Susanne Novan - Driven

"Oohhh," Chaney ribbed, making a fake grab for the phone. "Hot date tonight, Shortchange?"

"Very funny," Cat replied, hastily hiding the phone behind her back. "It isn’t mine."

Chaney’s eyes widened. "Ya don’t say… ." Her grin deepened into a leer. "Been holding out on us, tiny?"

Cat was thankful the darkness hid her blush as she realized that she had just opened a can of worms best left closed. "Um…listen…I gotta go back inside.

There’s a message. You know…."

"Privacy. Gotcha, Shortchange. You sure you’re gonna be alright walkin’ out here by yourself?"

Cat had to smile. Ever since the attack, her teammates—and Shaniqua in particular—had taken it upon themselves to be her personal bodyguard cum

escort. "Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll be fine. The coaches are still inside, so if I need to, I’ll walk out with them."

"Alright, then. You have a good time with your…date." A flash of white teeth, and Shaniqua was swallowed up by the darkness.

Shaking her head and laughing a little, Cat turned on her heel and jogged back into the building. She’d made it to the stands when Coach Caulley stepped

out and grabbed her elbow. "Woah. Where’s the fire, Hodges?"

"Sorry Coach," Cat replied, slightly winded. "I just….is Coach Lambert around?"

Caulley’s eyes immediately narrowed. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all. I just need to talk to her for a minute. Do you know if she’s still here?"

"I think she went up to her office, but…."

"Thanks!" With that, Cat took off running again. She ran through the locker room, out the back, and down the hall past the infirmary until she got to an old, less than reliable freight elevator. Jamming on the ancient button set it creakily on its way, and she drummed her fingers against the peeling paint as she waited.

"Come on! Jesus, what are the monkeys that lower the cables on strike for more bananas or something? God!"

Several minutes later, the doors slid open with a grudging sigh, and Cat stepped in, praying yet again that she wouldn’t get stuck in the damn thing.

She didn’t, and when the doors finally opened, she stepped out into another narrow hallway. Unlike the grand corporate offices, the offices in the arena

were small, cramped, and dark. Cat walked down the hall humming idly to herself until she came to the door she knew was Dylan’s. It was closed, but she

could see a sliver of light spilling through the bottom, so she knocked.

After the second knock, when there was no answer, she tried the door handle. It was unlocked, and with tentative force, she opened the door and stepped

inside.

The office was stark, with a battered desk, computer, and chair, and very little else. It was also empty.

There was another door directly opposite her, and Cat saw light from beneath that one as well. She cleared her throat. "Um…Coach? Coach Lambert? It’s Cat. I’ve brought you back your…."

Before Cat could finish, the second door opened, and Dylan strode out, wet from the shower she’d just taken, and completely naked save for the towel

casually wrapped around her lean hips.

"….phone?" Cat squeaked as every muscle in her body locked. Except for her heart, which seemed to beat double time. A sudden influx of hormones caused a full, head-to-toe flush to break across her body, and although her brain was sending urgent messages to her eyes, they were—thank you very much—

quite content to remain where they were; on Dylan’s magnificent breasts.

Dear God, get a grip! Her brain shouted, trying to urge locked muscles into action. You’ve seen naked women before! Hell, you even showered with a whole group of them not more than a half hour ago!

Yeah, but none of those were Dylan Lambert.

The rest of her body happily agreed with this statement; her eyes most of all as they finally allowed slight movement and traced the tight, banded muscles of Dylan’s belly, then swept up and across impossibly broad shoulders and along a wonderful neck, before coming back down to their favorite targets and

remaining there.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for this sinner now and….oh man…just now, please.

In reality, this entire internal dialogue had taken up less than two seconds, but to Cat, it seemed like an eternity. A very blissful eternity, but an eternity nonetheless.

Dylan didn’t appear to notice the rapt perusal as she smiled a greeting to Cat while walking over to the desk upon which her clothes were stacked.

"I don’t know whether I should thank you or curse you for bringing that back," Dylan remarked as she picked up a black T that sat on top of the stack. "I haven’t missed the damn thing all weekend."

The towel dropped away and Cat’s brain turned into hissing white static as the most beautiful posterior she’d ever seen in her life came fully into view.

"You’re awfully quiet this evening," Dylan remarked, glancing quickly over her shoulder before shaking out her jeans. "Something wrong?"

The words, finally loosed, came in a rush. "Who me? No, nothing’s wrong. Not at all, no. Just came by to drop of your phone. Thanks, by the way."

Dylan, now fully clothed save for her bare feet, turned and gave Cat a curious look. "For?"

Cat gave an embarrassed laugh. "For, you know, letting me use your phone. I was able to get to my mom before she left for the weekend. So…thanks."

"You’re welcome," Dylan replied, reaching for her socks and boots.

Cat found herself at a rare loss for words, but her body was telling her, in no uncertain terms, that it wasn’t about to leave the room just yet. She scratched the back of her neck, trying to order her thoughts. The task was, of course, impossible.

"So," she finally got out. "Some game, huh?"

Dylan snorted. "Oh yeah. The Rolaids company called and asked me to be their CEO. Seems I made them more money tonight than the rest of the country

put together."

Cat winced. "Sorry."

Dylan shrugged. "Comes with the territory."

"Yeah, well, I’d prefer it if we didn’t visit that territory too often, if it’s all the same to you."

"I can live with that," Dylan replied, chuckling. Now fully clad, Dylan retrieved the phone Cat had brought and stuffed it into her own duffel, which she then slung over her shoulder. "Everything else going okay with you?"

Cat smiled brightly. "Oh yeah, just fine." And she meant it, too.

"Good." Dylan yawned. "Well, I’m ready to hit the bed. How ‘bout you?"

"Definitely! Bed sounds great!" She paused, then flushed again. "Mine, I mean. My bed. You know. Sleep….bed…." Her voice trailed off miserably as she gave herself a sharp internal kick.

Chuckling, Dylan laid a casual arm around Cat’s shoulders and steered her in the direction of the door. "C’mon, Shortchange. Time to go home."

*******

Two days later, after a thankful weekend break, the Badgers were back at it, practicing hard to ensure that there would be no more "Pistols problems" as they dubbed the last game. Each put in their best efforts, and when the practice was over, the coaches were well satisfied. Even Caulley, who wouldn’t be satisfied with a Championship trophy.

Disgusted by her forty percent foul shooting during the last game, Cat opted to resume her habitual drills after practice.

Unlike during the game, she sunk her foul shots with ease, so she moved back and tried threes from the perimeter. Those went in easily as well. Layups

came next, and those were a bit harder because of her stature. She was always more comfortable shooting from the outside, but also knew that if the

opportunity presented itself, she would need to be confident enough to drive to the hoop and take the shot, no matter who stood in her way.