The Sweet Spot (All About the Diamond #1)

by Naomi Springthorp

  I get to the salon ten minutes early and check in for my Pamper Me Package. First, I’m getting a Brazilian wax, then a full-body massage, and I’ll be left wrapped in tropical leaves with essential oils while I get a facial. Next, an all over sea salt scrub. Then I relax in the most luxurious spa robe ever while I’m served tea, water with fruit essence and fancy sandwiches in a private room with relaxing music and a fountain. Thirty minutes later I’m joined by two women, one does my manicure and the other does my pedicure. It’s wonderful and I’ve been pampered until I’m glowing, but I’m running late for the game.

  When I turn the game on there are already two outs in the top of the first inning. I check the lineup and wonder why our back-up catcher, Saben, is playing first base and Kris Martin is playing right field. Our utility guy, Lucky Lucine is playing shortstop and the order is all mixed up. I’m not sure if I’ll ever understand it. Right now, Seno and Saben are both on base—second and third respectively. First base is open and it seems the rookie pitcher for Arizona has been challenged by runners on base. They're running a replay of Saben and Seno both stealing at the same time. I love my guys tearing up the base paths! Martin is at bat and draws a walk. Cross comes up to bat, lays a bunt down toward first base and legs it out. Saben scores and Seno moves to third. Martin safe at second, watching and waiting for his opportunity to cause trouble makes eye contact with the third base coach and Seno. He starts for third and gets caught in a pickle, runs back toward second, then toward third, back toward second. Seno runs for home, shortstop throws for home not in time, Seno scores. Martin is safe on third and Cross moves up to second. 2-0 Seals. Lucky is at bat next and grounds out. Seno caught an awesome game assisting our pitcher, John Birmingham, to his first shut out. Quick game at only two hours and thirty-eight minutes, with a final score of 3-0 Seals thanks to Lucky’s home run in the 7th inning.

  I turn on some music and decide to sing through my set a couple times before I relax and take a nap. I’m relaxed after my morning and want to be fresh tonight. I set my alarm for 5:30, close all the blinds, and sack out.

  I wake up in time to hear my alarm go off and notice my social media has been pinging.

  Notabaseballplayer: Did you watch the game?

  Notabaseballplayer: It was a quick one and done.

  Notabaseballplayer: Hello?

  Sherry: Hi!

  But it’s too late. He’s gone. He keeps saying he doesn’t want to be a baseball player with me, but he always asks if I watched the game. I must be missing something.

  Time to get ready. I get my set music playing to get me in the mood. I strip naked and start with black satin bikinis and a strapless black satin push-up bra. I brush out my long blonde hair, wipe some metallic eye shadow across my lids, put on some black eyeliner, apply a couple extra coats of black mascara, and dab some of the same dark red lipstick I use on my lips on my cheeks. I slide on my black thigh high stockings and attach the garters as I get my black lace garter belt situated on my hips. One of the things I love about the structure of lined suede is it doesn’t show panty lines and such, a perfect opportunity to go for the garter belt and thigh highs. I pull on my black leather thigh high boots and they come up about seven inches short of the stockings. The three-inch heels on the boots elongate my body and add an arch to my posture. I pull on my dress and I’m transformed into a sexy rocker. I arrange the silver belt at my hips, slide the bangles over my hand and fasten the choker around my neck. I check my outfit in the mirror and I love it from the large teardrop amethyst to the thigh highs, but I’m missing earrings. I find my two inch misshapen silver hoops, they’re exactly what I need and match the belt perfectly. My hair needs to stay simple, so I can shake it out when it gets crazy on stage tonight. I toss my lipstick, brush, and mints into my small black purse and take off for the bar.

  Chapter Six

  I arrive at the Batter Up Sports Bar and walk to the back bar near the stage to check-in. Now, I use the term “stage” loosely. It looks good to the audience, but they put up a curtain to divide the backstage off from the rest of the bar, built a plywood cover over some pallets and painted it black. There’s a milk crate performers use as a stair step. On competition night, all contestants are required to stay backstage (which includes the alley for air and smoking) until everyone has finished singing. They do provide a continuous flow of appetizers, water, and tea for us. If you want anything else you have to pay and the server only checks on us every thirty minutes. At 8pm sharp the karaoke competition host will step up on stage to start the night off by belting out “Living on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi, he does the same thing every time. Then he’ll welcome all the Batter Up patrons and give them the low down on the competition tonight and what they can do if they want to sing karaoke later this evening. Our host and karaoke DJ for tonight, Mike with the Mic, announces all of our names and explains we will each be invited to the stage in random order based on names pulled from a hat. I’m not sure about the random name drawing, but it does keep you from getting too nervous because you don’t have any warning. They call your name and you get on stage. Three songs each breaks down to 10 to 12 minutes per contestant, so it will take a couple hours to get through all of us. I don’t talk to my competition backstage, other than “Nice boots” and “Did you change your hair?” Mostly, I review my lyrics, take advantage of the free meal, and listen to the other vocalists.

  It’s Wednesday night and the Batter Up is all regulars. No crowds from the game or weekend partiers. During the fourth singer I notice the crowd gets a bit louder. It’s about 8:45 and I’m waiting for my name to be drawn. So far, I’m not impressed with my competitors. It’s 9:30 and there are only two of us left to sing. The host draws the name and I’ll be singing last. I take advantage of the ten-minute warning to use the ladies room and touch up my lipstick. I make sure Mike has my songs in the correct order:

  “Shadows of the Night” by Pat Benatar

  “The Warrior” by Scandal

  “Alone” by Heart

  “Please welcome our last singer for the night, Sherry!” announces Mike.

  I make my way up the milk crate. I scan the room, there’s a crowd way on the other side of the bar by the TVs, and mostly past competitors and friends around the karaoke area. I smile and wait for “Shadows of the Night” to load up on the karaoke machine. It starts dramatically with vocals only, the karaoke machine begins with a metronome to give me the beat, the lyrics come up, and I sing. Back up vocals join after a few lines and the music kicks in at the end of the first stanza. It’s all me for the first fifteen seconds. I love the lyrics and show their intensity in my voice from the promise they’ll make it through together, through the getting to know you phase, to the begging for acceptance. I’ve listened to “Shadows of the Night” countless times and every time I enjoy the freedom rushing through me with no regard for the unknown. I chose my set list before Rick, yet tonight as I’m singing I find I’m somehow listening to the meaning of the lyrics for the first time and applying them to my life. While I’m singing, the hope that we’re real runs through me. I want to know everything about him, I want to know his dreams. It’s moving way too fast, and yet it’s my dream coming true. I try to keep my emotions in check, and use my voice to make the song dramatic.

  I hear the applause and notice some of the crowd has moved into the back of the room, but don’t pay much attention to it since I have two more songs to sing. I wait for “The Warrior” to load up on the karaoke machine and start with power. I realize I’m singing to myself, I can be strong and I can do this. I’m a warrior. I need to put my heart out there and not be afraid. I’m the stereo jungle child, but I don’t know if I’m the hunter or the game. I love that in the end two hearts will win. I let loose in the second verse and the emotion hits me. I wail for the reprise of the last six lines and it’s freeing.

  I have the most exhilarating feeling as the crowd moves toward the stage, more men have entered the Batter Up and there’s an electricity in the air.<
br />
  “Please give Sherry a big round of applause, she’s closing out the competition tonight with Heart…” Mike rambles in DJ style as “Alone” loads on the karaoke machine.

  The rhythmic opening piano makes me smile inside. My mom had this Heart cassette when it came out in the late 80s and I remember her having to replace it when the tape broke because she was constantly rewinding to play this song. I take a deep breath, the plan is to start with a tender tone and then let it rip. Reading the lyrics as they print across the screen is like reading my life, my internal infatuation trying to be real and yet still a secret. I build volume at the first chorus, but bring it back down for the second verse. The words come out with my heart and plant themselves on my sleeve for everyone to see my naked emotions during the last chorus, loud and forceful, yet questioning. I feel raw as I step back from the mic and turn my focus down to my feet, hiding my eyes and letting the piano solo gently end the song.

  As I finish my set, the crowd has a deep roar. It’s encouraging and I’m pleased with my performance. None of my competitors got a response like I did. I don’t think I missed any notes and I stayed in key. A different type of cheer fills the bar with more manly sounds. I start to check myself and make sure my boobs aren’t hanging out or something, when I look up and instantly know where the electricity is coming from—Rick Seno is in the room with most of the team. He’s staring straight at me with fire in his eyes, his heat drawing me in. Chase is waving at me with a big grin on his face and calling me over.

  “Thanks, Sherry. All of our singers did a great job tonight. They will be joining the bar in about 15 minutes, after we handle some business,” Mike with the Mic closes out the contest for the evening.

  I go backstage and hang out for a few minutes, waiting for the results. Only half of us will continue to the finals. There’s a three-way tie for the number six spot tonight, but no sing off because number six doesn’t move on. I made the top five! Now I wait for them to contact me about the finals.

  I step out from behind the curtain and Seno is waiting for me, “You surprise me. You were extraordinary and look fucking hot.”

  Within a millisecond his lips are on mine. Lightning shoots through me. His hands appreciating the suede that’s perfectly fitted to my ass, roaming up and down my back, and pulling me against him. His heartbeat is strong and his eyes are hooded. When did he get here? Did he hear my whole set? I’m thirsty after my performance and need to break away to get some water. I put my hands on his shoulders and step back.

  I smile uncontrollably while I gaze into his eyes, “I’m surprised you’re here. Can you give me a minute to get a drink and I’ll meet you at your table?” I need to transition out of performance mode and unexpectedly having him right in front of me is a shock. I love his positive reaction to me, but it’s still a switch flip in emotions.

  “I’m not leaving you alone while you’re dressed like this,” he says firmly. He takes me in from head to toe, setting me on fire with his gaze.

  “It’s fine. I can handle myself,” I retort.

  “You’re beautiful. You make me want to mark my territory and hide you from every other man here. Don’t bother arguing with me, I’m not leaving your side. Or, maybe your rear since it’s so fine. What’s with going to the bar dressed like this anyway?”

  “I wanted to dress the 80’s Rock Ladies part to go with the competition.”

  “You’re driving me crazy,” he whispers in my ear and his hot breath sends tingles through my body. “You’re a great singer. I love your voice.”

  I grab his hand, walk to the bar for some water and over to Chase. He tries to stop me before I get to Chase, but I’m not having it.

  Chase winks at me as I walk up and asks jokingly, “Why are you hanging on to this loser? I’m more fun.”

  I laugh. He grabs me away from Seno to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He whispers in my ear, “Happy to meet you outside the ball park. Seno has it bad for you and the longer I hold you close, the more furious he’s getting. You’re all I heard about on the Arizona trip.”

  I give him a wink and mouth thank you to him, while Rick pulls me into his gravitational field—claiming me as his and sending Cross a look that could kill.

  It’s 10:30 and I’m in no mood to go home. I want to dance and stay out late. I don’t know what Rick is planning, but he’s glued to me and I think he’d like to leave. The Batter Up opens up karaoke to everybody until midnight and patrons dance to the karaoke music.

  With my body against his, I reach up and put my arms around his neck, stroking his hair. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Will you dance with me? Then go back to my place and I’ll make you breakfast,” I gaze into his eyes coyly and fully aware of what I’ve asked for.

  His smile widens and twists, “I don’t dance, but the rest is exactly what I was hoping for.”

  I pull him to the dance floor anyway as “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran starts to play. Perfect, a slow song. He doesn’t fight it. He reaches around me and holds me tight while we sway together to the beat of the music. Gazing into each other’s eyes. Gently kissing. Each of us caressing the other’s back. I relax into his body and rest my head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat and mine. It doesn’t matter if the guys are here or anybody else for that matter, we’re in our own world and the rest has faded away. I lose track of how many slow songs play in a row, but when a fast beat hits he laces his fingers with mine and leads me out the door.

  We walk hand in hand around the restaurant and club scene of the Gaslamp Quarter in silence. He leads and I follow to see where we’re going, in more ways than one. We walk under the Gaslamp sign on Fifth and cross Harbor toward the convention center. He puts his arm around me as we walk along the marina toward Embarcadero Park South where the concert venue is set up. He leads me through the chained off entrance to the closed venue and up into the grandstand seating. The moonlight over the bay is bright, glowing and romantic as it reflects off the water’s surface. My face in his hands, he kisses me tenderly and attentively. His lips soft and full of desire as they move over mine. His hands possessive as he holds me near. The heat is overpowering. He stops kissing me. His breathing is ragged. His face is red and he searches my eyes as he leans his forehead to mine. We sit together, silently in the moonlight and just be.

  Eventually he speaks, “We should go to your place now,” Rick offers his hand and leads me back to the Gaslamp Quarter.

  Chapter Seven

  We get to my place and the mood is calm, but full of intent. Cross’ words give me confidence and alleviate my insecurities.

  “Want to play a game?” I ask.

  “What do you have in mind?” he inquires with a dirty glimmer in his eyes. “Strip Poker? Naked Twister?” he offers and wiggles his eyebrows.

  “Sherry Says. It’s like Simon Says, but better and I promise you’ll love it.”

  “I’m in,” he answers.

  “You’re not in yet, but you will be. I can promise that,” the naughty girl inside me taking over.

  “Sherry Says: Run your hands through the length of my hair.” His fingers in my hair are light, sexy and somehow cooling.

  I turn on my music with a groove playlist knowing I won’t be able to help myself, my body will want to dance.

  “Sherry Says: Unhook my belt and let it fall to the floor.” Rick finds the latch and lets the belt fall, skimming his hands over my swaying hips while he does it.

  “Sherry Says: Unzip my dress.” He finds the zipper at my back and unzips it slowly down to where it ends, right at the curve of my ass.

  “Sherry Says: Kiss my cleavage.” Seno’s eyes glitter and he settles in at the rise of my breasts, kissing, licking, and fondling them appreciatively.

  “Sherry Says: Push the dress straps off my shoulders.” One shoulder at a time he picks the straps up off my shoulder and pulls them down to hang over my arm.

  “Sherry Says: Give the bottom of my dress a quick tug.” My suede dres
s puddles around my feet leaving me to stand there in front of him in my thigh high boots, stockings, garters and black satin under garments. I watch his face and body heat as he admires my body. The power and sexual need running through me is unbelievable.

  “Sherry Says: Take off my panties.” This might not be the easiest thing to do since I’m still wearing my boots, but it will give the best results. He gets down on his knees and starts to pull down my panties… The next thing I know his mouth is on my bare, sensitive, just-got-the-Brazilian-treatment-this-morning pussy and Sherry can’t say anything. I simply whimper and give myself to this hot, sexy man’s desires. His hot wet mouth sucking at my clit and his beard rubbing against my delicate folds are so much all at once, but he continues by sliding two fingers into me deep and separating me so he can dive his tongue in straight to my core. My body tingles almost immediately. Everything becomes more sensitive and starts to tighten, and he continues—knowing exactly how to play my body, as if he had a map and detailed instructions on how to bring me to ecstasy.

  As he strokes me deliciously with his fingers, he glances up at me, “Is this bare pussy for me?” He smacks my sex.

  I can’t put any words together.

  “Answer me.” He says and smacks my sex again, “Or I’ll stop fingering you.”

  “No. No! Don’t stop! Yes, it’s for you. Only for you,” I say emphatically. I’m so far gone, I can barely keep my eyes open. I can’t focus. All I can do is exist, living by the contact and warmth of his body with mine. The next thing I know I’m bent over with my feet spread apart in my thigh high boots and garters, holding my ankles as he plows into me hard from behind. I pant and scream out his name over and over and over. He reaches between my legs and strokes my clit while he slams his hard cock into me.