Pansy grinned, “Never enough, Chicago, never enough.”
She briefly took her eyes from Shump to take out her credit card and handed it to the saleslady.
Pansy focused on him; she hadn’t seen Shump since their Avenue outing, so she didn’t quite know if she should just shake his hand or give him a hug. So she poked at his tummy instead and joked, “Doesn’t look like you’ve been gorging on the muffins and cookies,” referring to the pictures he’d posted at Instagram.
Shump sighed, “The trainers didn’t allow that.”
He lifted Pansy’s wrist to look at her newly acquired watch, “Awesome taste, as usual,” he commented.
Pansy spotted the one Shump had on and said, “Likewise. You browsing or buying?”
“Browsing maybe buying,” Shump grinned, “Only thing I’ve seen so far is you.”
Pansy laughed. “You’re still the player, I see,” she remarked with a smirk.
Their conversation was cut short by the Gucci saleslady coming back to hand Pansy her card. Shump was enjoying himself, so he decided to just ask.
“You have time to spend with a handicapped b-baller bored with death with the off-season and desperate for interesting company?”
“I could do worse, I guess,” she retorted, making Shump laugh.
They walked and talked idly passing some shops and going in at others. He asked about their common friends and Pansy told him about her trip to Cali. They argued over gadgets at the Apple Store. When they discreetly passed the NBA Store, people did not notice Shump. Their feet led them towards Central Park, where they bought some pretzels from a stand and sat on a bench.
“The knee okay?” Pansy asked after Shump’s hand absently fidgeted along his knee.
“Slowly but surely – just too slow and too unsure for my taste,” he commented.
“You’ve been suffering from cabin fever?”
“Among other things,” Shump answered with a grin and knowing look on his face.
There it is again, Pansy thought.
“Is it constantly on? Do you ever turn it off?” Pansy remarked.
“Turn what off?” Shump didn’t really understand what she was asking.
“The flirting,” she deadpanned.
Shump laughed unrestrained.
“Why? Is it working?” he said with a huge smile.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Do you consciously do it or is it simply out of habit?”
He had to think about that for a minute before answering, “I don’t really know.”
This time it was her turn to laugh.
“You have to be careful,” Pansy remarked when her laughter faded. “I was on a holiday where my friends told me about their awesome athlete lovers. I just might be tempted to try that theory out.”
Shump merely looked at her. He was looking at Pansy now – in daylight, just the two of them. He had been laying the flirting a bit thick today – mostly because in the back of his mind, he thought she’d see right through him and just laugh or make fun of it. What she just said sounded almost like a challenge in his ears. An intriguing challenge, Shump decided. He wasn’t usually into her type – not that there’s anything wrong with her – she just wasn’t what he was usually attracted to.
He liked the smart gleam in her dark eyes and the way a tiny dimple appears when she smiles. He dismissed the twinge of attraction he felt when he saw her at Gucci as just plain restlessness – he hadn’t been socializing like he used to. But the attraction did not go away while they spent the time together.
Pansy looked at Shump’s face and was laughing inwardly – good that shut him up.
Shedidn’t mind the flirting at first; she could handle it. The problem was that part of her wanted to flirt back – other parts of her wanted Shump. The way his jeans and shirt clung to those muscles was making her antsy. She kept imagining how it’d be to run her hands on his skin.
Damn it, Pansy, she scolded herself; this is what you get for not taking care of your social life. It’s been a while since she’d been with a guy. Jess and Karin’s revelations didn’t help either. Pansy was curious – curious and horny – if Shump was willing, she’d try satisfying that curiosity with him.
“So, you want to see my sneaker collection?” Shump interrupted the silence, his eyes issuing both an invitation and challenge.
“Does that line usually work?” Pansy returned.
“I have no idea – it’s the first time I’m using it,” he calmly answered.
“Good thing I’m crazy about them then,” she replied.
The cab ride to Shump’s apartment was short and quiet. They didn’t say anything in the elevator either.
When they entered his apartment, Pansy noticed the minimal décor – and the screensaver on his computer.
Noticing where her eyes were focused, Shump said, “My Adidas agent really loves that design.”
“Really?” Pansy asked, surprise in her voice. A few weeks after Shump’s knee surgery, Pansy e-mailed him a rough drawing of red sneakers – something she’d thought would cheer him up – and for which he swiftly tweeted his thanks.
“I drew that in a hurry,” she remarked. “Could do with a bit more finishing.”
“I think it’s awesome,” Shump protested. “ When you do decide to design sneakers, promise you’ll do mine first.”
“I don’t come cheap, you know,” she joked.
“You’ll be worth it,” Shump answered.
They stared at each other without saying anything. You could cut through the tension in the air, Shump thought.
“Just to make it clear,” Pansy finally said, her gaze steady in his, “I’m not looking for anything permanent.”
“This does not change anything,” Shump reassured her. He was trying to resist the urge to just grab her and take.
“Tell me if I get too rough on you,” she said as she tugged on his Tee to expose his gorgeous torso.
Pansy wanted to touch and rub, but not yet – still too much clothes to get rid of.
“You can do whatever you want, baby,” Shump murmured as he reached for her. He lifted her blouse over her head to expose the the black bra cradling her breasts; the no-nonsense design was titillating in its simplicity, just like Pansy.
“Damn, how old are you?” Pansy remarked as clothes and shoes were flung unto the floor and furniture as they stripped each other on their way to Shump’s bedroom.
“Age is just a number,” Shump replied.
Unable to help himself, he pushed her against the closed door and lifted her up so she could entwine her legs around his waist. He crushed his lips against hers; their lips and tongues clashed- impatient and insisting.
“Your knee,” she murmured against his lips.
“It’s okay, baby, you weigh nothing,” he assured her.
Pansy hung on – her hands grasped his firm shoulders and followed the contour of the muscles there. He felt like a wall made up of skin and muscle.
Shump tugged at the clasps of her bra and exposed her breasts. He broke off his hold of her lips and trailed a path down the column of Pansy’s neck down to her breasts. They fit perfectly in his hands, globes of soft alabaster skin– he cupped and squeezed as he took first one breast in his mouth.
Pansy moaned and thought of how long it’s been, as she felt the sensation of his tongue playing with her nipple.
His right hand moved downwards even as he kept on trailing his tongue on Pansy’s breast. When he felt the waist band of her panties, he slipped his fingers underneath.
“Bloody hell,” Pansy exclaimed when she felt his fingers slide in and his thumb caress her clit. The hand, those fingers she’d seen several times handle a basketball with such force and control, are working her core towards meltdown. The soft pressure of his thumb against the sensitive nub and soft probing of his long fingers quickly pushed Pansy to ecstacy.
“Let go, baby,” Shump whispered against her ear just as she felt the flow of sensations course through her body. He supported her as she threw her head back in release, her core cramping against his fingers. When she buried her face against his shoulder, he slowly eased his hands from her so he could carry her to the bed.
He laid her gently on the bed. She looked at him as he took off the last piece of clothing shielding him from her.
“You are magnificent,” she exclaimed as she took her fill of his body. “Like a Zulu warrior.”
Shump smiled as he came down to join her. He hooked a thumb on the waist band of her panties and tugged if off, his hands running down her thighs. They were in sharp contrast against her skin – like dark chocolate against cream, he thought.
When his body pressed down against hers, she marveled at how their bodies fit, considering the one foot difference in their heights. She lifted her face to lock lips with him – her hands touched the expanse of firm skin and muscle that was his back.
When he ran his right hand up her left leg to lift it unto his shoulder, Pansy looked up at him. “I’ve taken care of it,” was Shump’s simple answer just before he slowly entered her. He had indeed protected them both. He didn’t want to hurt her in any way, so he gradually slid his girth into her, giving her time to get used to him.
Pansy sensed his hesitation.
“Hard and fast, Iman,” she gasped, even as she lifted her pelvis against his.
Shump couldn’t hold it back anymore. He met her movements with his own; she was wet and tight around him encasing him like a sheath to a sword.
She felt him – all of him – with each pump. Pansy had to push against the headboard of his bed to counteract the force of his thrusts.
Any semblance of control from either of them was gone. This was coupling – primal and urgent. The crest of her orgasm hit her. She was never a screamer, but this time, she let herself go. Shump groaned his release out, his thrust slowing down with each burst of load from his body.
He forced his tired body from Pansy’s a few minutes later. They were still both out of breath, unable to speak.
Pansy just stared at the ceiling. When she could utter words again, she said, “I will never doubt my friends ever again.”
“Doubt what?” Shump asked.
“How good sex with an athlete is,” she replied, making him laugh.
“I don’t think that was just me,” he answered with wonder in his voice. “You are one amazing woman,” he told her.
Pansy smiled. “Don’t think that you can just call me when you need a booty-call in the future,” she joked.
“Well, you can call me whenever you need one,” he offered. “I won’t mind.”
When she snorted her laugh out, Shump grinned.
Pansy looked at her watch – and realized that her new timepiece was the only thing she had on her body.
“I have to go, Shump,” she stated.
“Already?” he complained.
“That was awesome, but I promised to meet some colleagues for drinks tonight,” she explained as she picked her clothes up and went into the en-suite bathroom; Shump could hear her brisk movements.
When they stood by his apartment door, Shump realized that it’s not every day he’s the one watching a woman leave his apartment.
“You still haven’t seen my sneaker collection,” he pointed out.
“Didn’t I?” Pansy grinned.
“Thanks again,” she said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Baby, that won’t do,” he protested and pulled her in for a deep kiss.
“You are addictive,” she smiled, “but I really have to go.”
“You know what they say,” Shump told her as he let her go.
“What?” she asked.
“When you go black…” he replied.
Pansy’s laughter followed her to the elevator and left a smile on Shump’s face.