Chapter 19: Carlton Football Club

It had been four weeks since fantasy came true on the beach, her best friend Gillian had come over for a sleep over and gossip session. Shivani’s laughter filled the beach house, mingling with Purdey’s excited giggles as they sprawled across the living room sofa. Outside, waves crashed rhythmically against Aspendale’s shore, the moonlight casting silver ribbons across the dark water. Inside, the warm glow of designer lamps illuminated their animated conversation, drowning out everything else in the spacious room. The contemporary beach house boasted floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the nocturnal seascape like living artwork, while the minimalist décor—all clean lines, neutral tones, and carefully selected statement pieces—created an atmosphere of elegant simplicity. Plush throw pillows cushioned their comfortable positions on the expansive Italian leather sofa as the subtle scent of sea salt and jasmine diffused through the high-ceilinged space, completing the sensory backdrop to their intimate gathering.

“You’re serious? Bryce Gibbs?” Shivani’s eyes widened, her hands flying to her mouth. “The Carlton legend?”

Purdey nodded, her face flushed with excitement, though her mind flashed back to their passionate encounter on the beach three weeks ago—the sand between her toes, his whispered promises. “He messaged me on Instagram after our time on the beach. Said he had been following me for a while, and recognised the mark on my ass.”

“Your Instagram account,” Shivani air-quoted, arching an eyebrow. “Which is practically soft porn now.”

“It pays for this place, doesn’t it?” Purdey gestured around the expansive living room of her $15 million beach house, trying to mask the flutter in her stomach as she thought about the text she’d received just minutes ago. Carlton had been spiralling with a three-week losing streak, and now here was Bryce, asking her to meet him at the club at 4 a.m. Something about his desperation called to her, made her feel powerful in ways her Instagram followers never could.

Shivani grabbed Purdey’s phone. “Let me see!” She scrolled through messages, eyes growing wider. “Oh my god, he wants to meet you? Tonight?”

“Four in the morning, actually. Says he wants to give me a private tour of the club facilities.”

“Private tour!” Shivani shrieked, falling backwards into cushions. “We both know what kind of ‘facilities’ he wants to show you!”

Purdey’s phone buzzed with a new message. Both women lunged for it simultaneously, Shivani winning by a fraction. She read aloud: “‘Wear something comfortable. Might get physical.’” She tossed the phone back, fanning herself dramatically.

“So,” Purdey asked, biting her lip. “Should I go?”

“Are you insane? Of course you should go!” Shivani straightened up. “How many women get invited for ‘private tours’ by Carlton legends?”

“But 4 AM is so strange...”

He probably wants privacy. No media, no teammates.” Shivani picked up her wine glass, the burgundy liquid catching the warm glow of the table lamp beside her. “Carlton wouldn’t want their ambassador photographed with the masked OnlyFans star.”

Purdey considered this, settling deeper into the plush sofa cushions. The evening air drifted in through the half-open balcony door, carrying the distant sounds of traffic below. “What should I wear?”

“Something hot but practical.” Shivani tapped her finger against her lips, leaving a faint lipstick mark on her skin. “Your black compression leggings with that sports bra that makes your abs pop.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as the clock on the wall ticked past midnight. Shivani finished her wine and placed the empty glass on the coffee table with a soft clink. “I should get some sleep,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Big day tomorrow.”

Purdey nodded, watching as her friend stretched and made her way to the guest room. “Good night,” she called softly as Shivani disappeared down the hallway. The door clicked shut, leaving Purdey alone with her thoughts and the gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore beyond her windows.

Hours later, Purdey stood before her closet, pulling on exactly what Shivani had suggested. The compression leggings hugged her newly muscular thighs and lifted her backside, the slick fabric cool against her skin in the dimly lit bedroom. Her sports bra revealed her six-pack abs—hard-earned through months of gruelling training sessions that had tested her limits and transformed her body. She studied her reflection in the mirrored closet door, still sometimes surprised by the athletic figure that looked back at her. She completed the outfit with a MacPac jacket, practical for Melbourne’s pre-dawn chill that would seep through windows and under doors, turning breath to vapor and numbing fingers. The city would still be sleeping, streetlights casting long shadows across empty sidewalks when she stepped outside, but she felt ready—perhaps even eager—to face the challenge ahead.

At 3:45 AM, she pulled into the Carlton Football Club parking lot. The building loomed dark and silent, moonlight gleaming off glass facades. Her heartbeat quickened as she spotted a lone figure waiting by a side entrance.

Bryce Gibbs stood tall in the dim light, his athletic frame unmistakable. He wore training shorts and a blue Carlton polo that stretched across broad shoulders. When he spotted her car, a smile crossed his stubbled face.

“You came,” he said as she approached, his voice carrying in the pre-dawn stillness.

“I was curious about this private tour.” Purdey matched his smile.

Bryce produced a security card, swiping it across a panel. “Benefits of being a club legend. Access anytime.” The door clicked open. “Ready to see where champions are made?”

They moved through darkened corridors, Bryce occasionally flipping on lights to illuminate trophy cases and historic photographs. His hand rested lightly on her lower back, guiding her through the maze of hallways.

“This place seems bigger inside,” Purdey observed, trying to ignore the electricity where his fingers touched her spine.

“Wait until you see the training facilities.” His voice dropped lower. “Most fans never get this access.”

The tour progressed from administrative offices to weight rooms filled with state-of-the-art equipment. Bryce pointed out specific machines, occasionally demonstrating proper form with movements that highlighted his muscular physique. Purdey found herself watching his body more than the equipment.