Sara gasped in shock, but Ally used her free hand to pat her knee. "It’s okay. I’m used to talking about this now. Not long after this all happened, another brother caught me making out with a girl in my room. He was an evil little cuss, too," she said wryly, "and he told my parents. My father made my life a living hell, mainly saying that I was the screwed up one, and how much shame I had caused my family … blah … blah … blah. As soon as I graduated from high school I took off, and haven’t been back since. I see my sister, Emily, and that’s it."
Sara closed her eyes, feeling an impotent rage welling up for her friend. But one thought kept invading her consciousness, and she finally asked, "How many years did it go on?"
"Four years," Ally said softly.
"And in all that time, you never felt like you could tell anyone … not a teacher, or a minister?"
"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "He swore that if I told, he’d go after Emily." Her eyes grew fierce and determined as she said, "I would never let him get his filthy hands on her."
Impulsively, Sara threw her arms around Ally’s shoulders and hugged her tightly. "You were so brave," she whispered into her ear.
Ally’s arms curled around Sara’s body, and they hugged each other for a few minutes, neither speaking. She finally released her, and Sara wiped at her eyes for a moment.
"I don’t generally tell people about all of that, but I’d like to get to know you better, Sara. I want you to know all about me before we get any closer."
"I understand," she said, nodding her head. "I really appreciate that, Ally. Really, I do."
"That’s not all," the larger woman said. "I uhm … have a lot of issues that I’m still dealing with, Sara. There are things that get in the way sometimes."
"That makes perfect sense," Sara said. "You were horribly traumatized."
"Yes, yes, I was," Ally said. "But I’m trying to work through the past so I can live fully in the present. I’m consciously trying to change some of the ways I relate to women sexually. It’s going to be a long process, Sara, and it’s not always going to be easy for me. I just want you to know that I’ve got a lot of things to work out."
"We all do," Sara said. "If you’ll let me, I’d like to be part of your team, Ally." Smiling up at her, she said, "I’m a very good listener, and I’m also as patient as the day is long. Wanna risk it?"
The larger woman nodded her head, her eyes locked upon Sara’s as a gentle smile tugged at her lips. "I do indeed," she said, her voice sounding like pure honey.
Sara gazed at her for a long time, finding herself somehow soothed just by looking into Ally’s eyes. Slowly, feeling like she was being drawn in by an irresistible force, she leaned in and kissed her, holding her gently in her arms as she pressed against her. She pulled away after a moment, and tilted her head just a tiny bit, looking at Ally curiously. "Something just occurred to me," she said.
"Huh?" Ally looked like neither thought nor speech was very high on her list of priorities at the moment.
"Does it bother you to kiss me when I’ve had some alcohol? It just dawned on me that it might be unpleasant for you to taste it."
Ally smiled gently and placed her large, warm hand against Sara’s cheek. "You’re so considerate."
"You didn’t answer me," Sara said.
"Okay." Ally took a breath and said, "If I had my druthers, I’d prefer to kiss people who didn’t smoke or drink. I used to do both to excess, and it’s a little more pleasant for me if I’m not reminded of the experience. Every once in a while I get a flashback to my drinking days, and I have to shut down a little."
"Thank you," Sara said softly. She gave her friend’s shoulder a squeeze and excused herself. "Be right back."
A few minutes later, Sara came back and sat right next to Ally. Sliding an arm around her shoulders, she brought her face right next to her friend’s and said, "See if this helps a little." Ally gave her a lazy half-smile and let herself be pulled close. Sara tilted her head and kissed her again, this time Ally noticing only the clean, fresh flavor of toothpaste.
The larger woman pulled away this time, and murmured, "Very nice. It means a lot to me that you care so much for my comfort."
"I do," she whispered, her lips just inches from Ally’s. "I want you to be very comfortable with me." She kissed her again, the heat of the caress rising precipitously. "Are you comfortable kissing me?"
"Entirely," Ally drawled, her smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. "Maybe we should check to see if the inverse is also true."
Sara started to say what a good idea that was, but before she could form a word, Ally had swept her into her arms, pinning her firmly to the sofa. One hand slid into her hair, holding the dark chestnut strands almost too firmly, while the other rested on her cheek in a remarkably gentle fashion. The dichotomy of the touches was so great that Sara’s brain struggled to process them. A maelstrom of feelings swept over her when Ally leaned in and kissed her – the kisses she offered a confluence of two poles. A delicious mix of rough, raw desire, bracketed by two of the softest, gentlest kisses that Sara had ever experienced. Simultaneously, she felt treasured, coddled, and completely and utterly dominated.
Her whole body shivered, and her heart started to race as she struggled to focus, seeing the desire reflected in Ally’s eyes, now turned a dark, steel gray. "More," she whispered, lifting a hand to slip behind Ally’s head to try and pull her forward for more of those mind-numbing kisses.
But the larger woman clearly didn’t react well to coercion. Despite the pressure from Sara’s hand, the head didn’t move an inch. All that happened was that a tiny smile bloomed on Ally’s face, and it remained until Sara got the hint and stopped pulling. "That’s better," Ally purred. "I like to be in charge," she said, even though her message had come through loud and clear without a word. Flicking at Sara’s bottom lip with her finger, she purred, "Do you like me to take control?"
"Yes." Sara’s head nodded quickly. "I like it very much. I just … I just need more of those kisses," she begged, her need embarrassing her deeply.
"Just because I like to be in charge doesn’t mean I’m only concerned with my own pleasure," Ally whispered, her breath hot against Sara’s cheek. "I want to please you, too." She leaned forward again, pressing Sara even harder against the back of the sofa. Both strong arms enveloped her in a snug embrace, effectively rendering the smaller woman’s arms useless. When she was positioned just like Ally wanted her, she started to kiss her in earnest, thrilling her to the core as lips and tongue and teeth caressed, and tickled and nipped at her mouth – the amalgam of sensations nearly driving her mad. The fact that she was utterly powerless added to her arousal, making her throb with desire as she struggled weakly, not to get away – but to throw Ally onto her back and ravage her thoroughly.
The larger woman sensed her intent, and she started to move against her, pressing her breasts hard against Sara’s as she kissed her roughly.
"More," the brunette gasped, "I need more!"
"Mmm …" Ally started to pull away, easing off from the ferocity of her kisses. Each one was now a little softer, and much more gentle. "I’ll give you more … all that you want … but not now." With one last, incredibly sensual kiss, she sat up and gazed into Sara’s still-burning eyes. "Remember what we said about going slow?"
"No," Sara said thickly. "All I know is that I have to kiss you again."
Dipping her head, Ally gave her a soft, tender kiss, refusing to open her mouth to Sara’s darting tongue, despite the smaller woman’s frustrated moan. "I want to kiss you, too," the sandy-haired woman whispered, "for a long, long while. But we both agreed to go slow, Sara, and this doesn’t feel slow to me."
Gazing at Ally with heavy-lidded eyes, Sara murmured, "Why were we gonna go slow? I forget."
Giving her a warm, indulgent smile, Ally reminded her of their previous discussion. "I have some things I have to work on before I can feel comfortable being really open with you. And I want to make sure we a
re both looking for the same thing. I’m not looking for a fling, Sara. I’ve had enough casual sex to last two lifetimes."
Running a hand along the back of Ally’s neck and tickling the short fuzz at her hairline, Sara smiled and said, "I’ve only had enough casual sex for one lifetime, but even at that, I’m sick of it. I’m looking for a relationship, Ally. For my first relationship." Giving her a wry grin she added, "I obviously have a few things to work on, too."
"Sounds like we’re both a little gun shy," Ally said, her fingers trailing all over Sara’s features, finding herself unable to stop touching the lovely woman.
"Yes, I certainly am," Sara said, "but there’s only one way to get over it."
"Yeah. Just one way," Ally said, finding herself drawn to the moist, open lips again. After indulging herself for just a moment, she shivered violently and got to her feet, running her hands through her hair as she tried to collect her thoughts. "I have to go," she said. "I’m on the verge of losing control, and I refuse to have sex be the engine that runs this relationship."
Sara smiled up at her with a look that mingled innocence and outright seduction. "You do want to make sex an element of the relationship, though, don’t you?" She stood as she said this, and locked her arms loosely around Ally’s waist.
"Yes," the larger woman said, her mouth incredibly dry. "I do. A big part," she said as she grinned shyly.
"Then we’re on the same page so far," Sara said. She reached as far as she could, standing on her tiptoes to place one last kiss on Ally’s quivering lips. "We’ll go slow," she said. "But not too slow, okay?"
"Do my best, ma’am," Ally said in her best Southern drawl.
"Let me give you a lift to your car," Sara said, taking her hand.
"Nah. I could really use the walk," she said. "I need to cool off." She pulled Sara close and gave her a tiny kiss. "Walk me to my car, and I’ll give you a lift home."
They set off, the cold, damp breeze effectively cooling both of them off. "So, will I see you at the competition on Sunday, or will we just meet up here?" Ally asked.
"Of course I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it."
"I’m in the last weight class, so I have to stay until it’s nearly over. I’m sure I won’t make the finals, so I’ll come find you."
"Okay. I’ll be waiting."
"We can go out for ice cream afterwards," Ally said. She lifted her knit shirt and patted her belly, Sara’s eyes going wide when she saw the deeply etched abdominal muscles. "I’m dying for sugar and fat."
"Is this really your last competition?" Sara asked as they continued to walk.
"Yeah, I’m sure of it," Ally said.
"And your body will never look like this again?" the brunette said.
"Nope. I’ll never be this cut again." She cocked her head and asked, "Why?"
Sara shrugged off the question and smiled up at her. "Just curious," she said, "No special reason."
Ally took her hand again, and they continued their walk, both of them in silent contemplation.
On Saturday, Ryan drove the BMW to Cal for the tryout at Levine-Fricke Field. She wore the same outfit she had worn to play softball with her family, a pair of black, double-knit nylon shorts, and a red softball jersey from her old high school; and to Jamie’s educated eye, she looked absolutely adorable.
They approached a balding, overweight, beer-bellied, middle-aged man who was pacing around behind the backstop. "Coach Roberts?" Ryan asked as they neared him.
"Yeah. O’Flaherty?"
"Yes. Pleased to meet you," she said as she stuck out her hand.
"Yeah. Let's get going," he said as he shook the proffered hand.
Having had quite enough of standoffish coaches, Ryan stood right where she was and waited for him to look at her. "This is Jamie Evans, Coach Roberts," she said evenly.
"Oh, hi," he said, as he stuck out his hand again. "Why are you here?"
Ryan was a bit irked at his manners, so she decided to give him a little test. "Jamie is my lover, Coach," she said with a smile. "She accompanies me whenever I'm doing something important."
"Oh, great," he said dramatically as he rolled his eyes.
"Do you have a problem with that?" Ryan asked.
"Yeah, I do," he started to say, but when he saw the look on Ryan's face he corrected himself. "Oh, no, not like you think," he said. "I don't like any of my girls to have romantic attachments. Takes your mind off the game. There's enough distractions without bringing love into it," he said in a tone that equated love with the chicken pox.
Just then a young woman came running across the field, dragging a winded young man with her. "See what I mean?" he moaned as they kissed goodbye on the pitcher's mound. "Chapman! I said to be here at ten!"
"Yes, Coach," she said. As soon as he turned to look at Ryan again, Chapman caught Jamie's eye and gave her a wink.
When Ryan declared that first base was her best position, the coach directed Chapman to play second while he hit grounders to Ryan. She was to field the ball, throw to second and then return to the bag to catch the return throw to get the runner out. "Hey, girlfriend," he called to Jamie.
"Yes?"
"Can you run?"
"Like the wind."
"Then come over here, and get halfway between me and the bag. When I hit the ball, run like hell."
She looked to Ryan for her approval, but was met with only a raised eyebrow and a shoulder shrug. Luckily, she was wearing running shoes, Lycra shorts and a T-shirt, as they were planning on going to the gym afterward. So, she put her bag down on the bench, and gamely took her position.
Ryan got down in a crouch, and waited for the ball. A sharply hit grounder pulled her towards second, but she snagged the ball and tossed it with a quick underhand motion to the second baseman. Her momentum caused her to do a somersault, but she regained her feet quickly, and ran back towards first. Jamie easily beat her to the bag, but she clearly would not have if she had been running from home. As she turned around to run back to her spot, she patted Ryan on the butt. "Good job, Tiger," she said with a wink.
After 20 minutes of constant activity, Jamie began to inch closer and closer to first base. When they had finished this part of the workout she was practically standing on the bag, much to Ryan's amusement. The coach called the fielders in and told Jamie to sit down. As Ryan approached, he said loudly, "She's a frail little thing, isn’t she?"
Ryan turned to see the glare in those green eyes, and she warned him, "Don't play with fire, Coach. Looks are deceiving."
The next element of her try-out was to assess her hitting skills. Coach Roberts led Ryan over to an enclosed batting cage, and set up a pitching machine. She put on the batting gloves that she had stashed in her pocket, chose one of the garishly decorated aluminum bats, then spent a few minutes taking practice swings, just to loosen up.
She got serious as soon as she entered the batting cage. The coach started the machine out slow, but in a few minutes he had the ball blazing in on her. Jamie had the enviable position of sitting on a bench behind her, and she was treated to the sight of her lover’s butt twitching back and forth before each pitch was delivered. This little show was over much too early for her taste, but after more than 100 pitches, Ryan looked like she could use a break.
"Can you play any other positions?" Coach Roberts asked.
Ryan wiped the sweat from her brow and nodded. "Yeah. I've played center field and right field. When I play with my family I play second. And I can play short and third, but I haven’t played there since grammar school. And I can pitch, of course," she added as if that should be obvious.
He smirked at her confidence, but had to admit to himself that the lanky young woman’s actions had thus far backed up her words. "What, you’re too good to catch?" She shrugged, barely hiding a little smile. "Head on out to center field, All Star, and I’ll hit you some fly balls."
Jamie knew quite a bit about baseball since she had attended many Giants games with her father, so she had
a good deal of appreciation for the gracefulness that Ryan displayed when she ran for the ball. Even though the day was a little windy, she had no difficulty in gauging the speed and the distance of the balls that the coach hit. She would lazily trot under the ball and be awaiting its descent with her weight balanced on the balls of her feet, then cradle it into her glove, with her other hand hovering over the top of the glove, in case the ball had the temerity to try to escape.
After a few minutes of this exercise, the coach instructed her to catch the ball and fire it in to the cut-off man, in this case, Chapman. Ryan had a gun, and the ball buzzed through the air as it whacked into the glove time and again.
He waved her in and stood with his hands on his hips, staring at her for a few minutes. "So … what's the catch?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Drugs, booze, what?"
Ryan laughed a bit as she shook her head. "I don't know what you're getting at Coach," she said.
"You're way too good to walk on, and you don't look like you're 18, so where have you been – prison?"
"No," she said. "I was at U.S.F. for my first two years. As you know, they don't offer softball as a varsity sport. Last year I couldn’t play since I was a transfer, but my financial situation has changed, and I'm able to play, so here I am."
"Does blondie have anything to do with that?" he asked as he nodded toward Jamie.
Ryan had to laugh at this new nickname. "Yeah," she said easily, matching his style. "She's loaded."
"Well, maybe it's not always a bad idea to have a girlfriend," he said with a bark of a laugh. "Heck, I'd be gay if some good looking guy would support me."
"I don't think you'd get many offers, Coach," Ryan said, giving him a long appraising look.
He spat out another hearty laugh and slapped her on the back, "Good one, O'Flaherty. I think I like you."
"I might like to play if you can use me," she said. "But I’m currently committed to the basketball team."
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