Copyright 2004 Frank Downey. All rights reserved. Any use other than personal archiving requires the permission of the author. Do not repost.

This story contains adult material. If this is illegal where you reside or if you are underage where you reside, begone.

I didn’t know if it was a reprieve, or just stringing out the agony. Both my agony, and the Red Sox’. Though my situation had become a little less agonizing.

Thursday was an off day in the series. But the reprieve/agonizing got extended a bit. I was talking to my Mother Friday afternoon, and she informed me, "They’re calling for rain here. The game might not happen."

I thought about that. Again, a reprieve, or just stringing it out? I didn’t know. The plot thickened, however, when Callie came into the room after her class. We were talking about the series and about the bet.

"Mitch likes Vinnie," she informed me. "So do I, from what I know of him. Mitch does think he’s honorable, and if he says he’s a gentleman Mitch said you should believe him. However...see, the think is, Freddie, that Vinnie confessed to Mitch that he’s extremely attracted to you."

"Excuse me?" I gulped.

"Yeah. He told Mitch he wants to ask you out. Except he thinks the bet might get in the way. He said to Mitch, ‘I’m going to have already seen her tits, most likely, and then I’m going to ask her out? I’m afraid she’d slap me.’"

"I wouldn’t slap him," I said.

"How do you feel about him?" she asked.

"Honestly? I don’t know. I’m definitely attracted to him. But the bet does get in the way. Because I’ve found out that, well, it’s a turn-on. And I don’t know if it’s him, or just my hormones waking up."

"Ah," Callie said. "Well, he is cute," she teased.

"Yup. And it turns out he’s a hell of a nice guy." I told her what he did when I confessed I was turned on.

"That’s pretty impressive. So he knows you’d probably not resist him, at least to a point. But he’s still worried you’d slap him if he asked you out."

"Hmm. Yeah, when you put it that way, I see."

I thought about that conversation all through supper. Then, at about six thirty, Mitch came down and I went up to Vinnie’s.

"They’re calling for rain," I told him.

"Yeah, they said that on ESPN. You might get a reprieve, Princess," he teased.

"Either that, or stringing out the inevitable," I told him.

"There is that," he laughed.

We waited and talked for a little while. It wasn’t until a few minutes before game time that they finally decided to postpone the game.

"Well, that’s that," he said.

"Until tomorrow, then," I said.

"Yeah. Listen, Fred. A buddy of mine is having a party. Well, his whole floor is." Vinnie named a dorm, not the one we lived in. "The party’s just getting started. Want to go?"

"You mean, with you?" I blurted out. Jesus. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He just took me by surprise.

"Well, yeah, with me," he said sheepishly, looking disappointed.

"OK. Yes. Great," I said quickly. "I’d love to go with you."

"Good," he said with a big smile. Shit, maybe he really did like me.

Not that I knew what to do about that, mind you. But it seemed to be a nice problem to have.

We went to the party. And he was a gentleman. He didn’t try anything with me. He didn’t even try to kiss me goodnight (although he did hold my hand walking back to our dorm). We just hung out together, and talked.

And, honestly, I had a blast. In a social situation like that, Vinnie was funny and cool to be with. He’d only been on campus as long as I had, a couple months, but it was amazing how many people already knew him. He had all kinds of friends greeting him at the part, and hanging out with him.

And since I was there with him, they were hanging out with me, too. It loosened me up. I felt a lot more at ease by the end of the party than I had at the beginning. OK, the two beers I had didn’t hurt. I know, I’m a lightweight. Hey, they were almost the first two beers I’d had in my life. Not quite, but almost. And I knew if I went past two, I’d end up a little too loose.

I mean, Vinnie all by himself was a threat to my self-control, without drunkenness on top of it.

Oh, Jesus, did I really think that?

I did. I admit it. I thought it. Especially walking home. Just him holding my hand made me all fuzzy. And, yes, squirmy. If he put a move on me I don’t know if I’d be able to say no.

As I said, though, he didn’t. He just escorted me to my room and promised he’d see me the next night for the postponed Game Three.

Lying in bed afterwards, that’s when it hit me. I wasn’t in a sexual situation at all that night. I didn’t have any clothes off. We were at a party with a whole bunch of other people. Though I’d had a couple beers and was relaxed, I was by no means drunk.

And he still put butterflies in my stomach.

That’s when it hit me. I really liked this guy. Much to my surprise, I liked him more and more every time I saw him. It wasn’t just sexual.

And, tomorrow night, I was going to have to sit with this guy I’d just decided I really liked, and strip down to my underwear.

Yikes.

-----------------

I kind of stumbled through Saturday. I did some studying. Went to lunch with Callie. Watched a little college football on TV. (I might have gone to watch the Orange play, but they were off this week.)

In the middle of the afternoon, Vinnie called me. "Come up about six. And don’t eat supper."

So, I went out. And he had Chinese food spread out all over the place. "I don’t know what you like, Princess, so I bought a whole bunch of stuff." He really did. There was a lot I liked, so we ate. We chatted a bit. Again, I felt more and more comfortable with him.

Just before game time, Vinnie packed up the leftover food and put it into his refrigerator. Then he settled down onto his chair. "So, Princess--nervous?"

"About the bet? No, not really. About Bronson Arroyo? Yes." Arroyo was the Red Sox’ inexperienced pitcher who was starting tonight.

"So Gary Sheffield and A-Rod and Jeter scare you more than I do," he said with a laugh.

"You don’t scare me at all," I pointed out. "You’re a big teddy bear. Don’t think I haven’t figured that out."

"You’ve discovered my secret. Keep it to yourself," he said mock-threateningly. I just laughed. Then I unbuttoned my shirt. Far more quickly than I had Wednesday night, by the way. This was old hat by now, right?

OK, well, the pants made me a bit more nervous. This was a big step. As blithely as I was trying to do this, a lot of it was an act. My palms were sweaty as I undid the snap on my jeans, and tugged them down. I kicked my shoes off to make room, and off when the jeans.

Vinnie’s jaw almost hit the floor! Now that part of it was fun. I was wearing the black underwear today. He couldn’t take his eyes off of me!

"So, you like?" I managed to say and almost sound casual about it.

"What’s not to like?" he said. "Although, I admit it. I thought you’d wear underwear that, well, you know, covered up a bit more."

Oops. What exactly could he see? I don’t think I wanted to know. "Well, if it keeps up like this I’m going to be watching the first game of the World Series stark naked, so who cares?" I said--again, going for that tone of nonchalance I most definitely didn’t feel.

"You conceding on behalf of your Sox?" he teased.

"Not hardly!"

The game started, and Vinnie had to visibly drag his eyes away from me to turn to the TV. Hee hee! How the hell did I turn into some kind of femme fatale just by taking my clothes off?

You didn’t, a voice inside of me said. He likes you, remember? He’s drooling because he likes you.

Hmm.

Anyhow, the game started. And Vinnie suddenly didn’t have any trouble looking away from me, as the Yankees got to Arroyo for three runs right off the bat. Vinnie gave out a little cackle.

The Sox got it right back in the bottom of the second, taking a four to three lead. Then, in the third, the Yankees knocked Arroyo out and went up six to four. That lasted all of a half-inning, as the Sox scored two in the bottom of the third to tie it at six.

"Well, it looks like it’s going to be one of those games," Vinnie said with a laugh.

I agreed. However, we were both wrong. Because the Yankees quickly went on a rampage. That 6-6 tie was quickly 11-6. Then it was 13-6. Then, in the seventh inning, it was 17-6.

Jesus Christ.

Vinnie was, of course, gloating the whole time. Of course he was. I didn’t blame him. This was a blowout--the game and the series. What the hell had happened to my Red Sox?

"I have to admit," Vinnie said in the middle of the seventh, "I would have never predicted that either team would have gone up three games to none. That’s a shocker."

"It makes me sick," I said, to Vinnie’s laughter. "Imagine. I’m going to be taking my bra off before you even have to put one on. What a ripoff."

I was just kidding. Grumbling, you know. But Vinnie stopped laughing just then. He got a very serious look on his face. And he turned back towards the game. We watched the rest of it and he barely said a word. (It ended 19-8. Ugh.) After it ended, I put my clothes back on and got up to leave. "See you tomorrow," I said.

"OK, Princess," he said quietly.

After I left, I tried to figure it out. What had happened? What had I said? He almost seemed depressed by the end of the night. He should be ecstatic. The Yankees were romping and he was going to get a good look tomorrow night. I should be the one that was upset.

I was, about the Sox. That was crushing. But about the stripping thing, I wasn’t as upset as I would’ve thought I’d be. I was nervous, sure. I mean, in less than 24 hours my bra was coming off. It was scary. But I wasn’t upset.

Why was Vinnie?

Hopefully, I’d find out tomorrow.