Page 93 of Free Agent

This was when I noticed that where she’d pulled me to, the crowd was majority women. There were some guys sprinkled in too, but as she pointed my gaze back to the end of the trail, it became clear to me.

We were here for the very same show, and it wasn’t about the course at all.

Some people wanted to watch the big tires go through the mud.

Some cared about the build on the ATV engines, the torque, the horsepower, all of that.

And then there was us girls and gays, waiting at the end for folks to get done with their strenuous task of making it through the mud course.

Inevitably muddy and dirty.

And stripping those clothes off to rinse off at the shower sprayer set up at the end.

“Oh,” I said, turning to Tam with a grin as one particularly blessed child of God peeled his way out of his mud-soaked shirt, treating us to an incredible view of his biceps and abs. “Now I understand.”

“Yes,” she laughed. “Now you do.”

Very briefly, I wondered about the guys feeling uncomfortable with, or objectified by all the whooping and hollering, the overtly sexual comments being yelled at them, but it became quite clear that this was a favored part of the performance.

They played right into it, peeling off their clothes extra slow, flexing muscles, teasing nipples, just having a shit ton of fun. And security was immediately on the ass of anybody who took it too far.

The variety of body types was refreshing, too. Everybody got largely the same love, not just abs. There were fat, thin, short, tall, everything in-between. Even with all my clothes on and my still pristine boots, I was having a good ass time, whistling and yelling right along with everybody else.

My mood changed, however, when the next person up was Tatum.

The crowd got real loud.

Too loud.

“Damn,” I muttered, looking at Tam and Geneva. “What the hell is this? Can these bitches calm down?”

Their eyes went wide.

“Whoa,” Tam laughed, taking the fresh beer I’d just cracked open out of my hand. “How much have you had to drink?” she asked, glancing down at our cooler, where we’d been stashing our empty bottles to get disposed of later. “I’ve only had three. Geneva?”

“This is my third.” Geneva shrugged. “How many empties are th—bitch, there’s like twelve bottles!”

“What?!” I asked when their gaze came back to me. “Beer doesn’t get you drunk!”

“Girl! Maybe when you only have two or three, but that’s like six!”

“It’s hot, I was thirsty!”

“So drink some water!” Tam laughed, grabbing a bottle to stick in my hand. “You’re cut off.”

“Huh?!”

“If you can huh, you can hear. Your drunk ass is about to miss the show,” Geneva told me, pointing as Tatum came blazing up the final stretch of the obstacle course.

Damn he looked good.

Cut off shirt with his arms out, covered in dirt, pure joy on his face.

“Oh, that big motherfucker could toss me around in the mud anytime,” I heard from somewhere behind me. My head immediately snapped back, neck craning to see who said that shit.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Geneva rushed out, grabbing my shoulders. “You need to gon’ and turn your head right back around.”

“No, because I’ll fuck somebody up,” I said, loud as hell.