Big League Dreams Ch. 05

Even better, I could feel my elbow improving. Following the regimen set by my doctors and trainers to the letter, I could feel the pain subsiding, flexibility returning, and I might have even been able to break a pane of glass with my fastball.

In May, the forecast called for three days straight of rain, which no one liked, because we'd either have to make up games with doubleheaders or play on our rare off days, and the forecast proved right this time. When our game on Tuesday was rained out by lunch time, I went home and settled in, so I thought, for the duration.

Before the storm got to its worst point, Allison called and invited me over to watch a movie and have some dinner. In the past, we had always met at restaurants for meals, but I thought nothing of it, and put on my raincoat, hat and boots, and drove over to her house. I noticed an old Honda—a different one—parked by the apartment, which had its lights on. Osvaldo Encarnacion, one of my relief pitchers, had gotten the coveted spot, and I was happy for him, because from what I knew he came from a poor family from the DR.

Walking even the few steps from the driveway to the front door was a struggle, as the rain teemed down, making me wish that I had brought a change of clothing. When I got inside the house, I noticed that things looked different. Allison met me with her accustomed hug and cheek peck, and I asked her, "Did you remodel?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Once it became clear that I was staying here to run the team, Daddy suggested we make some changes. So, we turned some of the rooms downstairs that we never used into a master suite for Daddy, on the theory that eventually, he's not going to want to be going up and down the stairs. I took over Mom and Daddy's room, but made it a little more modern, and I turned a couple of the bedrooms into a combination home office/media room. That's where we're gonna watch the movie."

She went toward what I figured was Terry's room and knocked on the door. "Daddy, Ray's here. Want to join us for dinner?"

A few seconds later, Terry emerged, wearing sweats with the major league team logo on the pants and his team on the top, and looking a little older than his age, but he seemed happy to see me, punishing my hands with his handshake, and clapping me on the back. We moved into the kitchen, where Allison served us up bowls of spaghetti and meatballs, and a salad, and we sat around the kitchen table talking mostly about the team and baseball, as you'd expect.

We all cleaned up after dinner, and Terry went off to his part of the house to watch TV. Allison grabbed a bottle of wine, and led me up the stairs to her office/media room. Whoever had done the renovations had done a great job. It was a modern room, with a nice sized desk with multiple monitors, and on the wall was a large TV, with a couch in front of it, flanked by two matching, comfortable looking chairs. Allison walked over to what looked to be partially a bar area, opened the wine and poured two glasses. Handing me one, she sat on the couch and motioned for me to join her.

All of a sudden, I realized that Allison intended to try to move our relationship beyond friendship to something further. It wasn't anything overt—she wasn't dressed any differently than I had ever seen her before, and she wasn't being flirty, or hanging all over me. But I had never been to her house for dinner, never been above the ground floor. And the wine, and the movie. The question was, if she did, what would I do? It didn't take me long to realize that I wanted to take another step in our relationship too. I was attracted to her physically, and she had become really my closest friend. She was the only person that I talked about anything other than baseball with, other than my parents, and I enjoyed her company. Not to mention, she loved baseball as much as almost anyone I knew, and understood what it was like to be in the game more than any other woman I had ever known.

But I wasn't going to make the first move, because if I was wrong, it could really screw up our friendship. And although she technically wasn't my boss, since I worked for the major league team, it would be really awkward at the stadium. So rather than sit in one of the chairs, I sat on the couch, next to Allison, but not all that close.

We had trouble trying to agree on a movie, when her face lit up. "Did you ever watch 'Pitch'?"

"That movie about the singers?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, that's 'Pitch Perfect.' This is 'Pitch.' It was a TV show a few years ago about the first woman to pitch in the major leagues."

"I can see why you liked it. But I've never seen it."

"Yeah, I admit it was a little fantasy fulfillment. But it was so good, but they canceled it after one season. I think it was like too expensive to make for the ratings."

"Sure."

"We can watch an episode or two, and see if you like it, OK?"

"Sure. If you say it is good."

"By the way, Ray, how the hell do you know about 'Pitch Perfect'? Doesn't sound like your sort of movie."

"It wasn't, but a friend wanted to watch it, so..."

"A female friend, I assume?"

"What do you think?

Allison laughed, then fiddled with the remote to get the show on, then used another one to dim the lights a little, but not too much, and the show started. I have to say, it was good, and I was hooked, and definitely was surprised by the twist in the first episode. I thought that they did a pretty good job with the baseball stuff, both on and off the field, although obviously, everything was a little more dramatic. Not to mention, there wasn't an unattractive person in sight, which I know for sure isn't realistic for baseball. Plus, I certainly could sympathize with a story about a player who rode a trick pitch to the majors, to overcome physical limitations.

After the second episode, Allison refilled our wine glasses, and I agreed to watch another. Within a few minutes, she moved closer to me, and leaned her head against my shoulder, and I raised my arm and put it around her shoulder, allowing her to snuggle close against me. I rested my hand on her arm as we sat there watching.

When the third episode ended rather than ask me if I was interested in watching another, Allison put her wineglass on the table and turned to face me. She looked at me, her eyes partially hooded, as if sizing up the situation. She slowly moved her face towards me, giving me every opportunity to stop what clearly was about to happen. Instead, I leaned forward, meeting her halfway with my lips on hers. Without wasting another second, she pivoted her leg over mine, so that she was straddling me, and leaned in for a second, more passionate kiss.

She was a surprisingly good kisser and she acknowledged the fact that I was hard by grinding her hips against me. As we kissed, I ran my hands under her shirt, feeling her warm, smooth skin, and the strap of her bra. Allison buried her face in my neck, and pressed her chest against mine, and I could feel her firm breasts pressing against me. Clearly a line had been crossed, and I was feeling more than fine about it.

Unclasping Allison's bra, I ran my hands around her sides, under the cups, and held her breasts in my hands, feeling their weight, and the hardness of her nipples. When I rubbed her sensitive nubs, I felt her shiver and sigh. She pulled back, facing me with lust in her dark brown eyes, before lifting her shirt and bra off in one motion, leaving me eye level with her chest. Her breasts were not large, but they were well-proportioned to her athletic frame, and frankly looked luscious. I leaned forward, as did she, allowing me to lick and suck on her hard nipples, causing more sighs, and writhing on my now painfully hard cock.

"Let's take this to the bedroom, Ray, OK?" she asked, and I nodded. She stood, her breasts jiggling alluringly as she did, and turned toward the door. I grabbed her discarded clothing and followed.

Allison's bedroom was, thankfully, decorated for an adult; I'm not sure how I would have reacted if somehow it looked like I imagined it did when we first met. But there was nothing childish about the way that Allison was efficiently removing her jeans, and her panties, displaying the fact that she had a full, trimmed bush of pubic hair. She was gorgeous, and I followed suit, stripping out of my clothing quickly.

She pulled back the covers on her king sized bed, and I joined her on the cool patterned sheets. We rolled toward each other, kissing and stroking each other. I reached down to discover that she was wet with desire, and I gently ran my fingers through her trimmed hair, which again produced a sigh of pleasure.

"Ray. Please. I need you inside me now."

And I needed to be there. "Do you have a condom?"

"Ray, I'm on birth control. And I'm clean. Please? I don't want to wait any longer." She rolled on her back, spreading her legs in further invitation.

Positioning myself between her legs, I pointed my cock toward its destination, slowly pressing in deeper, until I could go no further. Allison had a happy smile on her face, and I'd bet that I did too.

It felt good. In fact it felt more than good. I'd been with enough other women—I'd had great sex with other women, one of whom I thought I was completely in love with. But finding myself buried deep inside Allison Pullman felt right. I felt this weird connection to her, and that connection, and basic human needs, made me start to move my cock in and out in a slow, leisurely rhythm, like I had no place better to go, and wanted our sex to go on forever.

Of course, it didn't, as my pace began to increase, and Allison began to thrust back, sometimes rolling her hips, and moaning with pleasure. Eventually, I began to lose control, pistoning my cock into her as she slammed her hips up against me with equal force. In my passion, I could hear Allison yelling and calling out, and I think I was doing the same, before she screamed this odd, high-pitched sound, and her entire body shook, causing me to explode inside her. But despite the fact that we were both breathing hard, we somehow continued to thrust against each other until Allison collapsed back on the bed, almost motionless, except for her breathing, and I fell on top of her. And when I tried to roll off to stop crushing her, she wrapped her strong arms around my back and held on.

While we recovered, my face was buried in her neck, and her mouth was near my ear. "You felt that Ray, didn't you?" she whispered in my ear.

I knew exactly what she was talking about. "I did," I whispered back. "I felt it, too."

*

I hadn't intended on staying the night, but we explored each other for a while after our first, spectacular time. I certainly didn't regret anything that had happened between Allison and me. To the contrary, I quite enjoyed every second of it, and probably for the first time since Liz in college had sex with a woman who was a friend first, and not like my past relationships, even with Erin, where I had sex first, and then became friends. I knew that this was something different and special.

Despite that feeling, I was worried that the morning would bring awkwardness between us, or possibly Terry, if he knew that I had stayed the night with his precious daughter. So, when I opened my eyes and saw on the clock that it was 7 a.m., I weighed the pleasure of potential morning sex with Allison against that awkwardness, and quietly got out of bed, used the bathroom and dressed. In the early morning light, I could see Allison in bed, the covers pulled over what I knew was her toned naked body, her hair a mess, and with a hint of a smile on her face.

Tiptoeing out of the room, I started down the stairs, when I saw a light on, and could hear the sound of the TV or a radio. Of course, Terry was up. I realized that retirement didn't always override the early rising habits of a lifetime. Steeling myself for whatever, I headed for the sound and light, and saw Terry, a cup of coffee in front of him, reading the paper while the TV news droned on as background.

He looked up at me and smiled, which was not what I expected. "Sit down, son, and join me." He motioned toward the coffee maker. It was not a request.

I prepared myself a mug of coffee and sat across the kitchen table from him.

"So, you and Allison finally got together?"

I was a little taken aback by his calm demeanor. "Yes, I guess so. You're OK with that?"

He laughed. "Son, it's been a long time since I had any say over what my daughter does, or with who."

I took a sip of the strong, tasty coffee. "I didn't really expect it to happen."

He laughed again. "I did. That girl has had three goals. First, to pitch in the major leagues. When she realized that wasn't going to happen, she wanted to run her own baseball team. And she wanted you. Two for three is a pretty good average, right?"

Nodding, I responded, "I know it might seem strange—"

"Not at all, son. Of course, if this had happened when you first met, you'd have been picking buckshot out of your butt cheeks, but you're both adults now. And not to tell tales, Ray, but since Allison moved back, you're not the first man I've seen leave here early in the morning. But you are the first one I like." He smiled.

"Thanks, Terry. I was a little worried about how you'd take this."

"Son, maybe you'll find out some day, but no father wants to think too much about his little girl's private activities. But you have to let them grow up. And from what I know about you, you're a good man, and you'll treat her with respect."

"Of course, Terry."

"Then, good." He paused and took a drink. "Now, tell me how you're going to fix Ramirez."

We discussed my plan for righting Esteban Ramirez, a highly ranked teenager from Venezuela, who started off strong, but suddenly couldn't throw strikes. While we were talking, I heard footsteps, and saw Allison, dressed for a morning run, approach the kitchen.

"I was worried that you left," she said, coming close to me for a brief kiss.

"I wanted to let you sleep," I lied, "but your father invited me for a cup of coffee, and to talk baseball."

She smiled, knowing that I was lying. "Baseball, huh?"

"Yeah," I lied again, but smiled to let her know that I knew that she knew that I was full of crap.

"Ray, Accuweather says there's a break in the rain for a couple hours, so I'm going for a run. Do you want to go home and change and we can run together?"

I was pretty sure that wasn't a request either. "Sure. Follow me to my place?"

"Sure." She kissed Terry on the head, and followed me out to the car.

*

Just like that, Allison and I were a couple. It was a little strange at the stadium at first, although we really didn't cross paths that much. But no one was surprised that I'd be interested in Allison, since she was an attractive woman—most comments that I got were about why she'd be interested in me. No one other than Carlton knew how long I'd known her, and all most people knew was that we had been friends for a while, through baseball, so there wasn't the ick factor about dating someone you knew when she was 16.

We did all of the couples things that you do—we went out, we stayed in and had lots of really good sex, and we texted or talked during the day, when possible. What was great was that we both understood that our lives were regulated by the season, and the games.

The team did well, and just missed out on the first half championship. I was getting good feedback from the players, the staff, and the various pitching coordinators about my work with the players, and I was enjoying coaching. I'd always had in the back of my mind that when my baseball dream ended, I'd coach high school baseball, but here, I was coaching kids mostly just a little bit older, but more talented, and for more money. And, of course, with Allison.

My rehab also continued to be effective, and I found myself feeling stronger every day. I'd occasionally throw to Allison on the side of her house, where she used to pitch to Terry, but toward late summer, I started to be able to throw hard enough, that she was no longer interested in having a sore left hand for a whole day. And by the end of the season, when we faded a little down the stretch, as our better players were moved up the ladder and replaced by rawer and younger prospects, I was pretty close to my old velocity. I threw some live BP to some of the hitters and was having trouble throwing my changeup for strikes, but based on what all of the trainers told me, I was on target and doing well.

Once the season ended, and Allison and I could spend some time together without baseball, we went north and visited my parents, who loved her, and she got along with them. We stopped off at the stadium, where I had a meeting with Hal Perciaballi, the pitching coordinator. He told me that they thought that I had a future in coaching if I wanted to pursue it. He also said that he heard that I was close to recovery, and that if I wanted to take a shot at pitching, the best they could do was a minor league deal with an invitation to major league spring training, and that if I wanted to have my agent look around for a better deal with another team, there'd be no hard feelings. My years of loyalty and service to the team were valued by management. I told him I needed to think and would get back to him.

Allison and I spent the next few days weighing the pros and cons. I spoke to my agent, and he came back a couple of days later to tell me that only one team was willing to give me a major league deal, but it was in the other league, and trained in Arizona. After talking it over with my parents and Allison, I told Hal that I'd take the minor league deal. I didn't want to start with a new organization at my age, and we agreed that if I didn't make the majors out of spring training, I'd retire and coach.

So, when the spring came around, I was back with the players, and took shit from them for being washed up and the coaches for trying to relive my glory. Allison and I shared a hotel suite, and did what we could to spend time together, despite the different schedules we operated under.

I did OK, not great. My velocity, which was never my strong point, came back, but there were times that I couldn't make the change work the way it had to, so I sometimes got hit hard. The team was loaded, and pointed toward the World Series or bust, and as the spring went along, I found myself pitching in AAA games, or late in blowouts on the big league field, so I sort of knew where things were headed.

So, when I was called in to speak with Hal, I wasn't surprised when he told me that I was not coming north with the major league team, and would be assigned to AAA. He told me that my agent was welcome to shop me around, and that they'd not be unreasonable in any trade discussions. Or they could release me, and let me see if there was a team willing to take a chance without having to give up anything in return. When I asked about coaching, he said that my old spot had been given to someone else, because they couldn't hold the position open. He offered me a roving pitching instructor position, which would take me around the system, offering help as needed, and possibly filling in for a coach who needed to leave the team for some reason. Again, he said that I was welcome to look for a more traditional coaching gig with another organization, with no hard feelings. We shook hands, and I told him that one way or another, I was done as a player, and that they could start my retirement paperwork. We shook hands, he wished me luck, and I promised to get back to him in a couple of days.

Allison was disappointed that I didn't make the team, and also that they wouldn't give me my old job back, but she understood the business aspects of the game as well, if not better, than me. The best that my agent could come up with was a pitching coach job with another organization's short season team in the Northwest League, which seemed too far away, so despite the fact that it meant constant traveling, I took the roving pitching instructor job, but told Hal that long term, I'd really like my old position, so that I could be with Allison.