Third Base (The Boys of Summer 1)

I start to dial when I see an elderly woman with almost blue hair and a cane walk out.

“Hi, excuse me. My name’s Ethan Davenport and I’m here to escort Miss Daisy Robinson to the Boston Rotary dinner tonight. Do you happen to know which apartment is hers?”

She eyes me up and down before lifting her cane. I think for a moment that she’s about to beat the shit out of me until the driver of my car steps out.

“Are you going to hurt her?”

“No, ma’am,” I say, shaking my head. I still have a feeling she’s going to hurt me. I keep that thought to myself though. It’s a fear I have. Daisy’s been closed off. She’s held back even though I’ve pushed. She’s going into this relationship with an advantage over me. I’m a public figure but she’s an enigma.

“You’ll find Daisy in Three C, but if you hurt her...” She trails off, pointing her cane at me and huffing before walking down the street. I nod to the driver that I’m okay as I step inside the building. The hall smells like urine and there are kids screaming at the end of the hall. A wooden staircase is off to the right, with built in mailboxes on the left. I walk down the hall, hoping the elevator is in service, but as my luck would have it, it’s not today.

“Three flights of stairs in a tux, no problem.” I take the steps two at time. The second floor gives me a long hallway to walk down before I have to climb the next set of steps. This floor smells better, but is messy. There are toys in the hallway and one resident has their door decorated for the holidays, which are still eight months away.

When I reach the third floor I stand straighter and fix my bow tie. I hate that I’m empty-handed and should’ve asked my mom what to bring that wouldn’t be considered stupid and over the top. My stroll to her door is casual with my hands in my pockets to help control the twitching.

The black C is mocking me as I stand in front of it, poised to knock. My knuckles wrap on the door twice before I lean against the doorjamb, trying to play it cool. A flash of black catches my eye as the door swings open. I swallow hard when Daisy stands before me, as the fingers in my pocket pinch the shit out of my leg, trying to make my mouth work.

I stand up straight and take her in. Her blonde hair is pulled up, and I’m not talking piled on top of her head. It’s in big curls like my grandma used to wear in her heyday. Daisy’s cheeks are rosy, with her lips painted red. Her black dress sits somewhat off her shoulder and just below her knees and she’s finished off her ensemble with red high heels.

“You look…”

“Like a pin-up model?”

I catch her eyes and immediately look at her lips again. I feel myself getting hard just picturing her red lips wrapped around my cock.

“Fuck me,” I say as I try discreetly to adjust myself. She catches the action, but doesn’t have to say anything because the smirk is enough. She knows she turns me on.

“Daisy, you look fucking stunning.” This time she knows I’m serious as her cheeks darken. “You’re a classic beauty and I’m so honored to have you on my arm tonight.”

“This old thing,” she says as she brushes her hands down the front of her dress.

“I don’t care if it’s brand new, vintage or what – the fact is, you’re gorgeous and I’m going to have to fight every man as they try to get your attention.”

“Are you up for the challenge?”

I step into her apartment and place my hand on her waist. I bend only slightly, her heels making our height difference less of a challenge, and whisper into her ear. “If it means I get you all to myself, I’m up for anything.” I brush against her dress so she knows what I’m talking about. I don’t miss the sharp intake of air she takes either.

“Who’s at the door, Daisy?”

Daisy steps out of my hold and looks at me quickly before answering. “My friend, Papa. Remember, I told you I was going to dinner.”

“I need to meet him and make sure he’s a respectable young man.”

“Shit,” I mutter as I look down at my semi. I start filtering images though my head of the nastiest things I can while Daisy has my hand in her hers and is pulling me into the other room.

Her living room is decorated like everyone else’s with artwork and pictures on the wall. There’s a television in the corner with a love seat and recliner along the wall. Her grandfather sits in the recliner with his wheelchair next to him. Just by looking at it, I can tell it’s old and probably doesn’t function properly.

“Papa, this is my friend, Ethan. Ethan, this is my grandfather, John.”

I step forward and shake his hand. I have no doubt, that in his prime, he had a firm handshake and I make sure to show him that I do too. It’s a sign of a confident man, according to my father, and I want her grandfather to know that’s what I am.

“It’s great to meet you, sir.”

“I know you,” he says in a thick Boston accent. “You’re behind in homeruns if you think you’re going to be voted in for the derby. Don’t they have you practicing?”

I step back, not entirely shocked that he knows me, but more that he’s hounding me about my percentage. “I’ll work on those at bats, sir.”

“Be good to my Daisy, she’s fragile and the only woman who loves me enough to put up with my cranky ass.”