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“Alright everybody get in line! Line up. Right now!”
The Peaches had been in the middle of their individual pre-game rituals, the locker room hot and smoky. Greta was grabbing her hat from her locker when Carson gruffly called the team to order. They looked at each other.
“When I talk, you listen!”
Some of the Peaches looked confused, some of them, like Greta, were starting to smile like they were waiting for the punchline as Carson continued to bark at them in a ridiculously affected voice. Greta had to keep turning around to look away from Carson and raise her brows at her teammates. She found the whole thing so adorable she was afraid it would be written on her face. Finally, she could stand it no longer.
“Hey, Carson,” she stage whispered, hand cupped beside her lips. She was still waiting for Carson to drop the act and crack a joke, or start to fill the silence with anxious rambling.
“Hey Greta,” Carson turned to her, hands behind her back, voice dripping with sarcasm. Greta’s stomach fluttered pleasantly.
“Are you aware that you’re doing a voice right now?” She simply could not help herself. “A weird voice?”
“No, I’m not.”
Greta’s eyebrow shot up. Carson was really committing to the bit here. She couldn’t be serious about starting Terri. Shirley chimed in about the voice and the team dissolved into titters.
“Ha ha ha ha,” Carson mocked, startling them all into silence. “If I were doing a voice, if I were, it’d be fine. Because guess what? Surprise, surprise, I’m in charge.” She smirked down the line at them. It was so unlike her that the team remained quiet.
“Can we focus on the fucking game, please?” Jess snapped, looking at Carson incredulously.
“Yeah, so, uh, mmm, I’m starting, right?” Ana interjected.
“Uh, no, you’re not starting!” Carson threw her arms wide, inviting them to challenge her further. “And if you bring it up one more time, you’re gonna be benched even more.”
Greta bit her lip. Carson Shaw, attempting to throw her weight around, was simultaneously cute and hot.
“‘Kay, now can we go play?” Jess, clearly finished with whatever it was Carson was attempting to do, began walking towards the door. The rest of the team made moves to follow her, but Jess only got a couple of steps before Carson held up her hand.
“No!” Everyone froze again. “You can go play when I say that you can go play.” Lupe and Jess immediately moved to test this theory.
“Do not…move.”
Esti, confused, took a half step forward.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Carson called out. She held up one finger and her voice dropped back into its natural register, but dangerously low, “Do not.”
Greta felt her pulse quicken, her stomach did a flip, and an impressed, “Ooh,” escaped her lips.
Because, wow. She had never heard that voice from Carson before. They stood in silence a moment more before Carson finally released them, and they went on to lose spectacularly to the Blue Sox. No one was more crushed than Carson that her odd experiment hadn’t resulted in a win.
Greta, while disappointed, had a new focus. Perhaps the false persona and voice had been ridiculous, but there was one moment in there where Carson had put her foot down firmly. And Greta wanted to see that again.
She coaxed a sulky Carson into the car, promising to soothe her bruised ego, but Carson was too distracted.
“I can’t believe we lost,” Carson groaned, breaking their kiss. Greta paused, repositioned her hands on Carson’s shoulders, nodded sympathetically as she rambled on.
“It felt like I just got in everyone’s heads, you know?”
“Yeah,” Greta murmured, pressing her lips against Carson’s again.
“Wait, I’m so sorry I yelled at you,” Carson pulled away again. Greta attempted to keep the frustration from her face as she continued. “That was so out of line, and I don’t wanna be like that with you.”
“No, no, no,” Greta ran her hand along Carson’s bicep, “That’s okay. You were being such an asshole…it was hot.”
“I wasn’t trying to be an asshole, okay? I was trying to take cha-” Carson stumbled, “Y-you thought it was hot?”
“I mean, not the voice,” Greta laughed, and Carson blushed, looking down. “But yeah, you taking charge…I liked it. I want more of it.” Greta smiled the half smile that always sent Carson fidgeting and scrambling to find words. She was pleased to see she still had her touch as Carson’s fingers twisted together in her lap.
“I, uh, well, you know you’re the first, um, woman that I’ve- and you know, I wouldn’t want to, like, hurt you or…” Carson trailed off, meeting Greta’s gaze. Greta knew her face betrayed the heat building in her stomach. She was practiced at schooling her expressions in mixed company, but she could use that talent most effectively in private, as well.
“I want you,” Greta breathed, “to take charge.” She grabbed Carson’s wrist and pulled her along as she leaned back against the car door, bringing Carson’s knuckles to lips and placing a slow kiss there. She locked eyes with Carson and smiled slowly from behind her lipstick-smudged hand.
Carson looked frozen for a second, her chest rising and falling with a stuttering breath. Then her gaze slid up and down the length of Greta’s body, supine along the carseat with her back pressed against the opposite door. Greta watched as a small smirk spread across Carson’s face, revealing one dimple that Greta resisted the urge to lean forward and taste.
Carson leaned forward, kneeling between Greta’s thighs, and cupped her cheek in her hand, then slid it into the hair at the nape of her neck, pressing their lips together. Greta arched up into the kiss, parting her lips hopefully. Carson took the bait and slid her tongue into Greta’s mouth.
Greta could feel her hesitate for a moment before she tugged experimentally on her hair, forcing her head back. Greta gasped and Carson loosened her grip, pulling back to look at her.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No way,” Greta licked her lips. “Do it again. Do it harder.”
Carson bit her lip and grabbed a fistful of Greta’s hair, pulling her head back again to expose her neck. Greta gasped again, her hands gripping hard where they still rested on Carson’s hips.
She felt Carson’s lips press to her throat and she groaned. Carson angled her head so she could plant a kiss beneath her ear, where her neck met her jaw. Greta’s toes curled inside of her shoes at the soft lips, the puffs of air as Carson planted tiny kisses in a line along her neck.
Suddenly, Greta felt teeth scraping softly, then harder, and finally Carson bit down hard enough to make Greta suck air in through her teeth. “Fuck,” she moaned, her hips bucking upwards of their own accord.
Carson began unbuttoning Greta’s dress, her lips following the progress of her fingers to kiss and nip at each new area of exposed skin. She slid her hand inside Greta’s bra, her breast filling her palm. Greta could feel calluses from batting practice against the soft skin of her nipple as Carson brushed it with the pad of her thumb.
There was an awkward scramble as Greta leaned forward, reached behind her back, and unclasped the bra before performing a swift maneuver that resulted in the bra on being thrown unceremoniously against the opposite car window. For a second, Greta saw in Carson’s face that her own eagerness hadn’t gone unnoticed. Carson was smirking and Greta breathed in sharply, embarrassed but desperate for Carson to touch her again. She unbuttoned more of the buttons on her dress, letting it fall open to expose her chest.
Carson leaned down to kiss her, the soft cotton of her blouse dragging over Greta’s hardened nipples. She trailed kisses down her chest once again, her hair tickling until her lips closed finally around Greta’s nipple. Greta moaned, and Carson looked up to watch her face as she flicked her tongue against the pebbled surface, scraped it with her teeth. Greta’s mouth fell open.
“Again,” Greta breathed, biting down on her lower lip as Carson caught her nipple gently between her teeth, then sucked on it and soothed it with the flat of her tongue. She let it fall out of her mouth with a slight pop before moving to pay equal attention to Greta’s other breast.
“Carson,” Greta breathed, her hips grinding against the seat of the car.
Carson pulled back again to look at her.
“Do you want me to, uh,” she toyed with the hem of Greta’s dress, already hiked up high enough to expose the tops of her stockings.
Greta nodded, then reached down and tugged upwards at the skirt of her dress and slip in one fist. She longed for that fucking convent with its narrow beds and doors with locks. She wanted the press of their bare skin again, the full length of their bodies sliding against each other. Carson’s mouth opened slightly as she looked down at Greta’s thighs falling open farther. Greta wished they had taken more time in Kenosha to fully look at each other while they had the chance.
Carson ran her fingertips over Greta’s garters, toying with the stocking clips. Greta could practically see the gears turning, analyzing the situation like it was an at-bat in a playoff game. Greta took Carson’s hand and placed it flat against the apex of her thighs, grinding down against it. Carson gasped, falling forward and bracing herself above Greta with one hand on the back of the seat, her hair hanging in a curtain around them.
“I want to come for you,” Greta whispered, her hips still moving. She could feel how wet she was, knew Carson could feel it through her underwear. Carson nodded, a little frantic.
“Yeah, I- I want you to,” Carson whispered, her cheeks burning but her eyes dark and wide as she watched Greta writhing beneath her.
Greta ground down hard against Carson’s hand, her own hands still pressing it where she wanted it, her breath quickening with her own pace.
“You want me to what, Carson?” she purred, her eyes locked to Carson’s.
Carson licked her lips, her bicep flexing as she pushed back against the rhythm of Greta’s hips. Greta’s eyelids fluttered as the tension within her built, but she maintained her focus even as she got closer and closer.
“I want…” Carson’s gaze roamed all of the parts of Greta she could see, on display for her alone in this tiny island of privacy they had claimed for themselves. Her eyes met Greta’s again.
“I want you to come for me,” she finally breathed. Greta moaned, the movement of her hips becoming more frantic.
“Say it again,” she said. Carson pressed her thigh against the back of their hands for further leverage and Greta bit back a moan.
“Come for me, Greta,” Carson moved in time with Greta’s thrusts, and the sound of her name tipped Greta over the edge. She came against Carson’s hand, shuddering and stifling whimpers of pleasure.
“Shit.” Greta looked up. Carson was still watching her, her eyes incredibly dark, lips parted, breaths shaky. Greta stretched languidly. She knew her hair was a mess, her dress wrinkled. Her breasts were still on full display, her sex still twitching against Carson’s hand.
“Mmm,” Greta finally sat up to plant a sweet kiss on Carson’s lips. “Your turn.”
*
Before becoming a professional ball player, if you had asked Carson Shaw what the most romantic city in the world was, she would have probably said Paris, or Rome, or some other standard exotic answer like anyone else. But since becoming a Peach, she knew now that the romance capital of her world, in any case, was Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Ever since the first road trip, when she’d managed, by some miracle, to finagle the roommate swap, she pushed to do the same for every away game. And Greta argued with her every time.
“You know the rules,” Greta would say, running her fingers through Carson’s hair in the privacy of the car, or the woods, or the garage, regret clear in her eyes. “We can’t room together on every road trip. It’s too suspicious.”
Carson sighed as she stepped off the bus in Kenosha again. They had finally managed to find a motel with rooms enough for the players this time, but Carson had been paired with Maybelle. She liked Maybelle, of course, but she couldn’t help but watch enviously as Jess and Greta disappeared into their room.
Later, they congregated there a couple of hours before curfew - Jo stretched out on Greta’s bed, Greta’s head in her lap, reading a magazine. Lupe and Jess sat with their backs against the wall along the side of Jess’s bed, their legs stuck out in front of them. Carson leaned against the dresser while Maybelle applied lipstick in the mirror above it.
“One of the Comets invited us out to a bar in town, we’ve still got some time before curfew.” Lupe picked at her cuticles as she spoke to the room at large. Carson tried not to look at Greta too quickly. Greta continued to stare at her magazine cooly, but Carson could tell she wasn’t reading it.
Jo sighed, “I dunno, I’m rooming with Shirl right now.” Maybelle frowned sympathetically at her in the mirror.
“I’ll go,” Jess put forth unnecessarily. Lupe lifted her chin at her.
“Me, too!” Maybelle grinned.
“Gill?” Lupe switched her gaze to Greta. Greta sighed and put down the magazine, raising herself onto one elbow.
“I don’t know. I’m pretty beat after today’s game.” Finally, finally, her gaze flickered to Carson. Carson twisted her fingers together. “Don’t you come barging in here at all hours and disturbing my beauty sleep, either, Jess. Come back early.” She shook her finger at Jess mockingly, a sly grin on her lips. Carson frowned, worried she’d misinterpreted the previous look. She may as well go out if Greta was going to call it early and Maybelle was going out, too.
She opened her mouth to say so, but Greta shot a look at her and shook her head slightly.
“I’ll - uh, I’ll probably stay in too. Big game tomorrow,” she supplied lamely.
“Jess, if you and Maybelle are both going out you may as well room together tonight,” Greta said casually, picking up her magazine again. “I meant it, I need to rest, and I could do without you stomping around drunk at all hours.”
Jess placed a hand to her chest in mock offense. “I am perfectly capable of being quiet. Besides, Maybelle snores.”
“I do not!” Maybelle laughed and tossed a wadded up tissue at Jess, “Who told you that??”
Greta smiled for a moment longer than necessary at Jess. Jess finally smirked.
“Alright, Shaw, you good to switch rooms with me? Let you two grandmas get some knitting done.”
Carson attempted to be casual, “Yeah, of course, that’s totally fine with me. I have no problem with that. We’ll uh, play cards. Or…something.”
Jess smirked again. They began to discuss the purported amenities of the bar, which included a pool table. As Carson watched, Greta’s eyes left her magazine for a moment to meet Carson’s gaze and she smiled that half smile. Carson’s stomach flipped.
*
It wasn’t that Carson didn’t know what to do. Even though she hadn’t been with other women, she knew what she liked. But she wished she could study Greta the way she studied baseball plays, develop a strategy and skill set that would improve her performance. She wanted to impress Greta, surprise her, and maybe even beat her at her own game. Carson couldn’t help it, she’d always been competitive that way.
By the time she and Jess had swapped rooms and the group had departed for the bar, Carson had resolutely made up her mind to swing for the fences.
Greta had walked down the street with Ana and some of the other girls to buy smokes. Carson knew it was part of the rules, that they behave as casually as possible, that they not appear closer than any other girls on the team. But she regretted every second that Greta could be here, behind a locked door with her.
Carson paced nervously, stared herself down in the mirror on the wall above the dresser.
Get a grip, Shaw. She admonished silently. Finally, the door opened and Greta slipped inside the room, carrying a paper bag with two clinking bottles of beer and a pack of cigarettes.
“Beer?” she asked Carson as she closed the door. Carson shook her head, crossed to Greta, and reached behind her to slide the deadbolt home. Greta grinned, her eyes sparkling.
“We’ll save these for later, then,” she said as she stepped away from Carson to place the bag on top of the dresser. She crossed back to Carson and began to kiss her, her fingers already fumbling for the buttons on her blouse. Carson caught her wrists in both hands.
“Wait.”
Greta’s brow furrowed, her head tipped to one side.
“You okay? What is it?”
Carson took a breath but charged ahead. “I’m fine. Will you-” she shook her head. “Take your shoes off.”
Greta laughed, put her hands on her hips. Carson resisted the urge to stamp her foot in frustration.
“You want me to take my shoes off?” Carson nodded and folded her arms across her chest. Be the boot, she told herself.
Greta shrugged and kicked off her heels, still laughing, now standing flat-footed in her stockings. Carson nodded, nudged the shoes out of her way with her toe, and pulled Greta to the largest piece of floor in the room, between the two beds. She took a few steps away from Greta.
“Unbutton your dress,” she said in what she hoped was an authoritative tone. Suddenly Greta stopped laughing, but a smirk still spread across her lips as she looked at Carson.
“Or what?” she said playfully, twirling a lock of hair around her fingers.
Carson exhaled through her nose sharply. She fastened her hands behind her back and leaned toward Greta, her voice dropping lower as she felt her nerves and frustration building.
“Unbutton your dress,” she repeated, slower this time. Greta’s breath caught in her throat.
“Ooh,” she had made the same sound in the locker room before the South Bend game. Carson had nearly sent the team out onto the field without them.
Greta’s fingers trembled slightly as she began to unbutton her dress. Some of Carson’s tension eased away at the thought that she was making Greta even slightly as flustered as Greta made her feel on a daily basis.
Carson stepped forward to help Greta pull her dress over her head. It landed in a heap on the floor beside where Greta stood, now only in her slip. Carson needed to see more of her. She gripped the hem of Greta’s slip and pulled it over head to add it to the clothing pile. Greta stood in the middle of the room in her lingerie. She placed one hand on her hip, casual, but Carson could see a flush building across her chest. She resisted the urge to brush her lips against it.
She circled Greta, dragging her fingertips across her garter belt where it hugged her hips. She heard Greta’s intake of breath as she landed behind her. Carson, encouraged, unhooked Greta’s bra and dropped it to the floor. She trailed one fingertip from the nape of Greta’s neck to the waistline of her underwear, eliciting a shiver. She smiled, then continued her orbit so that she could admire Greta in the dim light of the bedside lamp.
Greta’s eyes were locked to Carson’s face, and Carson couldn’t help but smile at her, dropping the tough act. But when Greta moved to step closer to her, Carson held up a hand.
“Don’t move,” she said, softly, but still in the firm, low tone from before. Greta inhaled audibly.
Carson stepped closer to her, palming her breast and feeling its weight, its incredible softness. Greta’s head dropped back slightly, her hands finding purchase on Carson’s shoulders. Carson decided to allow this as she circled Greta’s nipple, remembering how effective this had been in the car. She lowered her mouth to lick at it again, and Greta whimpered. Carson smiled, licked again, then caught the nipple between her teeth. Greta gasped and stepped toward Carson reflexively. Carson stepped back.
“Ah,” she smiled at the look on Greta’s face. This was going exactly like she’d planned. “I said, don’t move.”
Greta’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark, watching as Carson stepped to her again and unfastened her stocking clasps. Carson knelt slowly in front of Greta, staring up at her with a smile on her face that showed both dimples. Slowly, she began to slide Greta’s stockings down one leg, then the other. Greta carefully stepped out of them, and Carson ran her finger tips up the backs of Greta’s thighs, settling on the hooks at the back of her garter belt. She pressed a kiss to Greta’s lower stomach as she pulled the garter belt free and let it drop.
She looked up at Greta again, her fingers hooked in the waistband of her underwear. Greta looked down at Carson, kneeling in front of her and staring up at her. She nodded, her breath catching again, and Carson slid the silk drawers down Greta’s impossibly long legs.
She allowed her gaze to wander, planted a kiss on Greta’s hip bone, and slid her tongue along her pelvis until her mouth landed between Greta’s legs. Greta’s knees buckled and she grabbed onto Carson’s shoulder for support. This time Carson laughed, and Greta blushed furiously. Carson grinned, enjoying this vulnerable Greta she’d managed to coax out from behind all of that cool confidence. She stood and guided Greta to the bed.
“Sit down,” she commanded, and Greta obeyed immediately. Carson bit her lip to keep from smiling. She pressed Greta back onto the pillows and pushed her thighs apart so she could kneel between them, her hands on either side of Greta’s head. She lowered her lips to Greta’s, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. Greta moaned quietly, her hips moving beneath Carson. Carson smiled and sat back, admiring her work. Greta’s pale skin was glistening in the lamplight, her cheeks rosy, her hair splayed across the pillow. Her thighs were open, and Carson could see how wet she was. She let out a little hum of self satisfaction before she caught Greta looking at her, her eyes dark and hooded with arousal.
Carson slid onto her stomach, settled herself between Greta’s thighs and stroked the length of her slit with the flat of her tongue. Greta moaned, her hands tangling in Carson’s hair. Carson thought about what she liked when she was alone and thinking of Greta, her hand buried between her legs. She moved upwards and circled Greta’s clit with the tip of her tongue. Greta gasped and arched her back, her hands gripping Carson’s hair. Carson grinned against her and flicked her tongue against her clit repeatedly.
“Fuck,” Greta breathed, “Oh fuck, fuck,” turned her head from side to side. Carson used one arm to press her hips against the bed and she moved her tongue relentlessly. Greta’s legs were starting to shake, her body stiffening. Carson pulled her mouth away.
“What-” Greta opened her eyes, “Why did you stop?” It was almost a whine. Her desperation was so plain on her face, Carson couldn’t help but grin.
“I don’t want you to come yet.”
“Carson,” Greta’s head dropped back on the pillow, a hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair off of her forehead. Carson took that opportunity to lower her head back down and suck gently on Greta’s clit. Greta’s torso arched off the bed as she moaned, then slapped a hand over her mouth, her hips straining against Carson’s toned forearm. Again, Carson pulled her mouth away. Greta groaned.
“I-you can’t,” Greta grabbed at the hand that was splayed across her stomach.
“You told me to take charge,” Carson quirked an eyebrow at her, then brought her mouth to her again, this time circling her entrance with her tongue. Greta pressed hard against the back of Carson’s head, her hips rolling against her, as Carson slid her tongue inside her. Carson could feel her start to clench around her and pulled away. Greta let out a sob.
Carson crawled up the length of Greta’s body, settling against her with one of Greta’s thighs between her legs, propped on one elbow above her. She kissed Greta as she slid two fingers inside her, as slow as she could stand it. Greta’s eyes flickered closed.
“No, look at me,” Carson said, and when Greta obeyed she rewarded her with a curl of her fingers. Greta moaned. Carson began to thrust into her, increasing her speed incrementally until she felt Greta tightening around her again, quiet mewling sounds escaping her lips. Carson pulled away. Greta groaned and grabbed at her wrist.
“Please,” she whispered, “Carson, please.”
“Please what?” Carson couldn’t help but smirk.
“Please let me come for you.”
Carson bit her lip, then slid three fingers inside Greta and pressed her thumb against her clit, allowing Greta’s hips to set the pace and rhythm.
“Come for me,” Carson groaned, her own hips grinding against Greta’s thigh without permission.
Greta’s moan was louder than either of them expected, and Carson pressed the palm of her hand over her mouth as Greta’s hips rose off the bed, her moan stifled against Carson’s hand. Carson fucked her as she came, until Greta finally grabbed at her wrist to still her hand. Carson deemed it safe to remove her hand from Greta’s mouth.
Greta’s hips jerked sporadically for a few moments, and Carson could feel her spasming around her fingers. She pulled them out slowly, eliciting a final gasp from Greta.
Carson smoothed the hair away from Greta’s face and kissed the tip of her nose.
“You are so beautiful,” she murmured, kissing her cheek, then her jaw.
Greta made an incoherent sound, then pulled Carson down on top of her, their bodies pressed together, her arms wrapping around her.
After a moment, she bunched Carson’s top in a fist. “Why are you still wearing so many clothes?”
Carson laughed. “I guess you’ll have to help me out with that.”