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Soccer Moms
By Quatorz


"C'mon, Mac!" Sam encouraged, watching her sister adroitly weave the soccer ball between two defenders.

"She's really good," a voice expressed admiration. She turned-the voice belonged to an attractive woman with dirty blonde hair. "Are you her...?"

"I'm her sister Sam," she grinned, taking the woman's offered hand.

"Oh, so you're Sam: the writer. I've heard a lot about you. I'm Samantha's mom."

Samantha? Oh, right: Mac's friend. "Good name," Sam joked.

"I think so," the woman smirked, and her eyes raked Sam up and down. "So," she said. "Are you doing anything after the game? Maybe we could take the girls to get a bite to eat or something. My girlfriend and I just broke up, and we--"

And Sam finally realized what was on the woman's mind. She opened her mouth to reply--

"Ahem," Brooke cleared her throat behind the woman. She turned, and saw Brooke carrying snacks and smiling in a predatory manner. "Hi there," Brooke said to Dirty Blonde.

"Hi," she replied, sensing the jig was up. "Let me guess: you're the girlfriend?" she grinned.

"No, I'm the wife," Brooke tilted her head and smiled not-so-sweetly. She couldn't mark her territory any plainer than if she'd just up and peed on Sam's leg.

"I'll see you around, Sam," Dirty Blonde waved. "Nice to meet you, Brooke," she lied.

Brooke watched her walk away with her tail between her legs. She turned to her spouse. "Did you ever develop gaydar?" she queried. "I swear: you're clueless when girls are hitting on you."

"Shut up," Sam chuckled. "Give me my drink."

Brooke handed her a soda. "She's lucky. I've blackened eyes for less."

"I know you have. I was there, remember?" Sam looked over the snacks. "What'd you get?"

"Popcorn, and a couple of those soft pretzels you like."

"Mm!" Sam declared. She beamed when Brooke handed her one. "You take such good care of me."

Brooke cocked a very Sam-like eyebrow. "Don't you forget it."

The End

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