Poetic Justice
In the world of competitive sports, many strange things have happened throughout the years, and football – known as “soccer” across the Atlantic – seems to be quite prodigal when it comes to those phenomena.
One of them happened on November 17th, 2009, when France managed to qualify for the first World Cup to be held in African territory, thanks to a helping hand by Thierry Henry before Gallas’ header. This irregular act secured the French team a draw and was enough to thwart the hopes of a brave Irish team that clearly deserved something more, even if it meant the ultimate decision through means of a penalty shootout.
This game between will forever be remembered, but so will be the first time the two sides faced each other again after the events depicted above. For on that occasion, Ireland had its just revenge on a slaughter fest no French man or woman will ever want to relive. The result of that match was a staggering 16-0!
Now, to this day no one seems to know the reason why such a sporting calamity happened. Well, no one except me who happened to be a part of some key moments that help explain the downfall of the team that was once called “The Brazilians of Europe” faster than you can say Sacre bleu!
Before the game started, the French team received the visit of a very alluring red-headed woman who appeared to be in her early twenties, though I have a feeling she was much, much older than that. Now, by some bizarre chance, this woman managed to not be spotted by any of the cameras of the stadium despite the fact she clearly walked through corridors with more than a dozen of them. I happened to see her cross my security post merely by chance and, intrigued by both her presence and her good looks, I followed her discretely until she reached her destination.
When she entered the team’s designated locker room, I heard a couple of exclamations of surprise, followed by a couple of words in a language unbeknownst to me. Immediately after, a white, blinding light shone from inside out and I collapsed for a couple of minutes. Upon waking up, the locker room was already empty and the game was already getting started. There were no signs of the woman anywhere.
Since my job had its privileges, I was able to see the whole game and it sure was a disconcerting one. All of the French players moved in the field in a much-uncoordinated fashion, as if they had forgotten how to make even the simplest of passes all of a sudden. Their eyes were somewhat glassy, a perfect match for their overall subdued expressions that I can describe as a pleasurable apathy that scared me, yet strangely aroused me as well at the same time.
During the course of the ninety minutes, they wandered around the artificial turf in complete disarray like programmed automatons or zombies of some sort and when the final whistle was blown, they simply vanished into the locker room again, silently happy with it all.
It was then I saw the woman again. She appeared right behind me with a bemused look, her emerald eyes twinkling and completely fixated on mine. Unwillingly, I froze on the spot, captivated by a force of preternatural origins as a rich voice whirled through my ears and my consciousness sank into a place where all free thoughts were meaningless.
“Did you enjoy the show, sweetie?” she asked. “I hope so, but don’t you worry. The aftermath will be much more exciting and you’ll get to be a part of it. Follow me!”
Ensnared beyond the point of any resistance, I did as instructed, my head slightly low seeing as I was in the presence of a superior creature. I entered the locker room right after she did and clearly remember seeing all of the football players starting to kneel upon seeing her. Most of them were already naked and those that weren’t swiftly disrobed in order to please her.
“You too….” she cooed and my hands became an instrument of her will. A minute later, I was completely exposed and eager to continue to carry on her every instruction.
“You did well. I’m proud,” she told the players. “It’s true Ireland’s victory today doesn’t quite make up for what happened in the World Cup Qualifying Playoffs last year, but at least some form of poetic justice came to happen. I normally don’t interfere with events such as these, but the pride of my country is something of utmost significance to me, as well as my ways of exerting dominion over feeble minds such as yours. In order to celebrate this magnificent achievement, I will now let you worship me in all my splendour….”
The white light made another appearance, but this time I was in the center of it, and the pure essence of femininity I was able to contemplate was a blessing I’ll never forget.
A cornucopia of carnal delights was what followed: a mesh of avid tongues, sweaty bodies and ecstasy fluids that culminated in the most overwhelming display of submission I can remember. And only I can do that, nowadays.
Yes, shortly after the control session was over, everyone returned to the world of wilful creatures, their memories wiped clean. Everyone but me…. Why that happened is yet a mystery, one that someday I hope to unveil. Perhaps she did it to simply have fun, because she knew I would most likely try to tell the story in one way or another, only to find myself exposed to discredit due to the fantastic nature of the whole account.
Nonetheless, here’s the tale and I swear by all that’s sacred that every word I’ve just written is true. Whether you’ll choose to believe me or not it’s up to you, but even if you don’t, thank you for taking the time to read it all. In the slightest chance that you do accept the veracity of my story, I can only hope you’re fortunate enough to meet her and live something similar to what I lived. Only then, you’ll understand the real definition of the word “pleasure”.
