The Athletic Aesthetic

by Vanessa Wu

  Music blasted out again, and Rita used its cover to mask her footsteps as she whirled around and strode back up the hallway, not taking a full breath until she had turned another corner and reached the flight of steps that led back up to her office.

  Rita brought lunch with her the next day and didn’t leave the floor her office was on until it was time to go home for the day. She knew batting practice was well underway as she took the elevator down a floor and walked quickly across the concourse, keys in hand.

  “Rita,” a voice called, and she turned to see Tom walking toward her. “Did you get those figures reconciled for the compensations of the two Double-A players called up last week?”

  “Yes.” Rita was relieved that she had indeed found the source of the discrepancy and gotten it fixed. She didn’t really need anyone noticing how distracted she’d seemed lately or concluding that it seemed to coincide with Chad’s arrival.

  Tom, unfortunately, seemed keen to continue chatting and turned automatically toward the entrance to the field as Rita held back a sigh and fell into step beside him. The doors hadn’t yet been opened to the public for the night’s game, and the stands were mostly empty as she and Tom walked onto the field and stopped on the fringes of the batting taking place at home plate.

  Rita tried to keep her eyes averted and focus on what Tom was saying, but her gaze involuntarily strayed to the cluster of white uniforms behind the batting cage. Her breath caught as she saw the number 28 on the back of one of them. He was facing away from her and likely hadn’t seen her yet.

  At that moment Evan, who was crossing the field from the bullpen, called a greeting to her. Chad turned around and looked at her. She looked back, her eyes moving back and forth between Chad and Evan as the latter neared and said hello to Tom. Tom greeted him heartily before turning to talk to Mike, and Rita resisted the urge to scream as she found herself in the exact situation she had been determined to avoid all day. She hadn’t even wanted to find herself on the field at all.

  Chad was still looking at her, and Evan had stopped approximately between them. She nodded and stepped forward, unsure how to exit gracefully. Though neither of them, after all, knew she’d overheard them the previous day.

  “Hello, Chad. Evan.” She nodded at both of them. Despite the awkwardness she felt, she couldn’t deny the rush of heat that coursed through her, and she willed her rising blush to disappear.

  “Oh, have you two met already?” Evan said in his friendly way, looking from Rita to Chad.

  “We have,” Chad answered before Rita could speak. “Long ago, as a matter of fact.”

  “Really?” Evan looked confused, which Rita could understand given his conversation with Chad the day before. She surmised that he hadn’t actually said anything about knowing her.

  “Yes,” Chad said, finally tearing his eyes from Rita to look at Evan. “Rita’s parents owned the Single-A team I played for when I was first signed.”

  “No kidding.” Evan suddenly seemed to pick up on something in Chad’s gaze, and for the first time, he appeared uncomfortable. “Well, I’m up soon,” he said, gesturing at the batting cage behind him. “Talk to you later, Rita.” He nodded at Chad and went to join some of his teammates along the batting cage.

  Rita looked at Chad. “Were you sending him some kind of ‘back off’ signals only perceptible by testosterone or something?” she asked dryly.

  Chad’s eyes were hard as he held her gaze. Rita clenched her teeth as she felt her stomach tighten—it was the same look he used to give her before he took her the rough way she loved. Though she hadn’t seen it in more than ten years, she remembered that look like it was yesterday. With all her effort, she maintained a social decorum rather than commanding Chad to fuck her right there. The annoyance she felt with him didn’t seem to hinder one bit how simultaneously turned on she felt.

  “Should I have been?” Chad finally answered. He wasn’t smiling, and Rita didn’t know how to read the look in his eyes.

  She also didn’t know how to answer. After a long pause, she decided to deflect and said, “He looks up to you, you know. You have the kind of home run record he aspires to at the major league level someday.”

  After a beat, during which she sensed Chad wrestled with the option of pursuing unanswered questions, her former lover nodded and said, “He’s a good kid. Smart, too. He’ll make it to the big leagues eventually.”

  “Yes, he will,” Rita agreed. “Perhaps someday you’ll play together.”

  “We’re already playing together right here.” Chad’s gaze was steady, and for some reason the words called up another blush in Rita. “So, to get off the subject of Evan for a moment, I hear you’re not married anymore?”

  Rita caught her breath. “That’s correct,” she said, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but right there. But when she met Chad’s eyes again, the wish turned instantaneously to a pure desire for Chad’s cock inside her. It was so strong she had to turn away.

  After the moment passed—barely—and she reined in her unwitting impulses, she turned back to him. “What about you? Are you married?” She realized the question hadn’t even occurred to her before now, and she found herself holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

  “No.”

  Mike chose that moment to call Chad over for batting practice, and Chad waved at him and stepped forward. “Gotta run,” he said over his shoulder, his eyes flicking up and down her body before meeting her gaze again. “Catch you later.”

  “Have a great game,” she called after him. She watched as he moved to the batter’s box and prepared to take the first pitch. She was struck by how familiar his stance was and, for about the hundredth time in the past 72 hours, she found herself transported again back to that Single-A stadium in her hometown, watching with a tingling in her pussy as Chad went to bat, anticipating the pounding to which she would be treated just hours later. Chad’s swing made contact, and the cracking sound jolted her back to the present—where she found herself just as wet as she had been back then.

  She turned to walk off the field but stopped when she heard Evan call to her.

  “Hey,” he said, panting slightly as he ran up. With a glance back at Chad in the batting cage, he said, “Um—.” Then he stopped, clearly uncomfortable.

  “What’s up?” Rita prompted.

  Evan paused before saying, “Well, I just wanted to tell you I didn’t know you and Chad knew each other. I—well, I kind of—” Evan fiddled with the hat in his hands, looking shyer than she’d ever seen him. She waited for him to go on as Chad hit a home run over the left field wall. “Earlier today, I kind of confided to him that I have a … a little bit of a crush on you,” he finished in a rush, and Rita bit back a smile. “A little bit of a crush.” That was one way to put what she’d overheard him convey.

  “And I just hope …” Evan went on, his discomfort still evident. “I mean, I don’t know how you two know each other or how well or whatever.” Evan was blushing so much Rita found herself searching for something that would help put him at ease. He continued before she could say anything. “I just hope I didn’t piss him off or anything. I’d hate to antagonize someone I—well, someone like that. I mean, it would be a dream come true to play on a team with Chad in the big leagues.” Evan’s combination of awe and distress made Rita want to hug him.

  “I don’t think you should worry about it, Evan. I’m sure Chad thinks highly of you—he’s seen you play, and it’s obvious how good you are—and he wouldn’t let anything about what you said impact that.”

  “Well …” Evan broke off, and she realized suddenly there was more on his mind than perhaps Chad had perceived. He really did want to know what the history was between them—and perhaps if any of that history still lingered.

  Rita blushed slightly. She was certainly finding herself at a loss for what to say a lot lately. This time, she was saved by a signal fr
om Mike that it was time for the team to head into the clubhouse. With a rushed nod at her, Evan turned and jogged toward the dugout, blending in with the rest of the white uniforms that now clustered around the steps. Chad was one of the last ones, and he threw a glance Rita’s way as he descended into the dugout. Just before he looked away, his lips turned up into a small smile uncannily like the one she’d first seen on him—except that this time it seemed grudging instead of sly.

  Rita put her keys back into her purse and headed to the box to watch the game.

  As the next day was a rare day off for the team, Rita took advantage of the chance to wander out after work and look at the field void of any occupants. The stadium’s emptiness was almost eerie juxtaposed with the crowd that had turned out for the previous night’s victory. Rita smiled as she remembered Chad’s double in the fifth-inning—his swing looked great, and she could tell he felt no pain in his shoulder. He would return to the majors in a day or two. Rita liked to think things would return to normal then, but she somehow doubted that would be the case. Chad knew where she was now, and they’d broken their ten-year silence—and beyond that, there was Evan’s attraction to her to contend with.

  All of it was going to make any ideas about not getting involved (as rarely as possible, anyway) with her own players a hell of a lot more challenging.

  She moved along the seats and down the steps back into the main concourse. Catching sight of a poster depicting one of their starting pitchers, she stopped in front of it. Automatically, her fingers moved as though they were tightening over a ball. Some twelve years later she still yearned to hold the ball in her hand, feel the seams under her fingertips as she readied to deliver her hardest shot past the batter that stood between her and her target. There was little that matched the adrenaline rush she got from winding up and letting fly all the energy in her body through a little white leather ball. It became like a comet that took everything she had inside her and hurled it away into a safe leather space designed specifically for it. Whatever it was she was feeling, she could channel it into that ball and watch it transform, dissolve, explode, or whatever she wanted it to do. It had rarely failed her.

  Though she had loved softball and played it well, baseball had always been where her heart was.

  “Take you back, does it?”

  Rita jumped. When she turned, she saw Chad striding toward her dressed in warm-up gear. She realized she shouldn’t be surprised to see him here. Even though there wasn’t a game, it would still make sense for him to do some off-day rehab for his shoulder.

  “I’m here working with Tim and icing the shoulder,” Chad supplied, as though reading her mind. “Your buddy Evan is here too, doing drills with the bench coach in the bullpen,” he added with a tiny smirk.

  Rita returned it. “That’s nice to know. You haven’t been giving him a hard time, have you?”

  “Of course not.” The sarcasm dropped from Chad’s voice as he looked at her like she should know better. Rita looked away. The look reminded her of the fundamental kindness she had always seen in Chad, regardless of whatever hardness he might convey on the surface. While kindness wasn’t always an inherent aphrodisiac for her, at that moment, on some level, she realized it was.

  Granted, at this point she might as well acknowledge that Chad himself seemed to be a walking aphrodisiac.

  He was still looking at her. “Walk me to the clubhouse?” he asked casually. She agreed, suddenly wondering what he had been doing in this area of the stadium following his workout. She decided to let the question pass.

  “So. You like working for the team?” he asked as they crossed the empty expanse of concrete.

  “Yeah,” she said. Chad didn’t respond. He seemed to be waiting for her to say more.

  “I mean, I love the game … as you know,” she continued. She thought about the poster she’d just seen, and her fingers felt empty again for a moment. “Of course, I’d rather be playing,” she blurted.

  “Yeah,” Chad said, as though this didn’t surprise him at all. “I remember your talking about that back when … back when we knew each other.”

  “You do?” For some reason this surprised her. She did remember expressing her frustration that, for her, playing baseball was over; while for him, the chance to make a living at it was just beginning. Whether or not she was good enough wasn’t the point. She didn’t even get the chance to find out. It hadn’t occurred to her that Chad would remember that.

  “Of course. You talked about it all the time.”

  “Did I?” Rita wondered aloud. They’d reached the ramp that led to the clubhouse tunnel, and Rita heard another set of cleats somewhere within. Momentarily, Evan came into view.

  “Hi, guys,” he said with an easy smile. His concern about Chad seemed to have dissipated, and Rita was relieved. Not that she had doubted Chad when he’d said he wasn’t giving Evan the cold shoulder, but it was nice to see affirming evidence.

  “What’s up?” he asked as the three of them met and stopped near the clubhouse door. His eyes shifted to Rita. “Done for the day?”

  “Yes.” Then, spontaneously, she added, “You want to catch me for a bit?” The urge to throw the ball was pulsing in her—along with perhaps something else—and the words bubbled up almost before she was aware of them.

  “Sure,” Evan said.

  Rita turned to Chad. “Want a little extra batting practice?”

  “Who am I to turn down the chance to see you pitch?” Chad drawled.

  “Great. I have to change. I’ll meet you at the clubhouse entrance in a few.”

  Back in her office, Rita felt the low but unmistakable adrenaline buzz coursing through her as she tied her shoes. She reached to the top of a file cabinet and grabbed her glove. It was the same one she’d used when she’d played, and she’d kept it in every office she’d ever had as she worked her way up the administrative side of professional baseball.

  Evan and Chad were waiting for her outside the clubhouse door.

  “I think Tim was maybe going to work with Miguel for a while on the field, so we should probably use the batting cage,” Evan said as she followed them inside.

  They made their way to the indoor batting cage and filed in. Evan set a bucket of balls near the pitching area while Rita stretched a little. Chad took a few practice swings nearby.

  When she was ready, Rita grabbed a ball and threw it into her glove. She tossed a couple of light pitches to Evan, who squatted behind the plate, before she got into position for real. She took a deep breath, let it out hard, and wound up.

  The ball smacked into Evan’s glove, and Rita felt the unique power of firing an overhand fastball fill her body. Evan threw the ball back to her, and she repositioned and eyeballed the plate. Her next pitch went very close to where she’d wanted it to, and she couldn’t hold back a grin.

  “Nice slider,” Evan called as he tossed the ball back to her.

  After a few more pitches, she looked over at Chad. “Ready?”

  Chad, she noticed, looked a bit taken aback. She wondered suddenly why he had never seen her pitch that summer years ago. Perhaps because she hadn’t had a catcher handy to present the opportunity.

  Chad positioned himself at the plate, and Rita wound up and let fly. A crack filled the narrow enclosure as Chad made contact and sent the ball into the net above Rita’s head. She picked up another ball from the bucket and repeated the process. Soon she worked into a rhythm, the intricacy of the process taking over—ball, plant, wind-up, release, follow-through—and she and the men at the plate moved as a system, each fulfilling his or her role like a smoothly running machine. Chad hit most of what she threw, but she got a few past him, too. Her body felt like it was waking up, freeing an energy she only ever felt when she was on the mound.

  As she threw, that energy mixed with the not-unfamiliar sensation of frustration and longing. The hard fact was, unli
ke the men to whom she was pitching, she didn’t get to suit up every day and come out to do this—not only do it, but make her living doing it. Of course, she made her living through baseball in another way. But she’d give up any of the perks and privileges she’d seen in all her days at the executive level for the chance simply to play on the field.

  She jumped out of the way as Chad hit a line drive a few feet to her left. Grabbing the final ball in the bucket, she made eye contact with Evan and paused. He guessed her intention correctly and moved the glove where she would place one of her sliders. She looked away and took a breath, then wound up, looked right where she wanted the ball to go, and fired, flicking her wrist a fraction of an inch at the last second.

  Chad took a power swing, and the ball went straight into the glove. He looked back at her and smirked, tapping the end of the bat against his toe. “Yeah, nice one, honey.”

  Rita was out of breath. Excitement, exertion, and something else coursed through her as she picked up the bucket beside her. “Empty,” she said as she carried it forward to pick up the balls that had gotten past Evan or that Chad had fouled back. Chad tossed the bat aside, and Evan lifted off his mask and stood up. Rita took advantage of their momentary distraction to unabashedly run her eyes over their forms in turn. Her breath deepened.

  Evan had just finished taking off the rest of his catching gear when she reached the plate and dropped the bucket. Chad tossed two balls into it and turned to her. Before he could speak, she stepped forward and kissed him hard. Chad fell back a step, his arms catching her around the waist and holding tight as she devoured him. After a second she broke off and turned to Evan, whose jaw hung limply as he watched them from a couple feet away.

  She stepped toward him and, without preamble, grabbed his crotch. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened further for a second before he snapped it shut and swallowed.