Page 9 of Commander in Briefs

Searching for my keys, I ask absently, “Where’s Kelsey? Didn’t she go with you?”

Kelsey is as close to a girlfriend as Anniston is going to get. She and Anniston met at one of the Nationals team functions last year. Kelsey was Brody’s date and has been a regular in his bed ever since. He won’t admit she’s his girlfriend, but we all know the truth.

“She disappeared with Brody about an hour ago, I’m positive they have already left. Please, Theo.” Her sexy little whine is extremely cute and can get me to do things I normally wouldn’t. Like going to Brad’s party when all I want to do is crash.

I was invited, Ans even asked me to go, but I declined. I don’t enjoy watching her flirt and go home with other guys. She and I have rules to our fucked-up relationship. Mondays and Thursdays are the days we set aside for each other. All other days of the week are fair game. On a Friday, like tonight, she won’t hesitate to go home with someone just to make me crazy. It’s part of our game. Just like her getting me off while I’m fucking some other girl. We’re messed up, and everyone knows it.

“Is Brad passed out?” I ask, not really caring if he is or not. I’m already walking to my car. My Atlanta penthouse sits just outside the perimeter of the neighborhood where Brad lives. It shouldn’t take long to get there. I intend to pick her up, but I like to make her sweat a little. I also don’t want to give her the impression I’m available at her beck and call.

“I don’t think so. He knocked right before I called you and I told him I had beer shits.” Her tone tells me she’s completely straight-faced.

I belt out a laugh. “No shit? You really told him that?”

“Of course I did. Why not?”

“No reason.” I can’t keep from chuckling. “I just figured you would come up with something classier than beer shits.”

“Well, I didn’t. So, are you coming to get me or not?”

Smiling into the dark, I return, “I’m on the way. Be there in twenty.”

Except now I decide the BO was definitely me. A shower is in order before I pick up Anniston. I don’t want to listen to her bitching about the smell or have her stick her head out the car window like a dog. She has a flair for the dramatic. And, I also want to wash Sarah/Sadie off me. It may be thirty minutes, but I leave that out. No need to piss her off before I get there.

“Thank you, Theo,” she purrs, making my dick stir again.

I pull up to Brad’s piece of shit abode and straightaway I’m greeted with several losers puking on the sidewalk. For a second I reconsider parking on the curb. I’ll beat someone’s ass if there is puke on my rims.

I climb out of my Mustang and take note of the dilapidated building. The old house reminds me of the Forrest Gump plantation but about 200 years after the apocalypse. The paint is peeling, the porch missing boards, and trash is littered everywhere. When you play for a minor league team, the pay is decent but nothing compared to the MLB. Factor in traveling four days a week, and you get Brad’s.

My face screws up in a grimace as I take in the party scene before me. Dozens of players line the driveway, extinguishing any chance of getting Anniston—and me—out of here quickly. I’m not a partier. Everyone knows that. I would much rather enjoy my close circle of friends than spend any more time with fellow teammates than I already have to. Anniston, on the other hand, enjoys this shit. I think she does it on purpose just to irritate me.

At least this is her last year of med school. Next year, she’ll be with me. Hopefully. If all goes well. I have been doing my damnedest to convince her to do her residency with our team doc, Aaron. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited at the possibility of having her closer to me. A few days here and there sucks. I hate knowing she’s out here all alone, with these assholes.

Instead of walking through the parade of drunken stupor, I opt to go through the side door, paying close attention to where I step. The door is propped open, several pairs of underwear wedged underneath. Boxers, briefs, thongs, even some granny panties are stuffed under the pissed-stained door.

I look to the sky, taking in a deep breath and holding it, asking God to give me the fortitude to get through this rathole in one piece, as well as some kick-ass STD immunity. This place is literally crawling with sperm.

A Flo Rida song blasts through the door as I take a hesitant step into the chaos. With my hands in my pockets, I move through the throngs of sweaty bodies searching for someone who is semi-sober.

Anniston said she was in Brad’s bathroom but fuck if I know where that is in Forrest Gump’s manor. A super sweaty girl bumps into me, dampening the sleeve of my shirt.Breathe through your mouth.The smell is really rank in here, worse than the locker room after a doubleheader. Dammit! I am going to kill Anniston for this shit.

I pull out my phone to call her when I hear, “Von Bremen!”

Oh hell.Be calm.Male voice, doesn’t sound like a pissed off boyfriend. It may be okay to acknowledge.

Slowly, I turn, chanting to myself, “Please be normal, please be normal.” Lady Luck is on my side because the lanky, grinning idiot approaching me is none other than my former bat boy, Paul. Thank goodness for small miracles!

Paul maneuvers through the swarm of gyrating bodies with his red solo cup held high in the air, all the while apologizing for disrupting the dry humping going on. Good Lord. When he finally reaches hearing distance, he practically sings, “What’s up dude? I thought you were in Washington?”

Paul isn’t exactly what you’d call an attractive guy. He’s rocking that whole Star Wars-comic-book thing. Anniston says he’s “hot in a nerd kind of way.” She’s been after me to wear some black-rimmed glasses and fuck her in the library to live out this little nerd fantasy of hers. I haven’t jumped on board with the idea yet, but eventually I will do it whether I want to or not. In the meantime, I try to keep innocent Paul away from her just in case. I’m just looking after Paul. That’s all, it’s not jealousy, for sure.

“It’s the off-season. I’m back home,” I respond dryly. “I’m here to pick up Anniston. Have you seen her? She’s supposed to be in Brad’s bathroom but I have no idea where that is.”

“I haven’t seen her but Brad’s room is just up the stairs. Second door on the left,” he clarifies, lifting his pointer finger in the direction of the stairs.

“Thanks, man.” I clap him on the shoulder. “Enjoy your evening.” I don’t wait for any kind of response because I will be damned if I stay in this cesspool any longer than necessary.

The door to Brad’s room isn’t locked. Fucker. Was he hoping someone would walk in and see him fucking Anniston? His rep would definitely improve. Loser. Maybe he was too drunk to remember to lock it. Whatever. I am getting this pain in the ass girl and getting us the fuck out of here. This nightmare is ruining my otherwise perfectly shitty night.

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