Just a really short story I wrote for my lover...as long as she likes it, I'm happy. But if you like it, too, then bonus!
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What is it about the shape of a sphere that compels a person to whack it as hard as possible? I don't know what it is that is so satisfying about controlling a bat to a little white ball, but I should thank heaven for whatever it is, because America's obsession with baseball is what pays my paycheck.
Of course, it's also what brought me to New York City in the middle of January for a week-long convention on grass and artificial turf systems. There are a million different ways to groom a baseball diamond, and the manager of the ground crew has to learn every single one of them, even if he has only one diamond to work on. Compelling, I know. Of course, since I worked for a municipality, they had decided that I was the only person they could afford to send, and I was there by myself, bored out of my mind on my downtime. Most of the other attendees were corporate types, trying to get guys like me to buy their crap, and I wasn't comfortable dealing with such soft-handed types. Just because I was the manager didn't mean I didn't get out there and do my share of the work, and I was more used to dealing with the guys with more muscles than brains, a category in which I include myself.
The only good thing about the convention was that it was in New York, even if it was the middle of winter, and freezing. The entire convention was taking place in a huge convention center, with the hotel attached by a pedestrian walkway crossing over 11th Avenue. Of course, the hotel and the convention center had a huge bar and a separate restaurant, which had to have been frequented by locals. Every night I had gone to dinner, I had seen plenty of good looking New Yorkers on the town. They had to have been New Yorkers - there aren't that many hot groundskeepers around these things.
The last seminar of the day had been three hours long, and it felt like it was six. I was exhausted as I exited the massive room with the crowd. I could tell from the zombie-like shuffle of the others around me that I wasn't the only one. I started to turn towards the stairs that led to the footbridge, but something bright caught my eye as my gaze swiveled, and I turned back.
It was a bright blue scarf, one of those fashionable ones in the color of a robin's egg. I had seen it a few times earlier in the week, around the booth of a pesticide distributor my ballpark used. While the scarf was what grabbed my attention, it was the woman who the neck belonged to that stopped my gaze. In a word, she was a babe. Chestnut colored hair wrapped in a stylishly sloppy bun sat above a pair of sexy librarian glasses; her face belonged on a sculpture of Helen of Troy.
Tonight, she was wearing a fitted vest with a white blouse underneath that was unbuttoned enough to hint at a generous bosom. The vest accented her curves, hips shimmied into a pencil skirt, with legs that seemed to go on forever. I had seen her in a few other seminars and meetings before, and she was always wearing that blue scarf. Something about it was so sexy.
She was walking in my direction, but I had no illusion that she was heading towards me rather than the stairs. I still stopped, and as she walked by, her perfume wafted under my nostrils. She smelled as heavenly as she looked. She headed up the stairs, and I began to follow behind her, my eyes locked on to her magnificent ass. She was sexy, and she knew it, too. Her pointy heels clicked on the floor with each step, her hips swaying back and forth in that practiced manner that only a woman who knows the power of her sexuality has.
I trailed in the wake of her scent like a ship in formation as we crossed the street, fifty feet above the pavement. It might just have been the hours of interminable boredom, but the sight of this woman filled me with a stronger desire than I had felt in years. A pang of longing shot from my head to my groin, and I felt myself start to stiffen slightly.
I want to say I don't know why I was following her, but I did. I had been planning to head back to my room and get a full night of sleep, but after seeing her, I knew that wherever she was going, I would follow.
We headed back down the stairs to the hotel, and I slowed my descent so that we were walking towards each other for a moment as the stairs wrapped around. I caught a top-shot down her shirt each time they did so, and I couldn't help but imagine my cock nestled in between the soft valley of her cleavage.
