“Good afternoon, folks. I’m Jack Ley and welcome to day two of the World Cup. Tensions are high today as the two big Spanish language clubs face off for the first time in almost twelve years. Spain, headed by former Real Madrid player Jose Antonio Camacho, advanced after winning a rough back and forth with Egypt. And Mexico, managed by Club América alumni, Javier Aguirre, advanced yesterday after a long battle with Croatia.
These clubs are looking a little beaten going into today’s match at the newly opened Stade de France. With attendance estimated to be close to eighty thousand, word around town is, the betting houses are going crazy. The two big premier Spanish-speaking nations are fighting for not only the chance to advance, but also bragging rights as to which nation is superior at football. Stay with us folks. This one’s sure to be a nail biter.”
Each mounted television in the Corner Pitch had the game on a different network. When one went to commercial everyone would shift to watching the next. Fans packed the bar to the windows as Billie and Eric hustled, trying to get everyone’s orders before the match started.
Ikher sat at his usual spot, sporting his new bright red Spain jersey. A tap on his shoulder made him turn to see Katrina in a green jersey with the green, white, and red stripes painted on her cheeks.
“Are you ready to lose?” she asked with a smile.
Ikher laughed. “No way. El Tri is going down.” Ikher got off his bar stool and offered it to her.
She shook her head. “We’re taking your dignity today. I can’t take your seat as well.”
Billie nearly dropped Ikher’s food when she heard that. “Be nice, kids,” she said, sliding Ikher his plate and pointing to Katrina. “Glass of red?”
She shook her head. “Water, please.”
Billie nodded and moved to get the water as she took an order from someone else. She reappeared to put the glass in front of Katrina. “Here ya go, mom,” she said with a wink.
Katrina grunted with a squint as Billie ran off to serve other people.
Ikher chuckled, picking at his enchilada. “I guess Billie and Dahlia are doing well.”
Katrina sighed. “I suppose,” Katrina said. She glanced around before taking Ikher’s stool.
“Five minutes!” Billie yelled, ringing the bell at the end of the bar.
Ikher ate quickly and stole glances at the curve of Katrina’s hips and backside on the stool. Her normal attire covered her up, but her athletic pants showed off her curves. Distracted, he barely finished as the referee blew the whistle for the starting kick off.
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“Mundis, evades and shoots… GOAL!!!”
The bar erupted with mixed yells of joy or anger. Ikher raised both fists in the air with a scream. Eric and Billie made their way down the bar pouring shots for Spain fans.
“First blood,” Ikher said, wincing as the shot burned its way down his throat.
Katrina, mouth twisted to the side, waved her hand at him. “It’s still early.”
He smiled at her. “I dunno, El Tri is looking tired.”
“Spain doesn’t have enough energy for the end. We’ll still win.”
“If that makes you feel better,” Ikher said, bumping her with his elbow.
She squinted at him before spinning on the stool and sticking her hand out. “Let’s wager.”
“Okay, what are we playing for?”
Katrina taped the dimple on her chin. “Loser has to wear the winner’s jersey until the clubs play each other again.”
Ikher blinked and shook his head. “Whoa. That could be awhile.”
Katrina’s lip parted into a smile. “You’re worried? I thought El Tri was going down?”
Ikher looked at his jersey. It had arrived just in time and was not cheap. His eyes rose to Katrina’s confident smile. He took a deep breath, and he shook her hand.
“Bet.”
Katrina patted him on the shoulder. “You’re going to look good in green.”
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“Robolos is down, holding his knee! Referee Rune Pederson yellow cards Santiago.”
“This is such trash,” Katrina said with a scowl. “These grown men are playing theater.”
“Yeah,” Ikher said with a nod. “They barely touched.”
“My middle school girls are tougher than these ‘professionals’.”
On the field, it seemed the Mexican team was just as annoyed as their fans at the foul call.
“Ochoa rallies, pass to Lozano, Pique slides but misses, Lozano to Campos, GOAL!!!!”
The bar exploded again. Katrina stood up on the stool, yelling. She turned and pointed down to Ikher. “Ha!”
He nodded and held his hands up. “Credit where it’s due. That was a good push.”
She sat back down. “That’s just the start.”
Billie poured and slid a shot to Katrina. “For Meh-he-co,” she said before moving down to the next Mexico fan.
Katrina picked the shot up and smelled it, recoiling a bit.
Ikher laughed. “Come on, you gotta celebrate.”
She looked at the shot, at him, then back to the shot before drinking it. She grimaced as she swallowed and slammed the shot glass down, shaking her head.
“My god, that’s strong.”
Stolen novel; please report.
‘Don’t worry,” Ikher said with a smile. “That’ll be your only one today.”
Katrina huffed and turned back to watch the kick off.
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Mexico scored their second point at the end of the first half and then again five minutes in the second. The bar vibrated as the green clad El Tri fans anticipated victory. Katrina tossed back the third shot. It burned but not as bad as the first two. When she spun to Ikher, the room kept going in the direction she turned before snapping back. She put a hand on the bar to steady herself.
Ikher’s face, sour at the television, softened when he looked at her. He put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Katrina blinked. “I think no more shots.”
Ikher squeezed her shoulder and signaled to Billie. When she made her way over, he asked, “Any enchilada’s left?”
“Nah, we’re out.”
“Shit, what about chicken strips?”
She thought for a second before nodding. “We should, gimme a bit.”
Ikher turned back to Katrina, his face full of concern. “Okay, you’re going to eat when she brings that out,” he said, sliding her water to her. “Finish this too.”
Katrina chuckled. “I’m not drunk, just a little tipsy.”
“Regardless,” Ikher said. “You can’t drive home like this. So you’re eating and drinking.”
Spain rallied and scored as Billie brought the chicken strips out. She slid the plate to Ikher then rushed to help Eric pour shots. Katrina picked at the chicken strips, which weren’t bad, as Eric slid Ikher his shot.
“Down by one,” he said to her before tossing it back. He shook his head with a grimace and slammed the glass down. He exhaled and turned to her. “You’ll be wearing this jersey yet.”
Katrina chuckled. Ikher was cute when he was full of bravado.
“How are you feeling?” he asked after she finished her glass of water. “You look more… here.”
She spun a full circle on the bar stool. The room was a little wobbly but not as bad as before.
“Better,” she said, putting a hand on his chest. Him mothering over her was cute as well. “Thank you.”
“You’re welco-” Ikher started, but the bar erupted in shouts.
They both turned to the televisions.
“Márquez with a hard take down on Villa. Referees have called a penalty kick for Spain. Looks like Gento will take the kick. The teams have cleared the field with Campos psyching himself up in the goal. This is Spain’s chance to tie the game and you can feel it. The arena is electric.
Gento looks ready, but he’s stopped at a signal from his sideline. There’s the whistle. Gento’s gotten his orders and lines up. He starts, feints left, and kicks… GOAL! The score is now tied, three to three, with ten minutes left.”
Katrina turned to Ikher and waited for his victory scream to end.
He looked down at her with an enormous smile. “That’s what I’m talking about. Mexico is going down.”
Her mouth twisted to the side. Maybe he wasn’t that cute when he was cocky.
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Four minutes remained when Spain scored again. The air was thick with tension as people gripped the bar, their chairs, and each other, watching Mexico push hard to tie. Twice they shot, but both times, Iniésta, the Spanish goalie, caught the ball or slapped it away. Spain had possession as the last minute ticked away and played an expert game of keep away.
“Three! Two! One! It’s over! Four to three and Spain advances to the semi-finals!”
The bar erupted as Spain's fans hugged, high fived, and screamed with fists raised in victory. Several fans, arms linked, started singing. Some of Mexico’s fans reeled in somber silence. Others refused the result, arguing that it was rigged or the refs only called fouls to favor Spain. The victory that was so close was suddenly snatched away.
When Ikher turned to Katrina after a round of high fives, he found her angry smolder directed at the television. Her scowl turned to him for a moment before she hopped off the bar stool.
“You have to admit, that was an amazing match,” he said, holding his hands out with a smile. When she just glared at him, Ikher pointed to his jersey. “Ready to rock the red?”
She squinted for a moment before the corner of her mouth turned up as she put her hands on her hips. “All right,” she said, grabbing her jersey and lifting it.
Ikher realized what she was doing and grabbed her hands. “Whoa, what are you doing?”
Her head tilted a bit. “I thought I had to wear your jersey?”
“Yeah, but, like,” he said, looking around at everyone. “Not right now.”
Katrina smiled and let her jersey go. She looked over her shoulder toward the back of the bar, then took his hand. She wound them through the celebrating and mourning fans until they reached the bathrooms at the back. The first was occupied, but the second was free.
Katrina pulled him in and locked it. Katrina whipped her jersey off, revealing her bra, soft stomach, and ample hips. She folded her jersey and laid it over the towel rack.
Turning, she put her hands on her hips. “Well, give it to me.”
“Huh?” Ikher said, blinking. “Oh, yeah.”
When he removed his jersey, her eyes narrowed, and a smile crept over her face. She stepped close and put her hand on his chest as she took the jersey from him. Running one finger down his chest, Katrina examined the jersey for a moment, then looked up at him with an intensity he hadn’t seen before.
Her eyes wandered down his torso, then back up, her finger resting on his stomach. “What if I don’t want to wear this?”
“Umm, I guess you don’t have to.”
A quick sigh escaped as she squinted at him. “No. You won the bet. But… is there anything I could… trade instead?”
“Umm, I guess. What’d you have in mind?”
With a smile, she tossed his jersey into the sink behind him, stepped close, and started undoing the button on his jeans.
Ikher’s face warmed. “Oh, uhh, you don’t have to do… that.”
Katrina stopped as she was about to pull his zipper down. “You don’t want me to?”
“No, I mean… I do, it’s just-” he started but was stopped when she grabbed the back of his head and kissed him.
After a moment, she pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “You’re cute, but you worry too much.”
She looked over her shoulder, turned, dropped the toilet lid with her foot. Grabbing Ikher by his jeans, she dragged him over and sat down. She pulled his jeans and boxers around his ankles and grasped him. Her examination process of turning and squeezing brought him from half to full attention.
She looked up with a smile. “Ready?”
When he nodded, she put him to her lips and pushed forward until her nose hit his stomach. “Oh shit!”
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Eric glimpsed Katrina dragging Ikher through the madness to the back. When he got a second, he told Billie to hold things down and he went to stand guard. It wasn’t long before he heard what he was pretty sure was Ikher gasping and cursing. He leaned on the wall next to the door, so anyone seeing him would use the other bathroom.
“Oh, man… oh wow, you’re really... oh, wow. Hey, I’m clos… okay, super close… F-uuuh-uck!”
Eric stifled a chuckle as Ikher’s excitement waned. There was probably enough celebration going on that no one heard. He waited another minute to let them get dressed before he knocked.
As he raised his fist, the door opened and Ikher jumped, his face flushed red. “Uh, hey.”
“Just running some interference,” Eric said with a chuckle.
The kitchen door swung open and Billie stuck her head out. “Dude, I’m getting over run. What the hell?!”
She blinked, noticing Ikher in the doorway and Katrina sliding past him back into the bar with a smile on her face. A big toothy grin exploded across Billie’s face and she opened her mouth to say something, but Eric walked in front of them.
“I’m coming,” he said, shooing her back into the kitchen.
“Looks like you weren’t the only one!”