I looked to the chef, the older man, winked, and dug another piece out of the shell. Once I had chewed the morsel, I said, "Most excellent, please con...ey my compliments to everyone associated with my meal this evening." I then dug some of the crab meat out and tasted it too. It was the best I had ever eaten, by far the best. I had had some good seafood in San Diego, but nothing I had there could compare with this. I was completely sated when I finished the meal. I only drank about two glasses. I woke up what must have been a couple of hours later and then everything started to come back to me and I started to get worried about what might happen and then I hered a noise I did not wont to hear. The back door down stairs closing and then I hered foot steps coming up the stairs and getting closer to the room. I burried my head into the pillows to try and hide my shame and then I hered the door open and a deep silince before whoever it was spoke. Ah it is good to see you have not moved. "No. Stare straight ahead, like this." He grabbed my head by the hair and gently, but firmly, held my head so I was staring straight at his dick, and pulled me a bit forward. It looked bigger than before. I didn't try to look away."Now c'mon son," he said, taking his hand off of my head, "Tell me what you think of this nigga dick. Thats all i'm asking. Shouldn't be too hard. Or do you want to see it hard?" he laughed, flicking still mostly flaccid his dick out. The tip was inches from my face.. I was a rookie, after all. Rookies were like children -- they were to be seen and not heard.Our manager was a rookie, too -- Paul Warren, just up to the Big Club after three years managing the Orioles' Double-A club in nearby Bowie, Maryland. Warren was about 40, a former Orioles utility infielder, and a Helluva good guy, from all I'd heard. My big goals in life were to win games for the Orioles and win the respect of the pitching coach, Arlie Stone, and the manager, Paul Warren.There were lots.