by Harlow Brown
He swirled his tongue in haphazard motions across my lower back, and then suddenly I felt his lips on my cheeks, lightly biting through the lace. He hooked his finger in the waist and ever so slowly dragged them down my legs and off to the floor. With expert hands he grabbed dual handfuls of rounded mounds of flesh, and firmly, yet gently, massaged them before moving down to my upper thighs where he cleverly worked his way towards the middle. His long fingers massaged deeply and ever so lightly grazed the most sensitive part of me. The first initial feeling of him touching me made me melt and whimper.
"Spread your legs, babes."
I did, and my reward was a much more deliberate inner core massage. Whiskey made sure that I was ready to take what he was about to give, made sure I was wet enough to suit him.
"You're ready."
"Yes," I replied, panting.
"I wasn't asking. I was stating a fact. You’re glistening for me."
"Oh."
Slowly he inserted one, then two fingers.
"Feel how easy that was? No workup needed, Charlie." He massaged my core and I convulsed around his fingers.
"There's one," he murmured.
I tried to turn over so I could kiss him. I needed the warmth and familiarity of his lips. I needed to see myself in his eyes. I needed to be in his arms. Home. Safe. Treasured. Don't get me wrong; he was delivering quite well, but right then I just needed to see him, be with him, look at him. Whiskey tried to stop me so he could keep pleasuring me, but I refused to give up.
"I need something. Whiskey."
"Name it."
"I need to see your face so I can see myself in your eyes. I need to kiss you because I need to feel the warmth of your lips. I need you to possess mine. I need for you to take me while in your arms. And I needed it thirty seconds ago. You know, right after you got me off with your fingers."
Whiskey let me up, and I got just what I needed—I saw me in his eyes. That was my favorite sight so far, followed closely by his shirtless torso, of course.
When I saw myself in his bourbon irises, I knew nothing nor anyone could hurt me. Whiskey was my safe place.
"Now take your clothes off. I need to feel you."
I never took my eyes off his until he was done. Then I gawked at those abs. Of course, I had to touch them… a lot.
"Take me, Whiskey. Make me yours," I said softly.
"You will be legally mine before too much longer. But right now?" He paused and thrust in so deep and fast that it made my head spin. "I'm making an unofficial declaration."
And I was speechless. All I could do was moan as he rode me and fucked me.
"Finish me, Whiskey," I breathed.
"You got it." He dominated the moment, the situation, and the bed until all there was left to do was scream his name.
So I did, followed by explicit verbs.
"Ahh!. Gawd! Whiskey! Fuck. Me!"
"Charlie," he growled as he buried his head in the crook of my neck and went stock still as he enjoyed the moment we’d just shared.
"I needed that."
Nothing else was said. Silence encompassed us, love surrounded us, and peace consumed us. All was right with the world. I had Whiskey, and he had me. Hensley couldn't get to me, and I didn't have to share our magic with that bastard. He took enough of my enjoyment; he didn’t get any more of it.
"I’ve needed it for a while."
"I'm glad we brought that back here, in private," I said truthfully.
"Yeah, babes, me too."
"Tomorrow is a big day. The girls are getting excited, I bet. I know I am."
"You sure you're ready?"
"Without a doubt. We have a World Series to win."
"I can't wait to watch you and the Regulators divide and conquer."
BEING CURLED UP with my girl was surreal. I knew she was going to want up, so I kissed the side of her head and said, "Babes, rise and shine. You've got ass to kick and names to take."
She threw her hands up into balled fists and stretched like an infant. A tiny squeak and yawn escaped those lips of hers, and I wanted so badly to make love to her again. However, I knew firsthand that she was perfect in bed; I wanted to watch her command the field. I wanted to see the excitement, joy, determination, sweat, eye black, dirt, and triumph on her face at the end of the day. "Let's get you dressed and fed. You, my girl, have a big day."
"I have to be alone for a while. That okay with you?"
"Something wrong?"
"No. It's silly, but I do it before every game. I talk to Daddy."
"Has he ever answered?"
"No, not about ball. I've told you the times he's responded."
"I'll make coffee, make yours blond, and start breakfast for you girls. Come on down when you’re done." I kissed the top of her head and left her in bed.
To my surprise, Magnum, Fury, Riddick, and Chief were there already. Shooter was still on door duty.
"Who’s going to stay here on door duty?" I asked.
"I've got a hot redhead I need to watch play ball in tight softball pants. I'm out," Magnum said.
I swear he had a semi chubby just thinking about Raige.
"I’d like to watch Rumor too," Fury stated, completely throwing all of us for a loop.
''I'll stay. I don't care for softball," Chief volunteered.
"Prez, you’re on door duty?" Mag asked, just as shocked as the rest of us.
"Yeah. I don't want to sit in the blazing sun and get fucking sunburned. I'll take the air-conditioned job."
Now I am not surprised. That's something he’s thought out. He’s pretty thorough.
"I'll eat a quick bite and then go get Shooter to come with you," Chief stated.
The girls were coming down the stairs, and my guys' heads were turning. You would think they had never seen women in a uniform before by the way their tongues rolled out and eyes popped out of their sockets. They were all downstairs except Charlie, each accepting cups of coffee as I sat the cream on the table. I was surprised that no one else made their coffee as creamy as Charlie.
"That's all the cream you use? I thought all girls used tons of it."
"No, only your girl," Briar spoke with his usual less-than-chipper attitude.
''For real. She's a picky ass," Rumor said as she rolled her eyes.
"Of course, she is." I just shook my head.
"Where is she?" Fury asked.
"Getting ready for the game. Doing her pre-game routine," Jazz chimed in.
"Let's go get the cars packed. It's about time to load up and roll out." I headed upstairs to get Charlie. When I got to the door, I heard her speaking.
"Today more than ever, guide me, help me make the right decisions, help me lead my team. You haven't let me down yet. I trust you’ll be there with me today as I play my last competitive games. You’ve gotten me this far, and I know you’ll be there cheering us on today too. I love you, Coach."
Then I heard the water running. She must have been brushing her teeth, so I decided to go on in.
"Babes, I got your coffee ready."
"Thank you," she said as she stepped around the corner with a towel in hand. "Whiskey, you okay?"
"You are so sexy right now. I can't quit staring."
"Dude, I have toothpaste still around my mouth. There ain't much else that is less sexy than that."
"You are. Eye black, toothpaste, braid, and ball uniform make you so hot. Babes, you…."
"You, what?"
"There are just no words to describe what you do to me. Your beauty, your heart, your strength, your weaknesses. Babes, I just love everything. But I gotta say that the eye black is fucking hot."
It was. She looked like my sweet Charlie with a badass twist.
"Let's go downstairs and get your coffee."
"GIRLS, WE MADE it. This is our time, our moment, our field. Let's own it. Let's put our adversities aside and push forward. Let's show the Angels who deserves this trophy. We do. We are the best in the nation. It's time to prove it. Call
it up on three ladies, one, two, three—Regulators!" I yelled from the middle of the huddle.
"Mount up!" the rest of the girls screamed as we raised our unopened hands high.
We all took our positions and warmed up. Raige pitched to me. That girl was on fire. Her fastball had smoke trailing behind it and off her fingers as she released it. Rumor took turns throwing grounders to Amanda, Haze, and Izabell, and they all made great throws back to her at first. Baylee took Garyn's place in right field, and she threw pop flies to Gypsy who then did the same to Rustin in left field before they reversed it.
"Balls in! Coming down!" I yelled as I squatted and signaled a high inside fastball.
Raige delivered, but I fumbled it a little. I hit my knees and picked up the ball, firing a rocket to Haze, who covered second base.
It was a good thing it was only warm up. I took off my mask and closed my eyes.
"Deep breath, Charlie," I heard. Opening my eyes, I saw Jazz looking at me through the fence.
I walked over to her, my catcher’s gear clicking and clanging.
"Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and have fun. Don't over think it. You know what to do. Just do it. Love you, mean it. Go kick some Angel ass," Jazz said as she winked and walked back to the bottom row of bleachers where Briar and Whiskey sat. On the next bleacher up Magnum and Fury were intently watching Raige and Rumor.
"Play ball!" the ump yelled as he found the official scorekeeper. "Game start time is 1:05."
We played four innings with no score. Our defense was on point. Raige's pitching was stellar, and when they did hit, our defense shut them down.
In the fourth inning, I was in the on-deck circle stretching and warming up. I was just about to take a practice swing when I saw Daddy.
''Coach," I whispered as I stared into centerfield, totally abandoning the game in front of me. Daddy gracefully made his way to me and put his hands on my shoulders as if he were trying to convey a message to me.
"Sugar Bean, it's scoreless. We need you. Time is running short. How about you get us started with a base hit, what do you say? Start us off. Look at the hole between left field and center field. They’re playing you shallow. Right now is prime time to back them up. Capitalize on their mistake. Burn them. Elbow in, fast swing, use your hips and send it on a ride. We could use you right here, right now. Start us off, baby girl."
And just as quickly as he came, he was gone.
My shoulders were left with goose flesh in the dead of summer. I shook my head, then leaned it quickly to each shoulder to pop my neck, taking a breath so deep that I was light-headed. Then I shook out my arms. I heard Whiskey asking Jazz what the fresh hell was going on and her reply that I was getting my wits about me. She knew what was going on, that I was listening to Daddy.
Smack. Raige hit one to shortstop. "Out!'' called the ump.
"It's okay. That’s only one down," Whiskey said, obviously more nervous than I was.
As I was walking up to the plate, I scoped out the hole Daddy mentioned. He was right; they were playing shallow. "One last time, Daddy. You and me. Right here, right now," I said aloud, not caring who heard me.
I stepped into the box with my right foot as I held up my hand and dug my stance. Then I swung my left into the batter's box. With my bat back and legs barely squatted, I took the fast pitch.
"Strike."
I stepped out of the box, took a swing and a deep breath, and then got back in the box.
The next two pitches were crap, not even close to hittable. 2-1. I was ahead in the count. This is my time. As I stared at the pitcher, an eerie feeling of calmness overtook me and I knew this pitch was going to be mine. With my knees bent, bat up and back, I glared at the pitcher and dared her to pitch. I followed her every move and as soon as the ball left her fingers, I started my swing. Crack!
My entourage leaped to their feet and clapped and yelled, shouting, "Go two, go two." Coach Woodard was pointing for me to go on to second as well.
Applause and cheers came from the dugout.
All I could do was smile and catch my breath as I stood on second.
I had done just what Daddy said. Rumor took my place at the plate. Center and left backed up a considerable amount, and I knew what she planned.
She was going to drop it between left field and center field, but not deep.
She swung and missed. "Strike."
With her lips pursed in an "O" formation, she quickly inhaled and exhaled.
"Rumor, relax. You got this. This is your time. Base hit, baby. That’s all we need," I yelled from second base.
She took to the box again, grinding her back foot into the dirt.
"Ball." It was a wild pitch, so I stole third.
"Safe!" I heard as I rose off my belly. My uniform was stained with dirt down the front.
"How much time is left?" I asked Coach Spires, who was coaching third.
"Three minutes. Stay if it's in the air and go hard if it's on the ground."
There was a standoff between Rumor and the Angels pitcher. Finally, she wound up and launched a fastball slightly inside towards her, and she started her swing a little too early.
"Two," the ump called as she swung over it.
"Deep breath, Rumor. You got this." I clapped and encouraged her from third.
"One-two count," the ump yelled.
She shut her eyes and took another breath.
The pitcher lost her mojo for a bit, the next two high and outside.
"Full count,'' he yelled, and held up both fists to the pitcher.
Rumor stood erect and stock-still with one leg out of the box, her eyes slowly shutting.
She was calming herself down and giving herself a pep talk. She slowly opened her eyes and gave me a shit-eating grin, and I winked at her.
She stepped into the box again and waited for the pitch. With my heart racing, I watched as the pitcher released a changeup. Rumor anticipated that. The slower, the better for her, so throwing it at sixty versus seventy was the ticket. Sweat was running down my face, chest, and back as the game moved in super slow motion it seemed. Rumor unloaded and made contact dead center of the ball. I jumped off the bag to wait and see if I needed to tag up. Like a rocket, the ball flew towards the fence. Faster, deeper in the outfield, and gracefully the blur of yellow streaked through the air. The right fielder raced to the fence and leapt up.
I was halfway to home plate when I saw her snow cone the ball. She had robbed Rumor of her two-run homer. So I ran back to third to tag up and coach told me to go home. I ran so hard, sprinting faster than I had ever run before. I got close and saw that right field had used the first base cutoff, so I threw my hands up and slid feet first into home plate. She caught the ball and made the tag. My heart sank. I was out number three, and if they scored, it was over.
"Safe!" the ump yelled and threw his arms out to his side. Then I saw it. She’d dropped the ball. It was beside me and not in her glove. I'd knocked it out when I slid into her.
"Ballgame!"
My emotions paralyzed me. Overcome with joy, pride, excitement, and a little sorrow, I lay there on home plate trying to absorb what had just happened. I had done it. I was the winning run. My girls surrounded me and lifted me with their screams of victory. Despite all of them, the only thing I heard was Daddy.
"Sugar Bean, you did it. I'm proud of you." Only that time I didn't see or feel him. Tears of mixed emotions smeared the dirt and eye black a little more. Before I knew it, I was hoisted up on the girls’ shoulders like a trophy and walked to the mound.
"Yeah, Coach, I did. I love you." I smiled and snapped back to the here and now. At that moment I looked through the diamond-shaped holes in the fence to see Briar holding Jazz in a hug. He grinned at me and then with his arms still behind Jazz's back, he pointed to his ring finger then to her. I pointed down and mouthed “Now.” He had just proposed to my best friend seconds after seeing me win the game. Nodding, he shooed me as if telling me to enjoy my moment.
&n
bsp; I should. But I didn’t see Whiskey. I wanted him to celebrate too.
"May I have your attention, please? Introducing the 2016 Women's World Series Champions, the Regulators!" the league commissioner announced over the PA system.
Applause, screams, whistles, and some foot stomping followed his statement.
"Ladies, come forward for your rings."
Coach Woodard and Coach Spires went first so they could hand us our rings.
I let everyone go ahead of me, but when I got up there, Coach Spires looked me right in the eyes and said, ''You are your daddy's child. There is a gift to this sport, and Charlie girl, you have it. He is grinning from ear to ear right now, and your momma is having to tell him to calm down because all of heaven don't care about a ballgame. Coach Woodard and I want to award you with the MVP award too."
Tears of joy streamlined down my filthy cheeks, leaving a mud streak in their wake. Nearly jumping to hug him, I reached up around his neck and squeezed. "Thank you" was all that would come out.
"Your ring and your award, Charlie." Coach Woodard smiled as he handed them to me.
My smile felt as if it would crack my face. I felt like I had dirt all in my teeth from the slide, and I couldn't have cared less. I flashed the gritty smile.
"Charlie, there's something else."
"Huh? What do you mean?
"Look back at home."
As I looked back at the plate, I saw my dreams come true. My breath faltered, my legs shook, and my heart raced at the sight before me—Whiskey in his leathers with Magnum, Briar, and Fury off to the side of him and Jazz beside Briar.
Whiskey said, "Charlie, the game ball is yours too."
Making short work of the distance from the mound to the plate, I sprinted to him. He put the ball in my hand, and the top moved. Trying to force my mind to make sense of it, I jiggled it. I suppose I thought it would fix it, but I was wrong.
"Let me get that for you."
He grabbed the ball and opened it. Yes, you heard right. He opened the ball. Stuck in the middle of it was a marquee-cut diamond ring. He held the top open as he dropped to one knee and said, "Charlie, these last couple weeks have been a whirlwind. You brought me to my knees then, and you have me on them again now. I knew the moment I could breathe again after I got up that night on Jazz's porch that I needed you. I knew I would do anything you asked of me. I'd move heaven and earth just to see you smile. I'll stop at nothing to make you happy. Charlie, you are what I have needed my whole life. Don't delay our future any longer. Say you'll be mine from now till the end of time. Marry me, Charlie.”
