“Let’s go Miles!!!” I screamed the moment my nephew took the field. He’s the starting quarterback for the William T. Harris Tigers and their home field isn’t too far from my house. I enjoy watching my nephew break defenses down like he’s already a pro. And while he may only be 13, his height often makes people think he’s a junior in high school.
I never miss a home game, but I’m sure the others parents wished I did because I’m the unforgettable fan. I’m loud, obnoxious, and the biggest trash talker there. Yea, I know they’re kids, but I love the game of football, so my heckling wasn’t mindless chatter from an enthusiastic aunt, but legitimate smack talk from a fan of the game.
This particular contest, my nephew had just thrown his third touchdown pass for 42 yards. The Tigers were leading their opponent 27-10 and I was excited about the win the team was nearing. “Come on and get this W baby!” I yelled towards the field while jumping up and down on the bleachers. Of course, the other parents and fans in the stands gave me the look of death because of how loud I was, but I didn’t care.
“My goodness can you sit down already?” one of the other parents mumbled under her breath .
With my purple and orange pom poms shaking in the air, I responded, “Can ya’ll just lose already? Maybe just get on the bus already?”
She stared at me, clearly aggravated by my comment, but I didn’t care. I cheered louder and louder, and dared one of the other parents to say something to me about it. I was too into the moment; taunting the oppositions fan base was a pleasure of mine. I stomped my feet, ran up and down the stairs on first downs, and before I knew it, Miles was in the red zone, again.
With 1:58 left in the game, Miles called for the snap. The defense was blitzing and the pocket was closing in. With nowhere to throw the ball, Miles tucked the ball in his arms and attempted to run. Only gaining 2 yards, my nephew was tackled and it was second down. The clock had winded down to about 1:23 and although we were winning, I really wanted Miles to have a big play to finish the game. As the play clock ticked, Miles called for the snap.
I was on my feet, watching anxiously for a receiver to get open. My nephew used his stellar ability to read the field and noticed an open man deep in the end zone. He stepped back, and with all his might, threw a beautiful spiral pass that hit his receiver right on the money.
“TOUCHDOWN!” I yelled, jumping up and down. It was a 15 yard pass and I could see the team rallying around him on the sidelines as he came off for the field while the special teams kicked the extra point. I was extremely animated because this meant a playoff spot for the team, but in my excitement, I was careless. I felt my right boot slip and I could no longer feel the bleachers at my feet.
“Ahhhh” I screamed as I fell right there in the stands. And not just any fall, but a solid, loud, “You just busted yo ass” kind of fall. It shook the bleachers and garnered the attention from the same people I had been taunting all game.
No one came to help.
No one cared.
So I laid there for a second.
My pride almost got the best of me, but like a ‘G’, I took it in stride; I attempted to stand up, but I instantly felt a throbbing pain circulate through my ankle.
“Shit!” I screamed. I was truly having trouble getting to my feet and I knew none of these people would be willing to put their petty aside to help me. So I tried to stand again, only to fall once more from not being able to put much pressure on my right ankle. I sat there mid bleachers embarrassed with my head in my hands pissed. For a third time, I tried to muster the strength to stand through the excruciating pain I was feeling in my ankle. And for a third time, I could not.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I heard a voice from behind say, “You have to take it easy.”
“I’m sitting in the middle of two bleacher seats with a broken ankle. How much easier can I take it?” I replied severely irritated at the current situation.
The gentleman reached for my arm and placed it around his neck, while grabbing my waist and helping me to my feet. He walked me towards the end of the stairs.
“Oh man, this hurts a lot worse than I think it should,” I groaned as he sat me down on the lower bleacher seats.
“I think you may have sprained it. Let’s take your boot off and see if it’s swollen.”
I had no idea who this man was. I had never seen him at a game before. He was unfamiliar to me and I wasn’t sure if I should trust him. But, then he squat down near my feet and proceeded to unzipped my bootie, exposing my freshly pedicured toes. I should have been trying to find an explanation as to why I wasn’t wearing any socks, but given the circumstance, it was good I wasn’t. We both quickly noticed the redness and swelling around my ankle. “Holy shit, it’s definitely swollen,“ I sighed.
“Nothing a little ice won’t cure. And some rest. You have to stay off it,” he advised.
“Well that won’t be possible. It’s my responsibility to drive my nephew home. Not sure how I’m going to do that with a sprained ankle, but I don’t think I can stay off it to do that.”
“Which one is your nephew?”
“Oh you don’t know?” I said quite surprised. “You must be the only person at this field who doesn’t know who my nephew is. Which explains why you’re the only person willing to help me right now,” I laughed.
“Actually, I was being facetious. I know your Miles Mitchell’s aunt,” he said smiling, “ you made it very clear the entire game.”
Now I feel really silly. I didn’t even pick up on his sarcasm, which made me feel even more foolish than falling. It was clearly time for me to hobble myself to my car and wait for Miles, as I had embarrassed myself enough for the day. But I wasn’t sure how I was going to do that considering the amount of pain my ankle was in.
“Well, thank you sir for your kindness, but I need to be making my way to my car.”
“Let me help you,” he offered. As he stood in front me, I got a solid look at the specimen who’d been playing my doctor for the last 15 minutes. I wasn’t usually into light skinned guys, but he was definitely a game changer. He wore a beanie on his head, as it was a chilly November evening, and his beard was thick, long and evenly groomed that met his mustache in a goatee. He had pink luscious lips in between his facial hairs that were as full as the moon on a winter solstice night. The more he spoke to me, the more I started to think less about my sprained ankle and more about sucking on that bottom lip of his. He was about 6 feet tall and was dressed very casual: jeans, wheat Timbs, black vest, and black turtleneck underneath.
As he helped me to my car, I could smell the Calvin Kline cologne he was wearing. Euphoria was one of my favorite scents and I knew it anywhere. That fragrance alone made my body tingle in naughty places, so it certainly didn’t help coming from the likes of him.
The game was already over and we made our way to my vehicle. Usually, I would wait by the end of the field for Miles, but today that was not an option. I hopped inside the driver seat and started the engine, deciding to wait there for Miles instead. The gentleman helped me into my Dodge Journey and placed my shoe and hand bag in the backseat.
“You sure you going to be ok to drive?”
“Yes, I’ll be perfectly fine,” I lied.
“Cool,” he answered.
“My name is Ilena by the way”
“Ilena. I like that.”
“ I didn’t tell you my name for your approval on it. Just figured it was the polite thing to do since you’ve been my sideline doctor.”
He licked his lips and smirked as he stared at me, this time with a little glisten in his eye. He still had his hand on my leg from where he was helping me in the car. I quickly lowered my eyes to where his hand was placed. He discreetly rubbed his hand up my thigh before suddenly taking a step back.
“Well, take care of that ankle Ilena, and be more careful. You’re too much of a pretty girl to be limping. You can’t be a super fan if you can’t walk,” he stated giggling and eventually winking his eye to me before turning to walk away.
“Wait, I don’t get to know your name? I mean, you gone just leave me hanging without knowing who to thank?”
Before he could answer, my nephew approached the truck, preparing to hop into the passenger seat. The gentleman backed away from the truck just enough to close my driver door. He grinned while staring me in my eyes and licked his bottom lip again.
“I’m Mr. Fix It,” he answered.
“Oh ok… you’re one of those. Well thanks for the help,” I said with a little attitude while reaching for the door to close it. I don’t do the games and clearly he was playing. As sexy as he was, I was good on that. Besides, what was he doing at a middle school football game anyway? I didn’t see him with any children, and I didn’t see him with anyone who had children. He was probably a pedophile and it was probably best for me to just close the door and go home to treat this ankle.
Meanwhile, Mr. Fix It grinned before looking over to Miles and congratulating him on the game. He gave me one more look before heading towards his people. I sat there for a second totally confused by what just happened. I glanced over at Miles.
“You hungry?”
“Yes Auntie. Very!”
“Cool, let’s grab some grub.”
In an enormous amount of pain from the sprain on my ankle, I had Miles call the pizza place on the drive so it would be ready by the time we got there. No way would I be able to get out the car to go inside, so I decided to give Miles the money and have him go inside to pick it up. I turned around to grab my purse from the backseat after I pulled in the parking lot of the restaurant. I grabbed a $20 bill and handed it to Miles, who hopped out rapidly to get the food. I turned to place my purse back on the seat when I noticed a card that I’d never seen before nor did I ever place it there on my backseat. I picked it up, curious to see where it had come from or whose business it was advertising. But it wasn’t a business at all. I flipped the card over to see if it had a name, but I saw nothing, nothing but a number and 3 letters – M.F. I.
Then it hit me, this wasn’t just a card. And that wasn’t just a number – it was his number.
Contemplating on whether or not to call, I stared at that card. I mean, he wouldn’t have left me his number if you didn’t want me to contact him. But, why wouldn’t he have just given his name. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again, under the right circumstances. My mind kept wandering to flashes of him casually licking his lips in the short span that we were engaged in conversation. But he was once again being about games. He could have just simply given me his number versus dropping a card next to my purse.
As my nephew was heading back to the car with the pizza it was clear what I needed to do with this number. I decided there was no way in hell I was going to call him. Again, I am not about the games. I’m 35 years old and I like men who are upfront about what they want and who they want it from. Maybe 10 years ago this little card trick would have been cute. But not now. I tossed it to the back of my truck and drove off.
My nephew was happy. While driving down his block, I couldn’t see my brother’s truck parked on the street. This was unusual as my brother was always home when I dropped off Miles.
“Is your dad working late today?” I asked?
“I don’t know Auntie,” he shrugged, “ he’s not home much as of late anyway.”
Wait, what? If Miles was insinuating what I thought he was, I needed to know more. I pulled over right in front of my brother’s house and asked Miles to clarify, “What exactly does that mean, Miles?”
The happiness that was on my nephew’s face seconds ago had dissipated. He dropped his head as if he was going to be in trouble for what he was about to say. He looked up at me and answered, “I’m just saying Dad is always away. I don’t know if it’s work or not. I don’t ask. I just know he and mom don’t always get along and when they don’t he leaves. I ain’t tripping but I ain’t stupid. And neither is my mom.”
I was pissed. My brother had to be losing his mind to fuck around on his family. On his wife. On his children. He was about to get an earful. I decided to stay a while and wait for him to return so I could cuss his raggedy ass out. I stepped out the truck, forgetting I had a sprained ankle, and buckled at the knees.
“Are you ok Auntie?” Miles asked concerned. He didn’t see my fall and didn’t know my ankle was sprained until that moment. I assured him I was fine and was staying over for a moment. He got the key from under the flowerpot and opened the door. I mustered up enough strength to walk from my truck to the door. The pain was still throbbing but better than earlier. Besides, maybe my brother had some Tylenol I could take to ease the pain while I waited.
When inside, Miles ran to the kitchen to get something to drink to quench his thirst from all those jalapenos he ate. He ordered them on his pepperoni pizza, which was a great choice, but only great if you can handle the spice, which he apparently could not.
I sat on the couch thinking about what I was going to say to my brother when he walked in the door. I was still furious at him or at least at the notion he could be cheating. It was making my body tense and a tense body and a sore ankle did not go hand in hand. I need a painkiller fast.
“Miles!” I called, but got no answer. I could hear the shower running so I figured that’s why he couldn’t respond. I stood up praying that the downstairs bathroom had a medicine cabinet. When I opened the bathroom, there was a serious odor. Turning on the light, I could see the toilet was flooded and looked to have been that way for days.
“Dis fool been neglecting his family and his house? Dumb ass,” I said to myself aloud. I opened the medicine cabinet and didn’t see Tylenol, but did see a prescription bottle. I grabbed it, without looking at the label just so I could hurry out the bathroom.
Back in the living room, after having grabbed me a cup of water to take the pills, I googled some plumbers in the area. It was pretty late, but there was a place still open for taking house calls. “Dependable Plumbers… they sound legit,” I spoke to myself, so I gave them a call. The receptionist assured me someone would be there in 15 mins. So while I waited, I popped a pill from the bottle I’d found hoping to ease the pain in my ankle.
Within minutes, I started to feel woozy, like I was floating on cloud nine. My body felt limp and yet free at the same time. I could barely feel the pain in my ankle or anywhere else. What the hell had I taken? I looked back at the bottle to see these weren’t just ordinary pain pills, they were oxy, and I was officially high! Not 5 mins after my realization of this, did the doorbell ring. I knew it was the plumber coming to fix the toilet. I had to get it together before I opened that door.
I limped over to the door; my nephew was still upstairs showering so I did one last head shake and pat down to get my head on straight so I wouldn’t act as high as I felt. When I opened the door, my jaw dropped, my eyes widened, and I thought I was hallucinating.
“What the fuck… Are you serious?”
“Well hello to you too Ilena,” he smiled. I couldn’t believe luscious pink lips was standing at my door about to fix my toilet. I really thought the oxy was playing tricks on me.
“Wait… are you seriously the plumber?”
“Why else would I be here,” he responded.
“I just didn’t know you were a plumber”
“That’s because I never told you,” he winked, “now show me where the plumbing issue is.”
I took him to the back bathroom to show him what was going on with the toilet. It was difficult to look at him professionally when just a few hours prior I was thinking about calling him for very different reasons, but I kept my cool. I stood there and watched him work; he was good with his hands. He had taken off his jacket and was only wearing a wife beater underneath. His utility belt barely kept his pants up, so the lining of his boxers were very visible. When he stood up to plunge the toilet, I could see the ripples in his arm muscles. The more I watched him, the more turned on I became visualizing those arms wrapped around me tightly.
Nothing that was clogging up the toilet could compare to the clogged up drain I had. It has been 21 days, 17 hours, 43 minutes and 22 seconds since I’d had my last fix. To say I needed some was an understatement. But did I need it from him?
Somewhere in between my daydreaming and medication high, the toilet clog was repaired.
“There was a ton of hair down there,” he assessed.
“Interesting,” I replied, “I’m not a fan of having hair near drains or similar places.”
He smirked at me with his eyes. He walked up to me, close enough to where I could feel his breath on my forehead and inquired, “How does your ankle feel?”
“Painful. Why, you still playing doctor?”
“Not a doctor, I’m Mr. Fix It. I can fix anything,” he said to me walking into my body forcing me to walk backwards into the bathroom wall.
“Oh really? Well I don’t think anything else in here needs a repair,” I declared.
“I beg to differ,” he stated before locking those lips across my own.
Sensually he kissed me, and I reciprocated this by doing what I’ve craved all day, biting that bottom lip of his. He cupped my behind in his hands and lifted me up on the bathroom wall. Never unlocking his lips with mine, he quickened his pace, pulling my shirt over my head and exposing my soft pink push up bra.
With my legs still wrapped around his waist, he gently kissed my breast, using his mouth to lower the bra just enough to expose my nipples for his sucking pleasure. I was weakened by that in itself. My breast are such a soft spot for me, that stimulating them alone can cause an eruption. But he didn’t stop there.
Mr. Fix It took a second to see how high the ceilings were in the bathroom. I was confused as to why he was concerned about something so insignificant. But the moment he slid my pants down, ducked his head between my panties and where my pants stopped, and lifted my body to the sky, I knew why.
He buried his face in my center, using his tongue to magically caress every part of my clit. Not too fast, not too slow. Holding my entire 170lbs in the palm of hands, pressing his face closer and closer into my womanhood. I began to melt at his touch. My body began to shake. My cat began to moisten more and more until before I knew it, that kitty was purring right into his mouth. And he swallowed every drop of me.
As I was nearing the end of my climax, I heard my nephew run the down the stairs yelling my name:
“Auntie! Auntie… Daddy’s home!!”
My eyes got big! I couldn’t let my brother catch me getting it on in his bathroom, and Mr. Fix It knew it. He instantly started to gather his things as soon as he heard my brother was making an entrance.
“You know Miles just saved right? I had way more in store for you than that. ”
“ Whatever… I’m sure I’ll need something fixed again soon,” I teased, all the while trying to get myself together.
Hurriedly pulling up my clothes and him expeditiously trying to grab all his tools, we exited the bathroom without my nephew seeing us. My brother pulled in the driveway and was coming in the side door. Meanwhile, I was pushing Mr. Fix It out the front. I looked at sexy light skinned one last time before waving good bye, then quickly shut the door at the exact moment my brother opened the side door.
My brother came in the house heated! He was opening doors, searching the house as if he had lost something.
“What’s wrong with you? What are you looking for?” I asked, but he ignored me, heading straight for the living room window.
“What’s your problem bro?” I repeated.
“I saw that plumbers truck outside.”
“Ok so…”
“So… it’s a guy that works there. Don’t know his name, but my wife’s been calling a guy who works there like once a week. At first it was to come fix the back bathroom. No big deal. But week after week after week, something else was wrong that she need to see the plumber. First it was the sink, then it was the tub, this week it’s the toilet.”
“Well bro if things were right around here, maybe she wouldn’t need to call a plumber. Especially since Miles tells me you’re never home anymore. Are you fucking around on her? Is that why ya’ll arguing?“
“Ilena, I’m not the one cheating- SHE IS! I only leave when I think she’s about to call him so I can catch them in the act. That’s why I’m not around.”
“Do you know who he is if you saw him or what he looks like? Anything?” I asked. Maybe I could ask my new found plumbing friend if he knows the co-worker that my sister in law has been creeping with. But my brother responded:
“Hell yea, some light skinned dude. Kinda tall- about 6 feet. Got a beard too. And the last time he was here, he dropped this on accident,” handing me a business card he had pulled out his wallet with a number on it and some initials.
But it wasn’t just any card.
And it was just any number.
It was HIS card. And it was His number. With the same initials in the corner – M.F.I.
