Chapter 35

Samuel's POV

Selling myself... what kind of materials does that require?

I didn't quite understand, but I didn't want to lose this opportunity.

I spent an entire afternoon outside bars watching those shirtless bartenders—studying their movements, suppressing my shame, and straining my ears to catch what those laughing female customers were talking about.

Thank God I have keen observational skills.

After that, I spent two hours building up my courage, then another hour posing in front of the bathroom mirror, finally managing to take a photo that might possibly meet the requirements.

And—a recent physical examination report.

I collectively called them my job application resume. It sounded more official that way, as if I wasn't doing something humiliating.

Think about what the All-American Bowl means, think about those factory workers who scraped together protective gear for you, I told myself.

Samuel, if you can't even handle this, you'll be nothing but a coward who gets beer bottles smashed on his head for the rest of your life!

When I sat down across from Amelia and pushed the folder toward her, her expression went through several stages in a very short time: polite neutrality, shock, confusion, and then... her ears turned red.

She stared at the contents inside, then looked at me.

"This," she said cautiously, "is what."

"If you're looking for company," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "I can do it. The terms are negotiable. I can do whatever you need, however you want... I just need some money."

Silence.

"I'm an athlete, so maybe, um, physically, I might meet your requirements?" I continued, because she hadn't screamed or called security.

"I know you have standards for bed partners. I have medical records. I'm clean. I—"

"I know who you are," she said.

I stopped.

"I thought," she said very precisely, "you were here to discuss sports sponsorship. About training expenses, Recruiting Camp travel, arrangements of that sort."

I froze.

A wonderful possibility appeared before me.

But it was too good. I almost couldn't believe such good fortune would fall on me.

"Someone—perhaps your coach, who's also a sports consultant the Grey family has worked with—recommended some promising prospects to me. I looked at your Camp results," she said. "Your forty-yard dash time in the October combine was exceptional."

She looked at my stunned expression, somewhat uncertain.

"No offense intended, I had my assistant pull up your Recruiting Camp records... or do you actually not need this?"

"No, no, no!" My heart began pounding violently. "I need it. I—this is exactly what I wanted..."

She paused, a subtle smile in her eyes.

"I was originally going to ask you what else you needed for the All-American Bowl."

The folder was still open, lying between us.

She glanced at that photo again, then looked at me.

"Well," she closed the folder, but didn't return it to me. Instead, she took it with her.

"As for the other transaction about bed partners... I don't need that at the moment, but I'll keep your resume on file."

"You certainly..."

She didn't continue.

My face, I was certain, burned all the way to my ears.

"That—" I began.

"No need to explain," she took out a pen and waved it. "The materials I need from you are the detailed expenses you want to apply for. Although you probably didn't prepare them, I've also learned something about this. Let me think... would five thousand be enough?"

"Enough, more than enough," I said. "Actually fifteen hundred would..."

"Five thousand," she repeated, her tone brooking no argument. "You also need equipment. I'll arrange it."

She gave me several times more money than I had anticipated.

The equipment arrived the next day. It was the best—a level I hadn't even imagined.

She also found me a nutritionist who prepared meals for me weekly according to my training plan. I hadn't known before that such things could be arranged.

Two weeks later, I pushed myself into a stress response during training. She appeared at the training field to take me away, wanting to send me home.

I didn't dare tell her my address, didn't want her to see my terrible father. She didn't ask me to explain anything, just calmly took me to the campus dormitory. After one phone call, I no longer had to go home.

Soon after, the team gained a sports medical therapist, ready to call a halt at critical moments.

I never fully understood how she managed to make all of this happen so quietly yet perfectly.

When I asked her, she just waved her hand lazily.

"These are small problems. If you'd solved them as many times as I have, you'd have experience too."

"As for the extra money... don't worry about it. I want the best, and the best is worth a high price. You have talent. You'll bring me more returns in the future. Use it with peace of mind. My investments haven't lost money yet."

The night before leaving for the All-American Bowl, I went to her place to say goodbye.

She was dealing with something from her father's side at the time. She was tense—more obviously tense than she usually allowed people to see.

Without much thought, I started massaging her shoulders. After a while, she spoke.

"Have you ever... slept with anyone?"

I paused. "No."

She looked at the wall ahead for a while, silent for several seconds.

I vaguely realized something. My mouth responded faster than my brain.

"Do you want to...?"

"Evelyn said that... that..." She paused. "It's very... stress-relieving? Although she probably doesn't have experience either... Never mind, probably nonsense."

I worked to keep my voice steady. "Maybe it's true. We athletes, um, after intense training some also go find some... bed partners. Of course, I haven't."

She tilted her head slightly. There was no lust in her eyes, only rational consideration.

"But you don't have experience either. Sex should require some... technique?"

For the first time, I was so grateful for the materials that get passed around among guys without needing to be discussed.

"I—I have theoretical knowledge, and my learning ability is quite good... I also have strength."

She didn't answer immediately.

"I also have medical records."

"...I know."

"If you're willing," I said, "I very much support this idea."

She finally turned to look at me. Something in her eyes was weighing, confirming. Then she said one word.

"Okay."

I rushed to the bathroom to shower, then carried her to the bed.

That day she wore a long dress with buttons down the back. I reverently undid each button, kissing her delicate back.

At first she was somewhat hesitant, approaching this matter with the same pragmatic attitude she had toward everything. But later she let go.

"Lick," she gasped intermittently, pressing my head to her chest, issuing commands.

I executed loyally, not forgetting to thrust against her with my powerful hips, showing off all my clumsy techniques.

Until her slender legs suddenly clenched around me.

I could feel a hot stream bursting forth from inside her body, pouring over my penis.

Her vagina bit down on me, while she herself contentedly narrowed her eyes, like a languid cat.

"Don't come," she said lazily, looking more relaxed than I'd seen her at any time in the past several weeks, commanding me in an almost teasing tone. "Hold it in until I'm satisfied."

I gritted my teeth and held back, enduring until my face was covered in sweat, my penis throbbing painfully.

Wait... painfully?

I suddenly opened my eyes.