Snatch
COVER © ALESSIA BRIO

WORK-IN-PROGRESS

 

Purple Prosaic is a self-publishing label featuring the nocturnal emissions of eroticists Alessia Brio & Will Belegon.

SNATCH: A LOVE STORY

On the surface, Aaron "Snatch" Barker was a superior athlete. Underneath lurked a monster. Robby Burton both loved and hated his teammate. From high school through college and on to the pros, their lives entwine with Beth Ray and her daughter Cassidy in the most intimately brutal ways.

 

 CONTEMPORARY, EXPLICIT ADULT FICTION

[ VIEW CART ][ REQUEST A REVIEW COPY ]
Bookmark and Share

EXCERPT

A bead of sweat trickled down the back of Beth's neck and into her brand new Tigers sweatshirt, a gift from her parents in honor of the auspicious occasion. "Damned school pride," she snorted under her breath. With over forty-five pounds of photography equipment hanging from the strap on her shoulder, even the late fall chill couldn't keep her comfortable. The strain, coupled with the fact that she'd rather be anywhere other than a high school football game, made Beth more than a little bit grumpy. She needed the action shots, though, to round out her portfolio. Her portraits and stills were breathtaking, but all the best photojournalism programs expected a wide variety of samples. That meant action shots, which—unfortunately for Beth—meant sports. She didn't have time to wait for track season to roll around and provide something a bit more artistic and aesthetically pleasing, either.

The scholarship application had to be in tomorrow's mail, and Beth cursed herself for putting it off until the last minute. Pro-cras-tin-a-tion, she mocked Carly Simon, is making me late. She'd be pulling an all-nighter, for sure. Fortunately—or not, depending on one's perspective—she didn't have anything resembling a social life, so she wouldn't be missing a hot date or a night out with a gaggle of girlfriends. Since Jonathan left for college, she spent most weekends taking photos or, if she couldn't afford to buy film, sketching. Her classmates called her an art geek, which didn't bother her in the least.

Next weekend, she planned to make her first trip to Penn State to visit Jonathan. After scrambling to jump through all the scholarship hoops, she needed the break in a major way. It would be the furthest she'd ever ventured from home—alone or accompanied—and it still surprised her that her parents had given permission. Jonathan, her boyfriend of almost two years, said it was a sign of their trust in him. If they knew he'd been pressuring her to sleep with him, perhaps they'd reconsider.

The team struggled to stay in the game, and Beth struggled to give a shit. It made no difference to her whether theys won or lost, as long as she accomplished her objective: kick-ass photos. Yeah, the rivalry with Canton McKinley was legendary, but so what? The players looked clumsy and stiff in their gear. Only one showed anything resembling poetry in motion, so she focused her lens on him—capturing several shots of aerobatic maneuvers and leaping catches. He did seem quite skilled, but his attitude sucked ass. She hoped his panther-like grace would show up on film without the obvious arrogance.

"Good, ain't he?"

The older gentleman startled her. She'd been distracted with her equipment and hadn't noticed his approach. He carried an enormous soft drink in one hand and a box of popcorn in the other.

"He certainly appears to be," she responded. "What's his name?"

"Barker. Aaron Barker. But everyone just calls him Snatch."

Beth turned to look at the man, and her expression must have conveyed her surprise.

"Oh, it's because he snatches the ball out of the air. Not..." he trailed off, blushing. "You new here? I thought everyone knew Snatch."

"Naw. I've been here all my life. I just don't pay any attention to the jocks. My name's Beth Ray."

"Bob Burton. My wife, Enid, is up there waiting for me," he gestured with his head, tucking the box of popcorn under one arm and accepting her outstretched hand. "Pleasure's all mine. My boy's our quarterback. When I saw you takin' pictures, I thought maybe I could cajole you into getting a couple good shots of Robby. I'll happily reimburse your expenses—plus a fee."

Beth smiled. "Oh, most of this is paid for by the school—for the yearbook—but I can snag a couple prints for you. No problem."

"Much obliged," he tipped his cap. "I'll leave you to your work, Miss Ray."

She watched him walk away, chiding herself for not accepting a fee. Gotta break that habit, or I'll never make any money. Photography was an expensive hobby—and an even more expensive vocation. Her honor wouldn't let her use more than the school's equipment for her personal agenda, even though the yearbook advisor had given his tacit approval. He knew how much a journalism scholarship meant to Beth. He also knew that her family's situation made it very unlikely that Beth would succeed without a little outside help. While Beth appreciated Mr. Shell's assistance, she—like her proud parents—had a tough time accepting hand outs, even well-intentioned, unsolicited hand outs.

Bob Burton climbed into the stands and joined a dour looking woman who regarded her with something approaching disdain. Beth knew—and despised—the type. She could almost hear Enid telling her how much more lady-like she'd look in a nice skirt and sweater twin set. Blowing a big, sassy bubble, Beth winked and waved before turning her back to the woman. It was women like Enid Burton who made Beth want to succumb to Jonathan's desires, out of sheer rebellion for such prudish attitudes.