"Don't tell me. You're Andy?" Lane said, undaunted by his collision with the stadium's outer wall. "What did you do to your arm?"

"Andy!" I shouted after my initial surprise passed.

I imagined Louisville without Evan Lane, and me unemployed. As happy as I was to see Andy on one hand, this wasn't how I imagined it on the other.

Andy rolled off Lane's lap, sitting beside him with his back up against the stadium wall. Lane gently picked up Andy's right hand. The one with the cast below his elbow.

"I broke my wrist," Andy explained.

"And what did we hit?" Lane sang as if he'd done it at one time or another. "Nasty looking knuckles you got there, slugger. You should stick to baseball. Me thinks your fighting career is limited at best."

"I hit my door if you've got to know," Andy said, somewhat sullen as he, too, looked at the hand in Lane's hand.

"Andy, what do you think you're doing?" I asked, after the two of them stopped talking.

"What's this guy doing in your bedroom? Answering your phone?"

"You want to tell him, Lane? I'm not talking to him at the moment."

"No, no, I ain't no fool. He's your boyfriend. You tell him. I outgrew my immaturity ages ago."

"What, when you turned thirty?" Andy snapped, still wanting to pick a fight.

"Ouch!" Lane said, flinching as if he'd been slapped. "You do play rough."

"Well?" Andy said to me, waiting for an answer.

"Remember how I helped you with your fielding?"

"You didn't help me. You told Coach Bell I needed glasses because you could think fast enough to come up with anything else."

"True, and I'm having the same kind of luck with Lane. He trips over his own feet while trying to field a fly ball. I'm supposed to get him to stop it."

"Fine; and what's he doing in your room? That's a mighty small field for fielding practice."

"He's got you there, Dooley. I wondered about that too."

"You're not helping, Lane," I snapped, suddenly pissed off at both of them.

"Your bedroom? Fielding practice?" Andy waited.

"I'm trying to get him to dance. You know, be more graceful. Be aware of where his big feet are."

"Oh!" Lane objected.

"You don't mean to ... "

"Mrs. Olsen. He's been dancing with Mrs. Olsen. I'm just the DJ. I figure you must have met her since you knew where to come looking for me."

"Yeah, she told me when you would be in and where you left the ballpark. You and him aren't ... ?" Andy growled.

"No, no, we aren't ... we won't ... I'm not," Lane said in rapid response. "I've been around enough gay guys to know one when I see one."

"What's that crack mean?" I said not sure I hadn't been insulted.

"Who you calling gay?" Andy said with hostility, rejecting labels that went beyond power hitting left fielder.

"No one, Tonto. I'm just sitting here enjoying another fine Louisville evening. I don't get in between lovers. No future in it. You want to bail me out here, Dooley?"

"Who you calling lovers?" I asked, still working on the crack about knowing a gay guy when he sees one.

"Hey, you two, knock it off. I'm here to play baseball. You take your lover's quarrel somewhere else. As for gay guys, I was raised by two. My father took off once he got a good look at me. My mother was doing her best, but she was sick and could barely keep the rent paid. Two guys that lived in my building fed me, bought my school clothes, even bought me my first baseball glove. I didn't think they knew baseball from volleyball.

"I wasn't gay then. I'm not gay now, but I do know what guys are looking at when they look at me. They either want to fight, Andy, or they're checking out the package. It's not difficult knowing which is doing which."

"You were checking him out?" Andy snapped angrily.

"Hey, you want to break that other wrist? I've had about enough of you, Tonto. Ain't nothing going on here outside your addled brain. Get over it. You were wrong when you got here and you're still wrong, except now you're making a fool out of yourself."

Lane stood and reached for Andy's hand to pull him onto his feet. They made quite a pair. Lane was taller, built stronger with substantially more weight than Andy. Andy's shoulders were wider and his body was bigger in general, but he looked like a high school kid next to Lane.

For a minute they stood face to face without speaking or making their intentions clear. I could tell Andy was embarrassed. He believed Lane. I believed Lane. The story was too real to be an instant invention. Lane had a big mouth and he could make you feel small fast with no effort at all, but I never knew him to lie. It did explain a lot.

Hearing about the two gay guys that helped raise him made me feel different about him. It also explained his total awareness of my attraction to him. It hadn't seemed to bother him. Like he wasn't unaccustomed to having men admire him.

"I'm a coach. I teach fielding. Coach Bell told me to get Lane's feet coordinated or both of us will be out of work. I'm at work, Andy. I'm doing my job. What the hell are you doing?"

"Well, I thought ... "

"How long you out of action, slugger?" Lane asked.

"Six weeks. I begin rehab next Monday. They said I can pinch hit if it goes well in about a month."

"How'd you get here?" I asked.

"I borrowed a car."

"What is the going rate for punching out a door these days? You get a fine or just scolded?" Lane asked.

"Suspended for thirty days without pay."

"Gee, convenient how that corresponds with when you'll be able to pinch hit. They say ball clubs don't have a sense of humor," Lane said joyfully.

"Does it hurt?" I asked.

"When I bang it against something like that wall. It's still sore."

"Oh, Andy," I said exasperated, afraid he'd done more damage.

"You boys come in the house. I've got dinner ready for you," Mrs. Olsen said, her voice echoing off the back of the stadium.

"You hungry?" I asked Andy.

"Yeah, she fed me a pie a little while ago but I haven't eaten since I left Iowa early this morning."

"I think she is including her dance date," I told Lane, although he hadn't said he was coming over.

Mrs. Olsen usually had dinner ready for me when I got in after practices or after a home game. Obviously she knew Andy was there to see me and she was always asking Lane to eat. Since the regular season had started, the roomers had slowly disappeared. I was the final boarder, and she was delighted I had no plans to lodge elsewhere.

"I've got a roast. Grilled potatoes and broccoli, with gravy. I had a fresh pie I baked earlier, but Andrew ate that after he came in," she said, looking sympathetically at Andy as she considered his belly full of apple pie.

"Ah, Mrs. Olsen, let me help," Lane offered, reaching for the roast and setting it in the middle of the table. "Fine looking gravy, Mrs. Olsen. You have any mushrooms?"

"Why yes, Mr. Lane. I've got some small cans in the cupboard over the stove. I never gave them a thought. Some boys are fussy about the taste of mushrooms."

"I'll get them. You sit down," Lane said, popping a small can of B&B Mushrooms out of the cupboard, running it through the electric can opener, draining the liquid into the sink.

"Anyone object?" Lane asked, holding the mushrooms over the saucepan with the bubbling gravy.

Everyone agreed with the addition and Lane stirred in the mushrooms, being careful not to let the gravy get too hot as the mushrooms blended in with it.

Mrs. Olsen watched, pleased to have boys in the house. Andy watched for other reasons. I was just surprised he knew what a saucepan was. I was surprised by a lot of things lately and I couldn't wait to get Andy into my room.

The roast was tender and Andy couldn't get enough, having a sandwich as soon as dinner was done. Mrs. Olsen kept asking him if he wanted something else.

Lane ate modestly and my stomach was still upset from the incident outside the park. It was a nice dinner and having Andy at my elbow was even better. It had been way too long.

Good food always reminded me of my mom and how lucky I had been in the selection of my parents compared to Andy or Lane. Good families didn't seem to grow on trees, and I'd been lucky to have a father and mother who adored me.

It gave me another level of understanding for Andy and Lane, but it didn't excuse Andy's leap into lunacy. I intended to let him know about it as soon as I got him alone. We were in this together and if he didn't trust me I wanted to know it. If I could trust me was still a question I had.

I wasn't aware of how insecure Andy had become. We knew this was going to be hard. We'd agreed it was what we both wanted. At least when Andy went away to play ball we agreed to the arrangement. Once I got back into ball, the agreement wasn't enough for him. I wanted to understand and accept Andy loved me and that this would pass. I loved him, and even under the circumstances I was pretty happy to see him, even if I didn't know how I was going to pay to feed him. I envisioned a call to my parents for help to get him back to Lincoln and keep him fed for the duration of his suspension.

As Mrs. Olsen brought us coffee in the small living room, we were treated to some cookies she'd baked over the weekend. Once again Andy cleaned the plate up after Lane and I had a couple. I'd never seen him so hungry. Mrs. Olsen just smiled and brought back more than he could eat the second time. He finally sat back and stopped chewing.

"I've changed the bed in Randolph's room. He's got a place near where the girl he is dating lives. Andy can sleep in there."

"No, Mrs. Olsen, Andy will sleep in my room. You are not to put yourself out," I insisted firmly.

"Oh, John, there's no extra charge. I'm just glad to have something to do."

"We'll pay for the extra food and he'll sleep in my room, Mrs. Olsen. I won't create work for you. You've been like a mom to me."

"I enjoy having nice boys here with me. It's like having my sons home."

"And we're glad of it, but I'm not creating extra work. Andy and I roomed together all through college. We're used to each other."

"Yes, but that bed ... "

"Mrs. Olsen, don't argue with these two. I've already made that mistake and it isn't pretty. I'd just go along with them and be thankful to avoid a fistfight."

"Well ... okay. It's no trouble for me. Really."

"I appreciate it. I'll take out a loan so we can feed Andy," I said.

"Oh, he doesn't eat that much. He's a growing boy," she said with admiration. "Nice to have a hungry boy back in the house."

"I'll have to hope he doesn't grow too much more or I might have to go into training the next time he comes," Lane said.

"It was just a misunderstanding," Andy confessed. "I'm tired. Where do we sleep?" he said directly to me.

"Come on," I said.

"How are your feet, Mrs. Olsen?" Lane asked.

"Not well enough for both of us to use them tonight, Mr. Lane. I've got a pair of tennis shoes that might help some. We'll give it a try tomorrow evening if you like."

"Must be time for me to go," Lane announced. "Wonderful meal, Mrs. Olsen. You'll make me regret fast food if you keep making me eat good healthy food."

"I cook every night for John. You're welcome any night you want to come by. Nothing like watching healthy boys eat," she bragged with a pleasant smile.

"Good night," I said, pushing Andy in front of me.

We went up the stairs and I led him into my room, shutting the door behind us. I pushed his back against the door.

"What in the hell did you think you were doing?" I said, renewing my anger.

"I love you too, Do," he said low in his throat as he pulled me close and I ran into the tent in his pants.

I wrapped my arms around him, loving the feel of the warmth his body furnished mine. Our lips met and all the anxiety and frustration of months of separation faded out of our lives.

"I've missed you so much," he said, between kisses, kissing me again, holding me close with his cast solidly planted against my back.

"I love you so much, Andy. You can't get mad at me for doing my job. This doesn't have anything to do with Lane."

"You bet it don't," he said, looking at my face and kissing me more passionately.

"Tell me it won't happen again. Lane is not an issue."

"I know. He's cool. I was wrong. I lost my head, thinking of him here with you and me… me in fucking Lincoln. I miss you, Do. I want you with me. We can't spend the rest of our lives halfway across the country from each other. I can't stand it any longer."

We kissed again and ended up on the bed, kicking our shoes off with a thump before undressing each other. His skin was hot and he needed a shower, but not now. It would have to wait. His body against mine lit me on fire. Being with him again, our bodies pressed together, had me never wanting to let him go.

It's almost impossible to remember what being with someone is like when you are away from each other for so long, and then, in a few seconds, it's all perfect, the best it has ever been, all you can ask for, more than you can imagine. I loved Andy with my heart and soul and being with him was heaven.

The fact he had driven straight through didn't curb his lust in the least. He couldn't wait and a minute later we were building back up again. Even my erection refused to relinquish any enthusiasm, until after our second round. He was more passionate than he'd ever been. It had been a long time coming but it was worth the wait.

After almost an hour he needed to pee out some of the coffee Mrs. Olsen kept pouring for him after dinner. It took some convincing that Mrs. Olsen wouldn't come upstairs after we'd gone to bed and it was safe for him to go naked into the bathroom.

He flipped on the light and I admired the more defined body that seemed to be a work in progress. Each time I saw him he was stronger and thicker. His cock stayed pointed toward the ceiling as he returned with his small gathering of blond pubes the perfect decoration for the thick lumber he packed.

Flipping off the light, he was back in my arms in a minute and we kissed, touched, massaged, and stroked each other as our mouths searched for the ultimate truth.

It was another hour before our pace slowed and Andy laid on his back with his hands behind his head. I bathed his body until I got back down to the business end of his passion. I lit his fuse with my tongue and it grew stiff under a major frontal assault. He'd never had a chance.

Moaning in rhythmic tones, I licked and sucked and admired him from stem to stern. I knew when his big hand locked on the back of my head that we were ready to rock and roll. We were well on our way to lift off. With two of my fingers filling his sweet spot and my throat full, he achieved liftoff, arching his back, his body shivered for a minute or more as I finished him off with gusto, not spilling a drop.

Before I completely disengaged he was snoring softly as he did when exhaustion forced sleep on him. We hadn't made up for lost time but he had four more days with me and we'd do our best to spend as much time in passionate pursuits as time permitted.

Something had been missing in my life, even when I was where I wanted to be, doing what I wanted to do. It was never quite right. I loved being in Louisville. I loved baseball, but until Andy came, it was only half a loaf. Being together made it perfect.


Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

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Outside the Foul Lines Book Five A Minor Success Copyright © 1 May 2009 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
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