Chapter 59

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked around their kisses. "I wasn't expecting you until next week sometime. Why didn't you call and let me know you were coming?"

"The last time I pitched was on Sunday," he said. "I stayed a couple extra days in case they needed somebody for long relief. When that didn't happen I made arrangements to leave. I flew out of San Juan last night, got to Chicago about 11:30 this morning and tried calling your cell phone, but didn't get an answer. I landed here about 3:30. I called your dorm, but you weren't in your room."

All of that would have been when she was with Danny. That was kind of ironic. "I was... busy," she said lamely.

He nodded. "I called Krissi in case you were at her place, but she said you were staying at the dorm. I got a hotel room, and then I came over here. I tried calling your room, but when there was no answer I settled down to wait. I figured you'd show up sooner or later, especially because I saw your car in the parking lot."

"You must be exhausted from the trip."

"You learn to sleep on airplanes," he said, smiling.

"You caught me completely by surprise. What did you have in mind?"

"Dinner," he said at once. "The airlines didn't serve anything, and the last time I ate was in San Juan just before my flight."

"We can certainly do something about that." She thought of the food she'd bought at Linkins; that wasn't what he needed. "I have some stuff in my room, but men aren't supposed to go above the first floor, even during the break."

"That's what I figured."

"So... Let me go change, I got knocked over a few minutes ago and got soaked. I want to get into some dry clothes. And then we can go get something to eat. There are plenty of places over next to the airport."

"Which is where my hotel is."

She dropped a kiss on his cheek. "I'll be right back."

The elevator seemed to take forever to get to her floor. She dumped her clothes in the middle of her room, grabbed a robe and headed for the shower. She'd felt so awkward sitting on his lap when she'd just been with Danny. She probably smelled of him—she wondered how good Evan's nose was—and needed to do something about that.

After a quick shower with her favorite body wash, a quick scan through her closet—the dark red turtleneck and black slacks should be all right—and a quick assault on her hair to beat it into some sort of shape, she felt ready to go.

"That didn't take long," Evan said when Devlin appeared in the lobby.

"I was cold enough I wanted to take one of those long, gloriously hot showers, but I didn't want to keep you waiting." She paused to watch a pair of young women towing their luggage as they crossed the lobby and head for the elevators. "Perhaps I should have. A lot of people will be moving back into the dorm in the next couple of days, and one of the things they'll do, of course, is take a hot shower."

"I could probably use one myself," he said as he slid into his coat. "I'm not used to the cold."

"I didn't think you needed a coat like that in the Keys."

He laughed. "I bought this when I thought I was going to play for a team in New England. This is the first time I've really had to use it. Now you know the town better than I do, where's a good place to eat?"

"What are you in the mood for?"

"Something that'll stick to my ribs."

"I know just the place. Did you rent a car, or take a cab?"

"A cab, so you'll have to drive."

She picked a restaurant on the south side of the main business district. It was next to a hotel, and most of the people in the dining room didn't have heavy coats with them. Their waiter was all obsequious manners and polished attitude. He presented the menu and wine list with all the proper deference, discussed the items currently available as specials, and slipped away.

"I'm not sure I can have the wine," Devlin said when she noticed Evan studying the wine list. "I'm not 21 yet."

"I keep forgetting that," Evan said, smiling. "I thought the drinking age in this state was 18."

"Oh... oh, yeah, I guess it is." She smiled back. "I don't think of things like that. It's funny. I can vote, I can drink, I can get married, but I'm not allowed to see x-rated movies."

"That's the silliest..." He laughed along with her. "All things considered, that doesn't make much sense."

"Not really."

"What were you thinking of having for dinner?" he asked.

"Oh, the tenderloin broil looks pretty good."

"We'll have two of the tenderloin broil," Evan said when the waiter returned.

"Very good sir."

"And a bottle of the Sauvignon," Evan added, pointing at something on the wine list.

"Trying to corrupt me?" Devlin asked with a smile.

"The thought crossed my mind. Do you think it'll work?"

"Maybe. So what's winter ball like?"

He leaned back, playing with his napkin. "It's not like the game you see in the ballparks around here. Actually, it's not like anything I've ever seen before. We had this one game a couple of weeks back that kind of says it all. There was a samba band behind each dugout, and one next to the bullpens. They played constantly through the entire game—different tunes, too, so you got a real medley of sounds. I was pitching that day, and every time I came set there was a gal on top of the other team's dugout who would try to hex me, and another gal on our side of the field who was trying to block it. There were women in the stands casting hexes at each team, and so on. People were partying everywhere, and some of it spilled over into the clubhouse. When we left after the game we had trouble getting out. Somebody was roasting a pig outside the clubhouse door." He shook his head. "It's a different baseball experience than here."

"How did you do?"

"Good and bad." He shrugged. "Better than I thought I would. That game I was telling you about, I faced Robbie Alomar, Edgar Martinez and Pudge Rodriguez back to back to back."

"Forgive my ignorance, but..." She let her voice trail off.

"Understandable," he said. "Well, let's see. Those three guys have the highest batting averages in the American League. Gar is a pure hitter. I don't think he has any holes in his swing. They say it's easier to sneak sunrise past a rooster than sneak a fastball past Edgar Martinez. A few years ago the Yankees had to pitch to him in a couple of play-off games and he beat them both times.

"Pudge is a catcher for the Texas Rangers, and Robbie Alomar plays for the Indians. Both are terrific hitters. They're everything a player should want to be as a player. All three hit for average and hit for power. The only thing none of them do is run fast, though when Pudge gets going he's hard to stop. But they all hit the ball hard enough that it doesn't matter."

"Did they get to you?"

"They lit me up like a bonfire. I got each of them out exactly once in each game that I faced them. Edgar was the hardest. I could feel him sitting in the dugout watching me. I faced him in five games. By the end of those three games he knew more about how I pitch than I do."

"So what did you do? Change the way you pitch?"

"No, not really. I got to talking with him. A lot of what he told me is what a hitter's thinking when he faces me. I heard a lot of things like that from the guys down there." He shrugged. "We'll see what happens next month when I try some of it in Spring Training."

"So, are you heading back to the Keys in a few days?" She couldn't quite hide the longing in her voice.

He nodded. "I looked at the calendar. Classes start next week, and I'd be a distraction to you. I figure we have the weekend, but then I have to head south."

Her heart leaped. "Wha-where... where did you have in mind?" She licked her lips, and surreptitiously wiped her sweaty palms on her slacks. "You can't stay in the dorm, it's an all-women dorm."

"There'd be a few problems with that, wouldn't there?" He chuckled. "I'm sure that we can find something to do for the next three days. It's too bad we don't have more time. There's this resort in the American Virgin Islands I would love to take you to."

"A resort?"

"A couple of retired ballplayers own it, and they give discounts to players at the Triple-A level and the Show. We could go there for a week, kick back, and just relax."

Devlin glanced at the snow covering the lawn outside the restaurant, and sighed. "Sounds heavenly. We'll have to make a point of going there sometime. Too bad there's not enough time to do it right now."

"I know." He sighed as well. "In the meantime I'm sure there are things to do around here that we could do together."

"Most of the things around here are indoor activities because of the weather." She suddenly realized what she'd implied. "That is to say... you know, swimming, basketball, things like that."

"I got the idea."

She thought she saw a twinkle in his eye, and wondered if she really wanted to stay out of his bed. She loved his body, but not (yet) in the literal sense, and she loved it when he took her in his arms. What would it be like to go to some resort, lock the world away, and not emerge for a week or so?

She temporarily shelved that idea and gave him a smile. "There are a couple of things we could do, though. I'll warn you in advance, they involve getting cold and possibly wet."

"Then let's do them tomorrow. It's probably too late in the day for anything outside."

There was that hint again. She wanted him, but she wanted to make it special, like after they were married.

"Would you be interested in a little dancing?"

"How little?"

"I know a place a block or so from here that's supposed to have a great band."

"That I could be interested in."

It was a nightclub frequented by older business travelers. The band was... adequate. They covered a lot of the more danceable tunes, and she melted into his arms. Dance followed dance, mostly fast, but a few were slow and she could cling to his body. She could feel the typical response guys had to her body, and fantasized doing what naturally followed dancing at Emma's. That would definitely have to wait for later, though. Instead she surrendered to his warmth, inhaled his scent, and let herself drift to the music.

They got back to his hotel room far later than she intended—the band wasn't as bad as she'd first thought—and bade him a good night. She felt his slight tug, as if he was trying to pull her into the room with him, but she disengaged his hand and slowly backed down the hall, smiling, and blowing him an air kiss.

Back in her dorm room she got ready for bed, the music still drifting through her head. She'd been held by a lot of men, and she'd held them in turn. It was interesting, in a way, to feel Evan growing hard against her tummy. She tried not to grind her body against his. She tried—and mostly succeeded—in not imagining what it would be like to take him to the edge of the dance floor and explore each other.

For the most part he had kept his hands to himself, except for one time early in the evening when his hand slid down from her waist. She'd felt his fingertips begin to explore her bottom, but she smiled and twisted away, and he'd kept his hands on her waist after that. There'd been several slow dances, so she'd had no choice, she'd nestled her boobs against his chest. He certainly didn't object; she couldn't think of any guy who would, well, except for Doug, and that time they'd gone dancing he hadn't tried to keep her at arms reach.

She fantasized again: this time her boobs could reach like her arms, and they drew Evan against her, running over his chest like she'd wanted to with her hands. She sighed, staring up in the darkness of her room. She wanted to do so much more than just dance, hold hands, and so on. She knew people did just that, but she wasn't one of those people. She had control over her emotions, at least when she wasn't at Emma's. She had control over what happened.

She awoke hours later. She'd kicked her covers off. She had one hand between her damp legs, the other clutching her breast. Her nipples were stiff, and from the way she felt she knew she'd been masturbating. She wondered if Evan had done something like that. Guys, or so Danny had told her, did that to 'relieve the tension'. She grinned at the ceiling. If guys knew how much girls masturbated, and for the same reason. There were a lot of advantages to doing that, too: you didn't worry whether your fingers would call you the next morning, and you didn't care what your fingers thought of you. It was just you and your fantasies, or your memories, and a feeling of peace afterwards.

She checked the time: 5:30. She rolled over and stared at the wall, trying to fall asleep. It didn't work. After a bit she got up and got dressed, picked up her tapes, and went downstairs to the exercise room. She started slowly, but after 30 minutes she was fully warmed up. She normally exercised to only one tape. This morning she played a second one, finally stopping when her mind was blank, her breath was short, and she was covered with sweat.

She showered and dressed—jeans and an ISU sweatshirt, heavy wool socks and her winter boots—before calling his hotel room.

"I was just prying myself out of bed," Evan said.

She had a flash of him in a tee-shirt and shorts, unless he slept in the nude. She felt a jolt of desire at the image and suppressed it.

"I was thinking about breakfast," she said.

"That sounds pretty good." He chuckled. "This will be the first day since last February when I haven't eaten at a training table of some kind. It'll be different."

"I'll be there in 15 minutes, and then you can tell me all about it."

Breakfast—they lingered until the staff began to make pointed looks at their watches—and a stroll up the street, window shopping. She was content to hold his arm, to feel his body pressed warmly against hers.

"Devlin!"

It was Doug's voice. Not sure of what she'd see, she turned around, feeling a moment of humor when she saw he was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt visible beneath his jacket.

"Doug! How are you?" She felt Evan's questioning glance. "Doug's a professor here. I've never had him for a class. We're... friends, sort of."

Doug gave her a chaste hug. "And is this who I think it is?" he asked, turning to Evan.

"This is Evan," she said simply.

Doug pumped Evan's hand. "She's told me a lot about you," he said. "You're one lucky guy."

"I like to think so," Evan said quietly, still studying Doug.

"Where are my manners?" Doug asked. "C'mon, both of you. I should at least buy you a cup of tea, or something. I've got news, too," he added to Devlin.

He bustled them into a coffee shop. "I know you like coffee, Devlin," he said as he scanned the menu behind the barista, "but that's all. I never learned how you like it." He pulled out a chair for her. "You two wait here, I'll get the drinks. Coffee, black?" he asked Evan before leaving.

"That'll be fine," Evan said.

"Doug used to take me dancing," Devlin said, suddenly aware of how that sounded. "He's... he... there's nothing between us. He's in a peculiar situation, and I was glad to help."

"A peculiar situation?"

"I'll let him explain it, if he will."

Doug returned with two coffees and a tea for himself. "I was going to call you," he told Devlin as he sat down. "I got a call last night. I've accepted a position at Portland State University. Associate Professor in the Sociology Department, with only 10 credit hours to teach this first quarter. I leave tomorrow, but I'll be back here on weekends to close out my apartment and get things moved."

"That's great! I didn't even know you were applying!"

"I didn't expect to get Portland State," he said. "I had applications everywhere. I couldn't take another week of Dr. Hampton. I swear, if he hit on me one more time I'd bash his nose in."

"Dr. Hampton is the Chairman of the Sociology Department," Devlin told Evan. "He's also gay."

"Flaming gay," Doug added.

"And he wants an all-gay department."

"Not quite," Doug said. "Sandra's a lesbian, Carol goes both ways—though she only talks about her girlfriend during department meetings and hardly ever mentions her husband of 12 years—and Tracy is straight."

"Doug isn't," Devlin said. "Did you ever decide what your orientation was?"

Doug shrugged. "I sort of like girls, more than guys, a lot more than guys. Dr. Hampton thinks I'm gay because I like to wear dresses."

"He's asked me fashion advice several times," Devlin said. "That's sort of how we met. I sold him his chest..."

"Fits great, though how you women can put up with wearing a bra all day long is beyond me."

"You... do. It's like high heels in a way; it's something you learn to do." She paused to take a sip of coffee and study the confusion on Evan's face. "Doug is a friend," she added.

"Dr. Hampton saw us at this club over on the east side of campus," Doug said. "Most of the people who go there are gays. I'd go there to be visible. Devlin liked going there..."

"It's one of the few places a woman can go where she won't be hit on by every guy in the place."

"God, no!" Doug laughed. "When Dr. Hampton saw us there she was conducting a class."

"A... class?" The confusion on Evan's face was growing, and his voice sounded strangled.

"I was selling brassieres with gel inserts," Devlin said. "Most gay men don't cross-dress, but those who do want the curves, and I was able to give them to them."

"And now I won't have to worry about that," Doug said. "I tried calling your dorm room a few minutes ago, but you didn't answer. But here you are."

"You wear dresses?" Evan asked finally. "You like wearing dresses?"

"I always have," Doug said. "It's not like I want to be a woman, I just... like... wearing dresses. I don't care for skirts, though. I'm sure there's some deep psychological reason why I like dresses, but I've never been interested in finding it. And I certainly don't wear them in the bedroom when I'm with a girl."

"He hasn't learned to walk in heels," Devlin said. "He doesn't wear them often enough."

"That's what she told me," Doug said. He glanced at the time. "I've got to get going. I've got your address, I'll send you mine after I find an apartment."

"Be sure to call, too," Devlin said as Doug got up. She gave him a quick hug, and then he was gone.

"Are you sure he's not gay?" Evan asked in the silence.

"Very sure. The idea of a guy touching him makes him ill. It's just he likes dresses."

Evan shook his head. "It takes all kinds."

"I met his Department Chairman once. Doug's right, the man is a flaming gay. I'm glad I don't have to take any Sociology classes, the man made me cringe."