Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Softball Dad, Part 1
Disclaimer:
This is a romantic and erotic story.  I like to create characters that
look real, and their relationship develops over time.  So if you are
looking for a "quick release," this is not for you.  By the time the man
and the woman in the story "do their thing," you will be convinced that

they are really doing it.  I suppose some of the stories you can find here
is a blend of fictional and autobiographical materials.  It is up to you to
decide how many ounces of fantasy are in this story.

   "Hi, Dad, hurry up!  I don't want to be late.  This is the first
practice of the season," Emily called out loud from the driveway to her
dad. She packed her softball gear into the back of her father's SVU and
waved enthusiastically.  Clad in her green and black uniform, the
10-year-old girl waited impatiently.

   Jim Kellers briskly walked out of his townhouse, his home-brewed
Starbucks in a paper cup in one hand, and car key in the other.  "OK, let's
go.  Beginning of a championship season," he smiled at his daughter. 
"Don't worry.  It's a 15-minute drive to the ball field, and it is now only
9:40."
This was the spring time Saturday morning routine of many suburbanites:
one parent driving one child to a sports event, the other driving the
second kid to dance lessons, music lessons, etc.  Jim and his wife Sandra
were no different.  They shared chauffeur duties between Emily and Jillian.
Dad usually went with older sister Emily to her softball practice.  He just
didn't have the sensibility or interest in waiting around the dance studio

while 6-year-old Jillian practiced her ballet steps to Swan Lake.

   Jim liked sports.  Like many Long Islanders, he went to a few hockey
games in the winter, attended a few Mets games at CitiField in the summer
and watched NFL games on TV when it was football season.  He was not crazy
enough to take over coaching duties for his child's sport team.  There were
many dads, and moms, who were fanatics and they acted as coach/general
manager/equipment manager for their children's teams.  Jim always felt that
many of them were probably projecting their failed sports dreams on their
kids.  They would holler at their children, push them hard at practice,
train and motivate them to win divisional or regional championships.  Coach
Shirley was like that.

   Jim pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the softball field next to
the elementary school that his children attended.  Four or five of the
kids, with their parents, arrived already.  Coach Shirley's daughter,
Kelsey, was the star pitcher of the Hawks.  They were there also,
stretching and warming up.

   Shirley was probably about 40 years old.  A former college softball
player, she had the skills, knowledge and temperament to head up the U10
softball team.  She could be loud and obnoxious, and liked to joke around a
bit.  Sometimes, maybe even too flirtatious with the guys.  By no means was
she a bad person.

   As soon as she noticed Jim and Emily arriving, she turned around and
walked over to greet them.

   "Good morning, Coach Shirley!"

   "Good morning, Emily."

   Emily happily galloped over to meet her friends, who were doing soft
tossing around the field.

   "Good morning, Shirely."

   "Good morning, Jim.  Bright and early again this season, huh?  Are you
here to check out the 10-year-old girls?"

   "NOOO, you know me, I have better taste than that.  I am checking out
the moms and the coach," Jim played along with the bantering.

   "Ahh, that's sweet.  So you are into M-I-L-Fs?" Shirley giggled as she
spelled out the acronym.

   "No F.  Just W.  Watching.  Don't want to get into trouble, ma'am," Jim
replied.

   "So Sandra is with the younger one?  And you are doing your fatherly
duty here, to be the softball dad?"

   "Yes, and I perform my husbandly duty admirably too."

   Shirley could not help but letting out a hearty laugh, her chest
bouncing a little with her laughter.  She was by no means plump.  Probably
voluptuous would be the best description.  Standing at about 5'6", her body
showed a trace of the athlete that she once was.  Big bones, with the right
amount of muscles on her.

   She walked closer to Jim, her breast about 6 inches from him.  "Did you
have too much caffeine this morning, or what?" she smirked.  "Or you didn't
have enough last night?"

   "No, it's just that I have not seen you in your coaching uniform since
the end of last season.  That's all," Jim said.

   Her brown hair was tied into a bun, covered by the cap.  She rested her
sun glasses above the bill.  With no make-up on her face, she looked pretty
in a natural and casual way.  With her hands on her hips, her posture was
shouting - "You want a piece of me?"

   Jim could notice the outline of her sports bra under the tight jersey.
Her sweat pants were too loose to reveal anything below the belt.  He
imagined that it would be a pair of hip hugging underwear.  Probably no
G-string.  With all the jogging around and squatting, it would be a torture
to have the fabric rubbing around her crotch.  Or maybe she would enjoy it?


   Jim would love to turn her around, pull down her grey sweat pants and
smack her buttocks right there behind the batting cage.  To inspect what
kind of undies she was wearing.  Maybe even to threaten her with a bat? 
Saying he would penetrate one of her orifices with the handle end?

   "Ok, knock it off.  Something serious.  Your wife told me that you are
into photography.  This year we want to maintain a website for our softball
team.  Pictures of their practice, pictures of their games, pictures of the
post-game BBQ.  My husband is a computer geek and he can put together the
site in no time.  Can you be our official cameraman?  Wherever we go, you
bring your camera along, and keep track of our actions?"

   "Sure.  No problem.  Sounds like a great idea.  I will take pictures,
organize them on my laptop and then give you a flash drive every week," Jim
suggested.

   "Thanks.  And that gives you license to go around the field to WATCH to
your heart's content," Shirley just couldn't let go of the ribbing.

   "I hear ya, only W, no F," Jim smiled, as she went back to the field to
get the girls ready for practice.

   It was a nice mid-April morning.  Gone were the snow and grey skies of
the winter.  The sun came out,with few clouds in the sky.  A soft breeze
brought the smell of freshness of spring to his nostrils.

   Jim sat down on the top of the five-tier bleachers behind the batting
cage, sipping coffee from his paper cup.  He looked around.  More parents
arrived with their kids.  About half of the parents were dads.  He waved to
a few of them.  He knew everyone by face.  In a typical suburban town like
Clark Village on Long Island, the kids grew up in the same neighborhood,
attended the same schools.  Everyone met everyone at the school's
back-to-school night.  Parents shopped at the same Costco, or CVS.  They
ate at the same IHOP, or TGI Friday.

   This would not be a good place to start an affair.  Not in a small town
like this, where everyone knew everyone.  People could tell whose car it
was by the color and the model.  Not that Jim was planning to hit on any of
the ladies.  He had been faithful in the 12 years that he was married. 
Setting his eyes on other women, yes, but like what he told Shirley - just
watching.  And some fantasizing.  But he had no intention of fooling
around.

   He liked the soccer moms, or the softball moms, now that he was at the
softball field.  When the high school team played its football games in the
fall, he would attend.  For the fun of the game, really.  The cheerleaders
were bouncing around, doing flips in their short skirts.  The teenage high
school boys were whistling, getting all excited.  However, Jim would shake
his head and look around, checking out the moms who were sipping soda or
licking ketchup from their fingers after eating chicken nuggets.  He was
definitely into MILFs.

   At about 10:15, all the girls were assembled in front of home plate. 
Shirley was giving the team a pep talk about team spirit, hard work and
dedication.  She was good with kids.  The team had girls from 4th to 5th
grades.  The kids listened to her and respected her.  No one cared a lot
about winning or losing.  They came here to have fun.

   Shirley squatted down and had the kids form a semi-circle around her. 
She was talking to the kids eye to eye.  From Jim's vantage point on the
bleachers, her pear-shaped buttocks were in plain view.  He was certain
that he was not the only male member of the audience who was enjoying the
view.  And he had to adjust his jeans to conceal his own member's reaction.

   Another car pulled into the parking lot.  It was Jennifer Wilson and her
daughter Maddy, Emily's best friend.  Grabbing her helmet and her bat,
Maddy ran towards the field to join the ongoing practice.  Jennifer grabbed
her water bottle, locked the car and strolled up to the bleachers.  She
made eye contact with everyone, nodded, smiled and then sat down with
another mom in the first row.

   Jennifer was one of Jim's favorite targets of WATCHING.

   Sandra and Jennifer met regularly at school functions, and they dropped
off their kids at one another's place for play dates regularly.  Jim's wife
told him that she sometimes ran into Jennifer at yoga classes too.  He was
friendly with Jennifer, but he never ventured beyond any acceptable social
norms.  She used to work at a magazine publisher, but with a 10-year old
daughter and an 8-year old son, she decided to be a full time mom long ago.
Her husband, Mike, was a corporate lawyer, obviously bringing home enough
money to support the whole family.  Jim's wife worked, so there was not a
lot of socializing between the two moms during the day.  But when they met,
they always had a good time sharing child rearing stories.

   Jennifer had a petite physique.  Maybe 5'2" or 5'3", 110 pounds, in her
late thirties.  She was not the stunning knockout centerfold type of
beautiful.  She had a shapely nose and friendly eyes.  Dark blond shoulder
length curly hair.  A woman next door kind of pretty.

   Her boobs probably would fit nicely in Jim's hands.  He could be kissing
and licking Jennifer's lips all day.  What would it feel like if she was
giving a blow job?

   "OK, parents.  Listen up.  We will have one more practice next Wednesday
afternoon and then there will be a friendly match with the Hurricanes next
Saturday here at 10.  That will be our first inter-team play this season.
Whether you can make it or not, call me or send me an email so I know we
will have enough girls to field the team," Shirley `s booming voice woke
Jim up from his trance.  He checked his watch.  It was 11:30 already.  ***

   At the inaugural game of the season the next Saturday, Jim brought his
digital SLR camera and went around the field to capture shots from various
angles.  He had his telephoto zoom and standard lens ready.  His daughter's
team, the Hawks, was trailing 3-0 after two innings.  With runners on first
and second, one of the girls, Christie, hit a fly ball that fell into right
field, and the base runners scampered home.  Score was 3-2.  Great, lots of
action - running, crossing home plate, high fives, parents cheering.  Coach
Shirley hugging the players.  Christie stood on second base, grinning
confidently, adjusting her helmet.  Jim easily had taken 50, 60 pictures.

   Then the next two innings went very slow.  Both pitchers were wild and
lots of walks were issued.  Jim sat back on the bleachers, looked around,
and saw Jennifer at the bottom row, to his lower left side.  She was
sitting next to another mom.  It was a pretty warm day for late April, 60
degrees temperature, and some people wore T-shirts and shorts.  Jennifer
raised her right hand to shade the sun, squinting under her sunglasses. 
She was wearing a white tank top and blue jeans.  With her right arm
elevated, Jim could see her cleanly shaved underarm, the pale flesh bared
around it.  The outline of her round right breast was clearly visible. 
God, she was sexy in this innocent way.

   Jim could not resist pointing his camera in her direction and pressed
the shutter a few times.  Then she lowered her arm, took up her phone,
pushed her sunglasses up above her forehead.  A faint smile appeared on her
face, reading her email or text messages.

   "Click, click, click." A few more shots.

   Then Jim heard the crowd roar.  He turned to look at the field.  The
other team just hit a ball to the outfield, scoring two runs.  Now they
were up 5-2.

   The home crowd was disappointed.  But they still cheered.  In the bottom
half of the inning, Emily had a hit and got on base.  Jim walked down the
bleachers to the side of the batting cage, hoping there could be some
scoring opportunities to capture.  A girl Cathy drew a walk.  Then it was
Maddy's turn at bat.  Jennifer stood up and cheered.  Not hollering, not
foot stomping, just clapping and smiling.  So classy and low key.

   Maddy hit a soft grounder to first base that the first base player
bobbled.  Her right foot just stepped on the base plate before the other
player could recover the ball and tag.  Nice close-up action shots.  Jim
was proud of his work.  One run scored!  5-3.

   The score stayed that way.  The Hawks lost.  But everyone was in good
spirits.  Emphasis on the positives.  Coach Shirley pulled the kids around
and told them what they did well, and what to work on next time.

   Jennifer came over to Jim, sunglasses in hand, asked "Did you get any
good photos?  Quite an exciting game." She stood to Jim's right side,
leaning in to look at the LED display screen on the back of the camera.

   "She smells so good," the thought floated in Jim's mind.  He was 5'9",
so Jennifer's head came just about to his nose.  When she leaned in, her
left arm touched Jim's right arm.  Or was it her left breast pressing
against him?  He wondered.

   "Yeah, I got quite a few good ones when Maddy got on base."

   "Oh, show me!"

   There was one showing Maddy making contact with the ball.  Her eyes
wide, tracking the ball, the bat was a blur.

   "That is a cool shot.  How did you do that?  Her face is so clear but
the bat is like moving," Jennifer asked.

   "Oh, that one.  I stepped down the aperture and slowed down the
shutter."

   "Huh?" Jennifer admired his tech talk even though she had no idea what
it was.  "And this one is Maddy jumping in midair.  Oh I love this one."

   "Fast shutter freezes the action."

   "Let me see," Jennifer took over the camera and intently flipped through
the pictures by pressing the left arrow.

   Jim was very proud of his handiwork.

   Then Jennifer flipped to the 5 or 6 candid shots of her.  Jim suddenly
realized he was busted.  He felt there were ants crawling up his neck.

   Jennifer did not get mad.  She paused for about 3, 4 seconds.  Then she
flipped back and forth among those photos of herself one more time, smiling
a bit.  She looked up at Jim scoldingly.  "That is bad.  Don't do that. 
You will get us in trouble," she talked almost in a whisper.  Then he
handed the camera back to Jim, and went back to Maddy and gathered their
stuff.

   Jim stood there for a long moment.  "What did she say?  `You will get us
in trouble?' She didn't say YOU ARE IN TROUBLE, or I AM GONNA TELL YOUR
WIFE." Did she have something in mind?

   "Dad, Dad, let's go," Emily was by his side, his gear bag on her
shoulder.  ***

   The next week they travelled to the neighboring town of Johnsonville to
play the Hurricanes again.  Most of the time, this was how teams find
opponents, or to be more precise, to find scrimmage partners.  So early in
the season, every team was tuning up, treating the games like spring
training for the kids.

   All week, Jim played back the conversation he had with Jennifer, trying
to decipher any hidden layer of meaning of what she said.  He also checked
Sandra's reaction all week, wondering if she got a call or a text from
Jennifer, accusing her husband of peeping.  No, there was none.

   Jim considered what to do next, wondering how to go about testing the
waters.  He came up with an idea on Tuesday.

   "Emily.  Why don't you ask Maddy tomorrow at school if she and her mom
wants to ride with us to the game this Saturday."

   "OK."

   But then Emily came home the next night saying that Maddy's dad would be
bringing her to the game this week and they did not need a ride.  Jim's
heart sank, like a boat anchor dropping into the deep blue sea.

   Friday night, the Kellers family went to eat at Applebee's.  Just as
they were going in, they saw the Wilsons come out.  The kids were laughing
and chasing one another on the sidewalk, while the dad talked with the dad
and the mom talked with the mom.  Jim overheard Jennifer telling Sandra
that she needed to bring her son to the dentist the next morning.  When
they waved goodbye, Jim was looking if Jennifer showed anything on her
face. But she was busy tending to the young son.

   At the game visiting the Hurricanes, Jim took some more pictures, having
been very careful backing up the Jennifer photos elsewhere before handing
the flash drive to Coach Shirley.

   May came around and the first Saturday morning Emily's team was away
playing the Rockets, another neighborhood team.  Since this time it was
about half an hour's drive away, some parents car pooled.  Jim did not
bother asking Emily to investigate if Maddy's family wanted to ride
together.  He figured that Jennifer's message was clear - "Don't take my
pictures again and I will not make a fuss about it."

   At the game, Jim saw Jennifer and they exchanged pleasantries.  Her
"hello" came with a smile.

   Coach Shirley was using her charm to work the umpire, trying to gain
some advantage even as a visiting team.  She projected her usual smile, and
her hands-on-hips stance, slowly rocking back and forth while talking to
the umpire.  Perhaps she wanted to influence the umpire to call more
strikes for her pitching staff.  "He probably wants to strike at your
ball-shaped tits," Jim was thinking to himself.

   The game was hardly 15 minutes old when an accident happened.  Maddy hit
a soft ground ball back to the pitcher and she was running hard to first
base.  Two steps before she got there, she slipped and landed awkwardly on
her left side.  Her shoulder banged into the base plate.  She was down,
obviously hurt, in pain.

   Jennifer dropped her water bottle and ran towards her crying daughter.
She tried to comfort Maddy, and the coaches from both teams, and the
umpire, huddled to look at her.  Jim put his camera away in his bag and
walked over as well.  From the way that Maddy's left arm stick out at a
weird angle, it looked like a dislocated shoulder.

   "Jennifer, I think you should bring Maddy to a hospital to check things
out," Shirley said.  Then he turned to Jim, "Why don't you drive the two of
them?  She needs to sit in the back to hold onto her daughter.  I will
bring your daughter home.  And Jenn, leave your car keys with me.  I will
make sure someone drive your car home for you.  Do you want me to call your
husband?" For all her naughtiness and obnoxiousness, Shirley was a good
take-charge organizer.

   Jennifer handed Shirley the key to her minivan and said, "Mike went to
the City this morning.  It might take him a while to come back.  But I will
call him on the way to the hospital.  And, Jim, are you ok driving us?  I
am sorry that you have to leave Emily with someone."

   Jim brushed aside any kind of erotic thoughts and promptly agreed to
bring the injured girl to the hospital.  The group conferred and decided
the closest one was Southside General.  They quickly created a make-shift
sling out of a jacket and someone found ice from a cooler and made an ice
pack for Maddy's shoulder.  ***

   After they arrived at the hospital, Jim helped Jennifer walk Maddy into
the triage area before he parked his SUV.  When he went back into the
waiting room, Jennifer was nervously clutching a clipboard with all the
insurance forms to fill out, but she looked longingly into the curtained
area where Maddy was being tended to.  Jim asked her for her insurance card
and took over the clipboard, "You go ahead and be by her side.  She is very
scared."

   Jennifer looked up at Jim, nodded and said "Thank you" before she walked
to Maddy's bedside.

   Jim copied whatever information he could get from the card onto the
forms, leaving blank the sections that he didn't know, waiting for Jennifer
to finish.  After perhaps 20 minutes, Jennifer returned to Jim's side,
looking more worried than ever.

   "They believe it is a dislocated shoulder, and they will put it back
into the socket as soon as they can." Perhaps the graphic nature of the
details and the severity of the injury set in.  Jennifer burst into
uncontrollable sobs, shaking, clutching her arms in front of her.

   Jim turned around and pulled a few tissues out of a box near the nurses'
station.  He instinctively reached out to grab her, and tried to hug her to
comfort her.  But the awkwardness of the past few weeks came to his mind,
so he only half pulled her in by wrapping his right arm around her back.

   Jennifer was grateful for the touch and support, and she simply buried
her face in Jim's chest, tears dripping down her cheeks.  She wiped them
away with the tissues.  She was almost curled up in a standing fetal
position.

   A Filipino nurse walked by and nodded approvingly, as if saying "Good
job comforting her."

   After a minute, she felt calmer, but still in the awkward half-embrace
of his.  She took a few deep breaths.  On the other hand, Jim was wondering
where to put his left hand.  Should he reach out and wrap both arms around
her?  Should he rest it on her waist?

   While he was still pondering the question, the doctor came out with a
reassuring expression.

   "Mr.  and Mrs.  Wilson?  Your daughter will be fine.  It is a dislocated
shoulder but there is no damage to any ligament.  She needs to stay here
for a couple of hours for observation and I will give you a prescription.
In a few days you can bring her to your pediatrician and let him refer you
to an orthopedic specialist.  She probably will need some physical therapy
but with her young age, I think things will be fine in a month.  OK?"

   Jennifer felt as if a ton of dumbbells were lifted off her shoulders. 
She looked up at Jim, watery eyes, and vulnerable, "Thank you, Mr. 
Wilson." Jim let go of her.  And they both exhaled and smiled.

   After the doctor left, they walked to Maddy's bedside.  Jennifer held
out one finger for her daughter to squeeze in her left hand, the injured
side.  The little girl still had some strength and held onto her mother's
finger, not letting go.

   "The doctor said you will be fine in a month," Jennifer smiled at her
daughter.

   "Can I still play?" Maddy asked earnestly.

   "Not next week, not yet.  But soon you will be fine," her mother
replied.

   "And thank you also, Uncle Jim." That was the sweetest thing Jim could
ever hear from his little friend.

   He gave him a thumbs-up.  "I will make sure Emily carry your backpack in
school."

   They all laughed.

   ***

   Jennifer decided to let Maddy take a nap.  After all, the rush of
adrenalin was really exhausting.  Not just for the patient, but for the two
grown-ups also.  They sat by her bedside, while the Filipino nurse came in,
carrying two plastic cups of water.

   "Don't worry.  She will be fine," the nurse said.

   "It is so nice of her," Jennifer commented.  "Oh, I should call Mike to
give him an update.  He must be driving back now."

   "Sure.  Maybe you should call in the waiting room.  They probably don't
like people using cell phones here inside," Jim said.

   ***

   About two hours later, Maddy was about to be discharged.  Her mom and
dad by her side.  Jim was sitting outside in the waiting room.  The
Filipino nurse walked by again, looking puzzled.  She stuck out a finger,
almost in a comical way, doing a mock-counting motion.  One, two, three. 
"So you are not Mr.  Wilson?"

   Jim said, "No, I am not.  Nurse Teresa," reading from her name tag.

   Teresa shrugged her shoulders, giggled - as if saying "What do I know?"
- and walked away.

   Jim enjoyed this moment of levity.

   The real Mr.  Wilson came out, shook Jim's hands and went to the parking
lot to bring the car to the front door.  Jennifer was running her fingers
through Maddy's hair while Jim stood by, waiting to help the little girl
get into her father's car.

   Jim and Jennifer locked eyes for almost a minute, without saying a word,
as if they enjoyed the friendship, but also felt guilty, that they had
shared so much.  Jim felt somewhat overwhelmed by the feelings, because
they were not erotic.  Fondness?  Love?

   ***

   In the next few days, they started sending text messages to one another.
Actually she started first.  And she kept them coming.

   "Hey, can you ask Emily to get homework instructions for Maddy?  I think
I will have her stay home for two days before going back to school."

   "I am going to bring Maddy to see her pediatrician.  Will let you know."

   "She will see a specialist, just to be on the safe side."

   "X-rays and everything are OK.  What a relief."

   Jim was happy to have the updates.  But after a few weeks, he worried
that if his wife would consider it improper for him to communicate so
frequently with Jennifer.  He started deleting these innocuous messages,
how harmless they looked.

   The week immediately after the accident, Maddy and Jennifer took a break
and did not attend the games.  Another week went by before Maddy showed up
at the field, in her Hawks uniform.  All the other girls cheered, mobbed
her and clapped.  Mostly she sat on the bleachers with her mom, watching
others play.  Jim went around taking pictures again.  He would raise his
camera, look at Jennifer, nodding in a question mode, as if asking if it
was ok for him to take their pictures.  Jennifer would cock her head, smile
and point a finger at herself and Maddy, meaning "It is ok if you are
photographing the two of us." And he did.

   Then the text messages drifted from talk of Maddy's injury to other
things in Jennifer's life.

   "I really want to go back to work, to have a career of my own.  Now that
the kids are older, they only need part time child care."

   "Magazine publishing is going electronic now.  They no longer need lots
of staff in an office.  What am I good for?"

   "Maybe I will take a real estate broker exam.  Do you think it is a good
choice?"

   "A woman should learn to be independent, at some point in her life."

   "Mike is not fond of the idea of my working in real estate."

   Not that Jim could be a career counselor.  But he listened, or read the
messages, and served as a sounding board.  He also knew that when a married
woman started complaining about her husband in front of another man, there
was trouble brewing.

   ***

   Then in late June, after the school year was over, the Hawks joined a
travel team tournament, and they would go and play a few games in
Pennsylvania over one weekend.  There were four teams, two games everyday
over three days.  This was a round robin tournament, calculating wins and
losses and runs scored and allowed.

   After the team parents met and discussed all the arrangements, Coach
Shirley, the task master, made the recommendations that they would drive
two cars, she (coach/chauffeur) in one, carrying 7 kids, and Jim
(chauffer/photographer) in the other one, with 5 kids, plus Jennifer as
another chaperone, mostly because Maddy was recovering, and even though she
was almost 100%, Jennifer felt better if she went together.

   They would book three rooms at a Quality Inn, the 12 girls sharing 3
rooms, Shirley and Jennifer in another, and Jim by himself.

   Jim was more than happy to go.

   ***

   On the first day of the trip, a Friday, they left early in the morning,
reached the town of Smithville, and played their first game at noon.  The
Hawks beat the Bombers, 4-2.

   Jim had lots of good photos of the game to organize after dinner, when
everyone retired to their hotel rooms.  Shirley and Jennifer did their
rounds to make sure the girls were all bathed and settled in.

   Jim had the TV on, laptop in front of him, memory card plugged in, ready
to do some sorting and adjustment of the files, when the hotel phone rang.

   "Hi, it's me." It was Jennifer from three rooms down the hall.

   "Shirley went out to hang out with her old friends." The whole reason
that the Hawks made the trip to PA from Long Island was that Coach Shirley
graduated high school around here and she still had connections with former
teammates.

   "She packed an overnight bag and said, after the drinks, she should not
be driving.  So she will only come back in the morning," Jennifer told Jim.

   "...  Can I come over? ..." Jennifer said haltingly.

   "Sure," Jim said, swallowing hard, his blood pressure rising 30 ticks.

   "Is it really happening?" he wondered aloud.  How far should they go? 
Just kissing and hugging?  But honestly, if it started, there would be no
turning back.  The temptation had always been there.  And the friendship
over the last few months made the relationship more complex.  It was more
than lust.

   And he had another dilemma.  He had not carried with him any condoms. 
If things really got so hot, should he go all the way?

   Then Jennifer knocked on his door.

   He popped to his feet, walked over to open the door and welcomed in his
friend, a woman he had yearned for in so many ways.

   She walked in, almost in a tip toe fashion, as if she were treading on
thin ice and the ice would break if she stepped too hard on it.  She was
carrying only her cell phone and door card.

   Her hair was wet, fresh from a shampoo and shower.  She was wearing a
white sweater one size too big and pink baggy silk drawstring PJ pants. 
The loose fitting clothes almost made her look like a little girl.  Except
Jim could tell that this little girl was not wearing any bra.  Her nipples
were hard, brushing against the fabric.

   There was only one king size bed in the middle of the room, facing the
TV.  Jennifer sat by the end of the bed, where Jim's camera and laptop were
all spread out.

   He said, "Let me go to the vending machine and get some soda.  Too bad
they don't have a wet bar in the fridge." He tried to make small talk to
lighten the mood.

   She nodded for approval and nonchalantly looked at the photos on Jim's
computer.

   When Jim returned, he handed a soda to Jennifer.  He moved to sit by her
right side, along the edge of the bed.  He took a sip of the Coke from the
vending machine.

   "So why did you take photos of me?" she asked.

   From the warmth in her eyes, and the shape of her lips, he could tell
that she was not mad.

   "I take pictures of beautiful things." As soon as those words were
uttered, he cursed at himself.  Why couldn't he come up with something less
trite?

   The look of amusement was evident in her face.  She looked away from
him. He wasn't sure if she was waiting for a second part of the explanation
or what.

   Damn it!  He was 45 years old and Jennifer was probably 37, 38.  If they
wanted to do something, why were they sitting around here, beating around
the bushes?

   At the most opportune moment, the TV provided the best solution for
them. It was a re-run of a Seinfeld episode.  Jerry and Elaine were talking
about the danger of their resuming sexual activity being harmful to their
friendship.

   Jerry: You know, this is very good (pointing at the living room).

   Elaine: And that is good too (pointing at the bedroom).

   Jerry: If we can add this, to that, then it would be perfect.

   Elaine: Yes, why are people so silly?  We can of course add this to
that.

   So Jim borrowed their line, "Jennifer, do you think we have that in our
future?"

   She looked down at her soda, turning the can clockwise, and counter
clockwise.  She licked her lips, as if trying to dampen the explosiveness
of her answer.

   "Maybe the future is here," Jennifer said.

   Jim stood up, reached out for her soda, which she readily handed over,
and he put the two half consumed cans next to the TV.  He pressed the OFF
button on the remote, almost uttering a silent "thank you" to Jerry and
Elaine.  He quickly moved his camera and computer to the floor, turned to
dim most of the lights except the one in the corner by the window. 
Meanwhile Jennifer followed his movement quietly, hands on her knees.

   It was very quiet.  There was only the dull humming of the air
conditioner.

   He decided to make the first move.  He pulled the T-shirt over his head,
revealing his bare chest.  By no means did he have a body-builder's
physique.  And he was probably 10 pounds heavier than his prime youthful
days.  But he still considered himself a good looking man.

   Jennifer stood up, walked closer to Jim, and hooked her arms around his
neck, and they kissed.  1