"What is that guy wearing?" Ava asks, looking at a man walking up Royal Brougham Way, on his way to the Alaskan-Way Viaduct. "Were those jeans at one point?"
"Maybe it's a new fashion trend. Jeans meets skirt meets redneck shorts," I reply.
Ava and I have two passions in this life. Baseball and people watching. Luckily, we live in Seattle, where we have all the weirdos we could ever look at, and baseball from March to September. It has become our own tradition to walk down to the Pyramid Alehouse before a home game, sip on a couple beers, and watch all the different people living life while we wait for the Left field gate to open up.
"How about that guy, huh?" I ask, nodding in the direction of a younger man who, unbeknownst to me, was wearing a bright green pair of short shorts and a neon green sleeveless shirt with matching hat.
"Oh, he's totally going to a rave. Wants to stand out among the crowd of ecstasy-filled kids, providing a glowing surface for them to grind up on and 'trip balls, man'."
I looked over at Ava. "That was an interesting conclusion. Maybe he just likes pink."
"I think most guys like pink. Especially the straight ones." She replied.
"True. Us straight guys do like pink." I told her, slipping my hand around her waist and pulling her in close.
"Mmm, well I know you do." Ava told me, looking me in the eyes. I love the way she looks me in the eyes.
I took another swig of my beer, my eyes gazing down Ava's body. Her long, flowy blonde hair, rustling in the light breeze blowing between the buildings. Her dep blue eyes and perfect complexion, glowing in the afternoon sun, heightened by the blood flowing to her face from the two beers already consumed. Her curvy figure, 36-27-37, accentuated by the tight-fitting Griffey t-shirt and a pair of low-rise, tight-fit skinny jeans, accompanied by a pair of blue running shoes. God, I love her body.
"Take a picture. It lasts longer." Ava said as she sipped her beer, eyes gazing into the crowd of sports fans waiting for their team to play.
"Wouldn't mind if I do," I said, motioning toward my phone and taking a step back. Ava smiled and grabbed my hand, pulling me back into her.
"Not here, goofball. Just wait until later. Now, excuse me. I need to use the ladies room."
"Would you like another beer?" I ask, finishing mine off.
"Yes, please. Another Blonde would be great." She replied, heading to the ladies room.
I was standing in line to order when I get a text message. I pull my phone out of my pocket, unlock it, and open my messenger. A text from Ava. I click on it, and a photo of her in the ladies room appears, with a caption of "Here's your picture. This will last longer."
I look closer at the picture and realize what I'm looking at. Ava is in the stall, her shirt pulled off, bra unclasped. She is looking directly into the camera, directly into my eyes. At first, I look back into her eyes, but my eyes wander down, peeking at her pink nipples. I fixate on her areolas, pulling into her nipples the more aroused she gets. I get rudely interrupted of my thoughts by the bartender.
"Sir, what can I get you?" The young lady asks.
"How about two blondes?"
"Well, I hope you are talking about the beer," She quips back, catching me off-guard.
"Okay, well, yeah. Wow. I got nothing for that," I reply.
The young (and very cute) bartender pours me two beers, a slight smile on her face. She knew she won that round. I pay, and then head back to the table Ava and I were sharing. Once I arrived, I get another text message. I open my phone and am pleasantly surprised with another picture from Ava, this one featuring a body part that I am quite fond of. Ava has the camera on her phone behind her, her pants pulled below her ass cheeks, her baby blue thong my main focus of attention.
"Damn, baby." I think to myself. I took a sip from my beer. "Think of a response... Think of a smart and sexy response..." I must have taken too long, as by the time I had come up with a (rather weak, but passable) comeback, Ava had returned back to the table, grabbed her beer, and took a big pull.
"What's the matter, baby," Ava asks, "Cat got your tongue?"
"Well, you say cat, I say your fine ass has my tongue."
"Later, baby."
We continued to people watch while we drank our beers, and by the time we finished, the gates to T-Mobile park opened. We walked across Dave Neihaus Way, and up to the gates, where our tickets were scanned, Ava's bag was searched, and we walked up the cement steps to the main level. "I love it here," I thought to myself. The sight of the baseball diamond, surrounded by 47 thousand seats, and the retractable roof open on this beautiful July day. What a day for baseball. We walk up another flight of stairs and find our seats, front row in the left-filed bleachers, just above the bullpens.
"I love these seats," Ava says, looking around the stadium.
"Me too. Better than a dinner and movie any day," I reply.
The ball game starts. The Mariners are playing the Houston Astros, the division leaders. The very first inning, we give up two runs off a double to the gap in right center, then another to the far-left corner. The bottom of the first inning and the following five was rather unexciting, with only a few pop flies and one hit, followed by a strikeout.
"Baby, let's go get another drink," Ava says, standing up. We wander back down to the main concourse, and stroll over to center field and enter the 'Pen. We order a couple beers and move to a table, finding one right against the railing in center field.
"You know I can't get those photos you sent me out of my head, right?" I said to Ava.
"Good. That was the idea." Ava moved closer to me, place her hand on mine, and moved my hand under the table, placing my hand on her ass. "Does this help?"
"It helps raise my blood pressure."
"Well, can you prove it?" she inquires.