Juniper JonesChapter 2
- 2 years ago
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We lost the Sunday game in Toronto and were back to six games under .500 for the season. My personal batting slump continued, and although
Paul Warren was as inscrutable as always, I thought our hitting coach, B.J. Surhoff, was starting to show signs of concern about having to rely on me for other than occasional bench strength.
I could tell he was casting about for something to say to me that might snap me out of it. If Warren and the coaches knew anything about the blowup with Juniper, they didn't give any sign of it. They were all business on the field -- as I should have been.
I didn't have much doubt that Franklin Jones had heard about it all. Juniper's visit to Toronto hadn't been a secret, and even if she hadn't told her parents when she abruptly returned home, I was sure that Franklin had spoken about it to her mother by now.
But he didn't say anything to me. I was kind of wishing that he would. The way I looked at the situation, Franklin and I should be allies in this campaign to rescue and recapture his stepdaughter.
I was pretty sure that Franklin didn't believe that I had deliberately cheated on Juniper in Minnesota. He, at least, would take my word for such a thing over that of Toby Marr. But then who knows? Franklin hadn't likely heard anything from Toby Marr. Whatever he knew, or thought he knew, had probably come from Juniper -- either directly or through her mother.
For all I knew, Franklin was off somewhere hating my guts at that very moment.
I let Paul Warren know that my plans had changed and that I'd fly with the team to Boston immediately after the final game in the series.
Toby Marr and I had successfully avoided one another since the breakfast incident the previous Friday. Sharing the dugout with him for all three games hadn't made avoiding him easy, but I noticed that Omar Washington had been continuously sitting beside me between innings, evidently serving as a human shield between me and Marr.
That was wise of him, because any kind of blow-up with Marr in the Orioles' dugout would clearly result in one or both of us getting suspended, or, more likely, getting waived out of the league altogether.
Neither of us was exactly indispensable. What was worse, Marr had been performing pretty well lately. I was the one who wasn't producing. The guy might be universally regarded by his teammates as an asshole, but I knew how things worked in this business: An asshole who had things going good on the field was more valuable than a highly regarded teammate who wasn't hitting.
Our open date in Boston -- which was supposed to have been my sightseeing trip around Toronto with Juniper -- I spent instead watching a second-rate movie in a downtown theater.
That evening I invited Omar Washington and Del Stuart, along with my road roomie, Phil Burkowitz, to a steak dinner. I insisted on picking up the tab for the four of us. It was my "thank you" to Washington and Stuart for intervening in the skirmish with Marr, and for quietly continuing to keep the two of us separated for the next three games.
Phil Burkowitz already knew the essential details of what had happened. Back in Toronto the past Friday night, I'd had to explain to him why I'd spent all that time sleeping in our hotel room, when earlier he'd been told not to expect me -- that I'd be spending my nights elsewhere.
"I don't see any sign that Toby's interested in keeping this feud going," Del Stuart said. "Me 'n Omar will keep our eyes open for awhile longer, but I think it's over with ... That is, it's over with if you're gonna stay cool, too, Travis."
"I hate the sonuvabitch," I said, "but I'm going to stay cool. He's not worth a suspension."
"Couple more good starts for this Brumbelow kid," Omar said, "and Toby's going to be heading for the bullpen anyway."
"I don't know, Phil said. "The Baltimore Sun might still be referring to Toby as our number five starter, but there's a couple other guys been shakier than him lately. If anybody gets demoted from the starting five, I think it'll be Ramirez."
"Anyway, whatever happens to Marr, he'll be somewhere around," I said. "You guys can relax. I'm not going to start anything with him. I know how stupid that would be, and anyway, I'm pretty sure if Marr saw me coming, he could whip my ass."
"Yeah, I was thinkin' that myself," Burkowitz said, "but I wasn't going to say it out loud."
"'S funny, ain't it?" Del Stuart said. "You get a real big fucker like Zeke Taylor is, or a big ugly dude like Omar, here, and these guys got the sweetest dispositions in the world. Don't make no trouble for nobody ... Then you get this Toby Marr. You'd think a big old boy like him would be the same way. But no -- the guy's pure poison. Go figure!"
"Guess it's just more proof that size don't matter," Phil Burkowitz said.
"You keep thinking that, needle-dick," Stuart said.
Paul sat me down for the first game at Fenway, telling me it wasn't because I wasn't hitting, but that I just needed a rest like everybody else, and that he wanted the kid they'd brought up as our backup first baseman to get some at-bats.
My need for a "rest" after an open date on the schedule was somewhat dubious, but I didn't make a fuss. So the new kid, named Dick Potter, played first, with Spider going back to right field for the first time since Brennan's injury. Tough Shit Williams moved over to take back his usual spot in left.
Maybe it was the Green Monster behind the left fielder that Paul was concerned about. I hadn't shown much facility for playing that big wall the previous time we'd been in Boston. I just hoped Paul wasn't planning to sit me down for all three games of the series.
If this Potter kid lucked into a couple of base hits, I might be catching splinters in my butt the rest of the week.
I resolved to watch the game with complete attention, leaving my private troubles out of the equation altogether. I wasn't entirely able to keep Juniper out of my thoughts, but the effort proved reasonably successful.
In the eighth inning, Paul called upon me to pinch hit and I singled to bring in our baserunner, Eliot Harper, from second, tying the score.
We later won the game in ten innings. Boston was well ahead of us and in second place in the Division. And they'd messed up our minds the previous week in Baltimore, so it felt good to beat them in their house.
Sure enough, Paul Warren went with the same lineup Wednesday and Thursday nights, and I didn't get into either game.
We flew back home late Thursday, having taken two out of three from the Red Sox. There were signs the Orioles were getting well, and starting to close in on the .500 mark again.
But I was back on the bench, evidently, until further notice, and Josh Brennan's expected date of return to the lineup was rapidly approaching.
The inter-league schedule was about to go into full swing, and we'd be playing six games in seven days at home. We'd start with three against the Pittsburgh Pirates and then, after an open date, play three more against Houston.
First thing Friday morning, I called Juniper at work on her cell. She took the call, found out it was me on the line, and promptly hung up.
So I called Mary Jane at home and moaned and groaned to her about how life was unfair. Managed to get her all depressed, too. I was getting pretty good at that, it seemed. Spreading my little rain cloud wherever I went.
"I'd like to come over, after the game tonight if it's not too late," I said.
"I doubt she'll even be here, Travis," Mary Jane said. "She hasn't been home a single night since she got back from Toronto."
Oh, shit.
"Ask her to call me. Tell her I said please."
"I'll ask her, but I doubt she'll call you."
"This is so stupid!"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Listen, Mary Jane, keep after her -- please, about calling me -- but I'm coming over on Sunday evening anyway. It's an afternoon game, and Monday's an open date. I'm going to try to catch her at home."
"Come for dinner Sunday," she said. "No guarantees Juniper will be here, but you and Franklin and I could talk."
"Okay."
The Pirates had a weak club, and we were playing at home and using the DH, and our regular DH, Omar, was considerably more dangerous than the Pirate's makeshift DH. We won all three games by comfortable margins. The Orioles were now only two games below .500.
We also got the word that Josh Brennan would rejoin the club on June 24 in Chicago and that he was expected to be ready to play on a daily basis.
I started all three games against the Pirates and went three-for-eleven with a couple of walks. It was about what was expected of me. All three hits were singles, but maybe my recent production breakdown was over.
Main thing was, we were winning again.
Early Sunday evening, I parked the Cooper in front of Franklin's house and was pleased to see that Juniper's car was still in the driveway.
Juniper, however, was elsewhere, as I found out when Mary Jane let me in. "She's on a date," she said.
"What's been happening?" I asked her. "You told me she'd been out every night. Is it the same guy? She seeing someone?"
Mary Jane's face fell. "No, it's not the same guy. Sometimes, I don't even know where she goes, she just ... goes. And I've seen two different guys who've brought her home, and who the hell knows whether there are more than two? ... I don't."
"So you're pretty sure she's..."
"I'm pretty sure she's fucking anything that moves, and if I were you, Travis, I'd just go find me somebody else to care about. She's a lost cause."
We lost the final game in Minneapolis, but we managed to take some encouragement from it because for once it was our offense and not the pitching that had fallen down on the job. Sam Bailey had his first good outing since early April, giving up only two runs in seven innings. For Sam, it was a no-decision, but we still ended up on the short end, 3-2. For once, there were no delays at the airport, and we were on the ground in Toronto and busing in to our downtown hotel well before 9 p.m. I...
Cleveland was inhospitable, beating us three out of four at "Progressive" Field (formerly known as "Jacobs Field"). Along with Baltimore's fans in the stands, I found myself hoping that the Orioles never got so desperate for spare change that they would sell "naming rights" to Oriole Park at Camden Yards. I'd seen an Internet blog where one local man said that on the day Camden Yards was renamed something like Pillsbury Park or Folger's Field, he would be through showing up for ball...
It was in the wee hours of the morning when I finally drove Juniper home. We said goodnight at her family's front door without any further pyrotechnics. In contrast to my first night taking her to this door, this time she wasn't flirtatious or eager to bestow a kiss on me before we so much as left the car. We just walked up to the front door, she said goodnight, and that was the ballgame. Speaking of ballgames, I was due at Camden Yards in approximately eleven hours. It would behoove me...
Back at my apartment, Juniper and I had the most enchanting night together since we'd met. The sex was exhausting, almost desperate, but we managed to make it loving and tender at the same time. Afterward, we relaxed together, still lying naked on top of the sheets. Each of us was nursing one of my favorite treats -- a homemade root beer float. I felt contentment washing over me like a gentle ocean wave. I felt new confidence that we were going to really make this thing work. Happiness is...
It turned out that Mary Jane Jones (I still chuckled every time I uttered that name) was more than pleased to invite me to dinner. I was to arrive at seven p.m. for dinner at eight. Franklin was to entertain me with old war stories while she and Juniper prepared our meal. When I arrived, Juniper greeted me at the door all cheerful and friendly. I received a little hug and a kiss on the cheek, after which she led me into a very large room where Franklin was watching Jeopardy! on a big-screen...
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When I got to the park, Franklin Jones found me in the clubhouse and told me, quietly, that Juniper had asked him to invite me over after the game. Evidently, she hadn't wanted to count on my hearing by telephone from Carla. "How'd she seem?" I asked Franklin. I was confident that Juniper's stepfather and I were on the same side of this issue. I could expect him to talk straight to me. "Not good," he said. "I got all encouraged when she told me to invite you to come by, but her...
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I drove directly to Franklin's house, calling him on the way to let him know I was coming and to ask Mary Jane to start softening Juniper up for a meeting with me. It still wasn't entirely clear whether she would be willing to see me. Franklin said he had spoken to the psychiatrist and that Dr. Mendelssohn had called Juniper afterward on her cell. "They might be still talking now," he said. When I got there, I gratefully accepted a steaming cup of coffee from Mary Jane and sat down...
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My cell phone vibrated. “U free?” No emoticons were in the text message. She was horny. We met on a summer’s morning, a few years back, while we were waiting for the bus on our way to work; she smiled at me and asked if the bus was ever on time. I laughed and replied, no. I had stared at her many times on the bus and subway, at her tits to be specific. They were large, meaty, full and firm. In the summer, she flaunted them. Tight t-shirts, low cut tops and unbuttoned blouses. They would...
Quickie SexI awoke to feel the caress of Brandy’s hand along the soft flaccid shaft of the manly cock she had satisfied already in so many ways. Her eyes filled with even more devious thoughts as she saw I was not fully awake. “Grandpa,” she said in a soft whisper, “try not to get hard too fast.” as her body slid beneath the covers. I knew her intent, I felt her flesh as her body turned and her breasts slid over my abdomen. Her hand lifted the limber member she had taken into her throat and would again,...
IncestIt was one of those fantastically languid moments. The intensity ofthe orgasm left my mind blank, spent. My whole body was weak as Ilay on the couch, afraid that I might just flow off it into a puddleon the floor. I open my eyes and see my wife's back, lightly tanned,and the twin, creamy firm orbs of her paler buttocks, mechanically,automatically, rising and falling over my softening cock. Nina isstill milking the last out of her intensely powerful orgasm... but Iam totally spent.I hear a...
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“I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me,” Lola says, giving the older woman a hug. “It wasn’t a problem,” Vanessa says. “Enjoy the gift.” “I will,” the girl says, pushing her pink, square framed glasses onto her face. “I just hope Scotty will like it.” “I’m sure he will,” Vanessa says, watching the girl slip through the exit. She stands there for a moment longer, thinking about the idea of giving such a gift on Christmas Eve. Her enjoyment of both the silence and thoughts are...
The sabbatical was good for them. It was good for Kendra because she could concentrate on learning what she felt she needed to know to become a good, or at least moderately well prepared mother. It was good for Bob because being on a working ranch gave him the opportunity to lose twenty pounds of fat and turn another ten or fifteen into muscle. And, of course, he had plenty of time to work on his paper. There was a minor hiccup concerning that when Randolph Bellingham attempted to make an...
*** “Oh...my...god!” came a voice. “What the hell is going on in here?”. The level of raw shock was so high that neither Danny nor Jake could move, never mind manage an answer. After a few more seconds of frozen silence, Danny, still straddling Jake’s legs with his head just above his crotch, managed to hesitantly turn his head to look at the figure which stood in the doorway behind him. It was Danny’s dad. Danny just stared fearfully at his dad, waiting to see how he would react to...
October 2, 1994, Chicago, Illinois The attendance at the Rap Session was better than I’d expected. Most of the kids from the spring returned, though one or two had graduated. Elizabeth, Claire, Becka, Marie Annette, Laurie, Ben, Mike, Carissa, Wanda, Stacy, Ted, Bev, Henry, Gaby, Trish, Kajri, Cèlia, and Cindi were all in attendance. Ken and Joan didn’t show up, which didn’t surprise me. And of course, my wives, Michelle, and Elyse were in the great room as well. I’d thought more about...
Angel Taylor always knew her relationship with Don was unlike any other in her clan. To begin with, the way she met Don was legendary, not to mention how he behaved during that difficult period of trial when his ex-wife Amy returned to cause trouble. Angel was becoming somewhat of a legend with her clan and as the younger mermaids were maturing and preparing for their time to meet the man for them, they would ask her about how she met Don and how she knew he was so different. Often, Angel was...
Hi friends, this is Vibin. I am here to narrate my story. This is a real story. So the sexual elements will be less. And the story has two phases. Hope you will enjoy it. Please sent me your comments at First of all,let me tell about myself. I am a 26 year old guy from kerala. I joined in a reputed bank 1.5 years before, after completing my pg at thrissur,kerala. My village is 30 kms away from thrissur. I rented a flat just 500m away from my bank. During my graduation 1st year, I had a serious...
So, you have her in a room, let's say it's the traditional bedroom. (Could be the kitchen or bathroom, but do not attempt the following at the pub, cinema or the like.) Help her undress, particularly her underwear if she is so adorned. Undo her bra, let it loosen, cup her breasts with it then remove, letting it fall to the floor. Nibble on her nape while you do so, if she has long hair tell her to hold it up. Flow your hands along her skin down to her panties and tuck your fingertips into them....
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