Chapter 53

Devlin touched up her hair one more time, and then gave herself a final inspection: black skirt, black sweater, black nylons, black pumps, and a red blazer. She wanted to look her best right now. In a few minutes Evan was going to get on an airplane, and she wasn't going to see him until Thanksgiving. Right now, black fit her mood. Her blazer was just enough of a contrast to make it all look good. She gave it one last tug, and then left to pick him up at the hotel.

"Ready," she told him when she saw him in the lobby. Evan was on his cell phone talking to somebody.

When he finished she walked over and ran her hand up his chest and across his shoulder. "I wish you could stay, or that I could go with you."

"I'm not a major leaguer with a $250,000 minimum salary," he said. "I need to get home and get to my winter job."

"And I have school." She sighed. "There's no real time for us."

"I know. But we'll work something out."

"I hope so. Who was that on the phone?"

"My agent," Evan said. "He's in negotiations with both the A's and the White Sox. Both have said they'll invite me to their major league camp." He grinned. "A couple of other teams have said they're interested, too. Winter ball should help."

She kissed him. "You're right, something will work out." She sighed. "I knew this would happen, it's just not quite the way I thought things would happen."

"I know." He slipped his hands around her, holding her as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. "It's a crazy life, but it's... you get baseball in your blood, and you just can't leave it."

She sighed, finally ending the moment. "C'mon," she said, her voice suddenly husky. "You've got a plane to catch."

"And you've got to get to class." He smiled sympathetically.

She drove him to the airport in a somber mood. The sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon, and it looked like the start of a beautiful autumn day. Evan checked his bags, and they headed over to one of the small restaurants that offered breakfast.

"So, what should I pack when I come down in November?" Devlin asked. "Can I really pack shorts?"

Evan laughed. "I wouldn't go so far as to say shorts," he said. "You should have some, just in case, but definitely jeans. My mother gets by with sandals, when she isn't going barefoot. And some light tops. My sisters are in tank tops in the winter."

"In the summer it's probably halters."

"Actually, no." He shook his head. "The temperature might be cool, but there's a lot of sunshine, and unless you want your skin all wrinkled, you don't. Which reminds me: bring sunscreen. It might be November, but we still get a lot of sunshine."

"You've checked with your folks and it's all right if I stay with them?"

"My mother said no problem."

"I should probably pack something warm, just in case," Devlin said after a bit. "With my luck, when I get down there it would be the coldest November in memory."

"Which means it would be in the 50s, not the 60s and 70s." Evan smiled. "No, it's actually cooler in the summer there than a lot of other places in Florida. We get a lot of snowbirds starting about December." He started humming something. "It's a song called "Christmas in the Caribbean". We get everything but snow."

"I think I've heard it," Devlin said. "One of the gals down the hall is from somewhere south of Miami, and she played that song all the time last Christmas. We had 6" of snow on the ground at the time."

Evan shuddered. "That's the last thing I care for," he said. "I don't like that white stuff. As far as I'm concerned, it's a 4-letter word."

"You get used to it."

They sat there in silence, watching the occasional passer-by. "I was wondering about something," Evan said after a bit. "It was something that happened Saturday night."

"Oh?" By habit Devlin checked around to see who might overhear them. "What?"

"I was thinking of that couple we met at that club Saturday night. She was the one who suggested you should get a job in some topless bar."

Devlin scowled. "I remember. You're not suggesting that I should do that, are you?"

"Not at all." He shook his head emphatically. "No, I was just thinking--you'd mentioned about not really being an exhibitionist..."

"Well, no more than any other gal. Maybe less than most." She glanced down at her chest. "You get a little self-conscious when you're this big."

"I bet. But it's a good thing she didn't see you when we were in the Keys."

"Oh, Lordy, yes," Devlin said in a burst of laughter that drew several stares, "and that was one of my conservative swimsuits. I have one that is guaranteed to raise the blood pressure of any guy within 50 feet. It started as a thong, but then they removed material here and there."

"I'm almost afraid to see it."

"It's legal, well, technically. It covers exactly what the law says must be covered, and then imperfectly. It's great for getting a tan, but not much else."

"You might not want to bring that one along. Bring a suit, but..."

"But a conservative one like I had last March."

"You could be a little more daring."

She laughed, resting her fingers on his wrist. "I have one that will probably be just right. I'll pack it just in case."

He nodded. "Just in case."

He took a sip of his coffee, staring at a plane being pushed across the tarmac. "I'd better warn you, my youngest sister will probably be upset. She's in those awkward teenager years..."

"Between 12 and 20," Devlin said. "I know, I went through them, too."

"Anyway, she knows you're coming, and you're upsetting all of the plans she'd made."

"Plans?"

"She fancies herself a matchmaker, and she's been convinced that I should be seeing this one gal she knows." He shrugged. "I've tried to tell her we dated briefly, but it didn't work out." He looked down, a little color visible on his cheeks. "Actually, we did more than date, but she doesn't have to know that. We lived together for a while and..." He stopped, clearly at a loss for words.

"I'll make you a deal," she said. "Let's let our pasts be past. I won't tell you about the boy next door, and you don't tell me about the girl next door."

"Minister's daughter."

"Drugstore owner. Whatever. Anyway, deal?"

He nodded. "I won't tell you about my hundreds of conquests across the length and breadth of America--some ballplayers have to fight them off you know, and you get a lot of opportunity."

"I saw something like that in that movie Bull Durham."

"You don't quite run into an Annie Savoy in every town, but there are girls like her available if you're interested."

"I won't ask you about them," she said. "And you won't ask me about my endless orgies, and the hundreds of men who've shared my bed."

"And don't forget your lesbian lover. I read somewhere that that's encouraged these days."

"Can't forget her," Devlin said, shaking her head. "She'd be jealous seeing us here."

"Now you're making me regret not going to college."

He stared out the window at a small plane taking off. "We're sounding way too serious, you know."

She swallowed, and felt her hands go ice-cold. The happiness she'd felt moments before vanished. "What do you mean 'way too serious'?"

"I thought we were supposed to be laughing and having fun all of the time. That's what I see on TV."

"I've seen that on TV, though not in my romance novels." She tried to hide the relief that swept through her. "In those shows the couple either spends their days bickering, or they're locked in one passionate embrace after another."

"Sounds exhausting. I guess that's another place where reality doesn't match the fantasies everyone has."

"True, true, and most of those romances are just that, fantasies. Krissi refers to some of the heroines as 'that idiot'."

"Has she really written... what did she call them, a 'bodice ripper'?"

"It's short-hand for what happens to the heroine. The hero takes her forcibly. It isn't rape, though, he's just rough. And she loves it, especially from him. The love-making descriptions usually emphasize the physical. It's almost a blow-by-blow description."

"And hot?"

"The good ones are."

"Ah. And Steve said she's written other things."

"You and Steve talked?"

"While we were at the football game Saturday afternoon. You two got up to go do whatever you do, and we got to talking."

Devlin tried to remember. "Oh, that must have been when we did a potty break and did a little shopping." She decided to tease him. "Is it true that guys are actually taught to go to the bathroom by themselves?"

"It is kind of a one-man operation," he said, and then did a double-take as he realized she was kidding him.

"And going to the bathroom in a group is a gal thing. So what did you two talk about?"

"Oh, this and that. The game, sports, and one of the books I'd seen on the shelf over her computer. 'Rose and the... ' I couldn't make it out."

"Krissi also writes trashy porno novels."

"What?! Pornography?"

"Not so loud," Devlin said, looking around. "They aren't as steamy as the hottest romances, but they'll definitely get you worked up. She has this character named Rose sleeps with every male, and half the females, in town." She giggled. "I take that back. Rose doesn't do much sleeping. I think she gets laid at least twice in every chapter, sometimes more."

"And Krissi publishes these things?"

She wasn't sure if she detected a hint of disapproval in his voice or not. "She has a publisher for them. Personally I don't think they're as well written as her Young Adult stories. She says the porn is an antidote to writing about young love, building the entire story up to the two main characters sharing a kiss after a romantic dance. She said that if she didn't write the porn she would need insulin to deal with all of the syrupy goodness in her other books."

He shook his head. "I never would have thought it of her. She's so... wholesome."

"She cultivates that look. But she's like a lot of young women." She ostentatiously looked around before leaning forward and lowering her voice. "I'm not supposed to let this out, but a lot of women are just as obsessed about the male body as men are about the female body. We're just a lot better at hiding it."

"That's because we have a certain, um, physical reaction that's hard to hide."

"And don't think we don't notice that sort of thing, and in some cases, try to provoke it."

He laughed. "That's something I think most guys don't think about. Not that physical reaction, but that women encourage it. A lot of women insist they don't."

"Well, we don't, not all of the time. There are times you want to be seen for who you are, for your personality and intellect, not for your looks. But biology works against us. Guys instinctively react to visual stimuli, and girls are taught to play up to that at an early age." She smiled sardonically. "And then we complain when guys are... guys. I think some of the most strident feminists don't want to accept that guys are wired different. They want everyone to be just like them."

"See now, that's something I wouldn't have thought of. I'm locked into the world of baseball, and you never get into things like that."

"That's okay, you concentrate on baseball, and I'll concentrate on helping women with their image and body shape."

"Deal."

The announcement for his flight interrupted whatever he was about to say next. "We'll have to talk some more," he said as he got up. "What classes do you have today?"

"Just two of them," she said. "English Lit and P.E."

"I've got two weeks back home, cleaning out my apartment and working, and then it's off to Puerto Rico. Just before the season ended I heard a talk from Don Zimmer of the Yankees. He was pointing out how important it is to come to Spring Training already in shape and ready to go. The rookies go to get in shape. The veterans are already in shape, they go to hone their skills and work on new things. I'm going to try that this year."

They held hands until his row was called. They kissed, then, a deep lingering kiss that made her miss him all the more. Reluctantly she let him go. He waved just before disappearing up the jetway.

She stood there, watching, as the jet taxied out, watching as the plane lined up on the runway, watching as it disappeared into the morning light. Finally she sighed. Thanksgiving. That was nearly two months away. Right now it seemed like an eternity.

Tuesdays were her lightest day. She had a 10:30 English Lit class P.E. at 2:30. She had a lot of time on her hands, and she had something she needed to do. Her dreams had been getting more and more explicit the longer Evan had stayed around. This morning, for the second morning in a row, she'd awakened with her hand pressing against the front of her soaked panties. She'd called Danny the week before to find out his schedule, only to learn that he was on another business trip, this time to Boston, and wouldn't be back until Friday night. Krissi was at some writing conference. All of that meant anything she did would have to be by herself.

Sarah had class all morning, so Devlin knew she wouldn't be interrupted. She locked the door, dimmed the lights, undressed, and took out her vibrator. Her insides were molten, and when she touched herself she was so wet she was surprised her juices weren't running down her legs.

She put a towel across the bed and lay back on it, turning the vibrator on low and running it over her breasts. Her nipples tightened up right away, an achy tightening that demanded attention. She pinched them, and the sensation stabbed directly into her middle. She cupped her breasts with one hand while the other pulled the vibrator across her tummy.

She wanted to press it against her core, but she wanted to hold off, to let the tension build up, to... She snorted. She didn't have any reason to let the tension 'build. She was burning up, and there was only one thing that was going to cool her off, and it wasn't going to be a cold shower. If she stepped into a cold shower right now, she'd fill the room with steam.

She dipped it between her legs, just brushing her sex. The vibrations swept through her, narrowing in on one point. She moved slightly, pressing it against her, biting her lip as the feelings got stronger and sharper. She closed her legs, trapping it against her, gasping as the buzzing seemed to go right through her.

She pinched her nipple, rolling the nub between her thumb and finger. She moaned at the feeling, caught up in the sensation. She pushed with her hips just as she pressed her vibrator even harder against her. Her whole body felt like it was vibrating. She rose, hanging breathless for a timeless moment, and then her climax exploded through her, more a sharp relief than a wave of pleasure.

She slumped back on the bed, gasping. She glanced at the clock on Sarah's desk--still plenty of time. "I guess I needed that more than I thought," she muttered. From the moment she had touched herself until now had taken less than five minutes.

She wanted more. She felt open and ready and definitely in need of more. She twisted the control to the next higher setting. She had plenty of time to enjoy her toy.

She pressed the vibrator between her legs, seeking out her entrance. She pictured Evan guiding himself there, finding his way between the lips of her sex, finding her heated entrance, pressing forward, sliding into her depths, sliding against every hot spot along the way. She wanted to feel his strong arms holding her and his hard body pressed against her.

She began to move it in and out, just little motions, no more than an inch, but at the same time she slid her other hand down, probing and rubbing her electric bud. She bit her lip as she pressed. She felt so hot, and she closed her eyes, imagining Evan doing what she was doing.

After a minute she could feel that familiar rising sensation, and when it began to get sharper she eased back, calming herself, trying to relax. Then she started again, a little harder, a little closer, a little tighter. She twisted, trying to press against it, trying to dig deeper with her fingers. She rubbed herself--gasping at the electric feel of her fingers bringing herself closer. She relented, pulling her hand away to cup her breasts, but inevitably her hand stole back between her legs.

Time after time she brought herself to the edge, each time a little higher, each time a little closer until she was hanging on the edge, her body shaking with the absolute need to let go. She fought it off, clinging to that moment of intensity, clinging to her control until she couldn't any longer, and everything let go in a wild rush of pure heat that lasted and lasted.

She came down, only to do it all over again, pushing herself higher and hotter until she felt herself drawing up her legs, closing in on herself in a noiseless scream of exquisite agony. The surrender to the needs of her body was longer and harder, wave after wave sweeping through her.

When she caught her breath she felt a little better. She was lying on her side, her legs drawn up, her vibrator still buzzing against her thighs--there was no way she could put it against herself at the moment. She felt drained, but charged up, too. It was that peculiar dichotomy of sex: full of energy, and tired, both at the same time.

She really needed somebody like Danny. She needed to get with him for an extended lunch, and maybe a second or third time... well, probably not a third time because there was a party at Emma's this coming weekend. She wasn't sure she could wait that long without Danny.

She wondered if this was what guys went through. She had heard them say they got really horny--she'd always thought that meant they were walking around with a hard-on because when she got horny she walked around all hot and wet--and that they found relief by jacking off. Did they go through days when they obsessed about a woman's body like she was obsessing about Evan's?