by Blue Stour
He was right, and she knew she’d regret it in the morning. A combination of the twangy guitar, the alcohol warming her body, and the feel of Kade’s length hardening against her thigh ensured that she was going to give him whatever he wanted.
“I do want you, Kade.”
As serious as ever, the Arizona resident didn’t smile or smirk. Instinctively, he attacked her mouth with a force that she had never felt from him during all of their years together.
Michelle tried in vain to resist but those thoughts disappeared within seconds. She kissed the man as if her life depended on it.
Kade felt her legs tighten against his thigh and knew she’d be getting nice and wet. The woman had always been wet and ready for him. His dick was so hard it hurt. The second he heard her release that ever-so-quiet feminine moan against him and on to his mouth, Kade lost all control.
“Come on.”He practically yanked her off the dance floor, past the few other patrons and into an unmarked, closed door.
Shutting the door, he made sure it was locked before pushing her back against it. In practically no time he had her zipper down and his hand sliding down her abdomen to the spot where that sweet scent was coming from. His fingers felt the heat before he had even reached her damp sex.
She was the same Michelle as before but now her freckles had faded and her curves had increased. Yet, the woman still had those big brown eyes that made his pulse pick up. Her body still responded to him like they had never been apart.
Looking into her eyes, he saw her impatience. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his fingers from her creamy core.
“Kade?” Michelle’s breathless voice snapped him from his thirsting moment.“ Enough! I want to feel you come, Kade.”
Yep, same Michelle.
She faced the door and pushing her long chocolate strands aside as Kade nibbled his way along her shoulder then spending an extra moment on that sensitive curve where her shoulder met her neck. He undid his button and lowered the zipper, dropping his jeans and boxers to his feet. In a swift jerk, Michelle’s snug jeans had been dealt with, too.
She canted her hips and Kade slid through her juices before lining up and with a snap of his hips he impaled her.
“C’mon ‘Chelle, lift that ass up and let me give you what we both want. Fuck ‘Chelle, your pussy feels even better than I remember,” he said, meaning every word.
“Oh damn!”Her words mimicked the thoughts in his head.
Kade had bedded many women by this point but nothing or nobody had felt like being with Michelle.
Thrust after thrust, he only picked up speed. He felt Michelle’s fingers against his shaft a few times and knew she was working her own clit. Call him selfish but just the thought she would take care of herself kept his hand away from her pussy. Kade still found Michelle’s abandon behavior during sex hot as hell. He grabbed onto her small waist he pounded into her relentlessly. He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth when that familiar pull from his groin all the way up his spine started.
“Come on, ’Chelle,” he moaned. “Come on, baby.”
Hearing her gasp was enough to push him over. Kade lost all control as he felt his climax coming hard. He went off like a roman candle. Michelle’s pussy spasmed around his cock.
“Oh God! Don’t stop!” She begged.
Her interior walls were convulsing in rhythm with the pulses shooting from him. Kade didn’t want to stop thrusting; it was all too good to end. He was home–not just the small Virginia town but Michelle. Hell, even in Michelle he was home.
That was part of the reason he turned her around; Kade didn’t want to look into those big doe eyes and know he wouldn’t give her more than tonight.
Pulling out of her, Kade watched as his come mixed with her juices slowly slid down the inside of her thighs. The visual only made him want to see it again and again and . . .
With ANYONE else he would have been in full panic mode but not with his ‘Chelle. His behavior hadn’t been even close to decent. He’d always worn protection, religiously; protection every time, except that one time with Michelle. Surprisingly, he wasn’t the least bit worried, though.
That one-time hookup made him realize one thing; he could never be with Michelle; he loved her too much. He had made his decision years earlier. She was better than someone’s backup plan. His life had been about baseball, drinking, and other women-lots of other women. It wasn’t fair to her to let her know that an injury had knocked him off of his pedestal and he was back to her; she deserved better, far better.
Knowing what he knew at that point, Michelle never would have been out of his life. He knew she deserved someone more serious. Right or wrong, he had made baseball his only focus.
Less than a week later, Kade was back at home in Kentucky. He couldn’t help but continually reminisce in his mind about how his baseball path started and came to an end.
A few years earlier, U.S.A. Coach Junior Fitsgo broke the news about the draft to the U.S.A. senior. Even though everyone knew that he would be drafted, his dream call came as quite the surprise to the still-modest, 23-year old.
“Kader, can you come down to my office, ASAP?” Coach Fitsgo asked him through the telephone the eve of the baseball’s 1992 draft. “No; you’re not in trouble. I just need to talk with you about your season. Just get here, okay?”
“What is it, Coach?” Kade asked after he had sprinted into the office not three minutes later. “You wanted to see me?”
“Hi, Kader. Sit down,” Coach Fitsgo began.
Nervous and intimidated, Kade pulled up a chair. With adrenaline running through his body, he had no clue what Coach wanted. After just finishing up his second all-American season, how could he be in trouble?
“Where do I begin?” Fitsgo started as Kade nervously sat across the coach’s desk. “In my thirteen years of coaching at this institution, Kade, you are the best athlete I have ever coached. What is your dream, Kader?”
The student athlete didn’t know what to think. At first he thought he was in trouble. Then, he felt a sense of pride because of his coach’s kind words. Finally, he was just perplexed; everyone knew his dream.
“Coach, I’d like to play professional baseball, you know that,” he matter-of-factly pointed out. “I think I can be productive at that level, too.”
“Well Kader,” Coach Fitsgo said as he stood, smiling ear-to-ear. “You know the pro draft is tomorrow. I’m not positive, but I’ve talked with Detroit, Chicago, and Baltimore; one of those teams is going to make you their first pick, I’m sure. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but everyone is talking first round. Even if you don’t go in the top twenty, like I’m hearing, it’s certain that you will get drafted and begin your dream.”
Mesmerized and in awe, that was what Kade had worked so hard for. Ever since he was a little leaguer, he had wanted to reach the professional level. Since he was just about to reach it, there was one thing to do, and he couldn’t get out of the coach’s office fast enough to begin.
Par-teee!!!
“Costly Cutters has cases of beer for seven bucks,” Lefty began discussing college bargain shopping from the couch as he and Julio were in an intense battle of video game football.
“Dude,” Julio piped up from the Southpaw pitcher’s right side, “we get cheaper than that. Wal-to-Wal always have generic twenty for four or five bucks, man.”
“I say Costly Cutters, boys,” Kade voted from over the kitchen stove where he was preparing a college student’s gourmet meal of Ramen Noodles, toast, macaroni & cheese and beer. “Yeah, Julio, that’s cheap, but I don’t want to be throwing up before I have a full beer finished; that shit’s bad, buddy.”
“But is cheap, my friend,” the Mexican voice spoke up.
“Anyways, you don’t know for sure what team it’ll be, Kade?” Lefty changed the subject.<
br />
“No, Coach gave me three teams, but not one for certain,” the superstar answered. “The three leaders are the Orioles, Tigers, and Cubs. So, Costly or Wal-to-Wal?”
They went to the nearest wholesale store, Wal-to-Wal, and bought four cases of the cheapest beer. It was the type of brew that was nearly undrinkable outside of college campuses.
Additionally, they drove to Lefty’s idea and bought two more cases of “a more quality beer” to start the night. Not until that was gone did they plan to open Julio’s choice--college logic.
“We can drink our good-beer cases to start, before anyone else arrives,” Lefty explained. “Then, after we’re buzzed up, Julio’s shit beer won’t taste as bad. Plus, we can give the shit beer to people who come to the party.”
About an hour before the first guest arrived, Kade’s roommate, Julio—normally far from the brains of any operation--decided to charge a three-dollar cover charge for anyone entering the door. That way, he and Kade could get their cable and phone bills caught up while earning a little pizza-and-beer money of their own.
People started arriving at about 6:00. The tiny dorm room with two small bedrooms, a medium-sized living room, dinky kitchen, and shared bathroom was beyond capacity. As many people as it had ever held was ten-fifteen. On that night, though, there must have been fifty people in and out of the temporary residence.
“Yo, Kade,” Julio piped up at about 10:30 before breaking into a little dance. “Everyone ready to go to the bar, man. We go? Someone’s daughter’s going down tonight, man!”
“Yeah,” Kade laughingly said to the second baseman’s delight. “You’ll be coming home to Rosie, as usual, though.”
That night, they drank generic, quality, premium, and any other alcohol that could legally be swallowed. Staggering back home at nearly 3:00 am, Julio and Kade made it to their bedrooms. However, they went to bed with nearly twenty others spread out throughout the small dorm room.
Kade woke up with some girl he swore he had never seen before that morning, a.k.a. Noon in college. Realizing what day it was, Draft Day, he rudely woke the girl up, sent her on her way, and starting waking up the others. The draft was supposed to begin at 1:00, and he had already made reservations at the bowling alley for 12:30.
“Jimmy, Lefty, Juan, Frank,” Kade yelled at his friends sleeping in the apartment’s living room floor before going to wake Julio from his bed. “C’mon, get your drunk asses up; get up! We have to get to the bowling alley in about a half-hour. Get up if you’re going!”
After uselessly trying to wake everyone, they all begrudgingly woke but refused to get-up. Instead, the guys all settled on a video-game football tournament in anticipation of the call. Usually, they would drink beer, eat chips, and blast the stereo while they had those types of tourneys. On that morning, though, all of it was replaced with toothpaste, mouth wash, crackers, and soda.
Surprisingly, the all-American was the least hung-over. Immediately, he called Coach Fitsgo to let him know that he would be at his dorm and not at the bowling alley as was originally planned. After all, if a team needed to reach Kade, Coach Fitsgo was the go-through man.
The guys slowly woke. By draft-time, they were on the couch and floor, and the video game’s had started. Meanwhile, the phone kept ringing from family and friends impatiently wondering. After about the third call, Julio became the self-appointed call screener.
“Hello, Kade Toney’s answering service,” he began as Kade’s and all other eyes were glued to his mouth. “No, sir! I’m sorry, but we’re waiting on a very important phone call. Please call back in three to four hours.”
“Damnit! Another reporter?” Tippy bitched from the couch.
“No,” Julio surprisingly replied. “That the Mariners. I no want my boy play on Left Coast. I go home to Floreeda, soon. I never get to see him play. I told him you not interested, Kade.”
“You’re such an asshole,” Kade barked at Julio as everyone was laughing and throwing chips at him. “Reporter?”
Julio agreed, and they all got back into waiting mode, again. Then, the phone rang; this time it wasn’t anyone that they knew.
“Kade Toney, please,” the other end of the connection said after Julio’s usual “Hello. Kade Toney’s answering service.”
“No,” the roommate mysteriously replied. “This is his teammate. Who is this?”
“I’m Francisco Ramirez with the Chicago Cubs; can I speak to Kade Toney?” The unseen stranger asked Julio.
“Yes, sir,” Julio hurriedly said. “But, if you need a second baseman, I batted .313 this year and...”
Chapter 5
Kade snatched the phone from Julio’s hand while trying to go from hysterical laughter to as-serious-as-ever in two seconds. Putting the phone to his ear, he was trembling from the anticipation. Kade knew that everything he had ever dreamed about was in his right hand.
“Yes, sir; this is Kade,” he spoke into the phone as silence had fallen over the ruckus college dorm for the first time during his four-year stay. “Why, yes sir! I’d love to be a Cub. Thank you so much for having faith in me, sir.”
Immediately, the living room full of friends burst into thunderous applause and began hollering. While Kade was trying in vain to silence them, he was also plugging one ear and trying to wrap up his brief conversation with the Chicago Cubs executive. The stranger calling seemed to be ecstatic also, and informed Kade that he would call him and give more details later as they ended their brief conversation.
“Well, boys,” Kade said as he hung-up the phone and very seriously looked at the hung-over crew before he screamed.
“I’M A CUB!”
High fives and hugs amongst all the screaming friends occupied the room the next five-ten minutes. The guys were all acting as if they were the ones who had just been drafted; that was how well-liked Kade was.
“So how much you paid, man?”Julio asked.
“You’ll be in the same infield as Grace; wow!” Added a start-struck Kiko.
“I couldn’t be happier,” Kade pointed out. “I’ll play with Grace, Sandberg, Sosa, and . . . I’ll get to meet the legend himself, Harry Caray.”
“Where you picked, man?” Julio asked in his “improved” English.
“I was fifth, overall,” Kade proudly announced.
Along with the amateur draft position carrying a lot of prestige, it meant that he would become a wealthy man. Destined for big-league stardom his entire life, he was about to be paid accordingly.
That draft call was on the first day of June, 1992. Later that month, he agreed to a signing bonus worth just-over $300,000 with the Cubs. The one-time quiet and shy scholar quickly became quite the extravagant spender. He had plenty of money to do whatever he wanted at that point in his life, and it was only going to get better.
Typically, drafted players began their professional careers at different levels of the minor-league system. Usually, they start at Rookie or Class A baseball. Then, they advance to AA baseball when they’re ready. Finally, players play at the AAA level before reaching the big leagues.
Occasionally players skip a level altogether. As was Kade’s case, the Cubs’ brass felt his talent was beyond rookie-ball experience. Therefore, he started at the Class-A level.
After signing the contract with the hefty signing bonus, Kade was set to officially begin his journey to the big leagues in Flint, Michigan. His first stop would be Class-A baseball, playing for the Flint Autos.
Kade’s intention, though no one knew except for him and Coach Fitsgo, was to breeze through the minors in well-under a year. Then, he planned to begin the ’93 season with the Cubs.
As Plan B, and probably more realistic, he figured, he could reach AA by the end of the ’92 season, at the very least. Then, he would play a second season of minor-league baseball at the AAA level. Assuredly, by the en
d of that season he would join the Cubs--which was exactly how it turned out, almost.
“Do you know anything about Michigan?” Kade asked Julio in their living room after he was informed where he would be going. “Do I take shorts, jeans, a winter coat, what? I’ve seen shit on TV, and it doesn’t look warm, ever.”
“Serious, man?” Julio asked in jest before flexing his pipe cleaner-resembling biceps. “Look at me, man. I’m a Mexican. I no do cold weather. Besides, the ladies need to see these massive pythons on the beach, man.”
Two weeks after the draft, Kade was sitting in the airport lobby. Having only flown twice in his life, he was still nervous about even boarding a plane. Also, he was overly-anxious about arriving in Michigan and beginning his career.
When he finally did arrive in Flint, the Cubs’ minor league president, Gary Richards, greeted the club’s number one draft pick at the airport. After taking him to eat lunch at The Baron von Bar & Restaurant, they drove to the ballpark, Flint’s historic Broome Park.
“So, what are your plans, now that you’re a professional, Kade?” Richards asked from his driver’s seat. “Do you have a personal goal for reaching The Show?”
The top draft choice sat in the passenger seat unusually nervous. After all, the driver probably had similar talks with the likes of current Cubs greats Sandburg and Girardi. Kade didn’t want to seem cocky; then again, he didn’t want to undersell himself, neither.
“Two years, sir,” he finally spoke up after a pause. “I’d like to do it in a year, but I know I have more to learn, sir.”
Stopped at a red light, Richards reached into the back seat, pulling out his Flint Autos jersey. Frankly, it was about to be a surprise for Kade. Unless someone has been an athlete with the same uniform number for years—a sports superstition--the attachment to a number is unexplainable.
“You’re on your way son. We know you’ve worn number eleven your entire life, but we have a few changes in store for you, Kade; this is just one,” Richards said while he was leaned over the seat before handing a jersey with the big A on the front, similar to the Oakland Athletics logo. “From now on you’ll be wearing thirty-four on your back, as long as you’re in Flint.”
