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Message-ID: <44643asstr$1065571806@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Frank Downey" <fabfour.fan@verizon.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 07 Oct 2003 18:26:54 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} The Curse of the Bambino, Part One--by Frank Downey (nosex yet)
Date: Tue,  7 Oct 2003 20:10:06 -0400
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Copyright 2003 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.

This is the first time I've ever written a story without having any idea of
where I'm going with it. However, we'll all find out as the games go on!

THE CURSE OF THE BAMBINO
CHAPTER ONE

It was shortly after the semester began that we had the conversation.

We were all sophomores at Syracuse University. There were 11 of us that day,
hanging in my room together, 5 girls and 6 guys. Fitting 11 people in a dorm
room is an accomplishment in and of itself. We were on beds, chairs, the
floor. I was on my bed with my best friend, Callie Durban. Believe me, there
wasn't anything going on on that bed other than sitting. Like I said, Callie
was my best friend-and only my best friend. And that wasn't my choice.

Evidently, a few other people saw what I had seen, because that's how the
conversation started. Melanie, who was one of Callie's best friend, saw us
talking and said, "So, tell me-why on earth aren't you two going out?"

"Sore subject," I muttered.

"He'd like that, wouldn't he?" Callie grinned. "We're too good friends to
risk it."

"Why do girls always say that?" Jack, my roommate, muttered.

"Because it's code," Tim offered. Every head turned to him. "Look, I have a
lot of female friends," Tim said.

"Of course you do," I grinned. "All gay guys have lots of female friends."

"Right," he agreed. "And, since I'm gay and nonthreatening and all, they
tell me stuff. Here's one thing hetero guys don't get-who a girl goes out
with is all based on sex."

"Oh no it's not," Ronnie, another one of the girls there, protested. "I
think you have girls confused with guys."

"No, I don't," Tim maintained. "We're talking about two different things.
Guys go out with girls to get sex, but guys don't decide who to go out with
based on sex, because it's not usually a big deal."

"What do you mean?" Callie asked.

"Keeping me out of this, because I'm gay, we have five girls and five guys
in this room. If I asked every guy, based purely on physical attraction, how
many of the girls in this room they'd be attracted to, I guarantee they'd
all say four or five. If I asked the girls in the room how many guys they'd
be physically attracted to, it'd be zero or one." Surprisingly, nobody
argued with this.

"So," Tim added, "guys use other things other than sex to decide who to ask
out. In the case of Mitch and Callie, it's easy, and I've seen it, having
known those two for a year. Mitch wants to go out with Callie because he's
in love with her. Sex has nothing to do with it, he'd have sex with any of
you, but Callie's the one he's emotionally drawn to. And Callie won't go out
with him because he doesn't make her panties wet."

"You're crazy. That's not it at all!" Callie protested.

"Sure it isn't," Tim went on. "And what's really sad is that girls make that
judgment based on almost nothing. I had two friends in high school that had
been friends with each other since fifth grade. Same thing, he was gaga over
her, and she was saying 'let's just be friends' which means he didn't make
her panties wet. Good thing for her he hung in there, because, at the
beginning of senior year, she finally deigned to go out on a date with him.
And she let him kiss her goodnight. And it was all over-sparks flew, rockets
went off, yadda yadda yadda. She didn't think he made her panties wet-but
the minute their lips touched, he did. They go to NYU together now and are
blissfully happy."

"You're wrong," Callie said again.

"So, Mitch does turn you on?" Tim asked. Callie didn't say anything. "I rest
my case."

"Look, some guys are just destined for friendship," Ronnie added.

"This is why I'm glad I'm gay," Tim laughed, "I don't have to deal with that
bullshit. Ronnie, that's a rationalization. Isn't a lover supposed to be a
friend first and foremost?" Nobody knew what to say to that.

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

I wondered if Callie thought at all about that conversation. I know I did. I
think she did, too-because she seemed, I don't know, weird around me. It was
hard to pinpoint, but she'd look at me funny every so often.

Anyhow, the friendship was solid, even when we argued. And, on the evening
of October 6th, there was a hell of an argument brewing.

You see, one thing Callie and I absolutely agreed on was that we both were
fanatical baseball fans. What we didn't agree on was the choice of teams.
Callie was from Westchester County, New York, and was a rabid Yankees fan.
Me? Medford, Mass., thank you very much-and that's pronounced Meffa,
OK?--and a die-hard card-carrying member of Red Sox Nation. So, as a bunch
of us watched on October 6th as the Sox eked out the series-winning game
against the Oakland A's, the argument started. The Yankees had beaten the
Twins on the day before.

"There we go, guys. The Sox and the Yankees in the ALCS for the pennant,"
Jack proclaimed. "Ought to be a good one." Jack was from Chicago, a Cubs
fan, and had more of a rooting interest in the NLCS, which was Cubs-Marlins.

"It ought to be an easy one," Callie proclaimed. "The Red Sox. Feh. The
Curse of the Bambino lives!"

"Not this year, Callista," I told her. "It's the Sox' year. Team of destiny,
I'm telling you. Down two-zero to the A's? Down 4-3 in the eighth inning of
game four? It's magic, I tell you. It's our year."

"No, that was 1918," Callie teased. "It hasn't been a century yet, so you
don't rate. The Yankees do not lose to the Sox, and they're not about to
start now."

"Fine. How about a little wager, then?"

"You're on. How much?"

"Oh, money is so boring," I told her. "I had something else in mind." She
just looked at me. "If the Sox win, you sleep with me."

"You're kidding," she said.

"Nope. I want one shot. I think if I get that shot, you'll realize how good
we could be together. If this is the only way I'll ever get it, I'll take
advantage of it."

"Fine. Since the Yankees won't lose, I'll play. But what do I get if I win?"
"Think of something," I said.

She thought for a minute, then got a very evil grin on her face. "Fine. You
want to play this way? Fine. If I win, I get to watch---while you give Tim a
blowjob!"

I looked at her in complete shock for a minute. Then I got mad. "I'm sorry,
Callie, I didn't realize just the thought of going to bed with me was so
repulsive."

"Huh?"

"I'm not gay. I don't know if I could give another guy a blowjob without
throwing up. Is that how you feel about sleeping with me?"

"NO! Of course not. It's just that..." she sighed. "If I'm betting my body,
I wanted you to bet something important, and that was what came to mind."

"Fine," I spat out. Everybody looked at me in shock. "I'll do it."

"You will?" she said.

"Yup. If that what it takes. Now maybe you'll see how important it is to me,
because It think it'd start something really good between us. That's how
important it is, that I'm willing to risk giving Tim a blowjob." With that,
I burst out of the room, to let her think on that.

Tim quickly caught up to me. "Nobody asked me what I thought about this."

I grinned at him. "Oh, fuck that, Tim. I saw the look of disappointment on
your face last year when I told you I was straight."

"Too true," he grinned back. "You'd actually do it?"

"I don't welsh on bets." I said determinedly.

"That's a pretty high price to pay if you lose." He grinned widely. "And
you're betting a whole hell of a lot on that shaky Red Sox bullpen."

"The Yankees pen ain't much better," I grinned back. "I just hope Damon's
all right." Johnny Damon, the Sox' center fielder, had gotten a concussion
in the last Oakland game.

"You really want Callie, don't you?" Tim asked.

"I don't just want her, Tim. I'm in love with her. And that conversation you
had with us a couple weeks ago made me think-because I think you're right. I
need to find a way to make her panties wet. And if I have to win a bet to
get her panties off to do it, then that's what I'll do."

He looked at me strangely. "You sure are confident in your abilities in
 bed."

"Well, yes," I grinned. "A lot more confident than I am in the Red Sox
bullpen!" We laughed. "Seriously," I went on, "I think I could make her
happy. I just want the chance to try."

"Well, I'm rooting for you. Even if it does cost me a blowjob! Hey, I'm an
Indians fan, so I got no dog in this hunt, but, hey, everybody loves to hate
the Yankees, right? Go Sox!"

"Damn right!"

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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