Chapter 21

Meghan was visibly happy to see me. She virtually squirmed in her chair with joy when I walked into the media suite.

Off my leash, I decided to flirt a little and test the water.

"How is my FAVORITE Kansas City Royals executive?' She blushed, squirmed a little more, and thanked me.

"You look nice today." She blushed a deeper red. Squirmed a little more obviously, and leaned over towards me so I could look down her blouse and see her lacey bra and lovely breasts.

"I hope you are having a wonderful afternoon." She pushed her arms together to enhance her cleavage, leading my eyes to linger on her charming peaks.

She looked adorable trying to flirt with back me, so I figured, 'what the heck, ' and kissed her. It was just a touch on the lips, and meant to be a teaser, but Meghan grabbed my head and pulled me close, for a tongue swabber.

When she was finished giving my mouth the once over, she licked her lips, kissed me less aggressively, looked me straight in the eye and said, "I know you have two live-in lovers. I've met them both and know that they think you are the living end.

"Rebecca called a little while ago and said they had an emergency, which meant they had to leave you all alone in a strange city, without them to care for your – how did she say it – manly needs, I think.

"You are the sweetest man that ever comes through that door, and if you want me, I am right here, ready and willing.

"Rebecca said you would feel guilty, and maybe ashamed to take me up on my offer, but I can't wait to get you alone and show you how much I appreciate your kind and sweet personality, and oh so sexy smile."

Ok.

That was certainly ... surprising.

Who knew I affected her so ... shall we say ... energetically.

Mr. Johnson wanted me to stand her up, lead her around that big, metal desk, and give her the business, like we both knew I wanted. My virtue went out the window when she pulled the old push-my-boobs-up-and-out, move.

I'm a man. I loved it ... them ... those two ... you know ... her breasts.

Her lips tasted like Cherry Chap Stick and she smelled like lilacs. I definitely misplaced my virtue. It was here, then it simply disapeared.

Meghan lit my fire and I either needed convince her to give it up, or call the fire department. Convincing Meghan to give it up to me was going to be about as difficult as convincing a congressman to take a bribe, but far more satisfying.

I stepped back to take stock of the situation. Meghan's nipples threatened to poke holes in her nice sweater. She was breathing rapidly, and her skin was flushed from arousal. When I gently let my hand drift down her bare arm, the skin pebbled with goose bumps, and she groaned like she was having the first of many orgasms.

Every classic symptom of sexual need was apparent, and I bet if I slid my hand down her slacks, and into her panties, she was soaked. Not wet – soaked.

To prove my theory, I lifted her chin with my index finger, and used it to guide her up onto her feet, kissed her like a lover, and let my hand slide into the front of her panties. She was SOAKED, and to my surprise, she came with a rush.

I kept up the pressure on her clit, and slid my two middle fingers inside her, searching for her special spot. When I hit and thumped it rhythmically, she groaned, gushed pussy juice onto my hand, and quivered like a silk scarf in a whirlwind.

I let her enjoy it until I could tell she needed to catch her breath, and guided her back onto her chair. "It looks like you needed that," was all I said, releasing her lips, and letting my clean hand brush against her rock hard nipples. When I squeezed one, she gasped, twitched, and came again.

It took a little while for Meghan to compose herself, but I enjoyed holding her, while gently stroking her face and hair. Her ragged breathing eventually evened out and she looked up at me with a combination of awkward embarrassment, and undisguised adoration. "You made me feel so good. It was so good. I feel so good. It's so GOOD. Where did you learn to do those things? Oh my god, I've never come like that. Not even near that. I had no idea I could come like that.

"We have to do that some more. Can we do that some more? Can I spend the night with you and do that some more?

"I'll give a good as I get. I swear it. I know how to please a man and - trust me – I'm going to please you, if you'll let me." She was panting as she begged for more.

"I have a suite at the Hotel Sorella, on Country Club Plaza. My body guards will get you there, as long as you are sure you want to be with me, like that." I gave her my gentle smile.

Not the one that I use when the only thing on my mind is in my pants.

The other one.

The one where I let them decide how far they want to go.

She squirmed some more, took my hand that had been in her panties a minute ago, and licked her juice off my fingers. The look in her eyes was pure lust, and it took everything I had in me to stop myself from ripping clothes off, and giving her the sex she was begging for. Meghan saw my reaction to licking her pussy juice off my hand, and started to take down her slacks.

"No. No ... no ... no. This is not going to be a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. We are going to make love for hours and hours. My advice is, drink plenty of water before you go to my suite. I'll be there as soon as practice ends, and I can slip out. Expect our lovemaking to take all night." I kissed her long and hard, let my hands squeeze her butt, pinch her nipples, and pat her pussy through her clothes, and left before I nailed her on that ugly desk, anyway.

I left...

Without my list...

As I dressed for BP I got to thinking about my reaction to Meghan. What was it about her that set me off? What made me decide to find her "on" button and jiggle it so hard?

As I headed out onto the field I couldn't get the picture out of my head, of Meghan flat on her back, legs in the air, with Mr. Johnson sawing in and out of her butt. It was a nice picture but totally inappropriate. Meghan probably didn't even know women had anal sex, much less wanted it with me.

However, I could just bet Mr. Johnson would feel awesome inside her bottom.

But, I needed to think about Rebecca and Colleen, Winnie, the children, Benjamin, the crossing guards in second grade, my favorite cub scout den mother, Mother Theresa, anything but the inside of Meghan's butt.

Which was precisely why I could think of nothing else.

Just like I said.

I'm strong right up until I'm weak.

We had three days off because the Orioles and the Angels couldn't decide who was going to win their series. Practice was rather abbreviated for me, today, because I pitched the night before and had to preserve my arm, and let it recover. Mostly I ran around, caught a few hundred fly balls, and softly tossed them back to the screen in front of second base.

The press decided to have their way with me after practice.

Flanked by Joel Gregerson and Ron Rodgers, two of our media interns, I answered a few dozen of the dumbest questions ever asked, to anyone, by anybody, ever. My favorite was, "Brian, did you ever think that you would be an important pitcher in the American League Championship Series, at only sixteen years old?"

Nope.

"Brian, you've had unprecedented success as a sixteen year old phenom. Do you think you can keep it up?

I wanted to answer, 'Not a Chance! I'm sure I'll blow up and never be heard from again, by the end of the second inning of my next start.' That's what I wanted to say.

But I didn't.

"Mr. Heyman, my job is to go out to the mound, whenever Mr. Jancone tells me to, and pitch the best I can, for as long as he tells me to pitch. So far, I've had limited success. Enough, I suppose, for Mr. Janacone to tell me that he is sending me out at least once more.

"If I blow it, he will choose someone else, and they will go out and do it for me.

"Other than that, I can only do what I can do, and hope for good things."

Fortunately that was the last really stupid question. CBS has some of the dumbest sportscasters on earth but that question was about as shallow as they come.

Mercifully the media event ended before I lost my poise and said something stupid.

That did give me plenty of time to think about Meghan and our coming tryst.

So I did. I thought about her kiss, her nipples, the scent of her womanhood, and how lovely it would feel to be inside of her. Mr. Johnson just knew he was going out for a run, tonight and made sitting through the media hour more like torture, than work.

Once the media hour was concluded, Mr. Janacone called a team meeting and laid out his expectations for the coming series. Everyone paid attention. He spoke so rarely, it was fun to hear his voice.

That done, I skipped out to find out that my personal protection team was HUGE.

Massive huge.

Not average huge.

There was nothing garden variety about my detail. They were serious, armed to the teeth, and ready to rock and roll.

I saw Jack's assistant, Carter Milland, and asked, "Did Meghan come out?"

He smiled and said, "She is waiting for you in your suite. I don't think she was expecting the Presidential Suite, and so she might still be wandering around touching things. That girl was impressed. You will get SOOOO lucky tonight." He seemed grateful for a light moment, for some reason. I was glad to give it to him.

Then his face changed.

He touched his finger to his ear piece, listened for a few seconds, then turned white and grabbed me. The next thing I knew we were in the Suburban. Roaring out of the parking lot and out onto I-70, towards the west. Our escorts kept pace, and we sped towards KCI Airport.

"What's going on, Carter?" I asked.

Carter was busy talking on his phone. He looked up, caught my eye and mouthed, "Just a sec," and kept listening.

I was not patient. I didn't feel like being patient. I was paying a King's ransom for this protection detail and I darn well deserved to know what was going on.

Just as I got a full head of egotistical steam up, Carter looked at me and said, "Those bastards hit the hotel. Your friend, Meghan is fine. She is safely out of the hotel, and back home. It looks like she doesn't even know anything happened, because the trouble was contained well below her.

"Our guys drove her car, searched her house to be sure it was clear and left her there to pine for your attention. The Judges' people took down most of our uninvited guests, and scared off some more. We think it was a probing action, to see if we had stiffened up before they try anything, so that may be the end of it.

"The Judge is pissed and crawling all over everyone, everywhere. The contractors better do their thing, fast, or there might be some unpleasant conversations by this time tomorrow." He took a deep breath, spoke into his hand mic, and said, "We are clear of the city, near the airport. What is our destination?