Fat Paulo s captive Lana in Paradise I
- 3 years ago
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I looked at the clock when the phone rang. It was 7:10, and it was raining.
"They may cancel the game," Mrs. Jepperson said.
"Good morning," I croaked, tried to clear my throat. "What did you say?"
"The league may cancel the game. We received a fax." She read it to me, "Since the outcome will not affect the playoffs and so on and so on."
"Hm, damn, sorry," I said, still trying to get my brain in gear.
"I want you to know that I consider it done," she said with a lilt in her speech. "I'm proud of you."
"Beg pardon?"
"You got them out of last place."
"Uh huh. But we didn't stay out very long."
"I've talked with Ambrose. We're going right to the third step of your contract and give you four times what you are making. Does that suit you?"
"Four times?"
"Right. Exactly." And she hung up.
I sat on the side of my bed and looked out at the rain. Maybe I could buy a home. For some reason, I thought about cleaning gutters, something I had not done for a long time.
When I got to the stadium, the tarpaulin crew was huddled in the rightfield runway, all wearing their yellow slickers and floppy hats. I talked to the head grounds keeper, and he assured me that the field would be playable if it stopped raining pretty soon. We both agreed that the old field drained well and that sky was a bit lighter to the north. It was not coming down very hard, just a steady, cold, gray drizzle. The weather guy on TV called it an occluded front and said it could hang around into the weekend.
"We want to play. Do what you can," I told him.
He nodded, tight-lipped. "You done good. We'll do our part."
I shook his hand, waved at the others, and went to the locker room. It looked like most of my players were dressed, but we were not going to get any fielding or batting practice on this day. A couple of men were playing checkers; most were just chatting, working on their gloves and watching the clock and the TV set. Bob Philips from the Post and a new guy from the Times were waiting for me. The three of us squeezed into my office, and I flipped on my Mac, a newly acquired habit.
"Gonna be a game?" asked the Times' reporter.
"Hope so," I said.
"Gregory?" asked Philips.
I nodded. "And everybody else. This is it, you know."
"How come you're working so hard here at the tag end of a bad season?" the Washington Times' man asked.
"That's how we play baseball. Only way to do it. Nobody jakes. We run out every hit. We want to win every game; think we can too."
Philips nodded, but the young reporter lifted an eyebrow and wrinkled his forehead. "You're going to end up last or next to last, so what difference does it make?"
I was tempted to tell him about the Vegas line and the attempt to buy one of my players, but I resisted the impulse. The league office had been silent except to say that gambling was involved in both the banning and the suspension and that an investigation was ongoing. Charley Freeman was, naturally, suing and howling. His endorsement clients were disappearing fast.
I just smiled. "We've got one more to play," I said, trying not to sound pompous or something. "It makes a big difference to me, to all of us, not being in the cellar. We're going to win. Write it down."
Somebody yanked open the door and yelled, "They're taking off the tarp." I glanced at the clock, forty-five minutes to game time. The locker room was getting noisy.
By one o'clock that Sunday afternoon some six or seven thousand of what the reporters called "hardy souls" were huddled in the stands as a cool wind blew intermittently and dark clouds scudded overhead flapping the sodden flags. The lights were on, of course. If Lucy was there, I could not see her when we got started, but then most fans were back under the upper stands where there was some cover. After the umpiring crew chief lectured us and officially warned us again, the Marlins' manager and I shook hands and wished each other luck.
Unfortunately it was one of those days, perhaps in part because of the weather, when Gregory's knuckle ball was less than effective. In the fourth inning, the Florida boys started banging him around, and by the time we got a reliever in, we were two runs down. George apologized to me, shaking his head and slumping down on the bench. I patted his thigh. All pitchers have days like that.
Amberson was young, eager and had done some throwing on both Friday and Saturday so I walked down the line to the place where he sat among the other pitchers, the clipboard on his thighs.
"How's your leg?" I asked with a smile.
He nodded and looked up at me. "I'm all right."
"You go a couple or three?"
"Think so," he said, nodding and biting his lip. "Sure. I feel strong."
Jose Madona, who was sitting beside him, said, "I can do a few."
"You sure, on one day's rest?" I asked, holding my own elbow.
"Long time to recuperate after today." He smiled.
"Okay," I said to him. "Thanks. The kid gets the fifth and sixth; you've got the seventh and eighth. Get out to the pen and loosen up soon as you can."
Between innings they hurried away while I used a couple of pinch hitters. We manufactured a run with a walk, a good bunt from Frank Smith that he almost beat out and Skeeter's choked down and humpbacked hit to right that made Magruder let lose a rebel yell of sorts. It was the ugliest hit of the year, more like a badminton serve than a tennis volley. The play at the plate was close, and I briefly tasted bile. Skeeter moved to second on the throw, but they brought in their big set-up man, and Zeke and Bigger could not bring the runner around.
In loped Amberson, a bit stiff-legged, and the boy did us all proud. He mowed them down, clipping the corners and throwing eye-high fastballs that looked too good not to swing at.
Unfortunately, we were still futile at the plate, and at the end of six they led 2-1, and my stomach was getting very unhappy.
Jose Madona did not have his usual zip, but he oozed confidence and threw hard, clipping corners. His mechanics were wonderful as always, reminding me of Jim Palmer in his salad days. He walked one and struck out two in holding them scoreless for two more innings. We were running out of outs, and I had nearly cleared my bench except for the minor leaguers up for an end-of-the-season visit. They all avoided my eyes.
I asked Jose if he had one more in him. He smiled and shook his head. "Nope," he said, "That last curve pulled something loose I think. Not the elbow, up here." He grabbed his shoulder and kneaded hard.
I called in a lefty from the bullpen, the best I had available, and he walked the first batter on four pitches. I took several deep breaths, wondered if I would be happier driving a delivery truck, called time, found my glove, yanked down my hat, spat and stalked out to the mound, carefully stepping over the foul line as usual. You do not want to tempt fate at a time like this. The kid tossed me the ball and sniffed. I patted his back, nodded to Bigger and dug a small trench in front of the rubber, emptying out my mind as I did.
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By Dina PetroMy friend and I went to the concert for this new hit album, this concert I have never been in before, but it looks like it was designed for interactions between the singers and the audiences and crowd, first it was so crowded, lights dimmed to minimum & flashing most of the time.There were seats and large empty space between the stage and the first raw of seats, I never knew why till the concert started, where everybody was standing up dancing with the band, cheering, screaming...
Chapter VI When Mike opened his eyes from his nap, he caught sight of Terri standing naked in the kitchen drying her long blonde hair. She appeared completely revived after their long afternoon of lovemaking and he assumed she must have gone for a swim before he woke up. Then looking over at the clock, he noticed it was getting late and that he'd better get up so they could head back to the dock before it got dark. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk and standing up, he walked over...
Wife LoversAscension Star is a planet with a circumference of nearly 300,000 km. For reference, the Earth sits at a comfortable little 40,000 km, and Saturn is about 380,000 km. To help you realise just how big that is, the surface area of earth is about 510 million km2. The surface area of Ascension blows it out of the water at a whopping 28.6 billion km2. Now for a new comparison, take New Zealand. It’s got a surface area of 260,000 km2. If the surface of the earth was covered in New Zealand’s, it...
Though mid-terms were still roughly a month off, Susan couldn't help but think of them being over and the trip with Mizuki, and more than just for the playtimes they were planning. While the issue of what college to choose was slowly falling into place, Susan had the more-than-vague feeling that she was missing something important. Perhaps the campus visits would settle the matter, and while the trip with Mizuki promised to be fun, there was the good chance that the real purpose of the trip...
Ana suggested me to go on shopping that late afternoon.She was wearing a very sexy red dress that came down just few inches above her knees. She was standing on a pair of stiletto heels and had no panties, because she said it was comfortable that way.We entered the local mall and went into a store to pick up some clothing.I noticed a couple of young guys following us and staring at my hot wife.When I left her alone for just two minutes, those guys approached her to have a talk. I saw them from...
I was really horny. I’d gotten this way often enough before, but the sensation of wanting some kind of sexual contact had grown by an order of magnitude since dad had “taken” my virginity two weeks earlier. Given this opportunity, I just walked into the bathroom where dad was showering, pulled down my shorts and panties, and sat on the toilet to pee. I did all that before dad had a chance to say anything.“What are you doing in here?” he asked in a somewhat unfriendly tone.“Peeing,” I said...
IncestJason Fremont calmly sipped his beer. Bouncing his foot casually he flipped through the TV, looking for something to watch, not really interested in watching anything, just trying to find a way to kill time. Glancing at his watch he noticed that it was almost 6pm. "Hmm.. going on 4 hours now." He thought to himself. Flipping off the television, he set the remote on the living room stand and started heading to the basement, whistling a tune as he went. Opening the basement door, the...
Blind people have some advantages – not many, but a few. The two senses that I’ve found superior to that of most sighted people are hearing and smell. There’s also a third sense that is often enhanced in the blind, the sense of touch. With the right person, in the right situation, touch offers a very fine way of ‘seeing’ someone. While wedged into the booth at the Hilton coffee shop with colleagues, I could tell from the tone of the conversation that the guys were deferring to the lady from...