Page 112 of West Bound

Soft notes play over the speakers and Cry To Me by Solomon Burke begins playing. My favorite song from my favorite movie.

I already don’t like this.

A light shines across the stage and a man in a baseball uniform steps out. I gulp down the “STOP” I want to yell and try to be a mature adult. But I really want to run away and hide.

The song plays on, getting more sensual when the crooner sings and the guy on stage starts to move. He has on white baseball pants with a long sleeved shirt that has a picture of a peach and a baseball on it, and a ball cap pulled low.

“Real funny with the peaches and baseball, guys,” I tell my ridiculous friends who are gonna get vagina punched. Well, not Cam. Poor girl is so close to having her perfect little kitty blown out like an over inflated Macy’s day balloon.

The light is dim on his face, so I can’t quite see what he looks like but if I were a single lady, I’d be all up on this man. He’s tall and built and looks like a piece of man meat I would’ve chewed up and spit out back in the day.

He dances closer but still too far for me to get a good look at. Hips roll, legs muscles flex through his pants, a gloved hand slides down the front of his body, and Mr. Burke sings “don’t you feel like cryin’”.

Yes. Yes I do.

In a move that only a professional could pull off, he lowers himself to the floor and starts gyrating. Damn, he knows how to move his hips. He starts a slow crawl towards me and I wiggle in my seat. I can only see the top of his ball cap as he keeps his head down and now I just want to see what this guy looks like.

He’ll be nothing compared to my man, but still…a girl can be curious.

He reaches the edge of the stage where I sit and rises to his knees, head still down, and spreads his legs. Woah! This player is carrying a bat.

Oh my God! Don’t look!

I watch as he pops the button of his pants open and beads of sweat form at my hairline. He uses nimble fingers to slide the zipper down and he slowly pushes his pants over his hips to reveal a pair of baseball printed boxer briefs. Not the underwear I was expecting, but fitting given the theme.

He brings his hand to his mouth and pulls off one glove then the other. His hands are large and veiny and manly, and look a tiny bit familiar. But before I can think too much, he jumps off the stage and slides right to me. He places his hand on my ankle and I quickly yank it away. He doesn’t make a second attempt and proceeds to stand up and yank his hat even further down to conceal his face.

This must be self preservation because if I can’t identify him, then Phoenix can’t track him down and strangle him.

Another roll of his hips brings his crotch closer to my face and I have to turn my head to avoid having it touch me. Sweat is now pouring down the back of my neck, and my heart is racing. Mr. Baseball turns so that his back is to me and I finally breathe a sigh of relief. That is until he grabs hold of his pants and rips them clean off.

Holy balls! He’s getting naked.

His cleats follow leaving him in his underwear, shirt and hat. In a flash, the hat is thrown away and he’s lifting off his shirt. He spins quickly just as his shirt clears his chest and that’s when I see it.

“Phoenix!” I yell, standing to my feet.

The women, who just seconds ago were cat calling and making lewd propositions to him, all go silent and the music seems impossibly loud.

“Hey Peaches,” he growls and takes me in his arms.

“Oh gross! That’s my uncle and I was whistling at him. I’m gonna be sick.” I hear Anais calling from somewhere behind me then a chorus of laughter.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

A crooked grin tilts one side of his mouth and he says, “making sure you were being a good girl.”

Oh Lord, this man.

“I don’t like that all my friends got a peek at what’s mine. Your dick is big enough that I’m sure the ladies in the back got an eyeful.” He gives me one of his lady killer smiles and I melt.

I press my lips to his and moan when I feel his tongue meet mine. His hand glides down my back and squeezes my ass.

“Mm. So juicy,” he groans.

My skirt is tight as hell, but I manage to wrap my legs around him. By now, I’ve grown wet and no doubt he can feel me on his hard abs.

“That’s not all that’s juicy,” I breathe into his ear.

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