Chapter 12: Purdey plays Basketball

It was Saturday afternoon, she had slept until 1pm, her body still ached and exuded evidence of her night with Uzer. The second time had been just as amazing as the first, however dinner was just as extravagant. The navy satin formal dress hung accusingly from her chair—the same Sabina design that had hugged her petite frame just hours ago, its bodycon silhouette clinging to every curve. The sweetheart neckline had showcased her diamond necklace perfectly; silver stilettos had transformed her 5’3” frame, the front wrap slit offering tantalizing glimpses with each step. Now she stared at the dried white stains marring the pristine fabric. Her fingers traced the desecrated material, remembering her confidence when she’d worn it, never suspecting how quickly desire and impulse would transform something so beautiful into something ruined beyond repair.

Uzer had gifted her a stunning Albina Dyla Silver beaded dress from Gold Couture—a dazzling one-sleeved creation with crystals that caught every ray of light as she moved. The asymmetrical hemline showcased her legs perfectly while she balanced in matching silver 4” heels. The delicate shimmer accentuated her curves, wrapping her in an aura both elegant and sensual. Exhaustion alone kept her from pulling him back to bed to christen the new dress properly. She woke up groggy, her head stuffed with cotton wool, limbs heavy with lingering sleep. A restless energy buzzed beneath her skin, making her fingers twitch and her legs ache to move. She needed to clear the fog from her mind, to feel the burn in her muscles as she pushed her body forward, to let physical exertion wash away the cobwebs clinging to her thoughts. The crisp afternoon air rushed into her lungs like a revitalizing elixir as she started down her street, each deliberate step creating a satisfying rhythm against the weathered pavement. Autumn leaves—amber, russet and gold—crunched beneath her shoes, releasing their rich, earthy perfume with every determined footfall. The late-day sunlight, honey-thick and warm, filtered through the half-bare branches overhead, painting her skin with fleeting patterns of light and shadow. The neighbourhood seemed to exhale around her, trees swaying gently in the breeze, their remaining leaves whispering secrets as she passed beneath them.

The run wasn’t helping. Every impact sent waves through her body, reminding her of Uzer’s touch. The phantom sensation of his fingers lingered on her skin, impossible to outpace. She pushed faster, hair whipping behind her like a pennant, sweat beginning to bead across her forehead, the salt stinging her eyes. Her mind cycled through images of Uzer’s hands, his commanding presence, the subtle cologne that had clung to her clothes hours after they’d parted. Tomorrow night couldn’t arrive soon enough—the anticipation coiled tight in her stomach like a spring.

She turned toward Diamond Village, the familiar route bringing her past shops still opening for the day. The scent of fresh bread wafted from the bakery, mingling with the metallic clang of security gates being rolled up. Her breathing grew heavy, muscles burning with exertion, lungs raw from the cold air. As she approached a bend in the path, where cherry trees formed a tunnel of sparse branches, the sounds of basketball—rubber bouncing on asphalt, sneakers squeaking, shouts, and laughter—pulled her attention toward a small court next to the shops. The rhythmic thump-thump-thump echoed her heartbeat, quickened not just from running.

Three young men played an intense game of pickup, their sneakers squeaking against the sun-baked asphalt, the rhythmic thump of the ball echoing across the court. Purdey slowed to a walk, drawn to their carefree energy. Two brothers with deep brown skin moved with fluid grace, passing between them with an almost telepathic connection, their muscled bodies gleaming with sweat in the afternoon light. The third, a tall blonde guy with a farmer’s tan, wasn’t as naturally skilled but compensated with raw determination, his powerful legs propelling him across the court.

She stopped at the chain-link fence, catching her breath, inhaling the scent of fresh-cut grass from the nearby park mixed with the masculine aroma of exertion. The blonde noticed her first, raising his hand in greeting, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hey! You want next game?”

His companions turned, both grinning with perfect white teeth. The taller brother spun the ball on his finger with practiced ease, his bicep flexing impressively. “We could use a fourth. Two-on-two.”

“Oh, I haven’t played in years,” Purdey said, surprising herself by walking toward the gate anyway. Something about their youthful exuberance pulled her in, a welcome distraction from the thoughts that had been circling her mind all afternoon. The metal gate creaked as she pushed through, the sound mingling with distant traffic and birdsong.

“I’m Andrew,” said the blonde guy, extending his hand, his palm warm and slightly calloused. “And these guys are Anthony and Marcus.”

The brothers nodded in greeting. Marcus, slightly shorter but more muscular, bounced the ball to her. “Show us what you got.”

Purdey caught it awkwardly, her hands remembering the motion from long-ago schoolyard games. She dribbled twice, her movements stiff but enthusiastic, moving toward the hoop. The asphalt was uneven beneath her feet, cracked and worn from years of Melbourne’s punishing weather cycles—scorching summers and damp winters. She brushed deliberately against Anthony as she pivoted, feeling the firmness of his shoulder against hers, offering a playful smile of apology that lingered too long to be entirely innocent.

“Good defense,” she teased, sizing up Marcus as she deliberately leaned forward to adjust her shoelace, knowing her tank top dipped low. A slight depression in the concrete caught her toe and before she could correct her balance, she was pitching forward.

Three pairs of hands reached for her simultaneously. Andrew caught her arm while Anthony grabbed her waist, his fingers pressing into her skin, steadying her with surprising gentleness. Purdey let her hand “accidentally” graze Andrew’s thigh as she regained her footing, feeling the muscle tense beneath her touch. The ball bounced away across the court, forgotten in the moment, the hollow sound fading as it rolled toward the fence.

“You okay?” Marcus asked, concern etching his young face, his dark eyes scanning hers.

Purdey nodded, the scent of their cologne mingled with sweat hung in the air around her. They played hard, bodies colliding with deliberate roughness that masked the electricity between them. Each defensive move brought contact—shoulders brushing, hips checking, hands steadying. The boys’ competitive grins sent flutters through her stomach, awakening desires she’d nearly forgotten. During a particularly playful foul, she let her hip brush against Marcus’s groin, feeling him stiffen in surprise as she whispered, “Sorry about that.” But something else registered in their expressions as they helped her stand—a flicker of heat and interest that made her heart race for reasons unrelated to her near-fall. The way they looked at her now, eyes lingering just a moment too long, stirred a dormant hunger she hadn’t felt in ages.

A warm trickle down her inner thigh made her freeze. Oh god. Her body was betraying her, responding to their touch, their proximity. The evening prior with Uzer had left her senses heightened, her body unusually sensitive, and now her workout shorts showed a small dark patch. The evidence of her arousal continued its slow path down her leg, impossible to hide in the bright afternoon sunlight that cast long shadows across the court.

Andrew noticed first, his eyes widening before he politely averted his gaze. The brothers exchanged a quick glance but maintained their composure, stepping back to give her space with a discretion that seemed beyond their years.

“Sorry about—” Purdey began, mortification flooding her cheeks with heat, her mind racing for a plausible explanation.

“No worries,” Anthony said quickly. “Court’s pretty rough. Everybody slips.”

They were being kind, pretending not to notice her body’s unmistakable reaction. Purdey straightened her shorts, grateful for their tact but burning with embarrassment. The park around them suddenly seemed too open, too public for such an intimate moment of vulnerability.

“I should probably get going,” she mumbled, backing away, wishing the cracked asphalt would open up and swallow her whole.

Andrew stepped forward. “You sure you’re good? We can walk you somewhere if you need.”

His offer was innocent, but her imagination flared with unwelcome possibilities. Three young, fit men—how would they compare to Uzer’s experienced touch? What would Ian say if he saw her now, surrounded by them, her body so obviously responsive? The thought both horrified and excited her, revealing a side of herself she barely recognized since this morning’s encounter.

Her phone buzzed, breaking the moment like a lifeline thrown to a drowning woman. Cindy’s name flashed on the screen, saving her from herself.

“Hello?” Purdey answered, turning away from the men, grateful for the interruption.

“Where are you?” Cindy’s voice came through, crisp and slightly impatient. “I’m at your house, we were supposed to go shopping. You’re late!”

Purdey closed her eyes, reality rushing back. “Sorry, I lost track of time. I went for a run.”

“Well, hurry up. I’ve got gossip you won’t believe, and I’m not waiting forever.

The call ended, Cindy hanging up without waiting for a response—typical. Purdey turned back to the three men, who stood awkwardly around her, unsure whether to resume their game.

“I have to go meet my friend,” she said, straightening her shoulders, attempting to reclaim some dignity.

Andrew nodded, shoving hands into his pockets. “No problem. Good meeting you, uh—”

“Purdey,” she supplied, suddenly bold. “My name’s Purdey.”

“Cool name,” Marcus said, already dribbling the ball again.

Something reckless seized her. “Actually, could I get your number, Andrew? In case I want to ... come back and play properly sometime.”

Surprise flashed across his face, followed by a pleased smile. He recited his number as she entered it into her phone, aware of Anthony and Marcus exchanging amused glances.

“I’ll text you,” she promised, though both knew it wasn’t about basketball.

As she jogged away, her body humming with a strange new energy, Purdey wondered what was happening to her. She’d been married for years, content in her routine life. But in a single day, everything seemed to be unravelling—or perhaps coming alive.