Laying there in bed, her body pressed up against my side, my arm around her. Her fingers lightly tracing up and down my bare chest. I smiled to myself as I raised the remote and flipped the TV to the game. This was the life. The woman of my dreams snuggled against me, half naked, and the Red Sox on the tube.
Laying the remote on top of the sheet covering us, I settled in for what I hoped would be yet another victory by my beloved Sox. I saw her hand wrap around the remote, thinking she was just moving it to the nightstand. Suddenly she raised up, a wry smile forming across her lips.
"Now, what were you saying about me touching the remote during the game?" Holding the remote in her left hand above me, waving it tauntingly.
"Don't do it...I'm warning you." I smiled.
Her smile forming into a wicked grin, she turned towards the television. With a simple push of a button, Josh Beckett mowing down the Oakland A's was replaced with what I could only assume was some Bravo channel fashion show. She chuckled as she turned back towards me. She was challenging me. I glared at her, hoping she would get the message. She either didn't or was really trying to push my buttons, because all she did was tuck the remote by her side and lay back.
With a growl, I quickly rolled over onto her. Sitting up, my knees straddling her torso. My hands beat hers to the remote. I took her small wrists in the grip of my left hand, while my right hand grabbed the remote. Holding her wrists, I turned to the TV and switched the game back on, just in time to see Beckett induce an A's hitter into a lazy fly ball for the final out of the first inning.
Still holding her wrists, I leaned my body toward the side of the bed, reaching for the drawer on the nightstand. I was sure she was thinking I was just putting the remote there for safe keeping, but I had more up my sleeve. Ever since I warned her of the consequences of messing with the remote during a Sox game, I have been prepared for this moment.
I placed the remote in the drawer and grabbed my surprise for her. I raised up, displaying two red silk sashes. Her eyes went wide, her body thrashed beneath me. It was no use, I was way too big for her to throw me off easily. I raised her hands to the head board of the bed. Leaning forward, my crotch directly above her breasts. I could her whimper as I positioned her right hand.
"No...please...I'm sorry, I won't do it again," she pleaded.
It was too late for that. Deep down, I think she was prepared for this, wanting it almost. I had warned her that if she messed with the remote during a Red Sox game I would tie her hands to the bed.
Now she knew I was serious. I got her right hand tied and started working on her left.
"Honey, the game is back on," she whispered breathily.
This was a ploy to get me to stop, and it was a good one. She knew me and my passion for baseball well. I quickly turned to see Jacoby Ellsbury sky a fly ball to deep center field for the first out. Turning back toward her, I finished securing her wrists to the headboard. Smiling down at her, her eyes burning holes into mine. I grinned.
"Comfy, baby?" I laughed softly.
"Hooligan," she muttered. Its what she called me when I started acting 'up'. She tried to say it with as much venom as she could muster, but I could hear the underlying endearment.
Just then, I heard the Sox announcer declare, "a long fly ball by Pedroia." I quickly rolled off beside her and laid back to watch the ball clear the Green Monster for a home run. I listened to Jerry Remy spout superlatives about the Red Sox second baseman as I felt her squirm beside me.
"Mmm baby...good start." I turned to her and smiled. She returned only an icy glare.
Chuckling, I settled back in for what should be an exciting Red Sox victory. I laid there watching the rest of the first inning, as well as the second and top of the third quietly as both teams mounted little offense. She occasionally squirmed beside me, but otherwise seemed resigned to her fate. After the first inning she even stopped apologizing and begging to be released.
Leading off the Red Sox third inning, Ellsbury lined one towards the Pesky Pole in right field, hugging the line fair and dropping for extra bases. I sat up in the bed and watched him run. This kid could fly and he quickly rounded second and headed for third, sliding in safely for a triple.
"YES!" I pumped my fist into the air. Man on third, no outs, a sure run for the Sox. With Beckett on the hill this would probably be all they would need. I turned back to look at her lying there.
"Now only if your damn Yankees would lose." She wasn't a Yankees fan, she was just originally from New York, so I took to calling them her Yankees. Again, she just glared at me.