Chapter 15: Emily

I knew Dave and Eddie wouldn't be back home until very late, so I took my time getting up to Frederick on Wednesday night. I had called to let Ms. Washington know I'd be coming, and when I arrived around 10:30, she had decaf green tea waiting for me. Her side of the duplex was cool and comfortable in the heat of that humid July night. She warned me, however, that Dave's side might not be. "The air conditioner is funny, over on their side," she said. "Sometimes it'll work OK, but sometimes -- not so good. 'Compressor, I think... But it'll be a cold day in February before our landlord decides to fix it."

Coretta Washington didn't seem to be in any hurry to go to bed, so I stayed there with her until a little after midnight. The Keys had played a night game in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. They'd be lucky to even have gotten started on their way back home until around 10 p.m., and it was a long, long way across the whole State of Virginia, getting home. It would be the wee hours.

Finally I thanked her for her hospitality and said goodnight, and, using the key Dave and Eddie always left with Ms. Washington, I let myself into their side. Not much had changed since I'd been there before: The boys had been on the road for the whole time -- except for a few hours, after I'd last left them here.

They'd left the kitchen shipshape, and if the bedding was rumpled on Dave's bed, I knew I had played a big part in its having gotten that way.

My mind flashed back to our last time together -- Sunday at dusk, a little over ten days ago. Memories. David Hooks had yet to disappoint me -- in bed or out. Our lovemaking had been as sweet and satisfying as I'd ever known. Our first time together had been amazing -- I had really just completely lost control. I had given myself over to him entirely.

It had been liberating. I had long-since learned that, for a woman, the key to enjoying sex was being willing -- and able -- to surrender. Losing inhibitions was the only way to take the sex upward and onward, from simple mechanical friction-production into the realm of true pleasure.

Of course, a girl wasn't always able to let herself just surrender like that. I had known times with men -- even men I had liked and admired -- when just willing myself to let go -- to fully experience their lovemaking -- had simply been impossible.

It was the principal reason that I was seldom hypercritical of a man's sexual "performance." Too often, when a man had "failed" to make it wonderful for me, I knew, deep down, I had been at least as much to blame as he. I hadn't been willing... or able... to let go.

As any girl knows, a few ounces of alcohol sometimes can help. But -- at least in my case -- it was more than just the release of inhibitions that was at work. It was a matter of how much of my heart and soul I was willing to commit. Certainly, I'd learned a little something about how to have Good Sex, quite a while before I'd met David Hooks. There hadn't been a long parade of men who'd visited my bed, but there had been a considerable number. I was a modern woman, and I had long ago learned that I liked it.

What's that popular old joke with the guys? "... Even when it's bad, it's good?"

Well, that's not so true, for us girls. We have to work harder for our jollies. But I had been one of the lucky ones. I was orgasmic, and it didn't require that a man be the World's Greatest Lover to make it good for me. A decent number of my past lovers had done the job -- a few of them with some distinction.

But, so far at least, nobody had done it better than this Baseball Boy from Ohio. Oh, my! Davey knew how to push all my buttons!

Mama always taught me that "sex, alone" was not enough, and I didn't doubt she was right. Good sex, though, was a wonderful foundation upon which to build a more complete relationship. I didn't care how high gas prices got, I was going to keep right on driving up the George Washington Parkway to catch the Beltway, and then pick up I-270, not far over the Maryland line. And then, northward to Frederick.

I'd keep doing it until David Hooks told me to stop bothering him. And I was pretty confident he wasn't going to say any such thing, any time soon.

I took a shower, hung up my clothes, and prepared for bed. As Coretta had predicted, Dave's apartment was only semi-comfortable. The air conditioning was, apparently, working a little, but inefficiently. In the summer heat, however, and with no breeze outside, there wasn't much doubt that leaving the windows closed and the air conditioner trying was better than the alternative.

It was after 1 a.m. and I knew Dave's bus still wouldn't be due into town for quite a while. I pulled back the blanket and the spread on his double bed, leaving only the top sheet to cover me. I decided the best outfit to wear to bed -- the one Davey would like the most -- was my birthday suit.

Once again, I slept on "Davey's" side of the bed. If he wanted to sleep on his preferred side, he'd just have to climb on top.

It had been a long day, and a long week at work. OK, so it had only been a three-day week at work. But I had known, for all three of those days, that on Wednesday night I was coming up here to see Dave. It had made it seem like forever.

Dave had been good, though, about e-mailing me from the road. I got a note from him every day. Happily, he was a good communicator and was unafraid of getting a little mushy in print. I had to protect my computer from the prying eyes of my roomy, Patsy, who was not above getting off on other people's romances.

Aside from the terms of endearment we were exchanging regularly, the good, good news from Davey was that he'd continued to hit well. He didn't give me much in the way of details, and I don't suppose it would have meant that much to me if he had, but it was easy to tell that his spirits were way up, because of it. After all, it wasn't just a game, to Dave. It was his livelihood. He didn't make any bones about the fact that baseball was plenty important to him.

And Eddie had let it slip, the last time I'd been up here, that Dave had been having serious problems with his hitting. That man from the Orioles had been up -- apparently just to talk to Dave, about his hitting.

But, right after that, in the games I saw, Dave had done so well! He'd been the hero. The star! And, judging by his e-mails, things had continued to go very well all during the road trip.

Well, good. He'll be exhausted, though, tonight when he gets in. Maybe I should put on some flimsies, at least, instead of just lying here naked like this. Maybe he'll think he's... obligated to make love to me tonight, instead of just getting some good rest, in his own bed, like he probably would prefer.

But, I kind-of hope he's not too tired for a least a little bit of loving. Still, if I'm awake when he comes in, I'm going to pretend to be asleep, so that he'll know it's OK for him to opt out, and get some sleep first. After all, we've got the whole day, tomorrow. No game!... We can fuck like bunnies!

If we wakes me up when he gets in -- fine. If he doesn't, we've still got lots of time together. I'm staying until Sunday again! Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday! And I got my period while he was on the road! Was that a stroke of good luck, or what? I'm gonna get some of Davey's loving, every day for the next four days! We're gonna wear each other out! But -- oh, God! What if this is the weekend that I find out he's wrong for me? What if we don't keep on clicking, the way we have been, up to now? What if it's just the... the brevity of the times we've been together, up to now, that has made this seem to work?