What’s the Scenario Wednesday: MEN IN UNIFORM

What makes a man in uniform so unbelievably hot?

I’ve always wondered about this whenever my eyes tended to linger on the cop handing out a ticket or the stoic airman guarding the gate at the Air Force base in my hometown or when I find it hard to change the channel from a baseball game even when the action on the diamond is about as exciting as watching grass grow.

It seems like the appeal doesn’t wane amongst the sexes if Lil’ Wayne’s “Mrs. Officer” is any indication. Like him a man in uniform has “me thinkin I can date a cop, ’cause his pants are so tight’ or at lease assume the position with joy. Tight pants and toned bodies aside, I think the overall appeal of a man in uniform could be despite the bad pay, bad press, and more rules and regulations that will make a lesser person run for the hills is his dedication to his profession or sport.

Change of command ceremony on the USCGC Kennebec



So as you can guess, today’s WHAT’S THE SCENARIO WEDNESDAY theme is MEN IN UNIFORM. My excerpt comes from one of my manuscripts, Player’s Ultimatum, which I recently submitted to one of my publisher’s for publication.

Theme: Men In Uniform 

Setting: Stadio Olympico, a seventy-two thousand seat-capacity arena in the heart of Rome, Italy. 

Scene: Yvonne Floyd is in the stadium’s underground tunnel after a soccer match.  While waiting on her best friend and phony fiance to come out of the locker room when she comes face to face with the team’s captain, Paolo Nakashima.


Contemporary, BW/AM 


Standing at least a half-a-foot taller than most of the people gathered around him, the footballer seemed unphased by the microphones and bright lights. A seasoned spin doctor with six years of communications experience before seeking her MBA, Yvonne stepped closer. 

Still all of her years of experience left her woefully unprepared for the ballplayer skillfully holding court despite the incessant press of the media.  Her fingertips started to tingle, the breath wedged in her throat and for the first time in her life Yvonne found herself without words.

“I see he has the same affect on you as he does the entire female population.”  Yvonne’s cheeks heated from embarrassment, she’d been so entranced with the football player she’d missed Keitha sidling up beside her.

“Who is he?” Yvonne asked unable to drag her gaze away from him.

Keitha chuckled. “That beautiful specimen is the team’s captain, Paolo Nakashima.  The fans call him Il Duca, The Duke, because his rule over the pitch is unparallel.  He’s one of the best players in Series A, probably the entire world.  He led Brazil to the World Cup twice.  Right now he’s one of the highest paid forwards in the league, by the end of the season he’ll be numero uno.”

“Number one?”

“He’ll become a free agent.”  Keitha sighed as she folded her arms.  “Filthy rich and beautiful to boot, any woman would be lucky to tag that one. No one’s succeeded. So, if I were you, I would stay away from him.”

“A huge player, hungh.”

Keitha snorted. “Enormous.  He likes to share his God given attributes with everyone.  Young, old, pretty, plain, single or married, it doesn’t matter as long as they’re female.  Every week there’s a different girlfriend, a different conquest all of them documented in the tabloids.”

Yvonne wasn’t surprised. Classically handsome, Paolo Nakashima’s Asian features fit together like an exotic puzzle.  A pair of dark eyebrows slashed across his sun-kissed skin, providing a perfect frame to his almond-shaped eyes and aquiline nose. As expected for a man who made his living outdoors, his bronze skin was only a shade or two lighter than hers.  And his black hair shadowed his head and neck with dark unruly curls. 

A man with his looks and chosen profession would be a playboy of the worst kind and a consummate charmer.  His body language and easy smile while answering rapid fire questions conveyed a confidence that if bottled would sell millions.

As Nakashima scanned the crowd, his eyes skipped over her then swung back.  Like a possum caught in headlights, Yvonne didn’t move. 

She couldn’t move.  His gaze penned her to the spot.  He wasn’t physically touching her, per se but the effect stoked a fire deep within her belly and she began to throb and tingle in the most embarrassing places. 

Instinctively, Yvonne’s hand flew to her chest.  Her heart was pounding a mile a minute! To make matters worse, her nipples had become traitorous hard little pebbles against the thin cotton of white tank-top.  Embarrassed, Yvonne folded her arms across her chest and faced her tormentor. 

Big. Mistake. 

Before she could say ‘fish and grits’, Mr. Sex in Soccer Cleats, stepped through the throng of camera men and reporters and walked towards her. Normally, she would have been flattered, but couldn’t he have shaken his entourage first?

“Awkard,” Yvonne sing-songed under her breath. Still, despite their being no privacy between them, she didn’t find it too hard to block out the others when she had the most beautiful pair of jet black eyes staring down at her.

Yvonne gulped as he reached out and took her…



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