Paresthesia Pt. 11

I am right on all accounts. She pulled a double out of her ass and turns to me with a wonderfully pouty look that cuts right to my core.

"Focus up," I say, "Next one's coming."

She scrambles and my pull comes again. We have a fun game going on now. She is in the stance, adjacent to the zone and the ball is coming down hot.

I don't have to change the trajectory on this one. Solid hit down center lane, well above the midline. Don't think it will hit the wall and score anything according to the net, but I score a wonderful glance up her thigh and down the other one. That gives her a wonderful roof rattling shudder as the back board lights up.

"Eye on the ball," I say, "Just pretend I'm not here. Should be easy."

"Would be easier if you shut the hell up."

Not wrong but I like talking something fierce. So, she has one coming down and its curving. I have to amend it and make it right. Bad ball. It should know better. And I should know better than to go up her shirt and play with her piercings a bit. She'll like that, especially the little twist and pull I give on her belly button. Wonderful little sparks of delightful pain she can deal with once it comes to her. I know it will get the body responding. Not quite a masochistic streak, but she likes the challenge of it. Something to push back on, let loose a little with. I have no doubts she is holding back when she is with me and I don't know if I'll even be able to take it. But we can all pretend.

"I hate you so fucking much," she gasps. She got a triple off that, and I don't know where this animosity is coming from. I have been perfectly innocent and calm throughout this entire ordeal. I deserve some sort of reward, I think.

"Next ball," I say and she starts again. Despite it all, she likes it. Her shoulders are loose and relaxed, tongue is back out in concertation. Her nipples poking through her shirt are something to admire. She is liking it. And all the hatred in the world only means she's going to hit the next one harder.

I don't have to do anything to this one. Textbook perfection, really. She gets a bit sharper sensation to line her with. Mostly with a firm open palm to her ass, not quite as hard as I can go, but definitely enough to make her jump. Not nearly as much mass as Alessandra, but I can see the beauty in so much of the world. I give it a pinch too. I have to stop before I lean down and bite it. That would be too much for right now, I think.

"You just gotta hit, hit, hit the ball," I shout, "She who conquers the left side conquers the world, Chief."

"I swear to God, any God, even a Satan," she sighs, "I will do something terrible to you when we get home. It will be beyond your wildest dreams."

"I know what I'm getting into. Next ball. We're almost done. Then you can do so many terrible things to me. I will take all your wraith the spare the world."

"You better. I got plans."

It comes and she has the stance down perfectly. Hands are still a little bit off, but it works. She's learned how she should swing the bat. And it is glorious. Simply glorious. The machine starts and Hannah responds with the start of a picturesque swing. Front page, cover page, center fold, even the little terrible ads at the back, everything she does belongs everywhere for everyone. But I have stolen it all away.

And I have also stolen her shirt on the back swing.

"Evan, you absolute dick," she curses. And she is still happy. She glances around and looks for an audience, both pleased and disappointed when there is no one around.

"No help this time," I say, waving the fabric above my head, "Get a dinger and you get your shirt back. Dead serious."

And now she's happy pissed, the best type of happy and the best type of pissed. And I plan on giving the shirt back no matter what. Mischievous, I am mischievous, not nefarious. It's kind of her fault for not wearing anything underneath. There has to be something there. I would be a fool not to wear my boxers, just in case of an errant pantsing. She's blushing, too, light red in her cheeks. The tension's back, but its vibrating with excitement. People can see her. I can see her. I don't know why she would want anyone to not see her. She is beautiful. The way her back moves, the way her stomach crunches when she leans over, the softest suggestion of curves, the muscles in her arms. Everything she is simply beautiful. Even that weird lip quirk she sometimes gets when she smiles. And those back dimples as she rolls her hips. I like those too.

The ball is a standard fast one, right down the center of the plate. She swings and the crack of the bat is almost enough to deafen me entirely. It's perfect. She's perfect. Everything's aligned in a shockwave that should level buildings and crack the world.

"Homerun!" says the tinned voice from the speakers as the net lights up, "And that's the game! Home team wins!"

She looks to me full of pride and confidence, checking her nails and trying to play it cool. There is excited jumping, fist pumps and happy little wiggle dance she wants to do, but that would look uncouth at the moment. Especially without a shirt. As a man of my word, I hand it over. And it doesn't go on right away. It just drapes across her shoulders I don't mind that at all.

"Better?" I ask.

"Little bit. I can see why you come here so much."

"Hitting things is a universal urge. Some people do it to walls. Some people become cops. I go to a batting cage. We should probably go."

"Yeah. Don't want someone to come and ask me to put on my shirt. Give me the low down of the meeting again. I need to hear it."

I stand and stretch a bit as I take the bat back. It did its job very well. It should be proud of the duty performed and saddled by its position in life. The bats of the world shall look to this humble specimen and revere them as a solid soul. May he/she father/mother many beautiful bat children and carry on a strong blood line.

"Doppel and Violence on the front with the Troubles," I say, "Alizarin at the back with a handful of Droogs. You and me up top. We all have the bug code for the main frame. Whoever breaks in gets to upload it and wait for a link. Keep everything busy enough until it's all copied and compiled."

"Can we break some stuff while we're there?"

"Absolutely. I mean, if the building is still standing when we're done, then we kind of fucked up right?"