Reception

Chapter 14 - T.A.G., She's It

Damien entered the arena lobby and secured a seat for Alice before sitting himself beside her. Immediately he felt his hand overtaken by hers, their fingers interlaced. He didn’t think it a bad feeling, but he didn’t know if he necessarily liked it, either.

People of all shapes and sizes began to enter the huge, dim-lit lobby that preceded the T.A.G. match. Every match required an orientation, as each game was over four hours long and had no referees in the game to teach or coach, much less reprimand bad behavior. Of course, there were cameras to catch people in the act and punish them after the game, but Damien couldn’t remember the arena ever having an incident.

His hand was squeezed by Alice’s, who had long since become content by laying her head down on his bicep. She hugged it close, not letting go. He sighed and took that moment to give her a thorough look-over.

Damien noticed her physique. He had never considered her unattractive. In fact, quite the opposite, his body seemed to gnash against imaginary prison bars, trying to leap into her. His chocolate eyes took her in. The coverlet, the dress, the heels, they were all too perfect on her small frame.

He wondered if he had a thing for small girls.

His eyes suddenly glanced down the length of his bicep, catching the rise and fall of her chest. He noted that she was erect, and attributed it to nothing more than the cold. In fact, he chastised himself for looking – and for being aroused by it. The view that her dress sported, giving way to her small, petite chest and cleavage wasn’t helping him, either.

His head shot up, looking around with a gulp. Damien began to breathe in slowly, trying to focus on the game he and her were about to take on. It didn’t do him much good, however, as his thoughts drifted, and uncontrollably so, to her beautiful, smooth legs. He resisted the urge to think about it further. Damien demanded he think about something less provocative, and instead placed his attention on what shoes she was wearing.

Suddenly, it hit his mind. Her heels! What about her heels?

“Alice?”

“Mmm?” she mumbled.

“If you’re in heels, how are you going to play the game?”

Alice’s head moved up slightly. It was as if she had just been rudely interrupted from a good dream, a slight pout forming on her soft lips, “I’ll do just fine. Now, if you don’t mind–” Alice resumed her position, snuggling into his arm.

Damien wasn’t sure whether it was that he had front row passes to the most perfect view down her shirt or the insane amount of physical contact he was receiving, but his face flushed hotly. His pulse quickened and his mouth started to dry out. He, for the life of him, could not figure out what was happening to him.

Alice’s face seemed to be permanently painted on the interior of his eyelids. Her aroma pulled him in, her beautiful auburn hair inviting. Her lips seemed so perfect. He wondered what they tasted like.

“Damien?”

His face shot up in the direction of the voice.

*****

“Damien?” Michael said taking a few steps towards him.

“Oh, hey, Michael, what’re you doing here?” Damien seemed puzzled.

“You know, just trying to make you jeal–” Michael’s lungs graciously exhaled the rest of the air they contained as an angry fist plunged into him. Sarah knew better, however, that it was simply a reaction programmed into him. He didn’t actually breathe air.

Sometimes she wished he could, just so that she could actually knock it out of him.

Sarah’s arm remained outstretched as she stood – golden locks out of place – ruffled because of the movements she took to punch Michael. She regained her composure and coolly looked at Damien, “Hi, Damien.”