Fast Baller

by Lulu Pratt

  I had a need to plunge my tongue deep into her all of a sudden, and my fingers moved around until she was panting. It was exhilarating and dangerous. I knew she could change her mood in a heartbeat, and so, like a tightrope walker, I proceeded gingerly.

  One tiny step after another. My tongue swirling in circles, my finger gently kneading the little button that made her groan, and my fingers lightly touching her legs. In my mind, it was giving her the sense that there were many lovers, but I really didn’t know why this was working. I was essentially floundering in the dark. But I loved it.

  “Come back up here!” she ordered, and I did as I was told. She grabbed my cock even as it became harder and harder. She guided me into her pussy and tickled my balls as I plunged into her again and again.

  “Fuck me harder!” she cried, and when I heard that, I pushed with all the energy I had in my body. By this time I was dripping with sweat from the exertion, and I could feel the wetness on her skin as well as she desperately tried to come. I wanted her to take charge, and she had no trouble. At the same time as I heard her gasping faster and faster, I felt my juices rising with each breath, and knew that, unless I took immediate action to control myself, I was going to come.

  I knew she was close, and so I pushed hard into her, kissing her with passion, and gently massaging her breasts, which she seemed to really like.

  “I’m coming!” she cried, really loudly. And she screamed with the most beautiful and passionate scream I had ever heard. I pushed deeper and deeper into her and then, as I knew she was climaxing, I felt her shudder and reach to me, scratching down my back, and holding me in a scissor-like grip with her legs as she essentially milked me until I was going to climax myself. I pulled out as she began to calm down, and then I absolutely lost control myself. It felt like I was emptying my soul on to her body, and she took it with the strangest and most glorious joy.

  “Holy shit!” I cried holding her as close to me as I could, feeling the liquid slide down our bodies, uniting us in one amazing feeling of happiness. I began to laugh — I found it funny and strange and uncontrollably joyful.

  “Oh my God, I love you!” I said, and closed my eyes.

  When I opened my eyes, Buzz Nolan, the team manager was squatting by my bus seat, watching my face. “You okay, there, champ?” he said, looking strangely at me. Suddenly I was horrified at what I had just experienced. How much of it did I say out loud? Had I actually ejaculated?

  “I’m okay,” I said. “Just had a bit of a nightmare.”

  “Understandable,” he said. “They say after surgery, it’s pretty common.”

  “Yeah,” I said, and wiped my forehead, which was soaked with sweat.

  Buzz got up and moved back to the front of the bus. I got up and made my way to the washroom at the back. I was not all that sturdy on my feet and felt like I was going to faint. I was a little embarrassed and very confused.

  In the tiny bus washroom, I looked at myself in the metal mirror that looked like something from a prison, and could see that I was pale as a ghost. I was not feeling very well, but at the same time, I was unbelievably happy. If only that dream had turned out to be true!

  When I got back to my seat, I took my phone out and wrote to Scarlet:

  Hey. I was thinking, what with you being new in town and me being new in town, maybe we could have dinner. Thoughts?

  Chapter 19

  SCARLET

  I STARED AT Harrison’s text and then typed and retyped my response.

  Do you think that’s a good idea? I understand there is a rule in this organization about fraternizing with coworkers. Not that I am suggesting anything, of course. I just want to cover all my bases. I would really like to get to know you, and we are both new. Thank you. When did you have in mind?

  I sent that email to Harrison with a certain amount of fear, to be honest. I mean, everything that had happened between us so far was strictly by the book and predictable, but still, there was a small amount of worry that things might get out of hand. Not that I distrusted him. I kind of mistrusted myself after my experience with him and his cock. Well, not that part — it was more my reaction afterwards and my dream.

  Of course, it didn’t matter what I was thinking, because he responded before I had a chance to think.

  I think you are very trustworthy, and I have total trust you can behave yourself. How about we go to J. Alexander’s. I don’t know a lot about food, but I know I like steak. So, as long as you’re not vegan or something, you should be fine. H.

  Great. When are you back in town?

  Monday. How about I pick you up at seven? Send me your address. H.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said into the phone. It was a Friday night around seven and I just knew she would grill me on why I wasn’t out dating. As if she had never met me. I have never been a big dater, and since moving to this small town, and not really knowing anyone, I have been even less of a dater. Never joined up to Tinder or Plenty of Fish.

  “Scarlet! It’s Friday night. What are you doing calling your old mother? Shouldn’t you be out painting the town red?”

  “Maybe, but I wanted to make sure you got the money I sent you.”

  “I did, thanks so much.” There was a pause. “So, what’s on your mind?”

  “I was just thinking about what you said about Roger Brett.”

  “Why do you want to know about that horrible time in my life?”

  Horrible time? What? “Well, it’s just that I thought it was interesting. I mean, Harrison Brett just asked me to dinner.”

  “Then go! Enjoy yourself! My gosh, my relationship with Roger Brett certainly shouldn’t interfere with that.”

  “No, of course not. And it won’t. I just thought it might be an interesting topic of conversation.”

  “I knew Harrison when he was a toddler,” she said. “And he was the sweetest little kid. But he was not treated well by his father.”

  “How about his mother?”

  “She was a piece of work.”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “Well, for starters, she left him and Roger in the lurch.”

  “She left? What kind of a mother leaves her toddler?”

  “The kind she was. She was, as I said, a piece of work.”

  “What do you mean by ‘a piece of work’?”

  “She was much younger than Roger — maybe in her teens, for all I know. She was beautiful and blonde and selfish as the day is long. And from somewhere in the Eastern Bloc.”

  “The Eastern Bloc?”

  “Communist countries. At that time there was this rash of young pretty girls defecting from Romania and Albania and places like that.”

  “And where was she from?”

  “I don’t know one country from another. They are all commies and they were all out for one thing in those days.”

  “Wow! That shocks me a little.”

  “Trust me, Scarlet, he was better off without her. As far as I know, she left for Bulgaria or somewhere like that and never came back.”

  “Where is that?” I asked.

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” she said. “Eastern Europe or somewhere else.”

  “Okay. Well, that is definitely more than I should know about him,” I said hesitantly.

  “Yeah. I don’t really think it’s something you need to bring up to him. To be perfectly honest, I would prefer it if you didn’t mention my relationship to Roger or him. It might make things awkward.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “And I actually have to get going. Got a hot date.”

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “No. I don’t. Just seeing some of the ladies from church for a quilting bee.”

  “Okay. Have fun.” I hung up. Something in the back of my head was telling me things were not totally as she described them to me. But I could not, for the life of me, figure out what her real relationship with Roger was. I mean, she was young too, when all this happened. I had it pegged at the middle of
the 1980s, which would mean Harrison was just a toddler when she was working there. At least, I thought so. He was thirty-four, according to his patient file. Older than me. Well, at least we had one thing in common — we both had a parent who left, vanished. I just wondered if any of this was stuff he would actually want me to know. I guessed there was only one way to find out.

  Chapter 20

  HARRISON

  THE WEEKEND road series was a triple header, and I tried my best to do those exercises but I was rooming with Nick Demetrios, who spent most of his nights snoring or groaning, and then bitching about Clay the rest of the time, so I wasn’t exactly in the zone when it came to pitching. Still, I managed to do some of these things, and although we lost two of the three games, I felt like I was improving. I pitched a little more consistently and I didn’t feel the burn quite so badly. More importantly, I finally — at long last — had something to look forward to. I had been in the doldrums for so long that this lighthouse of a dinner with someone I was forbidden to sleep with seemed like something amazing.

  Of course, the bummer was that I was actually thinking about Scarlet all the time, and every time something to do with her was mentioned on the bus or in the dressing rooms, I pricked up my ears to hear what they were saying. There wasn’t a lot of chat about her. Just people making fun of the yoga or whatever.

  To my discomfort, on the way back from the triple header in Columbus, Clay Carter sat down beside me.

  “Hey,” I said, while playing a game on my phone and listening to someone’s music behind me.

  “So, Mr. Major League. We should talk.”

  “About what?”

  “Well, it seems your arm is shot. I just want your advice on how to get to the Majors. I feel like I’m ready. What’s your take?”

  This kid really needed some lessons in diplomacy. “To be honest, you are not really in control enough. Not for the Majors. You got speed, but there’s nothing much behind it. If you get my drift.” I continued playing my game, deliberately not looking at his face and his milky blue eyes. But I could feel the heat of his anger.

  “What are you talking about? I got a ninety-three mile an hour fastball. I got batting.”

  “What’s your batting average?”

  “Two-fifty.”

  “If that was in the Majors, you might be right. But in the Minor Leagues, that is average or less. I don’t think people are gonna sit up and take notice until you hit three point oh.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “I think that is the same answer.”

  “What?”

  “I mean, you work on it. Personally, I’ve seen tons of kids like you, and most of them stay in the Minors. You can make a good living in the Minors. You’re making what? Forty Gs?”

  “That’s my business, Harrison. Look, I need help and I ain’t too proud to ask for it. Are you willing to share your so-called expertise?”

  For the first time, I looked at him, and his eyes were stabbing me with anger. I smiled at him. “Am I willing to share my ‘so-called expertise’? What does that mean?”

  “It means I need your fuckin’ help, bud.”

  “Clay, you really and truly do not understand about politeness. Ever hear that expression, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?”

  “Catch flies? What? I am a pitcher, you dumb fuck.”

  “Flies, like the bug.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about you being nice to the people you need to be nice to.”

  “This is baseball. There is no nice in baseball.”

  “Okay then. Well, I have an important game to play here, so I’m gonna concentrate.” I opened the bubble-popping game I had been playing and began to pop little balls.

  Clay watched for a minute, and then got up and left. “You’re a tool,” he said, as he walked away.

  And right at that moment, I thought, ‘good! I got rid of that annoyance.’

  Pop, pop, pop! went the bubbles. And I slowly drifted out of consciousness, leaving Lil Nas X behind on that old town road.

  Chapter 21

  SCARLET

  I GOT ALMOST nothing done on Monday. There was no yoga class when the team was out of town, and I had no appointments either, so I tried to catch up on paperwork. Sadly, I had no motivation, and, at the best of times, I hated paperwork.

  I sat on the floor of my office in Lotus Position and began to meditate. I found when you meditated, the rest of the world did not intrude on your thoughts, and this was something I was in need of. I felt I was doing a pretty good job so far, but I also knew I was in somewhat of a precarious spot, given the fact that I was to have a meeting with the team manager Buzz Nolan, today at four.

  I had never met him before, surprisingly, and I had no idea what he was all about. I couldn’t tell from the message what he wanted. It was just a short email message:

  I thought it was about time we met and caught each other up on the latest news. What say you to a four o’clock meeting at my office today when I return?

  It was sent from an iPhone, and so he was probably on the road, and something had come up.

  What, I asked myself as I meditated, did Buzz Nolan want? What did he even look like? I realized I hadn’t even bothered to Google the guy.

  I rose from my meditation and went to my laptop, opening it and googling him. This guy was pretty interesting. He had played Major League ball. He was a baseball man to the core, it seemed. According to his Wikipedia page, he was in his fifties, Black, tough, no-nonsense, and a team manager who imposed his view on his team. He was demanding and got results.

  Did this guy write his own page? Because this team had not been on a winning streak since I’d gotten here. Maybe I was crazy, but it seemed like this team was in the doldrums in a big way. But what did I know? The point was, I had a meeting with him.

  I was totally unsure about what to prepare, and so I had a brainstorm. I phoned Harrison.

  “Hello?” he said.

  “Harrison, it’s Scarlet Ravenwood, the physical therapist.”

  He burst into laughter. “I know who you are.” Then there was a pause, as though he had changed his facial expression from laughter to worry. “Are you calling to cancel? Because I have reservations.”

  “You do? You want to cancel?” I was suddenly aware of how much I wanted to go out for dinner with him.

  “No! I have reservations for the restaurant, I mean.” Then a pause again. “So, why are you calling? I’m seeing you tonight.”

  “I know, but I have a meeting with Buzz Nolan at four, and I thought maybe you could let me know a little about him so I can have a good meeting. What do you say? Are you willing to help?”

  “Oh, sure. What do you want to know?”

  “Just, I don’t know. What’s he like?” I asked.

  “Well, you must have met him before. I mean, he hired you, didn’t he?”

  “Well, technically, but I never actually met him. I was hired by Dr. Castellano, the team doctor.”

  “Really? I’m surprised,” he said. I had an inkling he was joking, but couldn’t be sure.

  “I guess. He wouldn’t really be involved in the hiring and day-to-day business of the staff. I’m just looking to understand what he likes and what he doesn’t like so I can make a good impression.”

  “He likes you. He doesn’t know you, but he knows you are pushing me and he likes that. So, I wouldn’t worry.”

  “Really?”

  “He’s a tough old bird, make no mistake, but he is into that new-fangled yoga and stuff. He believes in new ways.”

  “He’s an old guy?”

  “Not sure. Fifties at least. Nice guy too. I mean, we’ve had our disagreements, but…”

  “But what?”

  “Nothing. I think he is a supporter of yours.”

  “Okay thanks. I guess that helps.”

  “See you at seven?”

  “Sure.”

 
Chapter 22

  HARRISON

  I WAS DRESSED and ready to go at six-thirty. I went outside, filled with so many emotions, and as I got in my car, I couldn’t even sort them out. On the one hand, I was fascinated with Scarlet, because she was an amazing and beautiful person. But I was also worried I would make a move or she would, and endanger both our jobs. That was such a stupid rule — I mean, how were we supposed to meet people if we can’t fraternize with those people we work with? Or maybe it was a way of controlling us because they had so few ways to keep an orderly workplace. I understood the whole #MeToo movement, and supported it, believe me, but this was not a case of any one person taking advantage of another.

  Or was it? I mean, in some ways, I was the more powerful person in this dynamic than she was — after all, the reason she had a job at all was because we were players who needed her help. But also, players in a Minor League team were not exactly powerbrokers.

  But anyway, I sat in my car and prepared the route to her place on my navigation system. My navigator told me it would take twenty minutes, and so I started on my way.

  Strange how, when you were in an excited mood, Toledo looked a lot nicer than when you were in a bad mood. The route I took had me going along the waterfront, and as I saw the tall buildings in the evening sunlight, it looked like a huge mound of bright and shining gold. The reflection on the water was gorgeous, and just that sight made me glad I was here. Of course, a lot of it was tied to the anticipation of having dinner with a friend. And truthfully, I was not thinking even remotely of having sex. I was just looking forward to being myself for the first time in a long time. It seemed like every other relationship I had was somehow compromised by my position in the organization.

  Buzz needed me to recover, and so every word he said was aimed at getting me, the prize stallion, into shape, so he could capitalize on me. Or maybe it was the owner of the Detroit team – also known as my dad — who was paying him under the table. I was not party to any of these negotiations. I was, after all, the stallion, not the jockey.