Chapter 3

Gradually, her eyes started adjusting to the lack of bright daylight. First, two shiny white rows of teeth, the symmetry broken by a single gold one, materialized. Then she picked up a variety of flashy gold plated necklaces and rings. Finally, the gaps were filled in by an enormous silhouette.

It spoke...

"Welcome to the Shaqmobile, young lady!"

The welcoming speech, short and to the point, was followed by a CLICK. Suddenly the interior bathed in atmospheric pinkish light, revealing the identity of the jewelry shop next to her. It was, indeed, the one and only Shaquille O'Neal himself, who saw his grin reflected in his young pickup's dark glasses.

Anna let her eyes wander around; the interior of the back of the van seemed completely adjusted to its owner's scale and decadence. On the backside was a luxury brown leather seat over the entire width. Then, facing it, there was another single seat on the driver's side. The leather was hemmed up with gaudy purple material, stitched to it with gold wire. Behind the passenger seat, a fridge and bar were installed while the gap in the middle contained a flat screen with apparently a computer connected to it (at least there was a mini-keyboard visible).

Shaq himself was sitting on the skin of some close-to-extinction feline. Apart from the jewelry, he was stripped to the waist, wearing only a reversed baseball cap and boxer shorts. Both were in the well-known Lakers colors. With his albatross-arms stretched out on top of the back seat, his torso seemed to fill the interior completely. That's what they call 'wall-to-wall'!

Anna tried to catch her breath, her mouth half-open. The strong impression Shaq made on her right now, from this close, surprised even her. She should have realized that something that looks so big, even from a distance, turns out to be intimidatingly giant when you get anywhere up close.

Startled, she was looking for words to break the silence.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce yourself to Shaq and his buddy Wilson? Sweetie, meet Wilson, my personal driver. Wilson, this is... ?"

Only now that the basketball legend pointed at him, Anna noticed the driver peeking between the two front seats.

"Hello, miss!"

Somehow, the idea of having the company of a third person, seemed to comfort the otherwise so extrovert girl and loosen up her tongue.

"Anna, my name is Anna. Glad to meet you, Wilson."

She did her best effort to hide her disdain with a smile. The big guy who's warm and sticky hand she was shaking, reminded her of one of those cliché fat rappers. The type that hired lingerie models for their videos, in the hope to turn the shootings into filthy orgies.

Wilson was BIG indeed. For most, it was difficult to believe that he and Shaq once formed a reputable basket-duo as youngsters in the slums. Drafting them for the neighborhood championships was an assurance against defeat. Shaq had gone on to become an NBA legend, but Wilson had apparently lacked the talent and character. Or maybe it was that every time his mate got a vertical adolescent growth spurt, Wilson seemed to get a horizontal one.

It hadn't managed to drive them apart though. After all those years, they still got along with each other as if nothing had happened since their childhood. They were hand in glove. Shaq had no problem sharing some of his success with his buddy, who he had adopted as his driver/personal security guard. While Wilson only allowed the Chosen Chicks to approach Shaq, Shaq did him favors back. His $65 million-contract with Reebok, for example, contained a special clause. And so it happened that Wilson appeared in his very own donut commercial.

"Enough formality. What can Shaq do for this lovely lady?"

The silhouette turned towards Anna and landed a big warm paw on her left knee. Humming the tune of "Crazy in Love", he drummed along with his fingers and slowly crawled up Anna's thigh. His eyes lustfully focused on the area where her soft skin tunneled into the loose shorts.

"HOLD IT, BIG BOY!"

Shaq froze, clearly surprised.

"Are you afraid to look me in the eyes, or what?"

Anna pointed at the dark glasses she was still wearing. Shaq laughed, a bit relieved. For a second there, he thought it was again one of those annoyingly late "NO"-girls. There should be a federal law against that kind of cruel teasing! As a girl, you knew what to expect when you boarded the Shaqmobile.

"Of course not! You're right; it's no style to keep those enchanting eyes hidden. Let me help you."

His hand left Anna's thigh (already she longed after the return of his warm touch) and lifted the glasses from her face... only to drop them instantly on the floor!

"By the God Almighty Wilt Chamberlain!"

Wilson joined his boss in his surprise. The girl with the sheepish grin on her face was now finally recognized by both as the world-famous tennis babe.

"To be more precise: Kournikova, Anna Kournikova. But friends call me 'Murzik'."

She enjoyed the amazement she caused in the two men. Anna craved little ego-boosts like these. Even more so because Shaq was probably a lot harder to amaze than ordinary guys.

"Well, aren't you going to say something?" Now she also gave him a taste of his own medicine...

Surprisingly, it was Wilson who recovered first.

"Gee... Welcome, Miss Kournikova. Something in the back of my mind had already recognized you. I've heard a lot about you, and I am even a bit of a fan! Welcome aboard our little driving sanctuary."

"Euh, yeah! Pleased to meet you," Shaq now also contributed.

"Glad to hear that I'm welcome." (It would have been earth-shattering for Anna to find out that she was NOT welcome somewhere!)

"Certainly, certainly! Wow, you can say that it's a bit of a surprise. Why not just pay me and the mates a visit in the dressing rooms after a match? I mean, I've noticed you in the stands quite often lately. We don't BITE, you know. And just about everyone in the team is a fan."

"Ah, you know all too well how it would go in that case. The media would be all over it. We wouldn't be able to do the things we want to do, or talk about what we really want to talk about, would we? It's much better like this, incognito, in the privacy of your own van."

A strange atmosphere settled itself now. Shaq was acting rather reserved and stiff, not sure how to behave himself. Each word he spoke gave away a growing disinterest and apathy. Not only didn't he associate this place with normal conversations, he was also puzzled about the Russian's intentions. In any case, he didn't expect much exciting to happen, so his libido was put to sleep, at least temporarily.

As for Anna, she found out reality can be slightly more complex than the simple scenarios developing themselves in a horny girl's brain. Her numerous nightly fantasies, hands between legs, had never contained a Wilson. They DID contain a horny and "energetic" Shaq, not a lethargic bear in hibernation.

While chatting, she was trying to figure out how to elegantly bridge this gap between fantasy and reality. And how to write the Fat Pig out of the scenario, as he ruined her appetite!!

"So, doesn't it sometimes get too much, all this over-the-top behavior of your fans?" Anna nodded in the general direction of the hysterical mass.

"I know *I* sometimes feel like having a break."

"Oh, of course it can be annoying at times. But they are my fans, so I try my best to always treat them with respect. I'm sure you try too?"

"Yeah, I know the struggle. Especially the ball boys can be quite pushy at times. You wouldn't *believe* some of the silliness I've experienced with them. Sometimes they expect more than a signature, if you know what I mean."

She gave Shaq a naughty wink.

Whatever she was going to come up with, it was important to keep him at least lukewarm, so he would be easy to get up to working temperature. She had to keep the conversation going, and try to throw out some bait in the process.

"Oh yeah, fans can be really obtrusive at times, you don't have to tell me!

"Say, I was wondering what went wrong with the two ladies you let out?"

"Oh... they... didn't go in the same direction as we in the end."

"Were they trying something? Did they bother you?"

"How do you mean? No, no... They expected a lift to the city, but we were heading straight to Shaq's Palace, outside town."

"Ah good... You know, when I saw you sitting there without a T-shirt, the first idea I had was that they were hunting memorabilia with a bit too much enthusiasm," she grinned. "You know I once had a fan pull down my mini-skirt, while I was entering a practice-court through a thick row of spectators. That was a bit of a scare, I can tell you. And quite embarrassing how I was standing there in my panties."

"I'd kill if anyone did that to me!" Shaq chuckled. He looked like he was loosening up a bit already. Anna's female intuition told her Shaq had already effectively pulled down her panties in thoughts.

"He he, I guess it depends when it happens, and who does it."

"Hmmm??"

"With a bit of bad luck, I would have lost my panties as well! Since that day, I've doubled my bodyguard staff. A body like mine needs to be guarded well, it seems. I'm sure, with a Hercules-frame like yours, you can take care of yourself?"