Ah, the company softball league. Beer and watching young women run around in outfits designed to make you look. What could be better?
As I watched her run from the batter's box to first base, I thought, that bra is severely overmatched. Given the mass of her breasts, and the elasticity of her bra, there just isn't enough damping in the system to avoid instability. The resultant oscillations, for small signals, would be termed "jiggle", and for large signals "bounce".
She played some catcher and some first base. We chatted amicably throughout the game, as I tried not to stare at her impressive cleavage, which was especially difficult when she leaned way over to receive a pitch. But I couldn't help staring when she ran the bases. I wasn't the only one looking. She made some comment to another guy, who said, "I was looking at your necklace." She didn't look pleased. She was nothing but smiles for me, though, and she seemed to delight in showing off her tits for me.
Another coach was short of players for the second game, and after Leah volunteered, of course I did too. So the second game, we were on the same team. We spent a lot of time talking in the dugout, and she seemed to me to be very young and needy. She says, "Man, I'm getting hungry. Anybody up for Chinese food?" Sounds harmless enough, except I'm the only one in the dugout at the time. "Sure, I know a few places around here," I said, trying not to sound too eager.
Now she's at second base, and I'm coaching third. A base hit, and she has to run hard to score. I'm waving her in, and watching physics in action. The harder she ran, the larger the impulses being input into the underdamped system, turning jiggles into major bounces. And the faster she ran, the closer the impulse train frequency was to the resonant frequency of the breast-bra combination, resulting in large- scale bouncing.
I'm retreating down the line towards the plate, waving her in, as her runaway breasts are bouncing straight for me. Finally, enough energy has been pumped into the resonant system to overcome the bounding forces, and both boobs pop up out of her bra, and, still bouncing and jiggling, spill out the front of her crop top. I am in utter awe for the few seconds it takes her to cross the plate and stuff her tits back into her poor, inadequate bra. I don't think it was a design problem so much as operation outside the specified mass/acceleration curve. I quickly look around for the expected pandemonium, but everyone is looking at the play at second base, and it seems that the only ones in on this momentous event were me, the (female) catcher and Leah herself. I hear Leah say something to the catcher that indicates that this isn't the first time this has happened.
The next time she bounces around the bases, I hold her at third, even though she probably could have scored. "Thanks," she grinned, with some sort of meaning in the grin. I kind of smirked back at her, noticing that the more I look at her, the more she grins.
The game is finally over, and we head up the hill to the parking lot. I ooh and aah over her car, which is a cherry red vintage Camaro.
"You still hungry?" I asked her.
"Starving," she said.
"I'll drive," I said, taking it for granted that we'd take one car. I helped her into my truck, glad that I'd sprung for the club cab and tinted windows. The back seat looks very inviting.
We drive around, talking about what to eat. I lobby against Chinese, in favor of Fish 'n Chips, knowing that the local fish joint has a drive-thru, but very little seating, so we'd end up eating in the truck.
We moan about the crowd in the restaurant, go through the drive-thru, and find a relatively secluded place to park with a view of the sunset. We continued to talk as we ate, and I drank her in while the light remained. She was very, very attractive. Also very immature. She would say 'fuck', as if it just slipped out accidentally, then look at me and titter.
"Mmmm," she said, "these fish 'n chips are so good, now I feel like a cigarette!"
"Do you smoke?" I asked.
"I haven't had any in six months," (she's still talking about smoking, isn't she?) "and sometimes I really need to have one in my mouth."
I can't let that pass. "An oral fixation. I like that in a woman."
She turned red, and tried to change the subject, telling me how impressed she was with my ballplaying.
"How did you learn to hit like that?" she asked.
"Oh, it's just repetition. After you've done it a few thousand times, you get pretty good at it. Just like sex," I said, steering the conversation back on course.
