tainted love (Niccolò Govender Rossi)

Locker room

The boys' locker room buzzed with the usual post-practice chatter. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the sound of lockers clanging shut. Brando strode in with a smug grin, a phone clutched in his hand.

"Hey, guys," Brando called out, drawing the attention of his friends, who were lounging around and chatting. "Check this out."

The group gathered around him, curiosity piqued. Brando connected his phone to the old TV mounted on the wall. The screen flickered before showing a video of Honey with an older man. The locker room fell silent as the boys focused on the screen.

"Whoa, is that Honey?" one of them asked, squinting at the image.

"Yeah, man," Brando replied, barely containing his pride. "She's something else, huh?"

A low whistle came from another boy. "Damn, didn't expect that from her."

"Man, you won't believe the story behind this," Brando said, grinning. "I saw her at the club last weekend, looking all sexy in this black, skimpy dress. She was turning heads left and right."

The boys leaned in closer, intrigued. "Really? Tell us more."

"Yeah," Brando continued, his tone getting more animated. "I saw this older guy whisper something in her ear, and then she walked off with him. Later, I saw him hand her a stack of cash—must have been a lot. She's basically a professional now."

"Seriously?" one of the boys asked, his eyes wide. "How much?"

"Enough to make her look like a pro," Brando said, his smile growing wider. "And let me tell you, I had a turn with her too. She's amazing. Big boobs, tight body—she's got it all. She's so good at it."

The room erupted in cheers and laughs as the boys exchanged high-fives and comments. "Damn, Brando! You lucky bastard," one said, slapping him on the back. "She's got some skills."

The boys began to mimic scenes from the video, laughing and making exaggerated gestures. "Did you see how she handled him?" one boy asked, pretending to demonstrate with his own hands.

"Seriously," another added, making an inappropriate gesture. "She's got everything going on. No wonder Brando's showing off."

Just then, the locker room door swung open, and Niccolò walked in. The conversation abruptly halted as the boys turned to see him. His face was a mask of confusion and anger.

"Hey, Niccolò!" one of the boys called out, trying to include him in the moment. "You missed quite the show!"

Another chimed in, pointing at the TV. "Brando just showed us this crazy video of Honey. She's pretty impressive."

Niccolò's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. The boys' crude gestures and comments about Honey made his blood boil. He stepped forward, his voice tight with anger. "What the hell is this?"

Brando looked up, his earlier smugness faltering. "Just showing the guys a video. Thought they'd find it interesting."

"This isn't some joke, Brando," Niccolò snapped, his frustration evident. "You're making a spectacle out of Honey's private moments."

The room fell silent, the boys' previous enthusiasm replaced by uncomfortable glances. They shuffled, unsure of how to handle the tense situation.

Brando shifted uncomfortably, trying to deflect. "Come on, Niccolò. It's not a big deal. Just a bit of fun."

"It is a big deal," Niccolò said sharply. "This isn't something to laugh about. You're crossing a line."

Brando's face reddened under Niccolò's intense stare. "Alright, alright," he muttered, putting his phone away. "I get it. I'll keep it to myself."