A Rat Trap at the Steelers Game

Author's Note: The story below is a sort of tribute to sarahhh, who's work you can find right here on this very site (check out the author index). All events are fictional, and any similarity between this story and real life is wishful thinking on my part! Apologies to Sarah for stealing all the characters from her stories! Feedback welcome, but try and be nice

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I'd read her stories online for a while. Perhaps not years, but certainly long enough that she'd long since become the only entry in my "favourite authors" list. Sure, I read the odd story from other people while I was visiting the site, but I really only visited to see if she'd added anything new and then browsed the "new stories" section if not. So, I figured, what's the difference... logging on to see what she's up to, and flying over to the US and checking out a Steelers game - it's nearly the same thing, right?

I booked my tickets, London to Philly. 8 hours to fly and think about the possibility of meeting her. Would she even be there? How would I recognise her? How would I introduce myself? "Hi, I read some of your work on the 'net" just didn't seem to cut it. By the time I got on the plane I was convinced it was all a waste of time, but I'd bought the tickets - at the very least I might get a decent cheese steak sandwich out of the trip, and I'd already paid for them. Sat on the plane I racked my brains about how to introduce myself if the chance came up, and slowly convinced myself that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't such a crazy hope after all. Recognising her should be easy - Steelers jersey, Steelers jacket, red hair cascading down over the yellow and black shoulders, covering up a great figure with fantastic breasts, burned into my memory after many evenings imagining my lips and fingertips tracing their outline. That'd be pretty unique, surely?

As we landed, I realised right away that my plan wasn't going to be quite so simple. The airport was full of black and yellow jackets, and while there wasn't a whole lot of red hair walking around, there weren't so many great figures and fantastic breasts either. Most of the people milling around the airport looked more like armchair football fans. She'd stand out well enough if I could get close enough to actually see her - but the black