Naked In School

"Yeah," I said. I walked up to him, and kissed his forehead. Got another nice blush out of him. "Look, you’re a sweetheart," I told him. "I was an absolute bear to you earlier, and you’ve been nothing but sweet. And you are a genius."

"Ah, it’s nothing. And I know why you were a bear, you were frustrated, understandably so. Besides which, I’m glad I could help. You’re a good kid. And, I have to say, I absolutely want that right arm on my team!"

"I want this right arm on your team, too," I smiled at him.

"Don’t see how you can miss," he told me. "Come on, let’s go inside and get you undone."

I’m sure I could’ve taken off all the stuff myself. I didn’t. I let him do it. Pitching was done for the day, right? So, I let him put his hands on my boobs and take the stuff off.

MmmmmmMMMMMmmmmmm!

My only problem was that he stopped!

Ah, well. I thanked him again, said goodbye to his Mom and Marina, and headed home. I went in, chatted with my parents about my day, and went up to bed and went to sleep.

OK, I admit it. I played with myself first.

Then I went to sleep.

PART TWO TUESDAY

CHAPTER SIX MIKE

I got up the next morning, ready for another day in The Program.

And ready for tryouts.

Got my stuff together, walked to school, and went to the entrance where we had to disrobe. Lily was there, flashed me a big grin. We took our stuff off, to the cheers of the crowd, did a little show for them. Then we went in.

"Hey, meet me at lunch?" She asked.

"Sure. That’d be great."

We headed off, in different directions. I was quickly caught up to by my best friend, Eddie Bauer. We’ve been best friends since first grade. We’ve also been teammates since then. Eddie plays third-he and I were the only sophomores who cracked the starting lineup in the varsity right from the beginning of the year last year.

"So, Mike," he grinned. "Program week?"

"Yep. You’ll get yours, sooner or later."

"Hey, it wouldn’t be that bad," he said. "Maybe they’d buddy me up with my own version of Amanda."

I laughed. Amanda Frazier was a friend of ours. When she got stuck in The Program, the beginning of the year, they buddied her up with a guy named Jared Wicklow. They’d been going out ever since. It was really cool-Jared hung around with the group of us now, and everybody liked them-and those two were over-the-moon in love. "Jared and Amanda is a fairy tale," I told him. "Don’t hold your breath."

"I truly believe there’s somebody for everybody," Eddie intoned.

"If there is-well, your soulmate is, no doubt, in Latvia and you’ll never meet her," I teased.

"Latvia?"

"Latvia. Milking goats."

"Do they milk goats in Latvia?"

"I don’t know. But, your soulmate, that’s where she is. Milking goats. In Latvia."

"Well, then, I guess I’m just going to have to apply to the University of Latvia and major in goat-milking. So, what about yours? Your partner, I mean. The new kid, eh?"

"Yep," I confirmed. "Lily Woodard. Good kid."

"Nice tits."

"There is that. Spent all evening with her last night," I told him. I got a look I should’ve expected. "No, you sex maniac, not that. I was helping her out. She’s trying out, and didn’t know if she could throw naked. Turns out she can’t, but we found a solution for that."

"Trying out for what?"

"The team."

"What team?"

"Our team."

"The baseball team?"

"What other team are we both on?" I grinned at him.

"The chick plays baseball?"

"’The chick’ is a pitcher. ‘The chick’, by the way, throws ninety."

"No way!"

"Believe it. Hey, I found out the hard way. I figured the same thing, before I saw her throw. So I went out there with the Frankie Gutierrez mitt. She damn near broke my hand." He grinned-he knew that mitt. "Trust me, she throws ninety-and, once we got her boobs taped up and out of the way, she throws ninety with movement and command. Oh, and her changeup is Pedro Martinez-esque. Oh, and her slider will buckle your knees."

"You’re lying to me. You’re lying to me, and I’m waiting for the punchline," he maintained.

"No lie. I know it was only one workout, but she’s the best pitcher I’ve ever caught."

Ed was incredulous. "She’s a girl!"

"Don’t matter. Best I’ve ever caught."

"But you caught Freddie Millhouse last year!"

"Don’t matter."

"But he got drafted! By the Dodgers!"

"Don’t matter. She’s better."

Eddie sighed. "You’re serious. This I gotta see."

I grinned at him. "Tryouts are at two-fifteen. I know you aren’t required to be there, but come on down. Prepare to get blown away."

CHAPTER SEVEN LILY

As I made my way through school that morning, I suppose I wasn’t paying much attention in class. I wasn’t even paying much attention to being naked, and being groped, and all that. Nope, I was thinking about two things. First was the tryouts. I had expected to be thinking about them. I had been expecting to be preoccupied by them. That was fine.

What I hadn’t been expecting to be thinking about was Mike Kirkland.

But I was. A lot.

By the time I got to lunch, my brain was just fried. By tryouts. By him. And, as I walked from the lunchline with my food, there he was, waving at me.

I took a good look. I hadn’t done that-I’d looked, of course, but I was so preoccupied by my misery yesterday that I hadn’t really looked, so I did, as I walked toward him. He was squat and compact. Of course he was, he was a catcher. But he was also built-muscular legs, muscular torso and arms. Nothing overwrought, you understand, but he was in fine shape. He was hairy, decently so for a guy his age, on his legs especially-but I didn’t mind hairy guys.

And, OK, yes, I certainly noticed the other muscle. And that looked pretty damn fine, too.

But what really got me-and what I had noticed, though somewhat foggily, yesterday-was his face. He had black hair, fairly long, a bit shaggy, just perfect for running fingers through. His smile was slightly crooked and totally endearing. And, the piece de resistance-his eyes. They were easily the most gorgeous eyes I had ever seen on a guy. They were like liquid pools of iridescent sapphire.

Oh, Jesus. When I start waxing poetic, you know I’ve got it bad.

I didn’t get it. I’d known this guy a day. But, OK, yeah, I did get it. I’m not one to dawdle on things. Look, he was sweet, kind, funny. He was solicitous. Smart-the tape job was brilliant. He even had the class to admit when he was wrong-like the mitt incident yesterday. He didn’t just admit he was wrong, he berated himself over it. I can’t possibly tell you how attractive I find that. And, just as a kicker, we had the same Number One Overriding Interest.

And that was the problem.

Guys do not go out with girls who can strike them out on three straight pitches. I’d never dated a fellow baseball player. I knew better. As long as the ‘girl with the cannon arm’ was one of the guys, a teammate, everything was fine. Anything past that? Never. Raging male ego, here we come.

Maybe Mike would be different.

Yeah, and if wishes were pigs, then I’d have some bacon.

But, dammit, I couldn’t help it. He was so damn cute. And I couldn’t stop thinking about his hands on my boobs.

Shit, if I let my thoughts go down that path any farther, I’d be asking for relief. Which I didn’t figure was a good idea four hours before tryouts.

Anyhow, I sat down with him, and we started chatting.

"Ready, Pedro?" he asked.

"Ready as I’ll ever be," I said with a chuckle. "I just hope that tape job holds."

"It will. You realize you’re going to shock people, right?"