Baseball fan meets her favorite player

[Ticklish Girl]

I’ve loved baseball ever since I was a little girl. I can discuss stats and strategies with the best of them, so I hate it when people think I’m some bimbo who cares more about a player’s ass than his batting average. Truth is, I never paid much attention to players’ looks at all.

That changed when my team acquired Skip Harrison.

The first time I saw Skip play second base, I felt a melting sensation in the pit of my stomach. Six feet tall, with a set of muscles that threatened to burst from his pinstriped uniform. His dark brown hair was short and spiky, giving his face a boyish look. But I loved his icy blue, penetrating eyes the best. Anytime I saw him on TV, I couldn’t look away from those eyes. Soon I was staying home every night to watch the games. I’d sit on the couch and touch myself, imagining Skip watching me.

I knew I had to go see him play. My chance finally came on a beautiful Saturday in June. The ticket was expensive but worth it, because my seat was in the first row behind the home dugout. I was going to be as close to Skip Harrison as a fan could possibly be. Maybe I’d even get his autograph!

The players had just finished their warmups when I took my seat. I looked around and saw Skip in right field chatting with some fans. He signed autographs for a few minutes, then waved goodbye to them and jogged back toward the dugout. He was heading my way! Did I look all right? My snug black T-shirt and black jeans clung to my every curve, leaving nothing to the imagination. My hair and makeup were perfect, thanks to a touch-up in the ladies’ room. Would he notice me? I’d heard somewhere that he liked brunettes. Stop it, Alison! I scolded myself. Don’t act like a bimbo.

Without warning a battalion of little kids surrounded me, all of them reaching out over the dugout roof and yelling, “Skip! Can I have your autograph? Please! Sign this!” My heart sank. As a rule ballplayers tended to sign for children at the expense of adults, and Skip was famous for his friendliness toward younger fans. He’d never notice me among all these little brats. Oh well, I’d still get to see him up close.

Skip stopped in front of the dugout. I sat like a statue, my heart pounding, every muscle tense as I silently willed him to look my way. He began to sign the programs and other items that the kids were holding out to him, working his way toward me, but not noticing me yet. He was only a few feet from me. My eyes traced the outline of his body. The desire to touch him was like a physical pain.

And then he turned, and those blue eyes found me. He gave me a huge smile, showing off dazzling white teeth. I think I forgot to breathe! He stood there for a long moment, looking at me and smiling. I couldn’t look away. Everything else was forgotten – the screaming kids, the warm summer day, the upcoming game. Only those eyes mattered, and that smile that seemed both friendly and knowing at the same time. Could he see inside my mind, to all the fantasies I’d had about him? A hot flush crept up my neck to my face, but I still couldn’t look away.

Suddenly he winked at me and disappeared into the dugout. I leaned back in my seat, grinning, feeling hot and tingly all over. But before I could relax too much he returned from the dugout and once again stood before me, smiling and holding a baseball. He pointed at me and then rolled the ball across the dugout roof toward me. I leaned forward and grabbed it, and as I picked it up, I noticed the writing on it:

For the prettiest fan in the stands!
Meet me after the game?
Skip

Below this was a scribbled address, which I recognized as a bar about ten blocks from the stadium. I caught my breath and felt an unbearable rush of excitement. My favorite player thought I was attractive! And he wanted to meet me! Even in my wildest fantasies, I had never thought this would happen.

I looked back up, wanting to tell him yes, of course I would meet him, but he was gone.

As for the game, I couldn’t tell you the score or even who won. Every time Skip took the field or came up to bat, my eyes locked onto him. He got two hits and made a couple of great defensive plays – that much I remember. And every time he came back to the dugout he glanced up at me just before going down the steps. I smiled at him each time and felt that same agony of wanting to touch him. I thought the game would never end.

Now here I am, in Joe’s Bar & Grill. I can see why he chose this place: it’s quiet and nearly empty. I sit at the bar nursing a light beer. Every time someone opens the door I catch my breath, only to let it out in a sigh when I see it’s not Skip. Thirty minutes pass, then forty-five. I start to wonder if he is playing a joke on me. Maybe Skip’s at a club with his teammates, laughing at the stupid girl waiting for him in this dive bar. Could he be that cruel? Could I be that stupid?

I’m about to leave when I sense someone standing at my right elbow. A voice that I know well from TV and radio interviews, a low, soft voice with the barest hint of a Texas accent, says, “I see you got my message.”

 

[CarlBeli]

I like what I see, and not just the great body. She wasn't going insane when the door opened on the off chance it might be me, but she wasn't ignoring people coming in, either.

"I'm glad." I smile at her, and am oddly gratified when she smiles back. _C'mon, Skip,_ I think, _You've seen lots of fans...but there's something different about her._

I look around the bar. "I like this place. It's not up to some people's standards, but the beer is good, the people are friendly, and they don't care who I am." My smile broadens, and I give her a knowing wink. "And with you here, I can even say the women are all pretty."

 

[Ticklish Girl]

“Thanks.” I’m so glad the bar is dimly lit, because I don’t want him to see me blushing. My pulse is hammering in my throat about a thousand beats a minute. I haven’t felt this nervous around a man since high school.

I want so badly to play it cool. I’m sure Skip has had his share of groupies, and I don’t want him to think I’m like all the other women he’s met. In my fantasies, I’m always so witty and charming, knowing just the right things to say and do. But it’s so difficult to be that way when he’s standing right in front of me, smiling like that.

Then it occurs to me that he doesn’t even know my name. Offering him a smile of my own, I say, “By the way, my name’s Alison. Alison Chambers.”

 

[CarlBeli]

"It's very nice to meet you, Alison," I say as I sit easily on the stool next to her. The bar is a bit small, so our legs just brush up against each other.

I give her a critical once-over, still smiling. "And you don't look insane, and...oh, man!" There were lots of other things I could have said, but my momma raised me right. You don't swear inf ront of a lady. "You drink Alamo!", I say in surprise, looking at your beer. "I thought I was the only soul who drank Texan beer in these parts."

 

[Ticklish Girl]

I smile and toy with the beer bottle. Now that I’m actually sitting here talking with Skip, I feel more at ease, although my leg is tingling where his brushed it.

“Yeah, well, one of my best friends is from Houston, and she introduced me to Alamo.” Chuckling, I add, “I take it that my choice of beverage provides further proof of my sanity?”

 

[CarlBeli]

"I don't know about sanity," I say as I reach out to touch your hand, as my voice and eyes get warmer, "but it tells me you've got excellent taste, and that's always a trait I like in people."

I wave to the bartender to bring me an Alamo for me, and then turn back to you. "And I _am_ glad to see you're sane, believe me. You wouldn't believe the psychopaths you run into." I give you a quick grin. "Of course, in my case, it's usually screaming 13 year olds, of either sex. You're actually my first, uh..." I look for a word that doesn't make either of us look back. "You're my first Alison."

My hand squeezes yours. "And I have to say, I like you."

 

[Ticklish Girl]

I shiver when you squeeze my hand - I can't help it. And even though the pressure is very light, I can still feel your strength, your vitality, flowing from your hand to mine. I feel a little light-headed, and it has nothing to do with the beer.

It's as if I've stepped into one of my fantasies. This is the part where I'm supposed to tell you how I've worshipped you from the moment I first saw you play, how I've longed for a moment like this to happen between you and me. But somehow I know that's unnecessary. There's only one thing I need to say -- one thing that you need to hear -- and I know exactly what that is.

"I like you too, Skip," I say, with a smile. "Very much."

 

[CarlBeli]

I stare intently into Alison's eyes for a moment, as if looking for something, and then nod. "Alison...you're one of the first people in a long, long time to look at me like a man instead of like a baseball player. That means..." I shake my head. "Well, I'm terrible at sappiness, so it means more than I can say."

I glance around the bar, and then back at her. "Do you want to finish our beers, or hit the road now?"

 

[Ticklish Girl]

I’m speechless for a moment, taken aback by Skip’s words. Then I understand his deeper meaning. He knows I see him as a man and not just a baseball player because he sees me as a woman and not just a groupie.

I look directly into his eyes. “Skip, I’m not very good at sappiness either,” I say. “But I want you to know, I stopped seeing you as just a baseball player the moment you walked in here.”

I take the last tiny sip of beer and hold up the empty bottle, smiling at him. “I’m ready to hit the road whenever you are.”

 

[CarlBeli]

I don't even hesitate as I throw down money for the beers, then offering Alison my hand. What can I say, I like old-fasioned manners, the right way to treat a woman.

She follows me to my car. It's not the huge luxury cars that most players have, or even an SUV. It's just a pickup, the kind that any Skip on the street would drive. Neither of us bother to hide our excitement as the car gets on the road...

 

[Ticklish Girl]

I’m not at all surprised that Skip drives such an unpretentious car. It fits his personality perfectly. He is obviously a man who is very comfortable with himself and feels no need to prove anything to anyone. I find that kind of confidence powerfully attractive.

I open the passenger side window a crack and enjoy the feel of the evening breeze on my slightly flushed face as I settle back in my seat. Both of us are silent as Skip drives, but it’s a comfortable silence. I sneak glances at him from time to time, admiring his profile, or the way his strong, sure hands manipulate the car’s controls.

The streets go by in a blur. I don’t know where we’re going, and I don’t care. Ordinarily I would never get into a car with a total stranger. But Skip doesn’t seem like a stranger, even though I’ve never spoken to him before today. The more I get to know him, the more he seems like a guy I’ve known for years.

When he stops at a red light, he catches me looking at him and smiles at me. I smile back at him. We don’t say anything – there’s no need to. I think about what lies ahead and feel a tingle of excitement.

 

[Ticklish Girl]

After thirty minutes or so, the car comes to a stop. I look around and notice that we are in a suburban neighborhood I've never visited before. It's almost dark, and the streetlights are just beginning to come on. The tree-lined street is quiet and peaceful, worlds away from my hectic neighborhood.

A light touch on my knee rouses me from my reverie, and I turn to face Skip.

Smiling, he leans toward me and kisses me very softly on the lips.

 

[CarlBeli]

Alison's lips are soft and warm and velvety as we kiss. My arms move around her and our kiss starts to deepen, before I suddenly remember where we are, and we reluctantly pull apart.

"You kiss very nice.", I say with a grin, "But if we keep at that, I won't be able to stop, and those tabloid vultures aren't going to get more meat on me...race you to the house!"

We get inside as fast as we can without seeming to rush, I'm surprised my hands don't shake from excitement as I smoothly unlock and open the door...

 

[Ticklish Girl]

As we step inside his house, I can still feel the pressure of his arms around me. He closes and locks the front door behind us, then busies himself turning on lights and air conditioning. I shake my head at his offer of something to drink, and he takes my hand and leads me into his living room. My heart is pounding so hard I wonder if he can hear it.

Skip’s living room is huge. I don’t know what I was expecting – perhaps display cases full of all the awards he’s won during his career, or shelves of priceless art and antiques. But the only objects here that hint of his wealth are the state-of-the-art stereo and TV. The only other furnishings are a comfy-looking easy chair and a large sofa.

Skip steers me to the sofa and we sit down. His arms slip around me and as we move in to kiss once more, I smile at him and say, “You won’t have to stop this time.”

He lets out a chuckle and our lips touch again. The kiss is gentle at first, then becomes deeper, more passionate, as we reawaken the sensations that started in the car a few minutes ago. My lips part automatically to let his tongue slip inside. My arms are wrapped snugly around him, and as his tongue touches mine I press myself even more tightly against him.

We sit there kissing for what feels like hours before coming up for air. I feel flushed with a heat the air conditioning will never be able to touch. “Wow,” I say, grinning at him. “It’s been a long time since I was kissed like that.”

 

[CarlBeli]

"That's a fair thing, I haven't kissed anyone like that in a long time," I say. "And it's been a long time since I've ever picked a woman up in a bar, either, so if I'm sloppy, well..." I shrug.

I brush the hair out of your eyes and smile. "It's been a long time since I've met a woman I've wanted to pick up in a bar."

 

[Ticklish Girl]

“Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve let myself be picked up.” I trace the angle of your jaw, enjoying the feel of the slight stubble under my fingertips. We’re still very close together, and I can feel the heat coming from your body.

I lean in and kiss you gently on the chin. “So now that you’ve picked me up, where are you going to put me?”

 

[CarlBeli]

I return your kiss passionately, my strong hands moving to your waist, then sliding upwards. I'm amazed at how you feel, feminine, but with a strength behind it I've always loved in women.

I kiss you lightly on the ear, then move back to your mouth. "I had something in mind...it's been a while but I think I remember how." I pull back and grin. "But there's not enough room on the couch...my lady, may I show you the bouidor?" My French attempt at a Texan accent makes us both laugh between kissing, as we head upstairs.

 

[Ticklish Girl]

You take my hand and lead the way up the narrow staircase. As I follow closely behind you, I can’t help admiring the view. Halfway up you glance over your shoulder and catch me looking at your butt. You grin and wink at me, and I chuckle, a little embarrassed but also excited.

At the top of the stairs you drape an arm around my shoulders and we start down the hallway. My arm slips around your waist and I rest my head on your shoulder, enjoying the warmth of your skin.

It seems to take a long time, but finally we reach the end of the hall and you guide me into a darkened room. You excuse yourself and move away from me. I hear a faint click and the room is filled with low, soft light. The first thing I see is a bed that looks big enough to hold a foursome. The second thing I see is you standing in front of me. You pull me close and wrap your arms around me.

“There’s definitely plenty of room here,” I say with a smile.

 

[CarlBeli]

"I thought so." I kiss you passionately, while my hands slide down your back, feeling your skin through your wonderfully sexy black jeans, till I feel the amazingly soft but firm flesh of your butt.

"Mm, that's nice..." I whisper as my hands slide up again, untucking your shirt and sliding my hands up underneath, lightly caressing your bare back.

 

[Ticklish Girl]

I love the way your hands move over my body – leisurely exploring, but not pawing my flesh. Your touches on my back make me shiver, and I press even tighter against you. There’s no mistaking the bulge in your tight jeans. Your excitement is contagious – every inch of my skin is tingling. Your eyes fix onto my face, intently watching my every reaction to your caresses. They’re the same eyes that first captivated me on television back in the early spring, but their color is darker now – no longer icy-blue, but the color of the ocean during a gale.

My own hands are busy stroking the taut muscles of your back, slowly and gently following the curve of your spine up and down. I lean in and kiss the side of your neck. The skin is warm and smooth under my lips, and I imagine I can feel the strong beat of your pulse. My lips move slowly up your neck, planting kisses all the way. Then I reach your earlobe, and give it a little flick with my tongue. The sensation makes you laugh, and as I pull back I see you grinning at me. I respond with a mischievous smile of my own.

Then your fingers creep around to the front of my shirt, gently brushing my nipples. I catch my breath and arch my back a little to bring my breasts into firmer contact with your hands.

 

[CarlBeli]

I enjoy touching you for a while, feeling the soft firmness of your breasts, teasing your hard nipples, making you gasp, until I pause to help you get your shirt off, my own joining it a moment later. "Mm, much better..."

I start moving my mouth down, kissing your jawline, nibbling your neck, until I reach your breasts. Tracing my tongue over one nipple, I move my hand to the other, playing with it, before lightly sucking on both.

 

[Ticklish Girl]

“Oh my.” Every touch of your mouth sends a wash of heat all over my body. Both nipples are so hard they almost hurt. The faint stubble on your cheeks and jaw brushes me, not quite tickling, making me shiver. Gently I stroke your hair, then move down the warm, smooth skin of your shoulders and back.

You know just how to tease my breasts by switching from gentle to firm pressure and then back again. One moment your tongue on my skin is feather-light, and the next moment your lips mold tightly around the base of my nipple. Then I feel your teeth graze the nipple, very lightly, and I gasp and dig my fingernails into your skin.

After the sensation peaks, I regain enough of my composure to release my nails from your back. “Sorry,” I whisper, stroking your hair. “Did I hurt you?”

 

[CarlBeli]

"I was just about to ask you that..." I say, smiling. When you say I hadn't, I suddenly grin and sweep you up in my arms like a bridegroom, carrying you to the bed.

We kiss, laughing, hands running all over each other, as my mouth slides down your stomach, lightly biting and licking, until I find the waistband of your jeans. Smiling up at you as I do so, I slide my hands inside them, and slowly pull down your legs, kissing the soft skin of your thighs.

 

[Ticklish Girl]

My head is spinning a little from the rush of being carried to the bed – romantic gestures like that always drive me wild.

I smile back at you and recline on the bed, propped up on the pillows so I can watch you remove my jeans. You take your time, pausing to kiss and nuzzle my thighs. The feel of your warm breath and the gentle touch of your lips make my fingers curl on the bedspread.

After a few delightful minutes of this teasing, you go back to slipping my jeans off, stopping only to remove my sneakers and drop them to the floor. A few seconds later my jeans join them, and I’m left only in my white panties and crew socks. Next I feel your fingers gently but firmly tugging down my panties. They too end up on the floor. The socks are the last to go.

You linger at the foot of the bed and study my body for a long moment. Your appraisal makes me blush – it’s as though you’re touching me with your eyes, but it feels more like appreciation than ogling. Apparently you like what you see, because you move back up to me and wrap me in a tight embrace. We share a long kiss, touching each other gently, then I break it off and motion for you to roll over on your back.

Reaching for your zipper, I say with a grin, “Allow me to return the favor.”