Page 6 of Off Season

I simply smile at her. Quincy Abbott is a pitcher for the Philly Cougars. He’s hot as hell, extremely tall, with blond curly hair and Arizona’s same bright blue eyes. But I would never go there. I simply enjoy fucking with her. Besides, I’ve gotten the feeling that Ripley has a crush on him. She’s never admitted as much, but I have my suspicions.

Arizona leaves and Ripley, Bailey, and I all lay back on my brand-new king-sized waterbed. I’ve wanted a waterbed my entire life. So much so that I asked for a waterbed and a puppy for Christmas every single year of my life. My parents never considered indulging me on the waterbed. When Bailey and I signed our contracts with the Anacondas, the biggest of my life, I decided to finally treat myself to one. It arrived yesterday and I’m obsessed with it.

I turn on the vibration setting, and Bailey starts giggling. “I can’t believe your bed vibrates. I think this will be my last time on it. I’m afraid of what will happen on this bed.”

I blow out a breath. “I can’t wait to have my first non-self-induced orgasm on it. It’s going to be epic. I’m glad we’re going out tonight. I’ll bring someone home for a little surfing fun. I’mfeeling like I want a woman tonight.” I wiggle my hips. “I need it a little gentler as I learn the motion of this ocean.”

Ripley asks, “How do you know when a woman is interested? I guess I assume most women are into men unless there’s some obvious signal.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I assume everyone is open-minded. If they’re not interested, they can let me know and I’ll back off. I frankly think everyone is on a sliding scale of sexuality. Your exposures and experiences dictate what you do and don’t indulge in.”

She twists her lips. “Hmm. That’s an interesting perspective. What do you look for in a woman?”

I smirk. “Women should be like swim goggles.”

Bailey sighs. “Oh god, don’t get her started.”

I giggle. “Yep. Goggles. Tight, wet, and on my face.”

Ripley smiles. “Seriously. I want to know.”

I sigh. “It’s no different from what you look for in a man. A spark. Some attraction and chemistry. I don’t need much more. I’m not marrying them, I’m fucking them. I won’t ever see them again after we’re done.”

She asks, “What’s the deciding factor each night whether you go home with a man or woman?”

“I don’t know.” They always have questions about this. “I suppose at times it depends on my mood. One night, I might want to do squat thrusts in the cucumber patch, and other nights, I want to stir the bean curd.”

Ripley lets out a laugh. “Ha. I’ve missed your euphemisms for sex. I’m so happy to be reunited with you two. I’ve missed you so much. And I think this change of scenery is needed for Arizona.”

Bailey’s face turns serious. “How’s she doing?”

Ripley shakes her head. “She’s been a mess. I want my best friend back, and this move is just what the doctor ordered. We need to make sure she’s pushing herself on the social front. She’s been a clam all year.”

“At least she went on a date last night. That’s a big deal for her,” I add.

Ripley slowly nods. “I guess.”

Something is off about this situation. Why isn’t she elated that Arizona went on a date last night, especially with a stud like Layton Lancaster?

Bailey and I exchange glances. I know she’s thinking the same thing I am.

CHEETAH

I’m at the stadium with Layton in our training facility, getting electric stimulation on our sore muscles. It’s the all-star break in professional baseball. It takes place every year at the halfway point in the season. It’s a time for baseball to celebrate the best players in the league with a friendly game. There are always parties and other fun activities associated with the event for those who are selected for the teams.

For those who aren’t, it’s four days off from the grind of a long one-hundred-and-sixty-two-game season. I’ve been having a good year, but not all-star worthy. Our young, popular shortstop, Avery McNeil, as well as one of our relief pitchers, both made the team. Our new pitcher, Quincy Abbott, should have made the team but didn’t. He was traded to us from Houston before this season. He said he’d rather save his arm for the second half of our season, but he still should have been offered the roster spot. He's having a career year and has become our ace on the mound.

Layton made the all-star team for ten straight years but hasn’t in the last few. He used to be the biggest star in baseball, but at thirty-four, I imagine retirement is around the corner for him. He’s one of my best friends in theworld. I can’t imagine ever playing without him, but that day is coming sooner rather than later.

He's got ice on his knees and the e-stim hooked up to his quads, which is pretty standard for catchers. It’s the most physically demanding position. I’ve got the e-stim on my hamstrings, which feel a little tight. I’m a speedy center fielder, a position you can play for much longer than a catcher. I’ve had years where I led the league in stolen bases, but turning thirty has made it so my muscles don’t recover as quickly as they used to. The e-stim helps them loosen up a bit.

I woke up this morning to a flood of online photos of Layton with Quincy’s little sister, Arizona. Apparently, they attended an event in New York City last night, and the paparazzi went absolutely wild for them. I guess it makes sense; he’s a good-looking fucker who was the face of baseball for a long time. She’s a professional softball player and, judging by her photos, is incredibly beautiful. I haven’t met her since she just moved to Philly. The internet practically exploded this morning. I can’t imagine Quincy is thrilled about it. When it comes to women, Layton is the biggest player on the planet; he’s with a different girl every single night.

I ask, “How did you end up with Quincy’s sister last night? Was she cool?”

He smiles. “Very cool. I briefly met her…once before, but then management introduced us yesterday and asked us to attend the event together. We hit it off and are going to hang out a bit.”

“She’s fucking hot.”

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