Her cheeks were red from crying but at least there were no tears there now. Amy walked across the room and removed the tie wrap that secured Sam's wri...t."Get dressed, clean your face and then come out to the kitchen and feed yourself," Amy ordered and left the room.In a few minutes Sam entered the kitchen silently and took a seat at the kitchen table across from Amy. For a long time the two women stared at each other in silence."Eat child, I told you I won't bite," Amy chuckled.Sam got up and. She moved his face to her other breast, and he repeated. She pushed his head downwards, and he slid down her torso, kissing as he went. He kissed her navel playing with its ring with his tongue. His body heated and he felt himself stiffen in his shorts.“I shouldn’t ... wrong...” he whispered.“Hush, my love. I need you! Not wrong.”She pushed his head further, and he kissed her belly and down to each hip bone. His body heated with the desire to make love to her. Readjusting himself, he went. 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. She was in her early thirties, with long dark brown locks and a perfect body. Melissa could talk smut with the best of them. As Jock stood at the crowded bar waiting for someone to vacate a seat, she sauntered over to him. She and Jock had had a short fling about five years ago but had remained good friends after it ended."Look, you’re a great looking guy and you fuck like nobody’s business," Melissa had said. "But I’m not getting involved with you or anyone right now."The two had gone on.