AS each year passed since high school graduation the thrill that summer once entertained subsided. Friendships that seemed indestructible, crumbled from the passing of time and where it had once been comfortable to proclaim to have all the answers now maturity's humbling touch left only questions. Three years removed from high school did not really appear to be a magnificent leap into the future, but the past seemed to be just that; the past. Connor Williams reflected on these truths with a simple sigh. High school he had cared about sex, parties, and alcohol. These vices did not subside for most college students but in him it certainly did. He would drink every weekend, special occasions but could not remember the last time he had actually been drunk, and random sexual encounters and the nightmares that usually followed them subsided into a steady relationship with a high school sweetheart that had only recently ended. The immaturity of youth had transitioned into the disciplined nature of good moral character, and it had happened completely against Connor's will. It had to be the downside of succumbing to strong Irish-Catholic heritage and attending Boston College.
At school the moral dilemmas of Catholic dogma collided with Irish culture and the balance proved to be a healthy mix. Just enough guilt to stay out of a lot of trouble and just enough Irish to ensure that he got into some as well. The education itself had proved beneficial as Connor developed a flare for real estate and invested in a depressed property in Upper Cape Cod that he immediately started fixing, building an extended room enclosed by glass with a view of the ocean. Now he woke with the sun to see it rise over Nantucket Sound and melt away the fog that hovered like a blanket over the still water. Wiping the nagging remnants from sleep, standing only in his Marine Corps sweatpants while the warmth of the sun reflected off his flat chest and tanned abs he yawned in protest to the early hour. Inspecting the landscape he marveled at the romanticism that is Cape Cod and his life. It was on his third gaze to the outside that he detected that he may not be alone in the world young Allison Hoover had awakened as well.
She stretched on her back porch, wearing tight black shorts and a red sports bra that left just enough to the imagination while showing off a well tanned, and toned female body. Her breasts looked as if they had gotten bigger and could easily fill the 36C that Connor's ex had. He couldn't help but look at her and admire the work she must have spent to stay in shape, and then she turned her head. She had long dark red hair, or cherry brown depending on the lighting that swung around her face as she caught the stare from above and responded only with a quick look away, innocent smile, and flirtatious wave before she took off for a morning jog.
BY noon the sun had warmed the Massachusetts air to an unpleasant 97, and Connor's teammates from the baseball team were on their way over to use the beach. He had walked on as a freshman to the BC team, and after showing some outstanding field work and being quick on the base paths had received an invitation to play in the prestigious college Cape Cod Baseball League. He immediately accepted and since most the players were from all around the country he found himself playing host more than outfield. Within an hour he had the grill cooking and beer being passed out like candy on Halloween. A few players brought their girlfriends with them, and the ones that were staying available kept walking down the beach to recruit some women to the impromptu party. It was Tony that brought Allison in the house, or more accurately that Allison followed two of her friends that Tony had evidently met.
"Ladies, this is Connor Williams," he began. "Gracious host, owner of this beautiful house, and starting centerfield for the Falmouth Commodores."
Allison's friends, Sarah and Jennifer were anxious to meet Connor and the rest of the players, star struck by the athletic celebrities Cape players seemed to become in their towns. Allison however, could not have looked the least bit impressed to meet another ballplayer and she only politely introduced herself before telling her friends she was leaving. Connor hurried after her catching her in the sand just before she crossed a gap in the bushes back to her house.
"Leaving so soon?" he asked.
"Just wondering if you would follow," she said. "Walk me home?"
The walk home had been more than Connor had expected, he would have never guessed what type of woman Allison really was. She seemed young, and cute. Beautiful, but in a high school cheerleader sort of way, he would have never guessed how interesting she is. They detoured from her house down the beach and had spent hours together in the water. She told him about how she took the past year off after graduating high school to sail yachts from the Vineyard down to the Bahamas and deferred her acceptance to Notre Dame where she wanted to study history. After sipping Corona's at the edge of the waves any thoughts about maybe a quick hook-up were dismissed, and he felt himself drifting helplessly toward the friend zone. He didn't regret it however as knowing this young woman could not be a bad thing and she had impressed him when none of the women he had met at BC could. Again he cursed himself for messing up any possible romantic connection. Strike two.
BY nightfall the ocean seemed tranquil again, and the sky seemed at peace lit only by the distant lights on Martha's Vineyard and the stars overhead. Connor settled into his futon in the extended room and glanced from the Red Sox game, to the ocean, and to Allison's unlit house. She was outside kicking at the backdoor. A minute later his doorbell rang, and his new friend stood in front of him beautiful and frustrated. She explained that her Dad had left for the weekend on a romantic trip to Newport with his new girlfriend and she was now locked out. Connor could not believe his luck, and suddenly felt that every hour he had spent in church over the years was paying off, he had a chance. She came in and Connor couldn't resist his natural male motion to glance over her 19 year old body. She wore short jean shorts that showed off her tan legs, and had only black tank top that showed some impressive cleavage.
She stood only 5'6 a good six inches shorter than him but she made up four of those inches with her sandals, and her cherry hair hung down to her shoulders. She watched the game with him, and had curled up in his arms on the futon by the middle innings, he dared to kiss her neck and she kissed him back but second thoughts clouded his mind almost as quickly. Catholic guilt always pops into one's mind at the least convenient times. When the game ended he kissed her passionately again, massaging her neck with his fingers while gently stroking her tongue with the tip of his. "I have a game tomorrow and it is pretty late, so I am going to get ready for bed. Is their anything you need?
