Fast Baller

by Lulu Pratt

  “I agree. The question is, how?”

  “Well, that is also the answer to your question about this table. I would like to try something called lymphatic massage. Are you open to that?”

  “Okay, but what is lymphatic massage?”

  “It is normally done for people who have lipedema or lymphedema, which is a condition that allows a build-up of fat in the limbs. In your case, of course, that is not the case, but there is a beneficial outcome to people who are recovering from surgery to have this procedure done, and it can work something like miracles in some patients.”

  “Sounds interesting. What are the downsides?”

  “There are no downsides, per se, but it is possible that nothing will happen to you. The upside is that it may give you more energy, reduce fat build-up, flush some toxins, and speed up recovery from surgery.”

  “Then let’s get to it,” I said.

  Scarlet motioned for me to get on the table. I moved to the table and she stopped me. “Please remove your shirt,” she said. I must have made a face, because the look on her face was priceless. I smiled and removed my shirt, and if I didn’t know better, I would have bet she gasped a little. Just a little, but noticeably.

  She had me lie on the table, on my back, and she started by moving her hands gently along the sides of my neck. It was gentle, but firm. I felt nothing much except the pleasing touch of her soft hands.

  Scarlet was looking intently at my neck to see what was happening, and slowly, she reached the area above my collarbone. I mean, this was enjoyable, but it also struck me as totally useless as a means of recovery. Still, because it was so pleasant, I did nothing to stop her. I just relished it.

  She was breathing through her nose, and the look on her face was very concentrated as she moved over my chest to my abdomen. She never said a word. Just focused on the area in question. I have always known that my torso has been considered my best feature, and so I was not surprised that she seemed impressed by my physique. She was gently running her hands over it, and it was very pleasant. The strange part of all this apparent nothingness was that I actually began to feel better.

  One of the manifestations of my feeling better, as I have already described, was to awaken my long-sleeping libido. I am saying this in the most scientific way possible to describe a problem I was experiencing on that table. I was developing an erection. And it was noticed by the good doctor. Physical therapist, I mean. And she placed her hands on the crease of my thigh. Which meant there was absolutely no way to hide it.

  Of course, I was embarrassed. “I’m really sorry,” I said.

  “It’s okay. It is normal. Nothing untoward.”

  Did I believe her? There was some evidence that this was true, but also, she was attractive — very attractive — and I was in a very vulnerable position. My cock was getting harder and harder, almost painfully so, as she massaged the area immediately around it.

  She had a quizzical look on her face.

  “Mr. Brett,” she said softly.

  “Let’s give it a few minutes, Ms. Ravenwood, and see if it goes away.”

  “Okay,” she said, replacing her hands on the join between my pelvis and my legs. Her touch, though, was very kind and very gentle and it made my erection even harder and larger. I was wearing boxers. I closed my eyes to avoid her gaze, and just let it happen. It was supposed to happen this way, she had assured me, and I knew she was a professional, so I just tried to think of other things. Unsexy things. I thought of Clay at bat, which was the most unsexy thing I could ever think of. I smiled. What a dufus!

  “Are you feeling any improvement?” she whispered in that dusky voice of hers. Her mouth was quite close to my ear. The closeness, I think, was what made me almost lose it. I knew the outline of my penis was visible, and yet she maintained a professional demeanor for the entire procedure. And strangely, the professionalism enhanced the feeling I was experiencing. It made me even more horny, believe it or not.

  “It is definitely making me feel good,” I said in response. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” she said. “I think that’s enough for today.”

  “Okay,” I said, and I could feel that my face was red as a beet. It was the strangest two feelings — on the one hand, I was very horny, and on the other, I was pretty embarrassed. But it worked, to be honest. I felt like things were moving better.

  “Did you want to discuss anything else?” I said, hoping she would suggest dinner or something.

  “No thanks, Mr. Brett,” she said.

  “Can you please call me Harrison?” I asked. “It is what everyone calls me. My dad is Mr. Brett.”

  “Oh. Of course. Mr. Brett is your father.”

  “It just makes me uncomfortable being called that.”

  She smiled, behind her desk, and wiped her hands with a sanitary wipe. I watched her do this, and my mind went to a very dirty place. I had to remind myself about the ‘no fraternizing’ policy. “Okay then,” I said, pulling my shirt back on and pulling up my shorts. “Are we done?”

  “Well, I have a sheet here that will show you how to do it to yourself,” she said, handing me a piece of paper with typed instructions on it. I smiled. “I suggest you try it a few times, and then come back after the weekend. That would be a good idea, don’t you think?”

  “Well, yeah,” I said. “I mean we’ll be in Columbus, so, I guess, you won’t be there.”

  “No,” she said. “I wasn’t invited. I also wasn’t planning on going. Good luck. I can see some improvement already. And,” she added, turning to me. “I truly appreciate you coming to yoga.”

  “Oh yeah, about that,” I said, remembering the fact that she ignored me the entire class. “I don’t think that’s for me, to be honest.”

  “You decided this after one class?”

  “Two classes,” I corrected her.

  “You only really gave any effort for one class,” she said.

  “Yeah well, I feel pretty silly doing that stuff. And all those words and things. I don’t know…”

  “Just come back after the weekend and try it again. I’m not asking, I am ordering you.”

  I wasn’t expecting her to get aggressive so quick. It was just a casual expression.

  “Your reaction is typical of men in your position and of your age. But it is also typical of a little kid who decides she doesn’t want to take piano lessons after two lessons. I say no. And I mean it. So please don’t push me on this. You have freedom in this organization to do what you please for the most part, but my job depends on my healing you. So, this is an order. Capeesh?”

  When she said that, I was amazed. Not amazed, just kind of impressed. I mean, suddenly, she looked like a stunning Italian beauty. I felt my erection stir, and knew it was my cue to get the hell out of there.

  “Yes, I capeesh,” I said, and hurried to the door.

  Chapter 17

  SCARLET

  AS HARRISON BRETT hightailed it out of my office, I had to sit. This was not normal for a physical therapist. I mean, I guess it happened. They tell you it might happen, but I had never had it happen literally in front of me.

  I felt bad for him. I felt embarrassed that I was actually turned on by it. His penis was actually impressive. I’ve heard from women for ages that men’s bodies are ‘workmanlike’ and ‘utilitarian’, while women’s bodies are beautiful, artful. So, I am here to tell you that that was not true of all women and it was definitely not true of all men. I had to go through my brain to think of the logic. It was normal for some men to get erections from massage. God knew there were enough tropes on the internet about it, enough gross stories of dirty old men getting their jollies this way. And I had been doing this kind of massage for four years, ever since I went to a week-long retreat to learn about the benefits of lymphatic massage in the treatment of sports injuries.

  The reason I needed to sit down and think was because I was flushed and breathless and, frankly, flustered. I had spent an afternoon recently discussi
ng the ins and outs of Harrison Brett with oversexed married women, and that had an effect on a person. I tried to take that into account. And then something like this, a dream scenario for Heidi, and, well, frankly, for me. The difference was that I was a professional and I knew how to handle it.

  I got up and went into my private bathroom. Thank God I had a private bathroom. I pulled down my yoga pants and sat on the closed toilet seat. It was not something I normally do at work, but this was an emergency. I put my hand between my legs and felt wetness there. To be honest, I was surprised it didn’t soak the outside of these tights. But I guess they thought of this when they made the yoga wear, and thank God they did. I began to touch myself gently at first and then more and more aggressively, remembering his large cock, and how much I wanted to grasp it and maybe even put it in my mouth.

  God! It was weird. I was behaving out of character, but I had a need that I had to deal with or I would be unable to focus for the rest of the day. I was imagining what his cock would feel like, not inside myself but in my mouth. I smiled, and felt the jolts of electricity zapping through my body, making me weak everywhere. I was closing my eyes, imagining like it was someone else doing it — actually, Harrison Brett doing it — and felt all the axes align. I was now going to come, and I knew it. I began to breathe heavily, and after a moment of concentration, I felt it break the surface of my consciousness.

  My orgasm was so profound and so powerful that I screamed. I knew I was in a private bathroom, with the fan on, but I wondered if someone would hear it. Damn it! It was embarrassing, but it was more embarrassing because it kept going. I also couldn’t help remembering his amazing torso. He had a shape so amazing and beautiful that I remember thinking it was like a statue in marble, except it was tanned in a way I had never seen on any of my sexual partners from the past.

  And, let’s be honest, I hadn’t had a lot of partners. That was clear. I was mobile in my lifestyle, and that precluded having a partner, because it would mean settling down, and settling for a worse job and that suburban nightmare I loathed. But the cost was steady sex.

  I laughed at my assessment. Ridiculous, but true. The strange part of it was that I never really considered myself highly sexually charged. I was normal or less than normal, and so this need to masturbate anywhere else except in bed was strange and new and frankly kind of exciting. Like I had graduated to a new level. Of something. But I think I liked it, danger and all.

  Chapter 18

  HARRISON

  “HOLY SHIT, Chris, you are not going to believe this!” I said breathlessly as I speed walked back to my car.

  “Believe what?” said Chris over the phone. “You got your mojo back?”

  “What? No! I mean, well, yes, sort of. I did but — wait. How did you know that?”

  “It’s in the tone of your voice,” said Chris.

  “Well, anyway, I need to tell you what just happened.”

  “I’m all ears. You have about five minutes, cuz I have a deadline, and it’s soon.”

  “Okay, so I went to Scarlet Ravenwood’s office…”

  “Who?” he asked.

  “Scarlet Ravenwood, the physical therapist.”

  “Her name is Ravenwood? Interesting.”

  “Anyway. She was like in the office with a massage table and she gave me something called a lymphatic massage, and it was unbelievable!”

  “Unbelievable in what way?”

  “Okay, well, first of all, it made me feel so energized!”

  “Interesting. Go on.”

  “And — and this is the best part — it gave me the most massive erection.”

  Silence on the other end of the phone.

  “You there?”

  “Uh. Okay, yes.”

  “Anyway, she didn’t lose her shit, didn’t get mad. Nothing. It was amazing.”

  “Sounds pretty hot.”

  “It was!” I said. Silence. “Chris?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why did you say it was interesting that her last name was Ravenwood?”

  “No reason.”

  “Come on!”

  “Well,” said Chris. “You know I’ve been writing about your dad lately, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, it seems he had a maid or something when you were a toddler, and her name was Ravenwood too.”

  “So what?” I said. But the name Ravenwood had sounded familiar to me earlier.

  “And where is Scarlet from?”

  “I don’t know… Detroit I think.”

  “Interesting. Does she have a mother?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “I suppose so. Do you know what her mom’s first name is?”

  “Nope. We don’t talk about stuff like that. She is very professional. But seriously, don’t you think that’s amazing?”

  “Fascinating. Good for you, son. Listen, I gotta run. I have a deadline. Find out if her mom’s name is Elizabeth or rather, Betty, will you?”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  “Fine.” The phone went dead. I owed him a couple of favors and Chris still answered my calls. I got in my car, and raced home to pack for the away game. We had to be at the dressing rooms by two, and it was past noon already.

  I packed in a hurry, and got there with about ten minutes to spare. I checked my phone and there was an email from Scarlet telling me how to do the lymphatic massage on myself. I scanned it. Then I decided to write back.

  Listen, thanks for the directions, and I’m sorry about what happened today. I will try not to let it happen again. Random question — is your mom’s first name Betty? Just wondered. Anyway, I’ll see you Monday for the yoga class. Ttyl Harrison.

  Send. There, I could do things for friends. Let nobody tell me otherwise.

  I was on the bus, snoozing, when the response came.

  You’re welcome, and there is really no need to apologize for what happened. It is very common, especially among athletes. So, no worries. And yes, my mom is named Betty. Why do you ask?

  A friend asked when he heard what my physical therapist’s name was. Random. Sorry. And to be clear, are you from Detroit originally?

  Yes. Have a good weekend.

  I forwarded the response to Chris. Then, while the younger players were playing their music, I slipped into a dream state.

  Dream Scarlet was standing in my apartment door, and I had just gotten up. For some reason, I was not surprised to see her, but I was happy.

  “Come in,” I said, smiling.

  “God, I’ve been waiting forever for this,” she said, advancing on me and hugging me in a way I had wanted for years.

  “So have I,” I said. She was wearing yoga clothes, and looked great. The tights were black and accentuated her legs and — not being sexist here — her ass. She had a tank top that showed off her shoulders and her beautifully cut arms. “God, you look amazing!” I said, and she giggled like a schoolgirl.

  “Look who’s talking,” she said, and I felt her hand at my waistband. I realized I was only wearing my boxer-briefs, and so when her hand touched me, it sent a wave through my body. I held her close, and her breasts pushed against my chest, sending those tell-tale electric shocks through my body, and causing a certain chemical change that led to stiffness in one particular part of my anatomy.

  She noticed it and smiled. Her small hand was still hovering around the area where I had experienced the stiffness, and her hand, like a homing device, grasped onto my stiff member and pulled me close to her. I could feel the heat emanating from her body, and particularly from her crotch, and knew I had to have her.

  Before I had a chance to say a word, she pushed me backwards into my bedroom. “I have waited way too long for this,” she whispered in that husky whisper she did so well.

  “Oh my God!” I gasped. She was grasping my cock firmly through my boxer-briefs, and I fell backwards onto the bed, with her on me. I felt her full lips kiss me. The sensation was amazing — I was feeling ev
ery little nerve-ending possible, and every one of them was firing into my heart.

  “I need you, and I need you right now!” she said, and as she said it, I felt her twisting and turning above me. The result was that she pulled off her tights, and I felt her skin on my flesh. People will tell you there was nothing more intimate than skin on skin, and this was definitely true.

  She was so good at manipulating the various positions of her body, and she had my boxer-briefs off in a matter of seconds. Not that I was complaining. I felt her press her body to mine and push into my erection. The wetness was palpable.

  I could tell that she wanted me. I certainly wanted her too, and made it clear by kissing her deeply, and moving my hands to her beautiful round breasts. Lowering my head, I pressed my lips onto one of her nipples and gently bit down. I heard her gasp that shot through my body, giving me the inspiration to push into her. I didn’t want to do it fast, because I didn’t want to hurt her, but she climbed on me and shoved herself powerfully down on to me.

  The feeling was incredible. It was comforting at the same time as it was dangerous and exciting. Dream Scarlet moved up and down on me with great energy, and I felt myself melting into her warmth. As I looked up at her magnificent body, I knew we were destined to be together.

  “I love your body,” I said softly, and she giggled again.

  “And I love yours too,” she said. I was seized with a desire to own her, to possess her, to feel every part of her, and I lifted her up with my arms, gently putting her on the bed, and pushing her legs apart.

  The soft folds between her legs reminded me of the delicate petals on a rose, telling me how beautiful life could be. I licked my fingers and moved it to the little button that was hiding behind a small fold of skin, and gently held it, moving slightly to the right or to the left, depending on her mood. I could tell by the gasps I was reading her correctly.

  She had my head with both her hands, and was pushing me into her crotch. I breathed in her scent and felt another jolt go through my body. She was making me crazy. I stuck out my tongue and gently licked around the sides of her labia.