Ticket to Ride

It wasn’t all night. It was just that once, in the private locker room. But to Ryan it felt like a steamroller had driven over him, backed up, and driven over him again. It was nothing like Jared. The two of them had fucked repeatedly throughout the night, but Ryan had not been as exhausted, bruised, and totally fucked by Jared as he was with just the one taking by Shane.

Shane showered again afterward. Ryan was still lying, spread out on the top of the message table, panting and moaning, as Shane dressed. Before the basketball player left the room, having thrown a twenty-dollar bill on Ryan’s shuddering chest and growling, “Jared said dinner was supposed to come with the lay. Get yourself something nice from McDonalds,” Shane also dropped another envelope on Ryan’s chest.

When Shane was gone and Ryan was able to sit up and look at the envelope, he saw that it had “Ticket to Ride” written on it in an elegant script. Inside was a season ticket to the skybox section.

Ryan was to learn the next Wednesday night when he appeared at the next Stingrays’ home game to check out what this latest ticket was all about that his seat was in the club owner’s skybox. When he entered the box, the faces of four middle-aged, not-fully-in-shape men in expensive clothes looked up at him with assessing eyes.