Texas Rangers fans eagerly anticipated the game against the division rival, and more importantly, the weather on this cool August evening. Showers in the morning and a cold front bringing Canadian air had left the temperature in the eighties with an overcast sky. The summer ritual of car-influenced back sweats had been broken. This was a great change from the countless hundred degree days in the concrete jungle known as Dallas/Fort Worth.
Crowds of people lined the sidewalks, the majestic ballpark their destination. The Ballpark in Arlington, also known as "The Temple," was indeed that. Being in the shadow of the "Death Star" had done nothing to detract from the beauty of the stadium. Inspired by the ballparks of earlier eras, the fantastic iron working, reddish-brown bricks, and dark green open roof solidify this work of architecture. Cathedral inspired steeples accent the ticket gates of the stadium, welcoming committed fans.
"I guess everyone had the same idea we did. It couldn't be a better night for it," Greg said, leaning over to drop a small kiss on his girlfriend's temple. He didn't have to bend down; her height easily matched his. She stretched to over six feet when she wore pumps.
Jane smiled and squeezed his hand, "But it's not too chilly to wear adorable things for your man," she said with a gleam in her eye.
The pair stopped at the intersection amongst a countless number of people, too many to fit all on the sidewalk. Jane and Greg stood hand in hand on the street, rather than be squeezed by the herd. Her paces were measured, conscious of the steep curb to her right.
A cop looked at the couple and grumbled, "Out of the street, folks."
Greg tugged on his girlfriend's hand and brought her up onto the sidewalk with him. She nearly tripped as her blue spiked heel caught on the cement.
Jane rolled her eyes with a sigh. "So high and mighty in your reflective vest aren't you mister po-po?" she muttered under her breath, tucking a blonde strand that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear.
Greg chuckled, "Oh Janie, give him a break he's just doing his job," he said, patting her ass through her tight denim skirt. Her gloriously long legs that turned the heads of bored husbands dominated the garment.
She leaned into him as they began walking again, finding their way to the first base side ticket gate. Jane pulled the downloaded tickets from her blue patent leather handbag, "I wish we had real tickets, printed on gloss, and was not some big ass piece of paper with a barcode that's supposed to almost look like a ticket."
"I totally agree with you baby. Plus I know you keep things like that," he smiled to her as he took his sheet of paper. "Let's just hope that the old printer didn't smear the barcode."
Jane already had her purse open and set it down on the table in front of the burly security guard. He looked her up and down as Greg waited patiently. He was used to men ogling his woman. She was hot, to put it mildly, and he was proud to have her on his arm. Though, sometimes he wondered what she saw in him.
The security guard took longer than he needed to check her handbag. He licked his lips, "So, are you a real fan?" he asked as he looked over her white and blue replica jersey, snug around the soft curve of her breasts.
Greg cupped his hand over the crown of his Rangers cap as his eyes rolled in annoyance.
"Uh, yeah, what says I'm not?" she asked with resentment in her tone. Her hand sat on her hip, cocking her head to the side. "Do you see pink on this jersey?"
He gave her a crude smile, still leering at the beautiful creature before him. "Nothing, just a lot of girls are drug here by their boyfriends," he said, tilting his head to get a better look at her slender calves, toned by her heels.
"This was my idea, actually," Jane scoffed.
Greg had enough and grabbed Jane's hand, pulling her away from the table. "She can give you the entire starting line-up if you like. Or would you prefer the American League standings?" He snapped his fingers, "I know. How about the team leader in RBI's?" he shot the man a scowl.
Jane snatched her purse from the table and stuck her tongue out at him as her boyfriend saved her from his over-inflated ego.
They walked closely together, his arm around her hip. Her hand slipped into the back pocket of his khaki cargo shorts. Jane gave his butt a little squeeze as they walked past multiple vendors on the concourse.
"Guess the number of balls to win a seven day cruise!" a frenetic woman shouted next to a transparent box stuffed with baseballs. People crowded around it, lazily scribbling their guesses and personal information onto slips of paper.
"Made that mistake before," Greg reminisced.
"God, I know. They wouldn't stop calling us for a month," she concurred. "Want to get a dog and a beer?"
"Fuck yeah I do! I made sure to have a light lunch," he said, gently tapping his modest beer belly.
Jane laughed as they got in line, tossing her ponytail and the red and blue ribbons dangling in her blonde locks, "Oh, I know how you love your meat. Too bad they don't have foot-longs here."
"I got that in my pants, baby," he mocked himself.
She smiled, "Maybe not a foot-long, but more than enough meat to stretch my tight cunt," she whispered in his ear with a nibble of his lobe.
Greg blushed and shook it off, stepping up to order two hot dogs, two Bud Lights and a bag of peanuts. Jane nonchalantly rubbed her breasts into his upper arm as they waited.
She stuffed the peanuts into her purse and held her dog and beer in her hands. They stepped over to the condiment station. Greg covered his hot dog in mustard and Jane playfully grimaced, keeping hers plain.
The pair strolled to the tunnel, reading the section numbers on the way. Jane noticed a family restroom with a door and made a mental note with a sly smile as they headed to their seats.
Jane stepped in front of her boyfriend before they headed down stubby stairs to their seats, first base side, behind the home dugout. She was an expert in heels, carefully stepping down the concrete steps to the fifth row. Each step drew lecherous and envious eyes to her toned legs.
"Excuse me," Jane said sweetly, asking her row for walking space, an obstacle course of fresh peanut shells ahead of her.
The fans got an eyeful of thigh and ass as she wedged herself into the row, squeezing between the back of the chairs and peoples knees. Greg followed close behind her trying not to spill his beer as men paid him no attention, following his woman with their gaze.
"She's all legs, damn, I'd love to have those wrapped around me," an older pervish man said.
Greg gave him a smirk and said, "Those are for me."
The older man's friends chided him as he sunk back into his seat, shamefaced.
Jane sat down, the back of her thighs on the dark green plastic-like seat. She crossed her legs to her right, towards her sweetheart, brushing her shoe on the back of his calf. She casually took a drink of her beer before slipping the souvenir cup into its angled cup holder.
Greg sat back, enjoying his cold beer, "I'll never get tired of how pretty this ballpark is. But it's not beautiful like you." Jane coyly blushed.
The ground crew raked the dirt on the diamond and people filled the stadium gradually. Jane spread a napkin on top of her tanned thighs, Greg already chowing down on his hot dog.
She looked over at him, her green eyes sparkling, "Greg, honey?"
"Mmhmm?" he said while chewing. He swallowed, then spoke, "What is baby?"
"You're going to fuck me in the restroom later," she said with confidence as he took another bite of his hotdog.
Greg almost choked and mustard leaked off the bun, staining his dark blue Rangers shirt. He cleared his throat and brought his chocolate brown eyes to hers, "What?"
She took a bite of her dog, taking her time before she spoke again, letting her words sink in. "You heard me. You," she said, pointing her hot dog at him, "are going to fuck me," she continued, both hands back towards her, "in the restroom," she finished, her hot dog hand pointed back towards the concourse.
He finished his hot dog, trying to wrap his mind about what she said. Then wiped his shirt clean of mustard. "Was she serious? How the hell is that going to work? I want to watch the game. I mean, maybe if there is a blowout. No, no, not happening," he thought as he scratched his hand through the two-day scruff on his face. She continued eating silently, taking in the sights and sounds of the pre-game rituals.
They stood for the "Star Spangled Banner." Greg took off his ball cap and shook his short and shaggy brown hair. Jane took her hand off her heart half way through the song and gave his ass a rough squeeze. She then pulled her hand back to her heart, playing like she hadn't done anything. Greg's eyes narrowed and darted to the left. Jane's were fixed skywards.
The pair sat back down with the crowd, Jane wiped her hands then daintily blotted the mustard off of the corner of Greg's mouth. A raucous ovation rose up from the spectators as the number one starting pitcher ran out to the mound.
