Batter Up: Up Series Book 2

by Robin Leaf

  “It doesn’t say. I guess you could interpret it your own way.”

  This is friggin unbelievable. “I really like both ideas. It kinda depends on the situation.”

  “Shit, Nathaniel. Just pick one.” Irritated Etta is a cute Etta.

  I smiled, loving my new idea. I sat my beer on the table in front of me and lowered my voice to an almost whisper. “I guess then I’d have to say that I would prefer to take off her clothes myself. Slowly. Like unwrapping the greatest gift in the world. Touching and teasing her body with my fingertips. Kissing and softly nibbling at her flesh.” I licked my lips. “Tasting her skin with my tongue.” I watched her face relax slightly and her eyes darken and dilate. I think she was holding her breath. I leaned in a little. “It’s much better to actively participate than it is to watch, don’t you think?”

  She pulled her knees underneath her and turned to face me. “Depends on what you’re watching,” she whispered, her breathing increasing slightly. She closed her eyes and laid her head on the couch, exposing her neck. It would take nothing to lean in a little, graze my lips against her smooth skin under her ear. Fuck, she was sexy.

  She opened her eyes, focused on me and licked those sexy lips, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Mesmerizing. I lifted my hand, planning to touch her face.

  Her eyes dragged away from mine, and she shook her head and cleared her throat. “That’s actually the next question.” She refocused on the paper. “You happen on two people having sex. If you can do so undetected, do you watch or do you walk away?”

  I looked away from her and grabbed my beer, trying to calm myself. “Again, it depends. If they are strangers, yes, definitely watch. If they are people I know, no.”

  She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Why not if you know them?”

  “Because it would be hard for me to look at them again without that image in my head. I really don’t like the thought of seeing my friends like that. It’s weird. Just like what you told me about David.” I closed my eyes and shuddered because of the thought of her with him. When I opened them, she stared at me curiously. “What? I’ll never be able to look at him the same again. And I didn’t even have to see it.”

  She narrowed her eyes and stared at me for a moment. “I forgot to show you a couple of pictures.” She pulled her computer onto her lap and found the pictures. “Which one is better?”

  The first was of a woman taking off her clothes. She was pretty, smiling a sexy smirk, wearing black lace bra and unbuttoning her own pants. The second was of a man behind the same woman. She was dressed the same as in the first picture. His arms were around her unbuttoning her pants. His lips were at her ear, as if he was whispering something, and her eyes were closed and her head thrown back into his shoulder arching her back. It was a pretty hot picture. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her watching me. I turned to look back at her.

  “The second one.”

  She smiled, licked her lips and whispered, “I liked that one, too.”

  Sensory overload. I can’t take much more.

  She broke our gaze and sat up straight. “Now you have to listen to some audio clips, and you have to measure your responses to them on a scale of one to ten.” She cued the clips on her computer. “One being completely turned off, five being normal,” she glanced at me with those beautiful eyes, “and ten being totally turned on.”

  Shit, I was at about a seven right now. I needed something to distract me.

  “I need another beer for this.” I stood up with my back to her and walked around the couch, hiding proof of the seven. I stopped and looked over my shoulder at her. “You want one?”

  She looked away from me quickly and readjusted her position on the couch. “You’re really not supposed to do this under the influence alcohol.”

  I smirked. “So, tequila then?”

  “Oh my God, yes,” she grunted. “Definitely.”

  I took a few minutes in the kitchen to settle my cock down, which would have been a lot easier if she had not agreed to the tequila. The idea of loosening her inhibitions fueled my sex-driven fantasy. Operation get Etta drunk? Probably not a good idea. I’m not known having good ideas though.

  “Sorry. I had trouble finding two clean glasses,” I lied as I poured two shots. “And I don’t have a lime, so I didn’t bring salt. Is that okay?”

  She grabbed the glass and downed it. “I think I’m good.” Refocusing on the computer, she pointed to it. “You ready?”

  I downed my shot and poured two more. “Yep.”

  The first audio clip was of what sounded like people kissing, with a couple of contented moaning sighs. Once it was through, Etta looked at me and asked, “Okay, one to ten, where are you right now?”

  I didn’t know how to answer. Those eyes put me in a constant state of mildly turned on. Plus, I could smell her, which made it not so mild. Therefore, I had to recalibrate my turned-on meter just for sitting next to her. Difficult to say the least.

  “It really didn’t do much for me. I’d say about a five, five and a half.”

  She wrote down my answer. “Okay, the next one.”

  The next clip was awful. It sounded like a girl getting the shit smacked out of her and her whimpering cries.

  “Stop it.” I reached over her push the stop button on the computer. “That’s awful. I’m at a one there.” I downed my second shot. “Who would be turned on by that?”

  She smirked before she drank her second shot. “Some people are into some kinky shit, Nathaniel.”

  “Not me. Abuse is never kinky.” I poured us two more. “Please, play the next one. Get that out of my head.”

  I noticed her hesitate before she pushed play. In fact, she hovered over the play button with the mouse.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, drinking my third shot. I was starting to feel the tequila a little, so I told myself I should slow down.

  “Nothing.” She seemed, I don’t know, nervous maybe. She took her next shot before pushing play. Then I understood why. Full on, surround-sound stereo of moaning, heavy breathing, dirty talking, and obviously good sex. Amazing sound quality aside, holy shit. If I was honest, it was pretty hot, and based on the one to ten scale, I was at an eight. The other clips didn’t last long, but this one? It felt like ten minutes.

  I turned to watch her. Big mistake. She was still focused on her computer, but her breathing was erratic, increased, chest heaving. Face flushed, she was pulling at the neckline of her shirt and biting her bottom lip. That sent me to a nine. I guess she felt me staring at her, because she turned to look at me. Etta’s eyes any other time send me into orbit. Her eyes when they are obviously turned on? Full on supernova. I was like Spinal Tap’s amp… I went to eleven.

  I couldn’t help myself. I reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, trailing my fingertips down her jawline. She closed her eyes and leaned into my touch. I had to kiss her, but I feared her reaction. What do I do here? If I kiss her and she shuts me down, I’ll die. If I don’t try, I’ll regret it forever.

  Fuck it. I was going for it.

  I pulled her chin gently toward me. She offered no resistance, so I leaned in slowly and inhaled. Heavenly. Our lips were millimeters apart, and I felt her breath on my lips. Just milliseconds from finally tasting her…

  “Hey guys,” Beth’s excited voice came from the doorway as she and Chris burst in. Etta jumped up, dumping her papers on the floor. “Oh my God, are we interrupting something?”

  “Just doing that project, Beth,” Etta said, a hint of frustration in her tone. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “I’m sorry.” She blushed. “We can come back.” Beth was so cute and tiny. She had a personality to match, very bubbly girl next door.

  “No!” Etta growled. “There’s no need. We were done.”

  “I guess you heard the sex noises, huh?” Beth asked me. “I thought they were a little on the lame side. No… creativity.”

  After hearing Beth’s idea o
f sex noises, I understood why she found the clip lame. Beth was definitely creative, but hearing her wasn’t a turn on to me. How could someone so seemingly unassuming be so boisterous and a little kinky? She’s proof that you can’t judge a book by its cover. I fully understood why Etta felt the need to escape.

  “Not everyone likes the same thing,” Etta diplomatically answered.

  “No,” Beth looked back and forth between Etta and me. Finally, she shrugged. “I guess they don’t.” She sat down on Chris’s lap, who was sitting on the chair next to the couch. “Chris and I wanted to talk to you both.” She folded her hands across her lap. “We hate that we always have to kick you out of the apartment whenever we want to be alone together. I know how important school is to you and your studying, and it’s not fair that we always ask you to leave. Plus, the back and forth, sleeping at our place or sleeping here is getting old.”

  Chris spoke up. “So tonight, we’ve been talking about it, and we think we have a solution.”

  “We think we should move in together. But we know that it would leave both of you without roommates,” Beth interjected.

  Chris’s turn. “Plus, all the apartments in this complex are taken. And it would be hard to find two roommates this late in the semester, so…”

  “We thought we would ask if you would be okay with Chris and Etta switching apartments,” Beth said hopefully. “That way, neither one of you would be stuck with the full rent…”

  “And you wouldn’t have to chance it with someone you don’t know,” Chris finished.

  “And we wouldn’t have to feel so guilty asking you to leave all the time,” Beth added.

  They did that finishing-each-other’s-sentences thing all the time. It was so friggin annoying.

  I looked at Etta to gauge her reaction. Nothing. Her face was completely blank.

  “Well?” Beth asked, just about bouncing up and down on Chris’s lap.

  Etta focused her blank look on me. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

  I nodded and stood. Luckily, my turned-on level was back in the safety zone. She led me to my room, and when she closed the door, the safety zone was threatened.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she began, not taking her hand off the doorknob.

  “You don’t.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “No, Nathaniel.” She started pacing. “What just almost happened between us is the all-time, biggest, colossally bad of bad ideas.”

  I crossed my arms across my chest and had a hard time hiding my rising anger in my tone. “Care to tell me why?”

  “Because… we’re friends. And I like that. Your friendship means a lot to me. I don’t want to do anything to screw that up.”

  Fuck. “Why do you think it would screw this up?”

  She stopped pacing and threw her hands up. “Things would change, Nathaniel. Getting close, like that, it always changes things.” She sat down on my bed. “We work, like this. Friends. I like things the way they are, that’s why us living together is a bad idea.”

  I ran my hands over my head several times. I didn’t agree with her, but I also didn’t want to fight. Missing the opportunity to be with her was nothing compared to the thought of losing her completely. I sighed. “Okay. Let’s go tell them.” I turned to leave the room.

  “Wait, can we forget what happened?”

  Never. “Yes. We’ll blame it on the alcohol.”

  She smiled. “We can’t blame that wussy little amount of alcohol, Nathaniel. I mean, not to sound like a stereotype or anything, but my half-German, half-Irish ancestry contributes to my ability to hold my liquor. No matter how much I’ve had, I have never been drunk in my life.”

  “Huh. That’s good to know.” I smiled despite my disappointment in this whole conversation. “Consider it forgotten.” I waved my arm toward the door. “Can we go now?”

  She studied my face for a few moments. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath as she breezed past me.

  I placed my hand on her arm to stop her. “If you change your mind about the moving thing, I’m okay with it. Friends is all you want to be, it’s all we will be. Whatever you want…” I kissed her on her temple quickly, “…I’ll do.” I opened the door and left the room.

  Etta came out and began talking in hushed tones to Beth. I grabbed the pizza box, the glasses, and the tequila bottle off the table and took them to the kitchen. Chris followed me.

  “What did y’all decide?” he whispered.

  “She doesn’t want to move in with me.”

  “That sucks, Man.” Chris was the only person on the planet, besides my mom, who knew the details of my relationship with Etta, at least from my side. He and I had been best friends since the we went to the little league world series together. It was fortunate that we both were at Rice on scholarship.

  Chris watched me move around the kitchen putting the pizza in the refrigerator and the tequila on the shelf. When I washed the glasses out in the sink, he clapped me on the back. “Trust me. I have a plan. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He smiled. “Trust me.”

  ***

  November 11, nine years ago

  Chris had slowly starting moving his stuff to the other apartment and hadn’t spent but one night here in the past week. I was alone. Sitting on my couch, alone with the thoughts of her, the memory of what happened fresh on my mind. And what could have happened. However, the rejection weighed like a ton. She wanted me last week, that I could tell. She just didn’t want to want me. Chris was right, it really sucked.

  I hadn’t seen her since last week. I kept pretty busy with school, studying and working out. I was avoiding her and trying to look like I wasn’t avoiding her. I thought about going out and finding a random girl last weekend, but it actually felt like a betrayal, like I’d be cheating on her. Friggin whipped.

  After today’s late workout, I decided a shower was in order. I was either going to need to make it a cold shower, or I would need to use the image I couldn’t get out of my head, the one of her so fucking obviously turned on, especially her eyes, to take matters into my own hands. Decision made. I’d lost count how many showers I’d taken like this in the past week. Pathetic.

  It didn’t take long. I mean the memory of her eyes alone was enough to get me rock hard, so the actual act? Yeah, like I was thirteen again.

  I put only my sweats on. Chris hadn’t officially moved out yet. He and Beth could come over at any time, so sitting around in my underwear was not an option. I looked at the couch, opting to lay on it to see if Etta’s scent lingered. It did. Or it could have been in my head. Shit, this sucked. I decided to watch some TV to see if it could take my mind off my possible mini-depression. I flipped through and decided on SportsCenter. After a couple of hours of flipping back and forth between a few channels, I nodded off to the updates on all the latest football injuries.

  Pounding. Was it in my head? Was it in my chest? Nope. It was at the door.

  I swung my legs off the couch and looked at the clock. It was almost two in the morning. I headed for the door, using the light of the TV, the only light in the apartment. I grabbed my old bat, the one we kept close to the front door for protection, and opened the door a crack.

  Glassy greyish-greenish-blue eyes stared back. I opened the door all the way. She carried her pillow under one arm and a backpack over the other shoulder. She looked like she was trying not to cry.

  I opened my arms, and she damn near threw herself in them, snuggling against me. I could feel her tears on my naked chest. I pulled her in the apartment and closed the door.

  “Can I live with you? Please? I can’t take it. They’re so loud, and I’m so tired. I just need some sleep. I have to be up in four hours. I haven’t gotten a full night sleep in a week. A week! I can’t be in the training room like this. Every night. All night. Them. So loud. Every damn night. I can’t live like this.” She was full-on sobbing now. “I can’t deal with this every
night. They said they were moving in my apartment because they liked it better. But I just can’t take it. Please, Nathaniel, please let me live here. Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said. We can be friends who live together. Friends live together all the time, right? Tell me it’s okay. Please. I don’t usually beg, but I’m begging you. I’m almost totally crazy after one week; I’ll go completely psychotic serial killer if I have to live one more…”

  “Okay, Eddie.”

  She pulled back and looked me in the eye. “Really?”

  I smiled. “Anything to get you to shut up.”

  She resumed her position against my chest and sniffled as I kissed the top of her head and inhaled. Perfect.

  She was where she should be.

  “Oh my God, thank you, Nathaniel. The entire population of loud sex people thank you, too. They can rest easy now that I don’t have to kill them all.”

  And so began cohabitation with Etta Fontella Sullivan.

  I know, right? Fontella?

  Twelve

  November 15, last year

  I entered the clinic this third Friday of November fully expecting to be alone with Etta. Instead, I was greeted by Andre and the rest of her staff of minions.

  “I thought Etta gave you guys the third Friday of every month off, Andre.”

  “She does, but we all got together and asked her if we could switch to next Friday.” He led me to the stationary bike and programmed it for my time and resistance. “Since we get the week off for Thanksgiving, some of us liked the idea of having an extra day.” I started to put my ear buds in, but he kept talking. “Susie planned a trip to the Bahamas and she leaves Thursday night. And Sam is going to Alaska to be with her Mom, who moved there last year. Alaska during Thanksgiving? No way. Too cold for me. I am driving to Austin with my girlfriend to spend it with her family. It’ll be my first Thanksgiving away from my momma. She is not taking it…”

  “Andre,” Etta’s voice cut through his incessant rambling, “your 8:00 appointment is waiting for you.”