Ophelia’s grilling

“Good job, Vi! That’s what I want to see! Give me more of that. Go on!” Ophelia grins, arms crossed as she and Sage stand above Vi and Nancy. More than happy to give them a small private training session just for the two of them. Vi melting when Ophelia’s eyes lit up with a sadistic pride when she and Nancy approached her for help.

Vi looks across at Nancy, sweating just as much as her, on her knees, her hair falling around her face. Vi cranes her neck, feeling a flutter of excitement at the look in her eyes.

‘Nancy really likes being praised, huh?’

She looks up at the head and senior cheerleader, whispering to each other. Ophelia’s grin only widens as she catches her eye. “Ready for more of us, junior?” Ophelia asks, Sage turning to look down at Vi.

“Yeah… Ready for more.”

“What about you, red?” Sage asks the panting Nancy. “Looks like you need more of a break, don’t you?”

Nancy stands up, wiping her forehead. “I’m ready too.”

Sage grins. “Good girl.”

Nancy’s breath shudders as the blush on her face deepens, hastily taking a swig from her water bottle to hide any more slips of whatever emotions she’s feeling.

“You’re both making such good progress,” Ophelia says to the girls, looking them up and down. “You think they’re close?”

Sage snickers. “Hmm. You know I don’t like giving false hope.”

Ophelia laughs, directing the juniors to stretch and conducting them into different positions and routines. “Some would call it encouragement.”

“Is that the standard we accept now, Ophelia?”

“Hmm. You make a good point.” She approaches Vi leaning down slightly to whisper. “Fix your arm.”

Vi shivers but does as she’s told. Sage clicks her tongue behind Ophelia. “Is that how you’re playing it?”

Ophelia turns to face Sage. “Have to justify it don’t I?”

Sage saunters over to Nancy, whispering something to her, Nancy shivers and adjusts, improving just as much.

“A favourites game?” Ophelia asks, cocking an eyebrow playfully.

“You’re not the only one with a boyfriend on the football team who has their eye on someone”

Vi and Nancy’s breath catches in unison. A dangerous cocktail of lust and competitiveness pushes them to try and impress even harder, to get on the team, to get them into the locker room.

Ophelia laughs. “There are a few single guys still left on the team, right?”

Sage chuckles. “Sure are. They do love a cheerleader girlfriend.”

Ophelia nods. “And we love a footballer boyfriend… Just peak masculinity aren’t they?” Her voice seems almost pointed.

“Once you see what they got going on… Well, how can we resist?”

Nancy shivers, Vi bristles slightly.

Erik leans back on the wooden bench outside the university’s gymnasium. Waiting for Vi to finish whatever training session she has with Ophelia and that other girl, Nancy. It was her own idea, Vi claimed, to ask Ophelia to train her.

Ophelia is really attractive, but there’s something about her that scares Erik.

‘It’s not fear…’

“No… It’s not.” He says to himself, looking up at the sky, earphones in his ears.

‘It’s lust…’

But what is the question? Lust for Ophelia herself, a woman who has no interest in him, he’s sure, Vi showed him her boyfriend. Or is lust for what she represents? Lust for the future that could be in the cards for Vi…

Ophelia graduates this year… She handpicked Vi, grooming her… What if Vi gets so good, so entwined and fucked with and by the football team, respectively; that she becomes the next head cheerleader. Erik feels insane having conversations with himself like this… But the questions continue to infect his mind, this more submissive side of him is getting louder and more in control of his base desires.

‘Every cheerleader that isn’t single is dating a footballer… What does that mean-‘

Erik is pulled out of his thoughts by a rough tap on his shoulder, having closed his eyes without thinking. He looks over as a girl blocks the sun with her shadow, arms crossed and sneering down at him.

“Erik, right?” The girl asks.

A girl he knows. A girl who knows who he is.

A girl that Vi is positively obsessed with.

“Yeah. Hi Ophelia.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she sits down next to him. Donning a thigh-length black skirt and a loose top. She crosses her long, toned legs and puts a finger under his chin, tilting his head up. “You really shouldn’t look at other girls' legs.”

Erik blushes. Which Ophelia finds infinitely amusing.

“Uhm… Where’s Vi?” He asks her, feeling quite intimidated by this girl.

“In the changing room, getting a taste of what happens post-game.” The reaction on his face to her thinly veiled stress test easily confirms her suspicions.

She snickers, crossing her legs the other way. “I figured as much. Usually the girls that join the team keep it a secret from their men.” She flutters her eyelashes, her brown eyes staring into his soul. “Do you know what happens, eventually?”

Erik shakes his head.

Ophelia is almost cruel with her grin as she reaches up and taps a finger on her temple. “Come on, use that brain of yours. She’s with you for something right?” Ophelia casts her eyes down. “Or does your strength lie down there?”

Erik’s toes clench inside his shoe… She’s being mean, obviously…

‘Why is it kind of hot?’

“They break up.”

She grins at his answer, eyes sparkling. “Correct!” She sighs wistfully, her sharp eyes fixed on him. “It feels like every year, a girl joins our little squad, bubbling with potential, only for it to be squandered when her boyfriend who is always at the start ‘fine with it’, until one day they’re not.” She glares at him. “And the fallout always leads to one of my girls being hurt because of a greedy man who thought he could handle it, or worse still, thought they were on an even playing field.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Erik asks, genuinely confused.

She shrugs. “I see insane potential in our girl. She has the drive and looks to take over the team when I leave.” Her gaze is cold. “I don’t want her senior year derailed by a weak stomach.”

Her words are brutal and precise. A few weeks ago Erik would have been more confident, enough to put her in her place, tell her exactly what kind of relationship Vi and he share. But that voice in his head that gets off on precisely this kind of dynamic and humiliation, takes the wheel instead.

“She told you?” He asks.

She snickers, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. “Nah. I’ve seen your type before.”

Ophelia has figured it was some sort of cuck dynamic. A girl in a relationship reacting like Vi when she found out about the post-game win activities, screams either a cheater or a serial vixen, Ophelia banked on the latter, and feels vindicated in her reading, despite it being inaccurate — a fact that remains unknown to her.

“Well.. It was my idea.”

Ophelia doesn’t reply for a beat, only amplifying the craving Erik has — she just chews slowly, her eyes raking from his shoes to his jawline, her voice dripping with pitying amusement. “Your idea? Really?”

“Yes.” Even Erik can hear the waver in his voice, despite it being the truth, he wants her to push him… The voice inside him now is loud enough not to be considered a subconscious one.

She chuckles, shaking her head and putting her arms behind the bench. “God, you boys always use the same script. It’s not cucking if it was your idea, huh?”

Erik’s lower belly flares with sexual hunger, she’s like a taller more confident-in-her-stature version of Ari. To hear her use that word so openly, so confidently. It sends a dangerous shiver through Erik.

She slides her deft hand onto his upper thigh. Tracing light circles with her manicured nails. “Go on then. Tell me. What was your idea? Use your words, big man.” She grins.

“What do you mean?” Erik manages.

“What was your idea? Cheering? Or the cucking?”

Erik tenses underneath her fingers. “Both.”

It’s the truth, so why does it feel like such a lie? His voice sounds weak, insecure, Vi adores him with all her heart, she’s demonstrated it through words and actions over and over.

But the look on her face. The quiet breathy, snort. Already sure that Erik is full of shit. Another weak desperate, guy clinging to a girl who will explore others while he falls down the totem pole of options.

It’s not true. Erik knows this, but the doubt on Ophelia’s face does something terrifyingly exciting to his gut.

She waves her hand dismissively. “No offence, by the way.”

“What do you mean?”

She gestures vaguely between them, ignoring his question. “Call it a mentorship. She has the makings of a great head cheerleader. I’d hate to see her be held back by a high school sweetheart. And I’d hate to see her get hurt because a painful ultimatum was dropped on her”

“We started dating last year.” He mutters. “And, that’s not something I would ever do to her…”

She shrugs, the timeline of the relationship hardly the issue. “I sure hope not.” She says, her nails gently dragging on his denim jeans.

“I won’t. Because this was my idea. For us both to have fun.”

She snickers, not believing for a second that he gets partners on the side. “Oh, yeah, sure baby.” She looks him up and down again. “All this ego, funnily enough, if what you’re saying is true, you’d fit right in with the football team. Not physique-wise, obviously. But personality, definitely.”

Her fingers inch closer on his thigh. “I wonder if you would where it matters? Maybe Vi keeps you around for a reason.”

A mere few weeks ago, he would have replied easily: “You’re welcome to find out yourself anytime.”

But now, his mouth won’t move.

The sheer overwhelming confidence of Ophelia trying to psychoanalyse him, her insistence on making his position on Vi’s bench clear to him; is actively short-circuiting his brain.

‘Why do I enjoy this so damn much?’ He groans internally.

Satisfied with his lack of response, Ophelia speaks again. “I’d be happy for you to prove me wrong. And be the good secure boyfriend in the stands.” She shrugs.

“Hey Erik! Ooh! Ophelia, I thought you left already!”

Erik turns sharply at the safe sound of Vi’s voice. Her face slightly flushed, the damp ends of her hair sticking to her face and neck.

Next to him, Ophelia smirks at him conspiratorially, lifting her hand off of him.

“I was just getting to know your cutie, little boyfriend here a bit better,” Ophelia says, smoothly draping an arm around Vi’s shoulder, sitting between the two. She turns to Erik; “He has my approval, for now.”

Vi lets out a small, affectionate laugh, for once, entirely oblivious to the silent unspoken words and vibe.

‘She doesn’t need anyone else. The cucking… Is a fantasy… We’re open… I just… Haven’t… Yet…’

The mantra repeats in his head, defiant in nature. But the quiet monster is rumbling in the distance no more. Standing firmly at the front of his psyche, addicted to and craving more of what Ophelia just gave him a taste of. That part of him is already praying for her to do it again, to test him and push him again.