Jasmine’s Game
By Arla Coopa
Copyright 2012 Arla Coopa
Smashwords Edition
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Jasmine’s Game
When the city of Westland brought in a minor league baseball team, Grace Hospital purchased a suite for its employees. They gave everyone, from administration to janitorial staff, at least one opportunity per season to visit that suite, eat free food, and watch a free game. They could bring a guest.
My wife worked third shift as a critical care nurse. When she told me the date her floor got to use the suite and asked me to go, I got the day off from work. I’m not a huge baseball fan, and mingling with my wife’s coworkers usually made me feel out of place, but she wanted me to go, and it seemed like a husbandly sort of thing to do. I didn’t think it would add much excitement to my life. I was wrong.
#
“Are you nervous?” Donna asked as we moved through the busy parking lot. She looked very cute on that day, her blonde hair coming out the back of a blue baseball cap, her slender frame covered by a T-shirt with our team’s logo. As always, she drew the looks of many men. I took pride having her beside me and tried not to think of the dry, routine flavor our marriage had taken on.
“No,” I responded. “I’ve met most of the people on your floor, and the one’s I haven’t met, I’ve heard you talk so much about I feel like I know them.”
We hurried up to the gates, got our tickets scanned, then climbed a few flights of stairs. We moved through a thick crowd of people along the concessions area, smelling the popcorn and hotdogs, hearing the pop music over the intercom. We found the entranceway to the suites, where an old man took a look at our tickets.
“Enjoy the game,” he said with a smile and then let us pass.
I hadn’t lied. I didn’t feel nervous. I’m kind of a quiet guy, but I’m not shy, something Donna has never been able to grasp.
We found the right suite and Donna walked in ahead of me. A smattering of greetings came at her. Donna rotated right to left as if taking them all in. She introduced me to the girl closest to her.
“Kim, this is my husband, David. David, Kim.”
We went through the process with a few others I hadn’t met.
A man who I’d already forgotten the name of pointed at a buffet table. “There’s dogs and burgers up top. The mini-fridge has sodas and waters. Help yourselves.”
I thought I would, but didn’t want to go right at the food and look like some kind of pig. Donna had already gotten engaged in a conversation about something that had happened at work. I walked up to the big windows overlooking the field. Rows of folded seats, probably a little more comfortable than the folded seats down below, sat right outside. A dark-haired woman and a skinny man sat in those seats. Feeling a little smothered, I snuck outside. I moved to the front row, nodded and said hello to the couple. The man said, “Howdy,” in the way good old boys sometimes do. The woman said hello and kind of gawked at me in a strange way. I’ve never been good at interpreting women’s looks. My appearance is different, just not what you see everyday. I work out almost daily, so my body is lean and taut. I keep my hair short and held tight back on my head with spray, because otherwise it stands up. This, paired with my big dark eyes, gives me a look some find intimidating, but some seem to find attractive.
This beautiful woman looked Hispanic, though her lack of accent meant she’d probably lived most if not all of her life in the states. Below her big, dark eyes, sat a petite nose and plush lips. Her dark hair fell down her back.
I looked away, but thought I could still feel her stare. When I glanced back, she’d returned her gaze to the field.
I sat alone, looking onto the field, where players stretched, swung bats and threw warm up pitches. A recorded voice came over the intercom and encouraged the crowd to make noise. I thought the atmosphere pleasant, with a strange energy only ever felt when several thousand people gather in the same place. I wondered about how long I should wait to eat. I turned to see through the glass that a couple of people had made their way across the buffet. Donna drew my attention when she came through the door. She walked down and sat next to me, her eyes showing a touch of guilt.
“How are you doing out here?”
I nodded. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, just hang with your friends.”
“But I want to hang with you,” she lied.
“No you don’t.”
Her expression said the rest. We both knew my interpretation accurate.
“Why don’t you go get a beer?” she suggested.
With that, I wouldn’t argue. “I think I will.”
I left my seat with Donna trailing behind me. I walked through the suite, smiling and nodding at people. At some point some woman snagged Donna into a conversation. I left the suite and moved toward a bar stand that served only the people in the area of the suites. A man in a black vest and slacks waited, and for a few steps I tried to make out the beers on his tap. Then I noted the girl I’d seen earlier, out on the balcony, the dark-haired girl who’d gawked at me. Once more, she made eye contact, but this time didn’t hold it. She was probably a couple of inches shorter than the average woman. She was slender, but round at the hips and big chested. When she walked by, I did the natural thing. I checked out her butt, which was bubbly and kind of big in proportion to the rest of her, shaking vigorously beneath a loose skirt that ran halfway down her leg. I liked looking at her butt. It was just so rare to see lobes that round on such a small woman. I wouldn’t allow myself to become overly active in any fantasies about it, so I thought.
The thing was, she moved at a little hallway that contained the bathrooms, and she moved her hand to the hem of her skirt, like a woman might just before lifting the skirt to sit down on the toilet.
It seemed extremely unlikely that the position of her hands could be meaningful. I reflexively checked behind me and saw that by my position, I was the only one who could see her. I moved my head back and caught her glancing at me from the bathroom hallway, noted something very odd in her stare, something angry, but also mischievous. She quickly looked away and lifted her skirt.
I couldn’t believe what I saw. It seemed impossible, like something that could happen only in a dream, something that didn’t make sense other than in a fantasy. Her butt was as bare as could be, two round lobes, oscillating. The privacy of it, the wrongness of seeing her nakedness, really spoke to me, causing me to desire nothing but to be one with that moment. A part of my mind, the good-husband part, the part that said, “Don’t look upon another man’s wife,” screamed at me to look away.
I stared as long as I could. I thought she glanced at me one last time as she entered the bathroom, but couldn’t be sure, my eyes not aimed at her face.
#
“Who was the Hispanic girl, the one who was out on the balcony when we got there?”
The rest of the game had passed in a blur. I said very little to anyone, but I kept glancing at the strange woman to see if she would glance back at me. She never did, never let on in any way that anything had happened. In her mind, had anything happened? Had she just been going to the bathroom and committed a subconscious movement, never thinking, Oh, some guy sees my bare ass? By her reaction, that seemed likely. I’d gotten up to get more beers and to use the bathroom, kind of hoping she would get up too, kind of hoping she wouldn’t. She never left her seat, the entire game, not even to build a hamburger or dress a hot dog at the free buffet.
Donna had to think about my question for a few seconds, as she maneuvered through the heavy postgame traffic.
“Oh. That’s Jasmine. She’s a new nurse on the floor. Why?”
The clouds of a buzz thick in my head, I did my best to speak breezily. “You didn’t introduce me to her, and I’d never heard you describe her, so I was just curious.”
Donna gasped. “Do you think I was rude? I mean, her being new and all, I probably should have introduced you.”
I shrugged. “Maybe a little, but I wouldn’t think she’d get too mad about it. Not being introduced kind of comes with the territory of being new.”
I’d done well. Donna nodded, obviously relieved.
#
I think Donna felt bad, like she’d not done enough to make me feel comfortable at the game. Then, maybe, at home, she interpreted my distance as anger, and tried to make me forget her sins. She didn’t know my distance came from the image in my head, Jasmine’s butt, something I figured I’d never see again, something I wanted to commit totally to memory by using the freeze frame function in my mind over and over. I was sitting on the couch, letting my buzz fade, when Donna came out wearing one of my football jerseys. She didn’t say anything. Instead, very athletic, she did a handstand, placed her legs around my head and showed me she too could go without panties. She must have used the clippers, because not a single rogue hair showed.
I hesitated, deciding how to approach the situation, then just dove in, rubbing my face over her ass, side to side, feeling those tight little cheeks touch the cheeks of my face, my nose, my forehead. After a few rounds that way, I changed direction, up and down. Donna reacted to this very little. Then I licked her cunt and she moaned. I twiddled my tongue on her clit and she shivered. I made a tight oval with my tongue, moving around the lips, sampling the smooth skin, making several rounds, then twiddling the clit again, not long enough that she might feel the beginning of an orgasm, just long enough that she would go a little crazy. It worked.