Not that he cared, of course.
“Yoo hoo. Mr. Short?”
“Yeah.” He slowed and came to a stumble-footed halt, not so much because he wanted to talk to the girl as that he wanted to rest for a minute before walking on to the boardinghouse and that waiting bathtub.
“I saw you hitting those home runs this afternoon. It was wonderful. Really.” Her smile was beatific, and her eyelashes fluttered right furiously. “You were magnificent.”
Longarm felt his cheeks commence to heat up. He wasn’t exactly used to this sort of praise. It was positively embarrassing. Magnificent? Jeez!
“Could you come into the arbor here for a minute, please?”
“You want my autograph or something?” he asked. “Me?”
The smile became even more fetching. If that was possible.
“Please?” she repeated.
Damn girl had dimples when she smiled like that. And what man can resist the request of a pretty young thing with dimples? “Sure, why not.”
Wearily Longarm trudged along behind the girl as she let herself through a white-painted gate and through the yard of a fine and fancy house to a spacious gazebo so thoroughly covered with ivy and climbing rose vines that it might as well have had walls. “In here,” she said.
It was coming dusk—McWhortle hadn’t wanted to quit despite the late hour and only agreed to let Longarm stop batting when he complained that he couldn’t see the ball any longer; a mild sort of lie but a necessary one considering the state of Longarm’s fatigue—and inside the summerhouse it was practically full dark.
The girl stopped half a pace into the shelter and turned, her right hand reaching out—and down—to unerringly find the bulge that Longarm’s pecker made high on the thigh of his wet uniform britches.
“Short,” she said with a small laugh. “They should rename you Long. I couldn’t believe it when I saw this lump, Chester. Why, I do believe it is as big and powerful as the bat you were swinging.”
What Longarm couldn’t believe was what this crazy girl was all of a sudden doing.
She pressed herself full against him, which surely did no good to the pretty dress she was wearing as it, and she herself, would be wallowing in his sweat from the merest touch.
She came up onto tiptoes and shoved her tongue inside his mouth, all the while pulling and tugging at his prick.
Longarm couldn’t believe that. Nor could he quite believe his own reaction.
Tired though he undoubtedly was, damned if he wasn’t getting hard.
The girl pulled back a mite and grinned. “You really are magnificent, Chester.”
Longarm grunted. Hell, he didn’t know what he properly should say under these circumstances, so a grunt would simply have to suffice.
“Magnificent,” she murmured, the sound partially muffled against his chest as she dropped down onto the heels of her feet and began nuzzling his sweat drenched chest.
Before he knew what she was about she abandoned her hold on his pecker and started unfastening the buttons of his shirt. She spread the cloth wide and damned if she didn’t begin licking his chest, licking the sweat off him as greedy-happy as if it was chocolate syrup.
She ran her tongue over his chest and belly and then paid particular attention to his nipples, which proved to be just about fifteen or maybe twenty times as sensitive as he would’ve expected them to be.
The more she licked the harder his erection got and the wider the girl’s grin as she reached down to fondle him some more.
After a couple minutes of that—he wouldn’t have objected if she’d decided to camp out there and lick him until, say, daybreak—she began to droop lower and lower and lower still.
Her tongue ranged down across his belly, investigated the inside of his navel, and then explored new territory as her insistent fingers opened buttons to make way.
By then she’d surely drunk at least a pint of day-old sweat, but that sure didn’t seem to bother her any.
She deftly slipped his cock free of the last restraints of clothing and, on her knees by now, began licking that too.
“Magnificent,” she mumbled over and over as she licked and fondled and then began to suck right strenuously.
Longarm felt like she might accidentally suck his balls out of their pouch and pull them on through his pecker.
Which was not a complaint. No, ma’am, it was not. Merely an observation of passing interest.
The girl’s pretty little head bobbed and darted like a woodpecker pecking wood while she sucked so hard it damn near hurt.
Damn near, that is.
He was not inclined to make her quit.
In an amazingly brief time he felt the sap commence to rise. The pressure increased until he couldn’t hold it in any longer, and he turned a gusher loose inside the girl’s mouth. He didn’t actually time the explosion but his guess was that he pumped juice into her for something on the order of four or five minutes—well, that’s what it felt like anyhow—before the well finally ran dry and the girl rocked back onto her heels with a broad, satisfied grin. “I do so love that flavor, Chester,” she said. Longarm had no response for that. Didn’t need one anyway.
The girl tucked his limp dong back where she’d found it, buttoned his fly and then his shirt and got him all tucked in and presentable again, then without another word turned and disappeared through the far side of the gazebo.
It was dark out by then and Longarm could not see where she went from there.
He was halfway to the boardinghouse before he realized that he had no idea who the girl had been. She hadn’t so much as given her name.
He thought on it some and decided he could forgive her the social faux pas.
Chapter 13
“Have a nice time, Chet?”
It took Longarm a few seconds to remember that he was the one being addressed, that these ball players knew him as Chester Short. As the last one to arrive at the table, he took the chair at the distant end, furthest from the platters of food, and pretended not to notice all the guffawing and chuckling that the others were doing.
“That Cherry,” the first baseman said, “she could suck a walnut through a cattail reed, eh, Short?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Longarm lied. Which only served to make the laughter all the louder.
The first baseman—Longarm didn’t know his proper name; he was simply called Hoosier, which might or as easily might not mean he was from Indiana—made a vulgar gesture that set the rest of them off into gales of laughter.
“Did she tell you she’s a virgin, Chet?” Watt asked. “Bet she did and you didn’t believe her, right? Funny thing about it is that she wasn’t lying. I felt her when it was my turn. Cherry’s cherry is there all right, just like she claims. Little bitch will suck a man dry like one of those black spiders or she’ll take it in the ass if you want, but she won’t let nobody inside her snatch. Claims she’s saving that for when she gets married. As if anybody’d be stupid enough to marry her.”
“No point buying a cow when the milk’s free, right?” Caleb put in. Longarm was not particularly enjoying the dinner table conversation. Especially considering the fact that the food was being served by a dark-skinned young girl, Mexican he guessed or half-breed Mexican and Negro, who tried hard to pretend she didn’t hear but whose embarrassment was given away by the flush of deep red that darkened her ears and gave her cheeks a glow.