Playtime Rules

Rule #3 Big Bank Take Little Bank

One-on-one with JeVonte Cortez.

She was used to having one on one time with a sexy man in the bedroom, not on a basketball court, but right now, she would take anything to be next to this man.

"Take it easy on me."

He passed her the ball, she caught it, dribbled for a second, then made her shot at the three-point line, sinking it in with a breeze.

He smiled big at her, his pearly whites gleaming. "You play?"

"I dabbled a bit in high school, nothing to brag about."

"Ok, then I'm not taking it easy on you. D up."

She almost tripped on her own feet thinking about D'ing up with him. Not a damn defense play either, she wanted the real D, the Big D. She wondered what he was working with? Her eyes glanced down to see if she could see the dick print in his loose-fitting shorts.

A slight bulge, that did not mean a thing. She wanted to see it naked. It was a good thing the guys playing ball on the other court were not paying them any mind. There was no one on the bleachers watching either.

"You gonna play or stare at places a ladies' eyes shouldn't go," he said, dribbling up on her. "I mean, I'm all about distractions if they work, but let's get a good workout in first."

She played some defense, holding out her arms to try and block his shot, but he had several inches on her and it was in vain. He made the shot with ease.

"Okay, I see we have to play like that!" She was never a great player when she was on the team in high school. She was one of the shorter players, but she was fast. The only time she liked to play guys was when she was on her Love and Basketball bullshit. Play for some play, in the bedroom. Here she was again, playing before she got to the real play.

She took off her jacket, exposing nothing but her sports bra, and tossed it over with her towel and water bottle.

That stopped JeVonte in his tracks as he stopped to stare at her bare belly. Then she remembered she was not as ripped as she would have liked. She sucked in her stomach, grabbed the ball, and dribbled up to the basket, making a nice lay-up basket.

"You good?" she asked him.

"I'm good, you good?" He took off his shirt and she almost lost everything. The man was beautiful. Tat on his chest, some writing tatted on his abs, that was a ripple of nice separated muscles. He must do more than play a little basketball.

She dated athletes, he was one with that body. She was a goner. Suddenly she did not want to play anymore.

"You didn't ask me my name."

"Don't need to," he said as he shot and then missed. She grabbed the ball and dribbled it for a moment.

"You think you know me already?"

"No, your friend said your name the other day, Yancy."

She was focused on his body, not the game, tanking her next shot like an amateur.

"You good? You need a timeout?" He grabbed the ball and watched her.

"You professional or something?"

"Nah!" he said, driving up to the basket, dunking it, then hanging on the rim to show off. He was lying of course.

"I thought this was a friendly game?"

"We're not friends," he said with a grin, passing her the ball. "And I'm done taking it easy on you."

He came up behind her, trying to cut her off, and the way he felt behind her, she imagined the way it would be if he was fucking her from behind.

She tripped between his foot or hers and they both landed on the ground, him on top of her.

"My bad, I was uh...a little too aggressive." Not moving from landing on top of her, they stared into each other eyes.

She wanted him, in the worse way.

Then he jumped up and reached his hand out to help her up.

"You okay? We can call it a game we're even."

"Sure, but we have to have a rematch."

"Yeah, when you're fully dressed," he said with a smirk at her.

"Me? You're the one with no shirt on."

"Yeah but, a bra is not a shirt, so it's pretty even."

She walked over to get her towel and water bottle. She watched him, still watching her, then took a sip of water. He was not passing her rule number two vibe. Money was everything, and she needed to know if he had any. How was she going to find out more about him?

"I guess this was my workout for today. A whole lot better than that dreadmill." She grabbed her jacket to put it back on.

"You know, if you want to tighten up a bit, you should hit the weights, not the treadmill."

She put a hand on her hip and glared at him. "Are you trying to say I need some work on my body? Calling me fat or-"

"No! No, no," he said with a chuckle. "I think your body is fine. I was just saying, strength training over cardio, you know, to tighten up."

He still had not put his shirt back on and she could not help that her eyes roamed over his physique. Giving out fitness tips and looking that good, he had to be an athlete, not that St. Louis had a professional basketball team.

"Next time you play, I might come to watch again."

"Then let me make sure you don't miss that." He grinned that perfect smile of his.

Dear Lord, why must this man be so gorgeous? Why must he make her moist in all the right places, and make her temperature rise? She felt like a kid with a crush on a boy in school. This was not her speed back then, she needed to cool it now.

He took her phone from her hands and started to text on it.

"Excuse me?"

"How else will I be able to let you know," he said, then handed it back. "I'm here, whenever you're ready."

"You work out that much?"

"Yeah, and I work here," he said.

"You work...here?" At the gym? Now she was intrigued.

"Personal trainer."

"Oh!" She smiled at him, which explained lots. "So, you do know what you're talking about."

"I do."

"So, would you be willing to work with me? Get my body right."

"You have my number. Call me anytime."

He dribbled the ball, backing up from her, still with that smile on his face. She wanted to say fuck it and go back out there and play with the man, but she needed to cool herself all the way off. She was not in shape to take on that man.

She started out of the gym, looking back at him still watching her. She looked down at her phone, where he saved his number. Even seeing his name made her horny.

She turned away, walked out of the gym, and then fanned herself with her hand.

But wait...this man did not have money working as a personal trainer. How much did he make? Nowhere near what her bank account was saying. How much did he charge clients at this fancy place?

She did some calculations on her phone, going high as she could think, and it was not bringing in what could support her habit.

Then again, rule number one, she was not trying to fall in love. Rule number two money was everything, and she only surrounded herself with people with the same mentality. She could not judge him based on his job, she knew plenty of trust fund babies with hobbies or side hustles.

And if all fails, rule number three, big bank take little bank. Just to fuck him, he did not need to be rich rich. Maybe she was ready to be a sugar momma.