Your Gothic Princess
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I thought we'd been making love for hours, but it wasn't even 8 p.m. yet. Amy talked to Shiggie and between them they decided to invite Ford to join us for dinner, too.
We were going to try Baltimore's Japanese restaurant tonight.
As it turned out, the restaurant, while not bad, wasn't quite up to the standard of the one in Toronto, but Shiggie didn't complain. Shiggie never complained, it seemed. I tried to put myself in his place and imagine what it would be like, day in and day out in a foreign culture, listening to people talking to each other and mostly leaving you out.
But Shiggie seemed to be thriving. Then again, why should he bitch about life's little inconveniences? He had money in the bank -- in two countries, probably. And he had us! He had Amy, and me -- Good Old Sam.
And Ford.
I was pretty sure he'd had Ford, in the Biblical Sense. (Hey -- do gay guys do it in the Biblical Sense?)
Once again that evening, the four of us made a pretty joyful group, and the loud laughter coming from our table probably annoyed some of the other customers. Why is it that sometimes, other people having a good time can be so annoying? I've felt the same way, on occasion -- vaguely resentful of the happy group at the next table over. Why are those people having more fun than I am?
Tonight, though, we were being the annoying ones.
Ford picked up pretty quickly on the fact that his kid sister had been laid very recently. He didn't seem to mind. He seemed approving, even. Shiggie had detected it before we'd so much as left the house. Whenever Amy was out of the room, he'd give me another unsubtle elbow to the ribs, accompanied by a truly evil smirk. And, once, I got a double-thumbs-up sign. Shiggie might not have much English, but he had a Ph.D. in gesturing.
When we left the restaurant, Ford followed us back to the Big House and came inside. I noticed when he left his car to come in, he was carrying a little overnight bag and a suit on a hanger. Not too subtle, that. I looked around the front, but didn't see any reporters.
Good.
It was still early, but Amy and I skipped the porch swing and the hot tea, said a quick goodnight to Shiggie and Ford, and went upstairs.
This time, we used my room. It was closer to the stairs, and my sheets were cleaner -- and they were still on the mattress.
We didn't get a lot of sleep that night, but I woke up late Monday morning, feeling wonderful. I stayed in bed, huddled close against Amy's naked back and butt, my left hand gently stroking everything I could reach on Amy's smooth, warm front. I couldn't tell whether she was awake through all this, but I suspect nobody could have slept through such a thoroughgoing pawing. Not much doubt that it was annoying, immature behavior on my part, but if it was, I'd have to apologize later.
For now, I was The Intrepid Explorer: What's this? Feels like a left breast! Hmmm. Hefty little sucker! And what do we have here? Why, it seems to be a hidden cavern of some sort, its entrance protected by light undergrowth. Remarkable! Zounds! It appears to have its own heat source -- emanating from the interior of the cavern!
For at least another 90 minutes, before I was forced by my kidneys to abandon the bed, I continued this potentially deal-breaking misbehavior.
Amy got out of bed soon after I did, and ran naked down the long hall to the other upstairs bathroom, and afterward, to her own still-disheveled bedroom.
We all four were trying to prepare brunch when the phone rang. It was Mike Flanagan, the Orioles Vice President/co-GM.
"Shigeo there with you?" Mike asked.
"Yeah -- he's right here. You want to talk to him?"
I'm a comedian.
"I just wanted to know if he was there. I'm sending a young woman over with a package for him. You gonna be around?"
"We'll all be here."
We finished breakfast and said goodbye to Ford. He was evidently a few hours late for work that day, but didn't seem worried about it. Amy saw him to the front porch and waved goodbye.
"There are a half-dozen reporters and photographers out there," Amy said when she returned to the dining room.
"So what's new?" I asked.
"They make me nervous," Amy said. The night before, at least four of the ever-present Japanese press had followed us to, and into, the restaurant where we'd had dinner. They'd watched every move we made. Shiggie and Ford had been extremely careful to pay more attention to Amy and me than they did to one another.
But, still. Maybe there were vibes.
Me'n Amy were certainly sending out vibes! I felt like everybody -- the Japanese Press included -- could probably smell the sex fumes the two of us were radiating all evening. I mean, we'd taken a shower afterward, but, hell, soap, water and a good dose of Right Guard can only take you so far.
I hoped similar emanations weren't being detected from Shiggie and Ford.
Grace
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