My Super Ho Ro

It’s our last home game of the season and Fan Appreciation Day at Littlejohn, which means each player goes to his assigned table 30 minutes after the completion of the game to sign autographs for an hour. We have yet to lose a home game, going undefeated at Littlejohn and crushing the two dominant teams in our conference: the Tar Heels and Blue Devils.  

I’m the last starter on the floor, the Liberty point guard attempts to drive by, I poke the ball from behind it goes to one of our backup big men who throws the ball ahead to me. Their point guard races back I slow down, allowing him to catch up I feel his contact I shoot, the ball goes off the backboard thru the net for a and one. The arena erupts, I make the free throw to complete the 3 point play. 

The Chief is subbing me out; I walk off the court to a standing ovation from the Tiger faithful. I learn from a reporter that I achieved my career high of 25 points we finished the year undefeated at Littlejohn, a great way to show our home fans how much we love them. 

I walk out to my table in a line of 30 Tiger fans giving an impromptu ovation. I sit signing being a gracious host, always had great penmanship and prided myself in providing an autograph fans could actually read. My line is thinning out and I notice this tall, beautiful drink of womanhood at the back she is striking with straight blonde locks, a black ribbon tied around her head reminiscent of a Native American; short black leather jacket, white tube top, tight fitting leather pants, pilot sunglasses. I think (who wears sunglasses inside a gym besides myself, a story for another day) 

She smiles. I recognize the smile, but I can’t put my finger on who or where; she makes it to the front of my table and hands me a permanent marker, takes off her jacket and lays it on the table. Who do I make it to? I ask. She moves around the table; I turn and notice 6 inch stilettos.

The sexy fan is now standing over top of me, six inches away rolls up the bottom of her tube top, exposing a tight, tanned tummy. Sign KINCAID across here, she says, pointing her finger just below her belly button. Ok I will play. My mystery lady moves a little closer, and she smells of vanilla and baked apples, my favorite dessert.

I move closer to sign. One second. She says. Placing her hand on my cheek, she folds down the top of her pants to reveal a silver belly chain, unhooks it and places it around my neck. Go ahead, she continued. This is permanent. I replied. I want it to stay. She whispers. I write KINCAID in my best penmanship. OK, now add an apostrophe S. She says. And a down arrow here, pointing just below the C in line with her goodie trail.

The tattoo of this delectable creature is complete. What’s your name, darlin? I ask. She removes her shades. Your Boo. She burst out with a loud laugh. I stand to give her a hug. It’s my Tay Tay. Oh my God, what are you doing here? I ask. Coming to see my Bad Boy Baller. Taylor replies. Where are you now? I live in Greenville, by day I’m a mild-mannered RN but at night well. You are a Super Ho. I interrupt. Tay gives a cute pout and replies I’m your Super Ho.

Anyway, I got us a room; please say you will come. She continues. I’m here to kidnap you, away from whomever you have lined up tonight. I’ve got us a special drug I want to only share with you. She says. I try to speak; she puts her index finger to my mouth and says Sh, I will not take no for an answer, plus you’ve already branded me. Tay gives this irresistible pout. TK, baby I miss you. She says. I cannot resist; she is so adorable.

We kiss, my Love tastes absolutely orgasmic. About that time our team manager walks up, What’s going on here? He asks. I begrudgingly back away from Tay Tay’s mouth. Just catching up with an old friend. I reply. You guys need to tone it down. Young lady, cover yourself. I take off Taylor’s belly chain and place it around her neck; pick up her jacket and help her put it on. My apologies. Looks like she’s the last fan. I say. Ok you can leave. He says. Thank you, sir. 

Tay takes my hand, pulling so hard we run off the court into the tunnel. There, I stop and pull her close. You are so bad. I say. I know right. Taylor replies. We both are a little out of breath. We kiss hard; she sticks her tongue down my throat. 

My Tay Tay speaks. I finally got you to myself and I’m not letting you go. Come on, she says. She doesn’t give me a chance to say I’ve got a date with My Tiger Bell. This femme fatale refuses to be denied. I don’t have any Kryptonite handy, so how am I to stop a Super Ho Ro. I comply.

She has her convertible illegally parked just outside the arena. We jump in, it’s still winter however she has the top down, the eternal summer babe. I guess we are a perfect pair considering my attire; a light blue Miami Vice suit with a silk black tee under the jacket, penny loafers, no pennies, no socks.

My Tay Tay is driving like she’s in a NASCAR race. I look over at her; she gives a wink and a mischievous smile. My goodness how can someone be more gorge than last I saw her. My Boo is always searching for validation, needing someone to show her they care. I love her; she has such a beautiful soul. Words can not describe how great it feels to be kidnapped by a stunning sensuous lover who still craves your company and body after a Curtain Call performance. It’s a glorious night to be a Tiger. My Super Ho Ro continues...