Just about

You make excellent time as you weave through the winding city streets with finesse, driving just above the speed limit.

The journey takes you out of Pennystone Lane and into a quiet part of town to the northeast. old, long abandoned factories dotted about between rows of slightly run down post-ww2 houses, many of them reminiscent of the 1950s.

The area is one you recognize as “Bomber Hill” nicknamed for the wartime airfield that once stood nearby. The entire neighbourhood is wedged comfortably between downtown, and the various other middle class areas to the north.

A few times along the way Samantha begins to nod off in the passenger seat, slumping against the door all the way, before snapping back awake as her head gently hits the window.

You don’t know how she expects to compete in this state.

A wide open park eventually comes into view, with the large green space standing in stark contrast to the tall brick smokestacks that peer above the trees in the background.

This looks like your destination.

Pulling up to the soccer field parking is fortunately easy to find. And as soon as the car sits still you and Samantha both exit, with her jogging over to the field proper as you make your way over to a tall, ancient looking wooden bleacher.

As you make your way to the well populated benches, you spot a cheap looking white banner hung on them, reading: “NewState Women’s Soccer League: Pennystone Parrots vs. The Northside Bombshells” each team name is punctuated with their corresponding emblem, a Grey Parrot and a cartoonish green bomb adorned with a lipstick mark respectively.

The league obviously is a ragtag, publicly funded organization, but it clearly has its dedicated fans. The crowd is healthy and generally cheery, managing to fill a number of bleachers. A few entrepreneurial folk sell hot food and drinks, a welcome addition as the world inches closer to sunset and the air rapidly begins to chill.

Taking your seat in a quieter part of the benches, you’re sat beside someone you humorously note is the most stereotypical nerd girl you’ve ever seen.

She’s around Samanthas age you think. Her frame appears about as thin as Marys, with her lower body wearing unflattering white running shoes and ill fitted knee length cargo shorts.

Her abdomen is covered in a ratty looking “Star Battles” t-shirt. The scene depicted being of Warlord BlobYuks harem, a number of iconic Sci-fi **** girls splayed about in just barley SFW poses.

Her head is mostly covered by greasy waves of dark brown-nearly black hair. Her pasty white face looks to be more a result of staying indoors than completely genetic, and is mostly obscured by thick oversized square frame glasses, the thick lenses only magnifying the grey bags under her brown eyes.

As she occasionally takes a sip of hot chocolate from a styrofoam cup, you catch the glint of heavy-duty braces working hard to repair her substantial overbite and buck teeth.

You turn your attention back the field, and you can see Samantha exchanging brief words with an older woman you imagine is the referee, before she breaks out in a run to take her position on the field. Her Ass wobbling heavily all the way.

A number of eyes train on her, some people letting out annoyed huffs at her lateness. Some guys scattered about gaze lustfully, while others deliberately look around casually, appeasing their girlfriends whom are likely paying attention.

You try to conceal a grin as a group of rowdy, drunk teenage girls near you break out in exaggerated catcalls, whooping, whistling and some shaking their bottoms towards the field in mimicry.

Samantha, ignoring or more likely misunderstanding the dirty connotations of their cheers, takes her position on the field and gently waves out towards the crowd.

You nearly jump out of your seat as a solid beat after everyone else has quieted down, the nerdy, greasy haired girl next to you suddenly stands, exclaiming “WOOOO, I LOVE YOU SAMANTHA!!!” and lifts her shirt, flashing her practically nonexistent breasts. Not even the size of Marys meagre A-cups, the girls dark, rock hard nipples are the only definition on her chest apart from the shallow valleys of her ribcage.

The Nerd girl looks around to the rest of the crowd almost expectantly, as all heads turn towards her display. A few coughs and awkward chuckles is the only sound that can be heard aside from the literal crickets beginning to emerge for the evening.

Apparently having used all her confidence, her face turns a deep fire engine red, and she whips her shirt down and clambers to the seat, accidentally spilling her hot drink on the way down with a hiss. Secondhand embarrassment rocks you to the core, and you now deeply regret your choice of seating.

Funnily enough in the end, it looks like Samantha is the only person to have not caught her awkward display. Sams blue eyes all the time staring down her competition in deep, strategic thought.

The game begins with a shrill cry of a whistle, and both teams jump into action in shockingly fierce competition with eachother.