Page 56 of Romance Languages

“I said it did hurt, but then you get used to it. I feel like that’s the standard answer with anything sex related.”

“Sounds like we’re both having a crap week.” I wished I could keep talking to him. We had less than a minute until the bell rang, and who knew what my students were doing in my unattended class.

“This too shall pass.”

“What are you up to tonight? I know a fun way to blow off steam.”

“Oh?” His face perked up with a knowing smile.

“Not that. Though it does involve balls.”

* * *

“Batting cages?”Julian asked when we rolled up to the facility that night.

I shutoff my car and unbuckled my seatbelt. Julian remained strapped in.

“It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that I’m not athletically gifted. Sports and I do not get along.”

“You don’t need to be athletically gifted to hit some balls at the cages. I love coming here to blow off steam. It’s been a week, and it’s only Tuesday.” Two days of not getting to hang with Julian was surprisingly rough. I hadn’t realized how much he was part of my day. “Trust me. Bashing the shit out of a baseball is a very satisfying feeling.”

The cages were arranged in a big circle with the pitching machines set up in the center. Our cage was cordoned off with nets. On one side of us was a father and his young daughter, and the other had a group of twentysomething friends, beers in hand and music pulsing, enjoying a batting cage happy hour.

I got Julian fitted with a helmet. The brim came down to his eyes and smushed his floppy hair. As if this guy wasn’t already adorable. Next, we picked out the right bat for him.

“All this work to blow off steam when we could’ve just gone for a jog,” he said, balancing the end of the bat on his palm.

“Yuck. Jogging.” Though I liked to stay in shape, I wasn’t one of those freaks who enjoyed running. There was nothing pleasurable about jogging in freezing cold weather or putting undue stress on your knees. “Would you prefer if we went for a run?”

“God no.”

I chuckled. At least we were on the same page about that. “Trust me. This’ll be worth it.”

“There’s a studio in Sourwood where you can smash plates and glass as a stress reliever.”

“They charge people money to break glasses? Man, rich people will find anything to spend their money on. Let’s go.”

I led us to our cage. The pitching machine stood at the far end, primed and ready. Julian was the lord of the wine store, but this was my domain. I was excited to be the smart one in this situation.

“First, we want to get you into proper hitting position. Step up to the plate. That’s this thing down here.”

Julian rolled his eyes. “I know what home plate is.”

“Just making sure.”

He put his feet up to the plate and hoisted the bat on his shoulder, as if he were a hobo carrying his belongings.

“You don’t want to rest the bat on your shoulder. Hold it higher and bend your knees. You’ll want to put your body’s full force into swinging.”

“Like this?” He lifted the bat way over his head. A caveman ready to catch lunch.

“Too high. Here.” I stood behind him and positioned his arms in the proper form. Then I positioned his hips to point toward the ball. Then I had to readjust my crotch because all this touching was going straight to my dick.

“Give your hips a little bend. Stick your butt out.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, bending down slightly.

“Yes. Your butt is very strong. You derive a lot of power from it, which will help make your swing stronger. People think that a swing is all about the arms, but it should involve the entire body.”

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