“No choice, really.”
“Here.” She whipped off the glove and slapped it against my chest. I took it and she touched her right earlobe with both hands. “I still feel bad about the pin. I’m not a superstitious person, but let’s pretend it matters.” She got the gold hoop with the pearl at the end off her ear.
“You don’t have to,” I said.
“I know. Where should we put it?”
We huddled over the glove and found a strap the little earring fit around. I kissed her when it clicked. I kissed her long and hard, pushing her against the lockers because I wanted to thank her as much as I wanted to own her completely.
forty-one
Vivian
When he kissed me, it was as if he forgot himself for a minute, and I was no better. We were both rudderless in each other. He put his hands between my legs, four fingers flat on my crotch. The fabric of the sweatpants didn’t stand a chance against him, yet it was too much of a barrier.
I reached for his dick, groaning when I found the shape of it.
He pulled back, panting. “Fuck, woman.”
I heard a click or a tap from somewhere in the building. Not the locker room itself but close enough to remind me that we weren’t alone. But he didn’t pull away. He kept his hand still and on the warm, damp spot between my legs, his body so close I could see the brown flecks in his blue eyes.
They narrowed a bit before he spoke. “Come on.”
He took his hand off my crotch and wove it in mine, leading me away.
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer but pulled me alongside him, out of the locker room, past a long stretch of cinderblock hallway with buzzing fluorescents overhead, into a bigger area with benches and shelves full of equipment. He smacked the push bar of a nondescript door.
I assumed there would be another hall, another minimal room, a private place for us behind it. Instead the doorway opened into pure open space.
I stopped.
He pulled. “Don’t be scared. No one’s here yet. Almost no one. The grounds crew is on the way. We don’t have long. They’ll start wiping seats and heating up the hot dogs. I wanted you to see this. I wanted you to imagine me out there, thinking of you.”
I wasn’t scared, and I wasn’t worried about who was there. The stadium was empty. Just fifty thousand or so unoccupied seats. But I needed a moment to appreciate where I was going. Because the open space wasn’t directly across the outfield or across the parking lot. It was the view from the dugout. I hadn’t seen it since I was a ball girl.
I hadn’t even been allowed in the dugout as a ball girl. It was sacrosanct, and superstition dictated only players, coaches, and managers in uniform could enter.
“It gets disgusting by July,” Dash said when I stepped onto the concrete.
It was scrubbed clean. Every corner. Every surface. Every object I’d seen on television for years jumped out at me. The beige phone. The wood bench and bat rack. The bins of blue helmets.
He closed the door behind me.
The field was enormous. The seats went on forever. In the rows, people walked like ants on vertical pavement. Security guys checking for people and packages that didn’t belong. I remembered them from my ball girl days.
“It seems bigger on the inside than the outside,” I said, leaning over to touch the gravel.
I felt his hands on my shoulders then down my back, pushing me forward. I put my other hand down to steady myself, and he curved his body over me.
“You’re a fucking knockout,” he whispered in my ear, hooking his fingers in my waistband.
“What are you doing?”
“I told you to wear a dress.” He yanked down my sweatpants.
I stopped breathing. The morning air hit my bottom. He’d gotten the underwear too.
“You are not—”
“I am. I’m christening this field with your orgasm.”
“Jesus, Dash, I can’t.”
I had a reasonable explanation for why I wasn’t going to let him fuck me in the dugout, but his arm snaked around me, and his finger found my clit before I could get a word out. All the air left my lungs. My clit was hard and wet and ready for him to turn circles all over it.
“What if someone…”
I couldn’t finish. He unzipped, and the sound of it made my * clench and pucker for him.
He pushed my legs open with his foot. “No one’s coming but us.”
His dick at my opening, dry on wet, a four-alarm fire where we touched. I glanced all over the field. No one was looking. But it wouldn’t take more than a glance for us to be a spectacle. No one did. They were far away and doing their jobs.
Slow and steady, he pushed forward inch by inch, almost methodically. I was so soaked for him he didn’t have to thrust.
He pulled me up and spoke in my ear. “Act natural.”
“You’re joking.”