Page 101 of The Keeper

Right. Tonight. Drinks with Hannah and Bennet. That should be interesting.

Overly enthusiastic banter between the analysts filled the room. Royal City just scored a goal against West London United. Actually, it was Cade who scored the goal. He exuded so much excitement reveling in the moment with his teammates. He’d done the celebratory knee-slide on the grass to the delight of fans.

I grinned. He looked good in royal blue.

“Cade Gallagher with another monster goal for Royal City,” the announcer bellowed. “He is the life blood of this club. Look at the joy he brings to the pitch. It’s like watching a child in a sweet shop.”

I laughed at the dramatics of what I assumed was the color commentator.

After another replay of the goal, live game action resumed. According to the commentators, if Royal City wins this match, they’ll move to the top of the standings in the league. So far, they’re ahead two to nothing. Which means nobody has scored on them yet.

These hands don’t miss.

At the exact second I thought those words, a Royal City player’s bad pass landed at the feet of their opponent. United made a run for the goal. Their forward or striker or whoever it was streaked up the field, blowing past two Royal City defenders.

I held my breath. He took a shot at the goal but it deflected off another Royal City player, curved wide to the left and went out of bounds, meaning a corner kick.

My pulse raced. There he was, waving and yelling to his teammates to position them where he wanted.

My God.

Xavier was hot in street clothes and casual business attire but in his uniform barking out orders? Lethal.

Granted, goalkeepers wore obnoxious colors that could rival highlighters but there’s something about this shade of green. And if the cameraperson keeps doing these close ups of him with his gloved hand gripping the post while screaming at someone to move over, I might orgasm on the spot.

There is something primal about watching an athlete in the heat of competition. The intensity is unmatched. His eyes flared, the tendons in his neck tightened with each yell.

Once Xavier had everyone where he wanted, he reigned in any explosiveness and appeared almost bored. I’d seen him exude control over his body like this before. It will never cease to amaze me.

The ball flew off the United player’s foot and landed right in Xavier’s hands.

I wondered what those gloves felt like. Weird thought? Probably, but the way his gloved hand cupped the ball while he walked to kick it away hit something in me. I made a mental note to search what material they’re made from. I should also commend the cameraperson on their exquisite ability to capture Xavier’s every move.

Oh.

A full body shot. Xavier stood on the edge of the penalty box holding the ball. He waved his free hand, signaling he’d be kicking it past midfield.

I’ve seen him naked so I know what’s hiding under all those clothes but wow. I never realized how form fitting a goalkeeper uniform is. I liked it. A lot. And the fact that just about every inch of him from the neck down was covered, except for his knees and a sliver of thigh? I wanted to peel those layers off and reveal what belonged to me.

Time to go make the video now.

I eyed my sister’s diary. Part of me still didn’t think I should read it. But I grabbed it anyway and sat on the couch.

It’s been a few hours since I created quite the show for Xavier to enjoy. I made sure he could see I had the game on in the background while I showed him exactly how turned on I was and how many times I climaxed. He’d responded with another audio message. A brief one, only saying “Good girl.”

Hearing those words come out of his mouth launched another uncontrollable wave of intense pleasure. I haven’t masturbated this much in a long time.

I drummed my nails on the diary and chuckled. “Your little sister is having some peak experiences these days.”

I did the cursory flip-through a couple times, letting the pages rustle under my fingers. We’d tell one another everything so I probably wouldn’t be too surprised with what she’d written down. I opened the cover and saw Charlotte written in her neat penmanship. The C flowed out so that it underlined the rest of her name. I smiled, tracing her handwriting with my finger.

Flipping the pages, I stopped somewhere close to the middle and scanned through several musings on music, clothes, food, and….

I met a boy today. Totally Tori’s type but I think I might like him. She wasn’t at the pub with me when I saw him. I was picking up lunch for us when he walked in with friends. I could tell he was the ring leader. Tall, confident, loud. Sorta the male version of my sister (except for the tall part).

I snort-laughed. Charlotte always knew how to slide in a good zinger when the opportunity presented itself.

We ended up talking for almost half an hour. He plays soccer, goes to some fancy boarding school, and just got his drivers’ license. That means he must be 16. So, a little older than me but not a lot. I think he brags too much but he’s cute. He has such pretty hazel eyes. I gave him my instant messenger screen name so we can chat there. We’ll see if I hear from him.

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