Naked In School

Mom stared at me. For a good long minute. With an expression on her face that looked like I had just told her the sky was purple.

"Mom?" I asked.

"Michael," she began. "You are my son, and I love you dearly. But you, my dear son, are a ninny."

"Huh?"

"A ninny. A complete ninny. Look. Why did you help her take her tape off?"

"She asked."

"Why did she ask?"

"Because she needed help?" I didn’t know where Mom was going with this.

"Why did she need help? Mikey, it’s an ace bandage and two pieces of bra. It’s all within reach. She certainly could’ve gotten it off herself. She didn’t need any help from you." She stared at me. "She didn’t want ‘help’, she wanted your hands on her boobs! You were turning her on! You ninny."

I sank back into the couch. "Oh, shit. I am a ninny."

"Yes, you are," Mom agreed with an affectionate smile. "Now, it’s one thing if you’re not attracted to her…"

"Shit," I cut her off. "She’s sweet, smart, funny, absolutely gorgeous, sexy as hell, cocky, fiery, and she throws ninety. What’s not to be attracted to?"

"Many guys wouldn’t be attracted to the cocky, fiery, and throws ninety part."

"She’s actually said as much," I told her. "I’m not most guys. At lunch today she challenged me and told me she could strike me out on three straight pitches. I’m sure that’d turn off most guys. It made me want to grab a stick, get up in the box against her, take my hacks-and then fuck her brains out in the middle of the infield." Yeah, I can talk that way to my mother. Always have been able to.

"That’s pretty amazing," she said.

I grinned at her. "Growing up as your son did not predispose me to be attracted to shrinking violets."

She cracked up laughing. And then she just smiled. "I get the impression you’ve been attracted to her right along."

"Yeah."

"So, you’ve been attracted to her. And she is giving out blatant signals. And you didn’t pick up on them?"

"I’m not good with signals," I admitted. "Unless it’s one for a fastball, two for a curve. Any other signals are complete Greek to me." I sighed. "Plus-and I know this was part of it-I was trying to ignore my attraction to her."

"Why?" Mom asked.

"I’m her catcher."

"Ah." Mom understood. "But you can be her catcher, and something else, too."

"I suppose," I admitted, "but you know how I feel about the catcher-pitcher bond, and how important it is. I mean, cut me some slack here-I haven’t had a female teammate since I was nine. And I’ve never had a female teammate I was attracted to. And I have to deal with that and still be her catcher."

"I understand that," she said, "but what happened today happened off the field. After the tryout."

"Yeah, to a point, but I was still being her catcher. I was helping my pitcher with her equipment. Yes, if I were better at picking up signs from girls I might not have seen it that way. But I was still in catcher mode."

"And I know how your tunnel vision gets."

"Yeah," I said. "Hey, she’s got tunnel vision, too. I’ve seen it. I just think she might know when to drop it better than I do." I sighed. "OK, and I’m willing to entertain the possibility that I was subconsciously keeping myself in the tunnel. So my hands wouldn’t shake while I was taking the tape off. If I had let ‘Oh, God, I’m touching her boobs’ cross my mind, I would’ve been tearing off skin because of hormone-addled clumsiness."

"Ah," she laughed.

"Anyhow, Mom, thanks a lot." I got up and kissed her on the cheek. "You were a big help. As usual." I got up to head upstairs to do some homework before supper.

"So, what are you going to do?" she asked me.

"Stop being a ninny." We both laughed, and I headed upstairs.

PART THREE WEDNESDAY CHAPTER ELEVEN LILY

I was still out of sorts the next morning.

I tried to calm down, but it wasn’t working all that well.

Especially when I got to school, and there he was. At the entrance, ready to do the get naked thing. He flashed me a big smile. I forced one back, and we stripped.

Then I headed for my first class. In a hurry.

The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized I was being silly.

Hey, if he wasn’t attracted to me, I can’t blame him, can I? Plus, we needed to get along. He was my catcher. And, I suppose, a person can’t have too many friends, right?

I had to relax about this. I just had to relax. We had to get along, I couldn’t hold a grudge just because he wasn’t what I thought he might be. It would take an intense amount of fortitude for a fellow ballplayer to be interested in me. I know that. So, I just needed to relax.

I actually surprised myself about that. I accepted relief in third period. A kid named Paul, knew him slightly, fingered me to a nice, glorious, very relaxing cum. OK, so I admit it-I needed that. And, judging by the looks he was giving me, which looked very interested-at least I seem to have an option or two. I’ve never really been a one-night-stand type of person, but I’m not opposed to it or anything.

Anyhow, I was relaxed, and more at ease about things-so when Mike waved me over to him in the lunchroom, I went.

There was another guy with him. "Hey, Pedro. Like you to meet my best friend. Ed Bauer. He’s also your future teammate."

"Nice to meet you," I shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you, too," he said. "Welcome to the team."

"Well, I haven’t officially made it yet."

"Formalities, formalities. Trust me. I was there yesterday. You’re on the team." He took a bite of his food. "Mike, here, was telling me about you yesterday morning. I was going ‘no way!’ He was going ‘way!’ I must admit, he was right, I was wrong."

"As usual, pal o’ mine, as usual," Mike butt in.

"Yeah, you’re always right. You were right about her from the first, yeah. Three words: Frankie Gutierrez mitt."

Mike cracked up laughing. "OK. You got me."

"You told him about that?" I laughed.

"I would’ve loved to have seen that," Ed said. "First he gets his hand blown away, then he had to bow and scrape. He does a very good bow and scrape. Though usually he has to do it to his mother."

"Oh, no, Marina far more often," Mike said. "Mom’s a pussycat. Marina’s the one that always catches me doing something."

"Well, he must have had practice," I said, "because he does bow and scrape very well. He was very contrite." Fuck it. Yeah, I was tempting fate. "He was even cute as hell doing it." He did blush. But he also grinned. That was a definite grin.

I didn’t know what was up or down. Jesus.

Anyhow, I changed the subject. "So, Ed, what do you do?"

"Well, when you’re pitching from the stretch, right, and your facing out to your right-there I’ll be. The ol’ hot corner."

"Yeah, and he’s the best defensive third baseman in the state," Mike put in. "He can really throw the leather. If only he could hit."

"Hey, I can hit," Ed proclaimed. "Well, some of the time."

"Ed, y’see, is an all-or-nothing kind of guy. The ball either goes a long, long way-or it’s strike three, grab some bench."

"It’s going to be better," Ed proclaimed. "I’ve worked on it in the cage all winter, trying to shorten my swing but not lose any power. Hey, I led the team in homers last year, and I can play third like the dickens-but I almost lost my starting job because I only hit.238. Not this year."

"Well, it is nice to have some teammates who can score some runs for me. But, hell, if you’re that good, I’ll take the defense," I told him. "I tend to pitch inside to righthanded batters. And I tend to make them get way ahead of my changeup. You know what that means."

He did. "Ground ball to the third baseman," he grinned. "Line shot to the third baseman. Popup to the third baseman."