"There's no way you're going to do that," Tiffany coos as a sexy smile crosses her lips.
Since we met in the fall, we've had a close friendship with a hint of sexual tension.
"Wanna bet?" I smugly reply.
"I will bet anything," she giggles twirling her blonde hair.
"Name your wager," I calmly answer.
"You really think you're gonna win this bet?"
"Yep."
"Ok fine," she says sitting back in her chair. "If you hit three home runs on Friday, then I will pay for your car for six months."
"Ok," I nod my head, imagining not needing to pay for my car for six months.
"But," she says with a snap of her fingers "if you don't," she says with a wild look in her baby blue eyes "then you have to be my sex slave for spring break."
"W- what," I stammer.
"Since you're so confident then let's have some high stakes," she says extending her hand.
"That was just a bit unexpected," I giggle.
"You said 'anything,'" she grins. "Put your money where your mouth is."
"I know I did, but I didn't think you were going to go there," I say as she crosses her arms to press her breasts together.
"Oh please, I've seen you checking me out in my cheerleading outfit," she smirks. "You can't honestly tell me that you don't want this," she grins.
For a few minutes I stay silent.
"We both know you want to fuck the hot cheer captain, here's your chance to show me you deserve it," she grins. "Unless of course," she cocks her eyebrow. "Your scared," she extends her hand.
"Deal," I shake her hand.
--
My first at bat is in the bottom half of the first inning. The cheerleaders are doing their routine next to the dugout and I glance over to Tiffany. She flashes three fingers and winks as I walk to the plate.
First pitch, fouled behind home plate.
Second pitch, backspin. Fastball down and in. Turn on it and hit it over the left field wall.
When I enter the dugout, I flash two fingers to Tiffany.
-
Second at bat, bottom of the third inning. Two outs, runner of second.
First pitch, line drive to center field caught on the run.
Tiffany sticks her tongue out and flashes two fingers as I go back to the dugout.
-
Third at bat, bottom of the sixth inning. One out, runners on the corners.
First pitch, in the dirt.
Second pitch, high and outside.
Third pitch, slider not breaking. A towering flyball to center field. Track... wall... gone.
I flash one finger at Tiffany in the dugout.
-
Fourth at bat, two outs in the bottom of the eighth inning with the bases empty. Last chance to win my bet.
First pitch, breaking ball low and away.
Second pitch, fastball fouled down the right field line.
Third pitch, cutter low away.
Fourth pitch, fastball high and away.
Fifth pitch, slider belt height. Line drive to right field, well hit but not carrying.
Right fielder calls "Got it," and closes his glove around the ball as it drops.
I walk back to the dugout and make eye contact with Tiffany. She licks her lips and holds up one finger.
--
A couple hours later I'm sitting in my car outside the school. I'm browsing social media and listening to music when there's a knock at my window passenger window. I look to see Tiffany and unlock the car.
"How'd the game go?" she smirks. "Did you hit three home runs?"
"No," I sheepishly reply.
"Oh," she giggles. "Looks like you're going to be my sex slave."
"Yeah?" I whisper. "A deal's a deal," I nervously say.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asks.
I don't speak as I look down, not sure how to answer that question.
"You don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable," she softly says putting a hand on my shoulder.
"No, I loudly say. "A deal's a deal."
"Good boy," she grins. "Come by my place tomorrow morning," she leans in and kisses my cheek.
"But break-," I begin saying before she gets out of the car. "Doesn't start for two weeks," I quietly say to myself.
--
The next morning I make the drive to the address Tiffany sent me the night before. I know her parents rented out a house for her so she doesn't have to live on campus but I haven't been here before.
I walk up the porch and knock on the door.
"It's open," I hear Tiffany call.
I hesitantly open the door and see her sitting on the couch. She's silently staring at me in a red shirt and sweatpants.
"Hi," I nervously say.
"Sit down," she pats the couch next to her as I shut and lock the door.
I sit down and look at her, unsure of what to say.
"Look, I'm not going to bullshit you," she confidently says. "We both know you have to be my sex slave for spring break because of our bet," she pauses and looks at me.
I nod.