Long Ball(15)

Technically, I owe them drinks. He Who Causeth the Loss Must Buyeth the Booze or some shit that Kemp made up. Based on the faces Carlos and Octivio are making, and the way Shelbie is trying to sneak glances at me without staring, I think I’m going to get off the hook.

She’s never seen me with this little clothing before, and it’s sort of a turn on. It’s like everything becomes background noise when she looks at me. She doesn’t look at me like I’m a failure. Shelbie looks at me like she wants to eat me.

God willing, I want to let her.

“We’re going to go meet the guys.” Carlos backs out of the room, dragging Octivio with him. “We’ll tell everyone you’re a bit, um, busy.”

The door thuds shut behind them, leaving us alone in a very quiet room. And I’m half naked. I do some quick math and realize I could have her under me in less than 10 seconds. Immediately, my cock jumps beneath the towel.

I don’t think she sees, until she blushes a little more and looks away.

I want to remind myself I’m a changed man. I do. I am. But right now, the way she looks, the way she’s looking at me? All I want to do is get lost in her body and forget this day happened. It’s how I used to recover from losses and the urge to do the same comes creeping in.

“I thought you could use some company after tonight.” Shelbie smiles and this time doesn’t drag her eyes away from the lower half of my body. I resist the urge to drop my towel. “I know all the guys are going out, but maybe you want to come over to my place and have a drink?”

There goes my cock again, leading the parade of my libido across the locker room floor. My hands clench my towel, ready to rip it off so she can get on her knees in that tight skirt and low cut shirt and f*ck me with her mouth until the day goes fuzzy. Instead, I tighten it and smile. “What about my place? It’s not far from here and I can be ready in five minutes.”

“Text me your address and I’ll meet you there.” She winks and disappears out of the room.

Because I can, I drop my towel and stare at my achingly erect cock, and whisper, “Soon.”

I’ve never gotten dressed faster in my life. The only time I’ve driven faster to my place is when I almost missed practice one day due to a killer hangover caused by Kemp. I’m in damn near peak physical condition and I still have to catch my breath by the time I roll up to my penthouse. She’s waiting for me, still dressed in the tight red skirt, and I want to undress her before we even get inside.

She must feel the same, because her mouth is on mine before I get the door unlocked. We tumble into my living room, kicking off shoes and tugging on shirts. Her hands dig in my hair and mine fumble for her bra strap.

“I’ll make you forget all about the loss tonight,” she whispers in my ear.

Okay, not exactly what I was hoping for, reminding me of my catastrophic failure tonight, but okay. Her bra strap yields and her breasts come tumbling out of the push up bra. They aren’t as perky as they looked wrapped up, and I hate that. Be proud of your body and don’t lie to me.

Still, I remind myself that a pair of tits is a pair of tits and I just need to f*ck them and forget everything.

Except something is wrong.

Everything is wrong.

Nothing feels… right. Her lips feel dry and her hands are cold. Even her tits, which are usually blissfully warm on a girl, feel frigid. My dick isn’t getting the memo that a beautiful girl is here to make us forget everything, either.

“Watch my hair,” she hisses for the thirtieth time.

I’m just going about this all wrong, that’s all. She clearly wants me, I want her. I just need to figure out how to crack this weird professional persona she’s got going on. Sex is about getting dirty. Hell, our first time together was in a bathroom, so clearly she knows how.

“I have a charity event in two weeks, black tie affair, super fancy. Will you be my date?” I have her in my lap and nuzzle on her neck. “It would be an honor to have someone as beautiful as you by my side.”

Jackpot. She lights up like an arcade. “Of course!”

Off goes the shirt. Up goes the skirt. I can smell her sex and my dick finally gets the memo. She just needs a little extra work, I guess. But I can work with that.

Her hands venture down into my pants, but her hands are just as cold as the rest of her. Even all revved up about the charity event, kissing her feels lackluster. Something is wrong here and I can’t figure out what.

When she starts audibly sighing, I make the decision to just cut the cord. “I’m so sorry, Shelbie. That game was really tough. I just… I think I need to be alone for a little while. Figure out where I went wrong.”

Shelbie slowly climbs off my lap and readjusts her hair, nodding. “I once dated a guy from the Braves, and he watched the tapes a million times after a loss. I get it.”

“Yeah. I thought… I’m sorry.”

She blows me a kiss. “Call me later. Even later tonight if you want.” With a wink, she’s gone.

I collapse on the couch. What the f*ck is wrong with me? I put on some Dierks Bentley and crack the volume on my sound system up. Fuck the neighbors. Fuck everything. I had a beautiful girl in here and I couldn’t make it work.

I could have had my daughter, my own flesh and blood, in the stands tonight and I f*cked it all up.

Shelbie isn’t the one for me. I try harder with her than I have with anyone else and it always feels like plastic. Every girl feels like plastic. No one feels like home. Except.