The Athletic Aesthetic Read online

  With yet another glance around, Rita switched the ball to her other hand and plunged her fingers inside herself to finish the job. She shook as she came, dropping the ball to grab the beam behind her for support as her legs threatened to give out.

  Panting, she shifted her panties back into place and rebuttoned her cutoffs. As she looked up, Chad subtly adjusted his crotch, and Rita froze again. But the gesture was a common one in baseball, and with another check on his teammates, she again felt assured of her secrecy. Still working to catch her breath, she picked up the ball and blinked as she crept back out into the sunlight. With a final sweep of her gaze over the immediate surroundings, she squared her shoulders and walked back toward the concourse as though nothing was amiss.

  As she reached the concrete steps up to the stadium exit, she turned back a final time to look at Chad. She caught her breath a little as she saw that his head was turned, directed straight at her as his mouth twisted in the tiniest of sly smiles. The minuscule incline of his head made it unmistakable this time that he was looking at her.

  Rita’s heart jumpstarted like the line drive that had just been smacked into the outfield, and she nearly dropped the ball in her hand. Had he seen? Would he say something? What was going to happen?

  Before she could even acknowledge his gaze, Chad turned back to his teammate at the plate as the next pitch was delivered. Rita whirled and almost ran from the stadium.

  Rita shook her head now as she thought about what might have happened had she been caught. At the time, she’d had a cocky—and no doubt misguided—idea that she would have been able to waylay any repercussions due to her parents’ ownership of the team. She could hardly remember what the hell she’d been thinking then and felt immensely grateful she’d never had to test that theory, the inaccuracy of which she could only imagine.

  Nonetheless, she’d stayed away from the stadium for nearly a week, fearful that Chad may not have been the only one who’d seen her or that he would choose to spill the beans to anyone who happened by. When there was nary a peep out of her parents or anyone else about the owners’ daughter having been seen masturbating under the bleachers, she made her next appearance at a home game, her brazenness now slightly in check—but no less smitten.

  Rita sighed and leaned back in her chair. Despite her unabashed interest in Chad, there had been an obstacle in the way of pursuing him just as unabashedly. Its name was Blake.

  Closing her eyes, Rita rubbed her forehead. The introduction of her ex-husband’s name into her reminiscences didn’t feel particularly welcome. Standing, she reached to shut down her computer, then grabbed her purse and extracted her keys, flicking off the light as she pulled open the office door.

  “Mike said you knew Tomlinsen back when he was in Single-A,” Tom Rollins, the principal team owner, said from his seat in the owner’s box as they watched the top of the first inning. At the last minute, Rita had tabled her plan to skip the game and head home, so she now stood beside Tom, close to the glass, watching as Evan called time out and ran to the mound to clarify something with the pitcher. She could hardly believe Chad’s name had come up again; one would think they never saw major league players come down to Triple-A or something.

  “Yes,” she said, taking a swig from the beer bottle in her hand and hoping for a change of subject. Despite herself, she smiled as she recalled hearing the news of her parents’ impending team ownership. They’d been on the phone during the spring of her final semester. She was thrilled to hear of the development, of course, and said something to her mother about all the hot baseball players she’d get to meet.

  She could almost see the disapproving look her mother must have been sporting when she said huffily, “I assure you that did not factor into our decision. We’re not buying you a husband, Rita.”

  Her mother hadn’t been privy Rita’s smirk: as though “husband” had anything to do with it.

  Rita took another sip of her beer and stared out at the field. As it turned out, the “husband” bit had more to do with it than she’d realized. Just not in the way her mother meant.

  Tom continued the conversation with the general manager who stood nearby and Rita tuned out, hoping her part in it was over. Her eyes narrowed as her thoughts returned to the past. The on-again, off-again relationship she’d had with Blake throughout high school had entered an “on” phase upon her return home after graduation—and just before she met Chad. The month immediately following her little soirée under the bleachers had been fraught with the frustration of seeing Chad regularly but not getting to pursue him due to her relationship with Blake.

  Until they’d fallen back into yet another “off” period, and everything had changed.

  Rita excused herself and exited the owner’s box. Finishing her beer, she dropped the bottle in a recycling bin and wandered over to the stairs to the upper deck. Ascending them, she emerged into the view of the emerald field from above and leaned against the wall across from where an usher was usually stationed. Upon the usher’s return, she would be requested to show her ticket or asked to move, she was sure, but for the time being, she stood and viewed the field from afar.

  The day she’d actually met Chad was more than a month after she’d made herself come watching him under the bleachers—and only a few days after she and Blake had said yet again that they were through.

  Rita turned at the sound of her name. The starting catcher, whom she’d quickly befriended amidst detailed talk of pitches and delivery, was waving at her as he made his way to where she stood beside the fence near the dugout.

  “Hi Randy,” she greeted him, then stopped short as Chad came out of the dugout and stood at his side.

  “Have you met Chad?” Randy said easily, gesturing to the blond man beside him. Rita’s eyes felt frozen on him as she stared up at him, and she desperately hoped this wasn’t as obvious as it seemed to her. Chad met her gaze, a combination of intensity, curiosity, and, most of all, recognition in the blue eyes that held hers.

  “Glad to finally meet you, Rita,” he said as he shook her hand. She sensed his breathing change slightly as he said, “Pretty sure I’ve seen you around.”

  Taking a deep breath, Rita concentrated on transforming her nervous energy and embarrassment into seductiveness. After all, hadn’t she thought at the time that she wouldn’t really have minded if he saw her? And now it wasn’t as though there was anything stopping her from going after what she’d wanted all along.

  “Yes, I make my appearances here and there,” she said. “My parents own the team.”

  Surprise flashed in Chad’s eyes, followed by understanding. “I see. Guess that means you pretty much have the run of the place, then, huh?”

  “Something like that.” Rita met his eyes and grew wet at the overt desire she saw in them.

  They’d fucked that night in the parking lot after the game, then much later in the clubhouse, owner’s box, and behind the dugout. Mostly, though, Chad hadn’t wanted to engage in such risky public behavior, which Rita could understand. He had far more to lose than she did if they were caught.

  In fact, Chad hadn’t really wanted anyone to know about their relationship, feeling it could look like a conflict of interest for him to be fucking the team owners’ daughter. “You know they don’t have any influence over your actual career, right?” she’d asked him once. “The major league office is the only place those decisions get made, and they couldn’t care less what my parents say.”

  “I know,” he’d answered. “I just … I just I feel like it doesn’t look right.”

  Rita had had her own reasons for not wanting to flaunt their relationship. Upon casually mentioning her interest in Chad while having dinner with her parents one night, her father had sounded a cautionary note.

  “Players aren’t really people you want to get involved with like that, Rita. They’re focused on their career, and most of them won’t make it
big, though they’ll be bent on trying for years to come. It’s not a very stable environment.” He smiled. “Besides, you and Blake aren’t really over, are you?” His knowing look shifted to include her mother as he spoke, apparently ignoring the grimace on Rita’s face. “I don’t know what we’d do if Blake wasn’t eventually an official part of our family.”

  Her mother’s gentle laugh of agreement floated across the table as she too smiled warmly at her daughter.

  Her parents sure had seemed concerned with marriage and stability—two things Rita hadn’t really been focused on at all.

  Still, for their own respective reasons, she and Chad had kept quiet about their blossoming relationship. Aside from sneaking in a few quickies in the clubhouse now and then, or on the bus after the team returned from being on the road, most of their carnal encounters had taken place away from the stadium—albeit not entirely away from public spaces.

  Rita started now as a roar shook the crowd inside the stadium. She made her way back in and saw a player jogging the bases, indicating a home run had just been hit. Squinting, she made out the number 17 on the back of the jersey and smiled. It was Evan, and she joined in the cheering around her as he made his way home, grinning, and walked into a round of high fives in the dugout.

  It had been about a month later that things had started to shift again.

  Chad was flushed—he looked as animated as he had after she’d sucked his cock on the clubhouse couch, both of them listening for any sounds of someone coming as she’d knelt in front him and he’d shoved her head down rhythmically the way he knew she loved.

  “What?” she said, his obvious excitement bringing a grin to her lips.

  “I’m moving up—and I got traded.” Chad was so excited he was out of breath. “I’ll have to move to Minnesota, and next week I’ll be playing Double-A.”

  Rita’s jaw dropped. She leapt into his arms, thrilled for him even as her stomach twisted at the distance Minnesota represented.

  “I want you to come with me,” Chad said before she’d even disentangled herself. Rita froze. He pulled back and held her so he could look at her. “I want you to move with me.”

  Rita’s heart pounded as she remembered her father’s words back when she’d first mentioned Chad to them. She hadn’t told Chad that Blake had been pursuing her again. She couldn’t deny the connection she felt with Blake—there was a reason they’d been together on and off since high school—but she’d been keeping her distance because of what she had going on with Chad. The discomfort of uncertainty rushed her system, and she moved forward to hug Chad again so he wouldn’t see it on her face.

  Blake had indeed become an official part of the family, and Chad had moved on to Double-A baseball in Minnesota. She hadn’t dwelled very much on how things might have been different or why she’d made the choices she had when Blake proposed at the end of that summer. Chad, for his part, had done well professionally in the last decade. He’d moved up quickly to Triple-A from Double-A. After a few years there, he’d been called up to the majors. His first two years had been sporadic, with the not uncommon circumstance of being called up and sent down throughout both seasons. For a few years following that, he’d been a solid backup player in the major leagues, filling in at first base when needed and sometimes serving as the designated hitter. Eventually, he made his way to starter status.

  And he would be in this very stadium the next day. Rita pushed away from the wall and walked slowly as she made her way to the parking lot, unsure whether she dreaded or yearned to show up at work the next day.

  Rita stayed in her office as much as she could the following day, until hunger trumped her nervous reticence sometime in the early afternoon. She left her office and took the elevator down to the main concourse, surreptitiously looking around as she scurried through the open space.

  As she headed around the main concourse and neared the stairs that led down to the clubhouse level, she saw him approaching from the other direction. His head was down, and the brim of his hat mostly blocked his face from her view. His glove dangled from the fingers of his right hand, and his cleats ground against the concrete with each step.

  In the split-second it took her to recognize him, her breath escaped her. She stood there trying to catch it, realizing at the last second that she’d better move if she didn’t want to encounter him, as she was standing directly in his line of vision were he to raise his head.

  Too late. Just as her muscles started working again, Chad did exactly that. His eyes landed on hers with a neutral friendliness for a fraction of a second before recognition washed over them.

  He stopped short. Rita was nowhere close to having found her voice yet.

  Chad’s eyes stayed on her for several seconds, and she could almost see his internal process of shock, bafflement, and, eventually, comprehension of what she might be doing there.

  “Rita,” he said finally, stepping forward but not extending his hand or doing anything else to initiate physical contact between them.

  She managed a nod, drawing a deep breath before responding in kind. “Hi, Chad.”

  “You work here?” His voice didn’t sound nearly as strangled as she felt hers did, but when she spoke, she realized she sounded far more composed than she felt.

  “Yes.”

  Chad gave a nod but didn’t speak.

  Rita straightened slightly. “I’m the CFO.”

  Chad held her gaze. “You knew I would be coming then, I take it.”

  She swallowed. He was right, of course. She realized it hadn’t even occurred to her that he would know that when he found out her position with the team.

  “I did. How’s your shoulder?”

  She saw a tiny flash in Chad’s eyes, and her mouth twisted into a slight involuntary grimace of empathy. Injuries that kept them from the game were one of the hardest things players endured. Having undergone her share of them during her college days, she had some idea of how it felt.

  “It’s feeling okay. Doctor says I’m ready for full batting practice and a game or two as the designated hitter.” Chad nodded, then said gruffly, “Thanks for asking.”

  He’d repeated what his major league manager had told the press, and Rita knew it. She wanted to say that she knew that what the doctor said didn’t matter as much as how he felt, which was what she’d been seeking when she asked, but suddenly the clarification felt too intimate somehow, too personal. She let the inquiry drop and gathered her wits. As she did, she saw Chad’s eyes flick up and down her body, fast enough that she might have missed it if she’d been blinking. She was startled by the way her breath left her again, almost as intensely as it had when she’d first seen him moments before. But she could tell the action on his part was not meant to be noticed—for all she knew, it could have been automatic or even accidental. She cleared her throat.

  “Well, nice to see you, Chad. I have to run.”

  He nodded, already stepping toward the stairs that went down to the clubhouse. “Yeah,” he said, pointing his glove at her before swinging it around to his other hand and beginning his descent. “See you around, Rita.” The crunch of his cleats echoed then receded down the cavernous hallway.

  Rita had underestimated how difficult she would find it to concentrate on work once she knew Chad was in the building. Of course, she hadn’t known what it would be like to see him until she did. She swallowed, reaching for a spreadsheet on her desk in a hopeless effort to distract herself. She put it down almost as soon as she picked it up and told herself she needed to face the facts: she wanted to fuck Chad as much as she ever had.

  That, she realized, had never changed. But it was arguably even less appropriate now, for both of them, than it had been a decade ago. Just as she’d had to do with a number of other players, she was just going to have to get used to spending several hours a day in the same building with people whom she wanted to jump like a jack
rabbit in heat.

  Of course, those other players didn’t know how to fuck her exactly the way she liked: a little bit rough with one fist gripping hair, their other hand holding both of hers above her head. She liked a good strong grip …

  Rita shoved her chair back and left her office. She would go for a walk, like she usually did when she felt distracted. Looking at a baseball field was unlikely to do anything to lower the arousal in her, but sitting at her desk letting her mind run away with itself obviously wasn’t working either.

  She rode the elevator down to the main floor. As she stepped out, the music from the sound system on the field began to blare, signifying that batting practice was about to start.

  As she reached the corner of the hallway that led to the clubhouse tunnel, the music abruptly stopped and she overheard a familiar voice.

  “No, she’s not married. Divorced, I think.”

  Rita stopped in her tracks. She recognized the voice as Evan’s, but she couldn’t tell if they were coming her way or standing still somewhere around the corner. Before she could decide what to do, someone responded.

  “I see. How long have you known her?”

  It was Chad.

  “Since I got here a couple years ago. She’s been working here a while, I think.” Evan gave a little laugh. “I’ve wanted her since the second I saw her, of course. But I leave it alone. Always felt like I should stay away from somebody in that kind of position. I sure would like to have her, though. But it seems like things could get fucked up quickly if it went wrong.”

  Rita found herself barely breathing. She looked around for somewhere to duck out of sight, but the hallway stretched behind her, and moving forward would place her face-to-face with this conversation.

  “You know,” Evan continued, as though Chad was somehow not understanding. “A conflict of interest. Like—“

  “I understand conflict of interest,” Chad said gruffly. It was clear from his tone that the conversation was over, though Evan wouldn’t have known just how well Chad understood.