The Quarterback Club

Lois gestured toward one of the love seats. Miles sank into the soft cushion and was surprised when she slid in beside him. Their bodies touched and she leaned into the soft back. He was dreaming, wasn’t he? He certainly wasn’t bored.

Lois grasped his knee. “Now,” she said, touching her glass to his, “here’s another toast to less boredom.”

Miles sampled the Blanton’s. It was every bit as good as she described, smooth and warming. She leaned forward and her breasts touched his arm. Her leg caressed his leg.

“Are you still bored, Miles?” Her voice was a bit slurred, but low, warm and sexy.

“Not bored at all, but I’m wondering…”

“You’re wonderin’ what?” she rubbed her breasts against his chest.

“I’m wondering if maybe I should be going.”

“You should stop wonderin’ so much. Why would you be goin’ when you haven’t even finished your Blanton’s? Besides, I invited you, remember?” She smiled and snuggled closer. “Miles, are you sure you’re not bored any more?”

As Miles headed toward the stairs he crossed paths with Roger Jamison, armed with Scotch. Miles senses that Roger was in a bad moon, exacerbated no doubt by an overabundance of the favorite beverage of Scotland, which was the favorite beverage of most of the Quarterback Club.

“You talk to Castleman tonight, Miles?” Rogers asked, his words slurred.

“For a few minutes.”

“Well, I don’t care for his attitude and his philosophy. In fact, if you must know, he pisses me off.  Charges into town like he owns it. Threatens to disrupt the ‘espirt de corps’ of the Club.” Jamison’s voice rose a few decibels. “Threatens to disrupt what the Club stands for – to support the athletic program.” Jamison’s body swayed. “Who the hell does he think he is? Building a winning program takes time and puts lots of pressure on the coach. Look what it did to Rollie Hemmings – drove him to drink.”

Miles assumed Castleman had driven Jamison to drink.

Adriane sat in silence for almost a minute and thrust a fresh Camel into her cigarette holder and Miles lit it. She leaned forward, elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. “And just exactly what do you have in mind that will make me a famous person, Mr. Hefflin? And screw The Quarterback Club at the same time.”