Showing Off

“Joey!” Barks Coach Johnson. “You’re up.”

Before Joey could take a step I spin to him. “Let me go next.”

“Huh?”

“Please!”

When Joey looks from my desperate expression to Mei and Marigold then back again his furrowed brow eases and a slow grin spreads. “Heh! Yeah, man. I’m no hurry.”

“Thank you!” I grin, turn, scoop up a helmet and, with a flourish, plant it on my head, then swagger up to the plate with tightened abs and flexed lats, pecs and delts. I lazily swing the bat as I walk as if to limber up though in reality I was simply chewing the scenery to bask in Mei’s attention. At the plate I stretch and knock the dust from my cleats and go through the whole routine. From the crowd Marigold is whooping up a storm as she cheers my approach while Mei calmly watches with feigned disinterest. Though she was playing it cool her eyes never left me.

“You’re not Joey.” Coach says from behind the L screen just in front of the mound.

“Working out a cramp, Coach.” Joey calls, stretching his back.

Coach Johnson, aka the town garbage man, shrugs and says. “Alright, rookie. Let’s see what you got.”

I raise the bat, gripping it in just the way Dad taught me all those years ago, and settle my weight as I narrow my focus on the pitch that was coming. Mei was watching. I absolutely could not fuck this up.

Crack!

The moment the easy lob left Coach’s hand well-drilled muscle memory takes over. Bat meets ball. Ball goes sailing into left-center field. Not quite the homer I was hoping for, batting power was never a strong part of my game, but a solid double on most days. Marigold goes wild, eliciting some laughs from the other onlookers, while Mei head follows the flight of the ball to watch it land in the outfield. God! The way the light of the setting sun accentuated her thick curves and…

Whap!

“OW!”

I rub my shoulder where the next ball that I hadn’t seen coming hits me, not hard but enough to get my attention.

“Watch the pitch not the bleachers!”

As the boys and some of the girlfriends have a laugh I chuckle and hold my hand up to admit fault. “Sorry Coach.”

I ready up again and…

Crack!

The next hit goes oppo, zipping just inside the line right in front of my two personal fans.

“Way to go, Dusty!” Marigold hoots. “Woooo!” At her side Mei watches it pass then looks back to me with a look as if to say ‘That the best you got, boy?’.

With gritted teeth inside my grin ready the bat again.

CRACK!

The wooden pop is crisp and pure. Right in the sweet spot. Heads turn from teh sound alone and a few in the stands rise to their feet as the ball sails high into the amber evening sky. Out and out and out…

“Ohhhh.” A collective gasp goes up as the ball falls JUST short of fence. There are some ooh’s as a smattering of applause ripples across the stand while around the field I catch some nods of impressed approval. There are some more chuckles at Marigold’s histrionics but they were good natured, laughing at her exuberance rather than laughing down at her. All of this I barely notice as my eyes were glued to just one woman. Mei’s head turns from where my ball landed back to me. For my effort I receive an understated little golf clap, which makes me laugh. It was so Mei!

The coach says. “Not bad, rookie. Not bad at all.”

With a dramatic swoosh of the bat I ready for the next pitch, eager to do better. “Thanks, Coach.”

He offers no pointers, no suggestions, no ‘coaching’ whatsoever and lobs a few more at me. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Every pitch is sent into the outfield, none of them as sweet as that one but all solid efforts. As he picks up the last ball he had at his feet Coach says. “Bunt it then take a jog.” I bunt it short as directed then turn and head back to the others. As some balls are gathered again Coach calls. “Terry on deck.”

Terry walks out to meet me. “That was great, Dusty!”

“Thanks, man.” I hand the bat and helmet to Terry and pat his shoulder. “Hey. Marigold’s watching.”

“Huh?”

Without waiting to see his reaction I jog off to take a lap, or more precisely a half lap. I trot the long way around the field then come to a stop in front of Mei. I smile at her as her dark eyes twinkle back. In the evening light her beauty made me heart go soft and my cock go hard, my rigid cup the only thing keeping my boner from forming a tent.

“Hey.” I say, leaning against the fence with with a roguish grin.

“Hello, Dusty.” She says back politely. Marigold fades a few steps back, giving us privacy while her wide horny shipper’s eyes devour the scene in front of her.

“We meet again.”

“It’s a small town.” She quips right back.

“Glad you could make it out.”

“It was a nice night for a stroll. I happened to be walking by.”

“How fortuitous.”

“Indeed.”

For a moment we just stare, the air crackling between us.

Nodding back to home plate I ask. “So? What did you think? Pretty impressive, huh?”

“Mm.” She shrugs. “I’ve seen better.” Then, after a beat, says. “Though not recently.”

“Gee, thanks.” I chuckle.

“It’s easy to look good among these lot.” She steps closer, a playful challenge in her eyes. “But how do you perform against real competition? Do you fold to the pressure or rise to the occasion?”

I grin. “Guess you’ll have to keep watching to find out.”

“I suppose I will.” She stops just short of the fence, her eyes never leaving mine. In them I see a hunger as ravenous as my own and I suspected I wasn’t the only one sporting uncomfortable wood right now. “You can pick me up at 9.”

I cock my head. “Pick you up?”

“You still want that second date, don’t you?”

“Wha? Tonight!?” I laugh. “I thought we’d…I thought you’d…” Shaking my head I point at her and say. “You’re doing it again! You just like seeing me off balance.”

“It is quite amusing.” She confesses.

“Two nights in a row?” I lean closer with a smug grin. “I’m starting to think you might like me, Mei Ling.”

“Like you?” She scoffs in jest. “Tell a boy he’s tolerable and it goes straight to his head.”

“Annoyingly tolerable.”

A smirk ALMOST cracks her mask of perfect control before she catches herself. “So are you coming out tonight or not?”

“Yes! Oh my God, yes. Absolutely.” All the old rules were out the window. Playing it cool? Acting like I had to think about it? Playing hard to get? Impossible! This girl had me hook, line and sinker and there was no point in pretending otherwise. The way her shoulders subtly lift in excitement at my answer is sweeter than any home run. “9 o’clock! I’ll be there. But…where are we going? I don’t think I’ll be let into The Post for awhile.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“I can’t wait, Mei.”

For a moment she just gazes into me, looking like she was about to say something, when she blinks and steps back. She clears her throat and shifts her skirt self-consciously, suddenly conscious of the stares we were attracting. Stepping back she gives me a business like nod. “9 o’clock it is. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

Crack!

Just then from behind me comes the air-splitting impact of maple meeting leather as Terry began his turn at bat.

As Mei goes to turn away I say. “One condition.”

She peeks back at me from beneath her sun hat, curious and mildly affronted at my ‘condition’.

“Not a condition.” I correct myself. “A request.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Go on.”

“Could you gals give Terry a cheer?”

Mei’s dark eyes drift to Terry then to Marigold then back to me again, her clever mind putting my matchmaking game together in just a few seconds. With a small nod she says. “Leave it to me.”

I nod back and continue my jog along the fence. As I go the other wives and girlfriends are all smiles and titters as they had all watched the little romantic comedy playing out over the fence. “Hey girls.” I wave and shoot a wink or two as I jog past on my way back toward the benches. I slow up as not ten yards ahead Terry was readying for the next pitch.

“Woooo!” Marigold’s voice splits through the din, Mei at her side clapping. “Come on, Terry! Let’s see what you got! Terryyyy!!!”

Whiff!

I watch with a cringe as Marigold’s cheer throws my new pal completely off, the bat whistling through empty air as he misses the easy toss by a mile. All that weight spinning from the wild miss throws him off balance, causing him to stagger a step or two. The poor guy’s face turns a beet red as he looks, confused, out toward his unexpected cheering section.

Stopping close by I start clapping my hands. “You got this, Terry.” He looks at me, a nervous look of ‘you bastard, you did this!’ in his eyes. My smirk denies nothing. “Come on, buddy. Send it into orbit.”

A flustered Terry glances Marigold’s way and takes a deep breath. He rolls his shoulders, lifts the bat, takes another breath and forces himself to focus. Coach throws another meatball and…

CRACK!