Late Ch. 05

Fred faked left and doubled back, but Jane remained unperturbed, pushing past Mo, skinny legs swept from under him as he fell to the floor, looking quite wistful at not having received a more thorough tackle from Coach as she charged towards his teammate. The two figures danced briefly, but Fred was far outmatched, and a hard grip clamped down on his arm, frame pulled into a tight embrace as Jane brought him to the floor like a lion taking down a gazelle. As they scrapped for dominance her breasts pressed flush against his chest, legs widening into an impromptu missionary position as she bore down on top of him.

He expected the floor to take his lungs from him, but Jane cushioned his fall. The hips that ground up against his ass had nothing to do with gravity however, and Fred's tight mewl had her dry-humping him in anticipation.

Her wrestling continued far longer than necessary, nipples attacking his chest, hands clutching his sides, and when Jane saw the look of shock on Fred's face, his dicklet digging into her hip as her own appendage began to strain against its shackles, the urge to tear his clothes apart and claim him was overwhelming.

"Fucking bitch," she hissed, voice hoarse as she looked into his eyes as he struggled.

"...Jane," he whimpered, and that high-pitched tone, plus the hands that placed themselves on her shoulders in a defensive pose, brought her back to her senses, realising that she was grunting like a rhino, hips pressed flush to his ass in a mating pose with one or two of the team who weren't engaged in their own tussles watching on with what might be described as bemused expressions.

She let out an apologetic cough and dragged Fred to his feet, before almost bending double under the torture of her shaft tucked underneath her, crying out for the confines of Fred's mouth and ass.

Freddie didn't say anything, dazed, and he staggered off to the centre immediately, hands adjusting the hem of his shirt to cover up his blazing hard-on, and Jane had to bend forwards as if out of breath, waiting for her own steely passion to subside. After concentrating for a few seconds it became soft enough for her to stand, facing away from the team so she had time to tuck it back into her leggings.

'Fucking Jesus Jane....'

She closed her eyes and breathed, marching back to the centre, careful to steer clear of Fred who was also avoiding looking in her direction. She noticed Charlene was looking at her with wide eyes and made sure not to meet them.

"GO!"

The rest of the team were caught in short order, Jane remaining careful to avoid anyone without a ribbon, no matter how many times Claire attempted to 'accidentally' dodge into her path before she was grudgingly caught by Terry.

Seventeen sets of heaving lungs congregated in the centre of the field as she took stock.

"Well done everyone... A fairly physical exercise, but certainly a tough measure of fitness and strength of will. A round of applause also for our new captain for being such a good sport."

The team clapped louder than necessary as Dean winced, raising his hand to accept the somewhat less-than-generous ovation.

"Right, split up into pairs, we're going to practice high catches.."

Her eyes flickered to Freddie, but he looked off, distant.

'Fuck.'

"... The key is keeping your body position square, you should already have your chest facing the ball...."

His stare seemed to be off in the middle distance.

'You shouldn't have joined in.'

".. and, and then...."

He couldn't have been listening.

'You're going to lose him. Forever.'

Jane coughed, her throat going hoarse.

"HMM, S-sorry... Kevin if you could..."

Kevin raised his head, a little life coming back into his cheeks, until Dean managed to gather enough breath to interject.

"A-Actually Jane, I think I... huhhh.. should step in here!"

She had to bite back a retort.

"Ah... right.. Yes."

Kevin seemed to melt back into obscurity, and Terry tried to put an arm around him, but was shrugged off, as Dean doubled over for a second before lifting himself up.

"Okay.... everyone, all you have to focus on is the seams, that's the key, easy to spot the orientation of the ball if you do that, makes catching positively trivial...."

The fact it was near impossible to focus on the seams of a moving fastball didn't faze him in the slightest, his voice ringing with truth.

Jane stepped sideways a little, able to observe Fred's visage more intently, but he showed no sign of noticing her gaze.

'You've screwed it. This is the last time you're ever going to see him.'

She wanted to burst into tears, but managed to keep her eyes painfully dry even as her insides shrivelled up like a prune in the desert.

Dean continued to spout drivel as Jane hugged her elbows to her sides, trying to find some sort of self-comfort, but her eyes wouldn't stop betraying her, wondering towards Fr......

He wasn't there.

Jane searched, but he wasn't in the crowd of faces.

She looked over to the gates and her heart stopped.

He was halfway there already.

'No.'

She began to break into a jog that she hoped wouldn't turn the heads of any of the team, but no-one was listening to Dean, and certain faces glanced at her curiously as she made to fling herself after him.

'You can't let him leave.'

Her feet slowed underneath her as Fred sped towards the gate, and then he was level with them.... And then he was gone.

".... And that just about covers it! Any questions?"

Jane felt like she was going to collapse.

No-one responded, most of them staring at Coach Matherson who was gazing at the gates like they had just swallowed someone whole.

She turned back, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"T-Take the practice," she mumbled to Dean as she moved back towards the clubhouse.

"What? OH, of c- yes!"

Some of the team groaned, others staring as Jane jogged off, but she didn't care. She needed to be alone.

Somehow the clubhouse seemed bigger, emptier when it was just her there, and she immediately ran into the store cupboard and kicked the wall so hard that it went straight through the plaster.

"SHIT," she moaned, grabbing her foot, which now undoubtedly had a broken toe on the end of it.

"Shit..."

Jane began to sob, sinking to her lycra-clad ass as the feeling of loneliness enveloped her, worse than any physical pain, surrounded by worn gloves and chipped bats.

'He's gone... he's gone...'

***