Baker Mayfield is a conquerer. There is no place he is uncomfortable. More than anyone has even thought. Of course, the gridiron is his dojo. There is no one more comfortable sitting in a pocket. Tonight, he showed this more than anyone could have known, and not just on the field.

It seems like he is better off when away from home. Maybe it is the smell of different sheets that truly awakens his innermost power. After a night in Columbus, he was putting a flag into foreign territory. Tonight, after Bedlam, it wasn’t his flag that he was sticking.

The world was his tonight. His arm was more valuable than any other body part of anyone on the field. But after the game, his mustache became more valuable. The hour and a half bus ride was nothing compared to the ride that was to come.

The return to Norman was marked with the same hero’s welcome as usual. Outside the window was the same sea of screaming girls in Baker Mayfield jerseys way sexier than his on the football field. He thought of all the times a jersey with his name on it that wasn’t his own littered his bedroom floor. Or covering a lamp. Or his trophy case, which he quickly pictured with a new trophy. One with a posing runner. The one trophy that stands above the rest.

He snapped back to where he was. No time to think about that now. Maybe he was the frontrunner, but he had a long night ahead of him before holding any trophies. There was no time for dreaming. His whole night would be the dream of the average male American college student.

He walked into his favorite bar with confidence built on the broken spirits of Cowboys. While the Stillwater boys sat in their homes pouting, he was just starting to get active. Every eye turned to him when he walked through the door. Everyone with two legs stood to give him an applause. Everyone wearing panties started to feel a certain way that they would only be whispering in the ear of their closest friends.

He sat down at the bar in his normal spot. “Hey, Doug,” he said to the bartender, a good friend of his. Doug gave him a look and then looked to the side. As Baker turned he smelled something alluring. Turning all the way to his side, the view was no different. He understood what Doug was talking about now. He could tell she was confident. She held herself like she knew she was the most beautiful girl in the room. Her hair was jet black and her eyes may have been darker. She was wearing an orange shirt and he chuckled thinking of the last people he saw wearing orange.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked her. She nodded without turning her head. It had been a while since he found a girl that didn’t treat him like Baker Mayfield and he was excited. “What’s your order? And your name while you’re at it.”

“I’m Rudolph and I’ll have what you’re having,” she said to him, this time turning to meet his gaze. He got lost in her eyes for a moment, but snapped back to reality in a moment.

“Did you say Rudolph? That’s an interesting name.” He thought it was funny that he would be fucking two people with that name in one night.

“It’s a family name,” she said as their beers arrived. “What’s your name?” she responded.

He was in awe. Normally it was easier than beating Kansas to find a girl on campus. To find a girl that didn’t even know who he was was a treat. “The name is Bill,” he responded. He was starting to get jittery. He might have even been nervous if that was an emotion that existed inside of him. Baker began to rub the sides of his mustache. She was looking at him with judging eyes like a linebacker looks at him when blitzing.

“So are we going to get out of here?” she asked, unprompted. Baker was taken aback entirely. “You seem really nervous I think you’ll be perfect for what I need for tonight.” Baker was lost entirely with this girl. More and more, it almost seemed like he was nervous. The way she talked confused him and turned him on and made his head spin. He hadn’t felt this uncomfortable since his entire team decided to blow a matchup with Iowa State in Norman without his permission. But this time, it was a welcomed discomfort. So what else could he do but leave with her.

He ordered an uber and she sat right up against him. Just her presence was driving him wild. He didn’t know if it was still just the adrenaline from throwing the ball across Stillwater and back, but it was making him lose his mind. It couldn’t be her. No one could make him feel this way. If a top ten Ohio State team didn’t make him break a sweat, how could this jet black dark angel?

She grabbed his thigh. He got goose bumps. She moved her hand up his leg. Slowly. She had this down to a science. She was almost at the crotch of his jeans when the car pulled up in front of her house. How did she know, he shakingly thought to himself. He slowly approached her house as she unlocked the door and walked up the stairs without a word. He followed her just as silently even though his head was ringing as if he just got sacked by a free-running defensive end.

Entering the one open bedroom door on the second floor, he found a room illuminated by a single light. Standing in the light was one stockinged foot on the bed connected to the same girl, but now suddenly wearing leather. She pointed to the bed and Baker sheepishly obeyed. She was holding two belts. He was too enthralled by her to show any resistance, even if he wanted to.

He put his hands up against the headboard and she straddled his midsection. She put the first belt through the headboard and around his wrist silently. While she did the second, she whispered in his ear, “I know who you are, Baker Mayfield.” He felt more confident now that the mask was off. It felt as if his swagger was back.

“What are you going to do to me?” he said with a sly grin under his mustache.

“I”m going to make you my bitch just like you did to my brother.”