When I broke into the open, eluding the last of their front line defenders, there was only the kicker and Clay Conner - Number 27 - between me and the goal line.I cut across the field as if I was running toward their kicker ... away from Clay Connor. As soon as Connor committed to chase after me - without breaking stride - I planted my right foot and cut hard, back toward the middle of the field.I ran right past him at the ten yard line, just as he reached out and tried to grab the flag off my hip. He didn’t come close to tackling me ... not even close enough to grab a flag.Before I crossed the goal line, the hometown crowd was already cheering. The band was playing and the announcer was yelling into his microphone as I ran over to hand the ball to the ref.When I turned toward our sideline - there stood Clay Connor - blocking my path. Three of the refs were running our way when I looked around. I was determined not to let him make me lose my temper and cause me to get a penalty.I. She was saying something but I was in another world.Suddenly she slapped me and said, “Mad, stop looking at me and give me a towel!”I said sorry and passed on my white towel. She came to my room and started drying herself. I followed her. She asked, “I will get sick if I wear wet clothes, I need something to wear”I started searching in my cupboard but didn’t find anything. Only thing I could offer was my white shirt. She got irritated.Anita: “What the fuck is this? You want me to wear this?”I apologized. She was angry and pushed me outside of the room. After a few minutes, she called me.I got shocked by the way she wore my shirt. She folded sleeves till her elbow. The upper two buttons were open, her boobs were partially visible, and her shapely waxed legs were adding to the sexiness.Anita: Don’t you even think about touching me. We are best friends. Our relationship is limited to friends only.”I said nothing and sat near to her. She gave me a look.Me: Don’t say best friends can’t.
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