"Well, something’s obviously wrong today." I figured I knew what it was. "It’s the boobs?"
"It’s the boobs," she confirmed. "They get in the way of my release point, they get in the way of my follow-through. And they’re damn distracting."
"Yeah, distracting, I’ll agree with that," I blurted, then got embarrassed when I realized what I said. But Lily just laughed.
"Don’t get too distracted, I’m so wild I might take your head off."
"Nah, my reflexes are fine," I said. I walked out to the mound. "There must be something we can do. Shit, it’s not fair. And look at me, look at all the shit I’ve got on, and you’ve got nothing."
"But that’s ‘protective gear’, not clothes."
"I know." Then I blinked. "Hey. Wait a minute!"
CHAPTER FIVE LILY"What?" I asked him.
"Hold on, hold on, give me a minute." He was staring off into space. "Here. Come inside with me." He headed off towards the house. When he got to the dining room table, he said "Sit," and pointed. I sat. His Mom and Marina were sitting in the living room in a couch-the living room and dining room were one big room. Mike went over to a pile of papers on a small table in the corner. He ruffled through them, muttering, "Come on, come on, I know it’s in here." His mother gave me a quizzical look. I just grinned and shrugged my shoulders.
"Got it!" He came over to the table. He had the brochure for The Program in his hand. I was completely confused. He sat next to me and started thumbing threw it. "OK, OK, I know it’s in here…here!" He started reading. "OK. Students in athletic competition, can’t wear uniform or undergarments, yadda yadda yadda…yes! Here it is! ‘However, students in athletic competition may wear any padding, gauze, or tape considered necessary by the student for protection. This includes cups, protective padding, and helmets. This also includes taping and bandaging of any injuries, or other taping, as in a football player taping an ankle for stability.’ THAT’S IT!" He bounced out of his chair. "Wait here!" He excitedly ran up the stairs.
" What is he doing?" I said.
His mom and Marina laughed. "Lily," his mom began, "it is my experience that when Mikey gets a brainstorm, it is best to just let him go with it."
"OK." He came tearing down the stairs, a whole pile of shit in his hand. He dumped the shit on the table. From within the pile, he withdrew a large, wide, ace bandage.
"See?" he said. "We’ll tape ‘em!"
I looked up at him, and my eyes widened. "Oh, damn, Mike, that is a good idea!"
He laughed. "Stand up." I did, and he started wrapping the bandage around my boobs. "Tell me if it’s tight enough or too tight." I did, and he worked at it and got the tightness right. "OK, now move around. Do a windup or something. See if it’s stable enough."
I did so, and it was stable enough, but… "Is it tight enough?" he asked.
"Well, yeah, it’s plenty tight enough, nice and stable, but there’s another problem." I swatted at the bandage. "This material. It’s like sandpaper. And it’s rubbing up against my nipples. Ow, ow, and ow."
"Oh." Mike looked crestfallen. Then he looked back at the table. "Wait a minute. Come here." He unwrapped the bandage and took it off me. "OK, sit." I did. He took a square gauze bandage out of the pile, and applied surgical tape around the edges. "I know this is going to hurt like a bitch coming off, but at least it’ll let you pitch." He took the gauze and placed it right around my nipple, so it was covering it. Then he pushed and prodded and worked at it to make sure it stuck.
Oh, shit.
Pitching. Pitching. Concentrate on pitching, Lily, concentrate on pitching. And then he was doing the other one. Pitching. Pitching.
Shit. Who ever knew catchers had such gentle hands? Damn, I’d been touched before, but fuck. And this was when he was being clinical!
"Ok, that should hold. Stand up," he said. I managed to do so, don’t ask me how. He then wrapped the ace bandage back around me. I calmed down a little-thank goodness-and he told me to walk around and do a windup and stuff.
ZING! Well, this wasn’t going to work, that was plainly apparent. "Well, it’s not painful, I’ll say that," I told him with a little grin. "But I think the gauze is a little too…well…stimulating."
"Oh," he blushed.
"Yeah. I wouldn’t want to leave a puddle on the pitching rubber by the third inning," I grinned at him. Oh, I got a nice blush from him for that one. Ellie and Marina were giggling behind us.
"OK. Let me think. Let me think." He stood there for a minute. "Hey, this might work. Mom? Marina? Either of you two have a bra that you don’t wear anymore? Even if it’s ripped or broken or something?"
"Sure, I have one that I broke the shoulder strap on," Ellie said. "It’s sitting in the pile to be tossed out, but I still have it." She grinned at her son. "You taking up cross-dressing, Mikey?"
"Could you just go get the bra, please?" Mike asked her. With a giggle she went to get it.
I wasn’t sure where he was going with that one, but I just let him go with it. He unraveled the bandage, and then pointed me to sit, then he got the gauze off me. I suppose it hurt, having tape ripped off my boob, but, honestly, I didn’t notice.
Pitching, Lily. Pitching.
His Mom came down with the bra. He grabbed it, and held it up. It was your basic, standard white bra. "I know sports bras tend to be less silky than this, but do you think you could pitch in a bra made of this material if you had to? I’m not talking about the restraint, I’m just talking about the material."
"Sure," I told him. "I actually did it once. I ripped one sports bra and my other was in the wash and it was fifteen minutes before game time, so I pitched wearing a bra rather like that one. The lack of restraint was a problem, but the material wasn’t." I grinned at him. "You seem to know an awful lot about bras," I teased.
"Look who I live with," he grinned, pointing at Ellie and Marina, who chuckled. "And all their friends are female. I’ve been in gatherings of twenty people where I’m the only guy. And all of them are open and unguarded. I know more about girls than most girls. Hell, I’m so surrounded by females I swear I get PMS by osmosis." I howled at that-as did Ellie and Marina.
"Anyhow," he said, sitting down. He took the bra, and cut a little square out of the cup material. OK, now I see what he was thinking. Damn, that might work. He took the little bra square, put the tape on it, and applied it to my boob.
I wonder if he noticed the little sigh that I couldn’t help escape my mouth.
Then he did the other one-pitching, Lily, pitching-and had me stand up. The ace bandage was quickly applied. I walked around and moved. And it seemed OK. Hey, I could feel the little squares-and it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling-but it wasn’t that bad. Since my tits were mashed into me by the ace bandage-which wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world-it kind of balanced out. As long as they were out of my way, which they seemed to be.
"I think this just might work," I smiled at him.
"Try it?" he said, grabbing his mitt. I nodded, and we went back outside. He crouched behind the plate, and I got on the mound, wound up, and threw the heater.
Strike fucking one. Right down the pipe. "Yes!" I shouted.
"Let’s see that slider," he told me, and I ripped one off. It snapped off, nice and tight, and went right where I wanted it to.
"Damn, what a slider!" he enthused.
"This is great. They’re nice and out of the way, just like wearing a sports bra," I said. I gave him my assortment of pitches, a couple of each. Everything worked, just the way it’s supposed to.
"Mikey, you’re a fucking genius!" I shouted. He came out of his crouch and took off his mask, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"We’d better shut it down, you don’t want to wear yourself out before tryouts."