Cheryl locked the door behind Ligon, then leaned against it, breathing heavily as she gazed at the folder still lying on the chair. Okay, Miss Sexy Sanchez, let’s find out what dirty secrets you have that I can use to hang your little stank ass.
She tried to calm her breathing as she poured herself a glass of Chablis. If there was one thing she knew about the Yankees organization, it was that they hated even the possibility of a scandal. If there was something really dirty in Sexy’s past and they found out about it, they would be quick to call Yusef in and give him an ultimatum, get rid of the skank or get put on the chopping block. And that would automatically cool Randy’s ardor for the slut. He might have the hots for her, but he wouldn’t put his playing career on the line for her. Of course the Yankees wouldn’t get rid of Randy—under any circumstances—but he still didn’t really realize his worth to the team. No, he wouldn’t want to take the chance.
Cheryl sat down and slowly opened the folder, surprised at the neatly typed report Ligon had prepared. She wondered if he had a secretary or if had typed it himself. She ran her fingers over the papers, her mouth actually watering as she anticipated the salacious information she would soon be reading. She took a sip of wine, and settled to read.
Amanda Nehru, huh? She knew, of course, that Sexy wasn’t her real first name, but she had assumed that Sanchez was authentic. However, her exotic features and wavy hair could very well be attributed to an Asian heritage rather than Latino.
Birth date, April 15, 1997. Figures she would be born on tax day—if there was ever a taxing bitch, she was certainly it. Whoa! Cheryl reread the birth date. Nineteen ninety-seven? That means Sexy, or whatever the hell her name is, is barely seventeen! Oh, shit! Cheryl jumped up, not caring that the folder fell to the floor, and pumped her arm in the air. Oh, I got that little bitch now!
She picked up her glass and gulped down the rest of her wine, then poured herself another. This was too good to be true. She’d only recently turned seventeen in April. The wives said Sexy had flown down to spring training to play freaky-deaky with Yusef, and spring training had ended in March. That meant Yusef had actually been fucking an underage girl back in March! Ooh, wait until the Yankees’ brass hears about this! Cheryl took another gulp of wine. True, the news would end Yusef’s playing career, but, oh, well, she thought. Collateral damage. And perhaps Sexy would do the right thing, and simply back out of the picture if told what would happen if she didn’t. Then no one would have to find out. But somehow, Cheryl doubted it. That skank didn’t care about anyone but herself.
Cheryl reached for the telephone, eager to tell Stephen the dirt she’d dug up, but then changed her mind. She bent down and retrieved the folder and papers from the floor, intent on seeing the other scandalous information that was available. May as well hit Stephen with everything at the same time. One of the papers, however, was a photocopy of a photograph—a headshot of a man who looked vaguely familiar. She hurriedly put the papers in order, and eagerly sat down again to resume her investigation.
Born in New York City, but raised in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania. Father: Dr. Patag Nehru, dean of the University of Pennsylvania Medical School. Mother: Clarissa Nehru, a socialite.
Patag Nehru? Cheryl flipped through the papers until she found the photograph again. Could it really be? The same Dr. Nehru who’d adopted her son? But the report showed that Amanda was the couple’s only child. She flipped through the papers until she finally found the birth certificate. There it was. Patag Nehru was listed as father, and Clarissa the mother. Child born . . . Cheryl gasped. Child born at New York Hospital at 6:17 a.m. The same year, the same day, the same time, and the same hospital—could this all be a series of coincidences? But no, her child was a boy. Dr. Nehru had told her so. Cheryl closed her eyes, remembering that day. Yes, that’s what he told her, but she’d never seen her baby. Had he lied?
Cheryl stood up and slowly walked toward the window in a daze. She held the folder loosely in her hands, and the papers fell out, one by one, with each step she took, but she didn’t notice. She stared out at the beautiful view, but saw nothing. Her last thought before she lost consciousness and fell to the floor: That little bitch is my child.
Sexy
Sexy and Randy didn’t have to wait in the ridiculously long line at the Empire State Building. Putting his celebrity status to good use, Randy was given the VIP treatment, and management whisked them past the throng of tourists waiting to visit the world’s tallest structure.
The view from the eighty-sixth-floor observation deck was breathtaking. “I’m not super religious,” Sexy commented, “but being so high up in the sky makes me feel closer to God.”
“I know what you mean,” Randy said, nodding.
Sexy glanced at the ESB brochure and grinned at him. “Are you ready to go higher and visit the Top Deck on the one hundred-second floor?”
“I thought we were at the top.”
“Nope. There’re sixteen floors above the observation deck.”
“Okay, let’s do it.”
They boarded an elevator and when they exited and looked out the window, Randy muttered, “Whoa, this is a little too high up for me.”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights,” Sexy teased while snapping pictures of the spectacular view of the city and beyond, and with several clicks, she posted the images on Instagram.
“Can’t say I’ve ever been up this high—except in an airplane.”
“It feels incredible being up here,” she said excitedly, continuing to take pictures from different angles. “Don’t you want to get some pictures of the view?”
“No, thanks; I’m good,” Randy said, looking somewhat nauseous.
Sexy gazed at him with her head tilted to the side. She noticed that his complexion had taken on a grayish tint. “Aw, you’re not kidding around—you’re really feeling a little woozy, aren’t you?”
Randy nodded, and Sexy returned her camera phone inside her purse. “Let’s go to one of the restaurants and see if we can find something to settle your stomach,” Sexy said, sounding mature and nurturing. In reality, she didn’t know the first thing about caring for a sick person. She was merely repeating something her mother often said when Sexy was a child and complained of a tummy ache.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Randy agreed, eager for a decrease in altitude. As the elevator descended, Randy’s complexion returned to normal.
“Feeling better?” Sexy inquired.
“Much,” he replied, looking embarrassed.
“Lots of people are afraid of heights. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Randy peered at Sexy curiously. “How is it that you read me so well?”
She shrugged. “I feel like I’ve known you for a long time. Like maybe in another lifetime, you were my big brother.” She glanced down at the brochure. “Hey, you wanna get something to eat? Inside the building, there’s a Chipotle and also Europa Café.”
“I’m not crazy about Mexican food, so let’s try that Europa place.”
They found their way to Europa Café, and Sexy ordered a quiche and lemonade and Randy ordered a hearty turkey breast sandwich and a cup of coffee.
Sexy wrinkled her nose. “Never could understand why people drink coffee. It tastes bitter and it gives you the jitters, so what’s the point of it?”
Randy laughed good-naturedly. “It tastes good to me, and I don’t know anything about getting any jitters. It gives me an energy boost. Besides, I’m grateful to get a regular cup of Joe. It’s nice to have regular coffee instead of always drinking that African kind that Cheryl brews at home.”
Sexy tilted her head curiously. “African kind?”
“Cheryl is into this imported, African coffee. She says the high-quality beans are grown a certain way and it’s the only coffee she allows in the house. She drinks two and three cups a day, but I don’t touch the stuff. It’s too strong for me. I love me some Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, and usually get a large cup every day. My wife is a class
act, and you wouldn’t catch her stepping a foot inside no Dunkin’ Donuts—she’s a Starbucks kind of girl. Yeah, Cheryl is something else; she really enjoys the finer things in life,” he said fondly and with a trace of pride.
Argh! It was a struggle for Sexy to keep her mouth shut and not speak her mind about Cheryl’s pretentiousness, but she managed to smile sweetly, as if she thought that haughty, self-absorbed tramp was absolutely adorable.
At the table, Randy fussed with his sandwich, painstakingly, pulling out slivers of onion and slices of tomato. “I have a confession,” he said, looking up at Sexy.
“Oh, yeah? What do you want to confess?” she asked with eyes widened, inquisitively.
“I really enjoy gazing at your face. Aside from my wife, you have to be one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever set eyes on. Those Hollywood celebrities ain’t got a thing on you, girl.”
Sexy pretended to blush, but hearing that she was beautiful was not a news flash; it was something she’d heard her entire life. “Thank you for the compliment,” she replied with a demure smile.
“Another thing . . . I think you’re a really sweet girl. You’re nothing like the way people try to make you out to be.”
“People shouldn’t judge another person until they know them,” she said with a weary sigh, and then suddenly brightened. “I’m glad we’re becoming friends, Randy. I don’t know anyone in New York and the players’ wives have a clique . . .” Her words trailed off and she briefly dropped her gaze. She looked up and said, “I’ve tried to make friends with the ladies, but I guess I’m not sophisticated enough to be in their inner circle.”
Randy scowled. “You’ve got plenty of sophistication as far as I’m concerned. You’re smart and pretty . . . well-dressed. I think some of the wives might view you as a threat.”
“Why? Yusef and I are getting engaged soon, and after the season ends, we’re getting married. So, if anyone thinks that I’m trying to steal their husband, they’re mistaken.”
“You and Yusef are getting married?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Wow. Congratulations . . . I suppose.”
“You suppose?”
Randy shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Wanna hear the rest of my confession?”
“There’s more?” she asked with laughter.
He nodded. “I wish my feelings for you were like a big brother’s, but to be honest, I’m attracted to you. And it’s not only about your looks. You’re beyond attractive and desirable and everything, but there’s something else about you. Something that makes my heart beat fast when I’m near you. I don’t want to feel this way, but I can’t help the fact that I want you.”
“But what about Cheryl? Aren’t you in love with your wife?”
“Of course. I love her to death. That’s why these feelings are so confusing.” Frowning, Randy pushed away the plate containing his partially eaten sandwich and interlocked his fingers.
Sexy ran a gentle hand over Randy’s tightly entwined hands. “I have feelings for you, too. Deep feelings. But I respect the sanctity of marriage so much that I’m willing to accept that we can only be friends.”
“But, the thing is, I’m in an open marriage.”
“Really?”
“Well, maybe not quite an open marriage, but my wife is pretty open. We have threesomes all the time, and Cheryl usually picks the girls that she knows I’m attracted to. But for some strange reason, she has a problem with you.”
Hit with enlightenment, Sexy nodded her head knowingly. That bitch, Cheryl is scared of me because she knows she can’t puppeteer me and pull my strings. When I fuck her husband, it’s not gonna be for fun and games or for her entertainment. Hell, no! When I fuck Randy Alston, I’ll be playing for keeps!
“Do you think I’m a bad guy for admitting that I want to get with you, even though I know that my wife won’t approve?”
“I don’t think you’re a bad guy. I want you, too, but we have to agree on something.”
Randy gave her his full attention.
“We can’t be involved in any type of ongoing affair. That would be wrong as hell and unfair to Cheryl and Yusef.”
“I agree.”
“Okay, so as long as you’re one hundred percent certain that Cheryl is the one you love, I don’t think a one-time fling with me will affect your marriage or my relationship with Yusef.”
“You’re so wise and understanding. How did I luck up like this?”
“We have to get what we feel for each other out of our systems, and then move on with our lives.”
“You don’t have to say another word; let’s get out of here.”
* * *
Their room at the W hotel was all kinds of luxurious, but neither Sexy nor Randy had time to check out the features of the beautifully appointed room, when they were busy shedding their clothes.
Standing in the middle of the room, Randy pulled Sexy into his arms. His calloused palms stroked her hips and thighs, and squeezed her ass. “You are so beautiful,” he declared, tilting her chin up and then kissing Sexy with all the passion he possessed.
He guided her to the bed, and gently nudged her onto her back. She was right about his big ’Bama dick. It was much bigger than Yusef’s and it swung like a heavy pendulum between his muscled thighs. He climbed on top of her, his mouth seeking out her breasts, and Sexy reached for his dick, yearning to feel its warmth and smooth texture.
She clutched his manhood, enjoying the feeling as it pulsed inside her fist. Randy released a deep, guttural moan. “I gotta get inside you,” he mumbled as he repositioned himself, holding his dick at the base and aiming it at her moist opening.
Normally, Sexy would expect lots of foreplay from her partner: pussy eating, ass licking, and titty sucking. But she felt the same sense of urgency as Randy. The sexual tension between them was so strong, Sexy shuddered beneath Randy and cried out, “Fuck me, baby, please. I want you so bad.”
He plunged into her pussy with long, deep strokes. Sexy tightened her muscles, possessively holding him captive inside her velvety walls.
“Oh, baby, what you doing to me?” Randy groaned. “It feels like you’re trying to milk the cum out of me. I’m not gonna last long if you keep this up.”
Reluctantly, she released him from her grip, and offered him a wet pussy that was relaxed and wide open, and willing to accommodate him. Randy’s dick seemed big enough to rip her in two, but she didn’t care. She wanted him to take her—to beat up her pussy with a savage pounding.
“Harder,” she demanded as Randy delved deeply, and she could feel his dick inside her, throbbing and pulsing, and growing impossibly harder.
“Goddamn, Sexy. Your pussy is so good. Sexy! Baby! Oh, Sexy, baby!” He power-fucked her, yelling her name with each deep stroke. The pressure of his dick embedded inside her like a hunk of steel, increased the throbbing sensation in her clit, bringing her passion to a feverish pitch.
An orgasm was building, but she fought against it. She wasn’t ready, and so she struggled to keep it at bay. The pebbled tips of her nipples were so sensitive, she could feel the breeze from the air conditioner caressing her nipples like a feather-soft tickle.
Their sweat-slick bodies rubbed together, and they both emitted guttural noises that sounded barely human. On fire, Sexy’s inner muscles involuntarily clenched and unclenched convulsively against the onslaught of Randy’s thick, ramming appendage.
“I’m gonna bust if you don’t stop squeezing my dick like that,” Randy warned.
“Pinch my nipples,” she instructed. And the moment he did, she was consumed by a powerful orgasm that rocketed through her system. Unable to control herself, she screamed out in pleasure—a primal sound that was loud and long.
Following suit, Randy howled as he flooded her with semen. The warm, sticky fluid spurted into her, filling her, and marking her as his woman.
Held in Randy’s strong arms, she snuggled into his body. “That was so good,” Sexy whispered.
/> “Yeah, it was.” Randy’s words sounded hollow, like they held no real meaning.
Sexy sat up and peered at Randy. “What’s wrong, baby?”
He pressed the heels of his palms against his forehead and groaned in anguish. “I never cheated on my wife before and I feel sick to my stomach with guilt.”
Sexy’s first impulse was to slap the shit out of Randy for acting like a pussy, but having long-term plans for the two of them, she had to control her temper and think rationally. “I feel bad, too,” she disclosed. “But since Cheryl knows you’ve been with other women, and since you love Cheryl with all your heart, it’s not as if you did anything to hurt her.”
“I know, but Cheryl has always been there when I was with other women, and . . .” He shook his head. “I already messed up by calling her your name.”
“You did?” Sexy asked delightedly.
“I don’t know what came over me, but I had you on my mind while she was giving me head.”
“Wow.” Sexy couldn’t think of anything else to say. This was exciting news and she was struggling to contain her sheer glee.
“Cheryl is an open-minded person, and she doesn’t consider it cheating as long as she’s involved and can see exactly what I’m doing. But she would never be okay with me having sex with another woman unless she was able to watch me like a hawk.”
Sexy rubbed Randy’s arm to console him. “You’re a standup guy, Randy. And under the circumstances, I think you should be true to yourself and get it off your conscience.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I think you should go home and confess.”
Randy scowled at Sexy as if she were crazy. “You think I should tell my wife that I was creeping?” He laughed and shook his head. “Are you trying to get me killed or something?”
Sexy shrugged. “I’m merely saying, if your marriage is based on honesty, I think you’ll feel better if you man-up and tell Cheryl that you slipped up. She loves you, Randy, so it’s not as if she’s gonna kick you out of the apartment and file for a divorce. From a woman’s perspective, I think she’s not only going to forgive you, but she’s also going to have a newfound respect for you for coming to her like a man.”
Hittin' It Out the Park Page 15