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"And the one-two pitch..." I traced the flight of the spinning white baseball as it left the pitcher's paw all the way to where it nearly smacked the dirt in front of the batter. ".. is going to be low for a ball. Catcher barely got a hold of that one."

I lifted a black fingertip to the bridge of my glasses and pushed them back up my white nose to where they belonged. Thick black frames; a little old fashioned but then so was my job. The crowd was getting loud again between pitches.

My eyes were back on my team's batter. Louis Miles Hartnett, though he was Louie to everyone, and Miles to close friends (or so I heard). He'd just come up from the minor leagues after we lost both our second basemen to injuries. The twenty-five year old golden retriever hadn't had an amazing career in AA, but put up consistent numbers and was worth a look. Every once in awhile an unnoticed player at a lower level came up to the big show and lit the place up. That's exactly what Hartnett had done. He'd been red hot for a solid month now and had caught the attention of everyone.

He'd caught my eyes too, but for reasons other than baseball stats.

"Tom, what do you think about Louie here? Is he lightening in a bottle or the real deal?" Came the voice of the color-commentator from my right. Jerry was a former pitcher himself, which brought a nice perspective into the booth. Normally he would fill in if I had to excuse myself, as well as chime in with relevant stats and provide a little banter for the audience.

"I don't know Jerry, he certainly seems to like the big lights up here. Maybe it's just that the major league pitchers hit the strike zone more often!" An old joke, but it'd still get a few chuckles. Let's see, what hadn't I described yet today? Ah! "He's got an upright stance, cocks that two toned bat high over the right shoulder as he waits for the next pitch."

It was hard to take my eye off that dog down there. Floppy, wavey-furred ears that extended below the helmet. That little subtle wiggle of his rump and swish of his tail as he was in his stance was hypnotizing to my bright blue fox eyes. There was not a thing in the world appropriate about my thoughts concerning that young man.

Nothing about him screamed athlete, which I kind of appreciated. He was neither stick figure nor bulging all over the place, though there was one spot I wouldn't mind seeing a bulge. He had good muscle tone for sure, but you'd have to get that thick, golden fur wet to really see it. The arms though were pretty impressive, especially the forearms. What really got me was that face. His face was so friendly and expressive, always reflecting his personality, which was even better. I don't think Louie was ever in a bad mood. Always cracking sharp witted jokes and with a laid back approach to life, he was a player I could actually talk to, and had a few times.

This pitcher on the other hand was giving my dream boy some trouble. Like most players of his position, he was a tall sort, a ferret in this case. Roberto Sanchez had made it six innings so far and we hadn't got a hit yet. He did, however, just walk the batter head of Louie, so there was a little something going.

I got back to my microphone with my slighter deeper than average, Midwestern-sounding radio voice. "One on, two outs here in the sixth. Sanchez delivers... and it's tapped foul at the plate. The count is going to stay two-two."

"That was a wicked slider, Tom. I'm surprised he even got a piece of that!"

C'mon, Miles, I thought to myself; using the name he reserved for friends. Break up this wannabe weasel's no hitter.

Sanchez wasted no time and soon sent another ball whizzing towards home, and I watched Louie's strong arms take a quick defensive flick at it, sending it careening off into the stands. He was putting up a good fight at least. I looked at the radar gun reading and caught myself smiling. "Sanchez is bringing it now. This has been an eight pitch at bat so far, and that last one clocked it at a hundred and one miles per hour."

"I think he's getting tired of Louie down there. Score is still River City: zero, Rockford: two." Jerry chimed in. We were River City.

Yeah, he was getting tired of Louie, and I was getting proud of Louie. I smirked more as Sanchez did a little walk around the mound, mouthing to himself as he went. Oh, he was getting frustrated; real, real frustrated that he couldn't put this newbie away. Finally, the pitcher got back up in position and leaned in, looking at the signals from his catcher. "Sanchez sets, delivers, the two-two..."

My eyes followed the ball. It floated upwards then came down sharply as it approached home plate. Looked like the 12-6 curveball he'd used for a few strikeouts today, and it was absolutely filthy. I also saw something else: Louie was sitting on that pitch. He knew he was going to get it if he frustrated Sanchez enough, and so he had been looking for it the entire time.

As the ball was on the way Louie had twisted his upper body back and lifted his front leg just a bit, so that as it broke down into the strike zone he sprung on it with a fantastic hack. The noise of the crowd was drowned out for a split second by the mighty THWACK sound that the bat produced, and I swear I could almost feel it up in the booth. My heart leapt with that ball, and I cheerily let it show in the mic. "High fly ball to left field!" I was shouting, my voice nearly cracking. "Watch it fly!" The left fielder didn't even move, just watched it with the rest of us. "Kelly in left field is looking up, and that ball is gone!"

"Wow." Was all Jerry managed to add to the topic. The crowd seemed to have a similar response, as their rowdiness was cut off in an instant.

Louie hadn't even started to trot towards first for a few moments, and I thought I could see him grinning even form where I was as he casually started towards the bases. "Louie Hartnett hits a two run shot to tie this game up." I smiled to myself as I watched Sanchez clutch his head in contempt of himself. "Roberto Sanchez can have a no-no some other time, cause he's not getting one today."

*

One nice thing about being a radio announcer, especially outside of one's home city, is that most people didn't recognize you. That was a great thing for my evening ritual in Rockwood. Being a division opponent, I got to spend plenty of time in that city each year, and I really came to relish a place called ZigZag.

Nobody paid much mind to me, a plainly dressed arctic fox sitting in a corner booth. Most times, like tonight, I was typing away on my laptop. I appreciated the friendly company of the bar staff, and the eye candy didn't hurt. It was a gay bar, and attracted all sorts of men. I liked looking, but didn't get a lot of looks my way. I suppose having a sedentary job that comes with free stadium food every day probably didn't help my case, I thought, as I glanced down at my ample belly. Don't get me wrong I am not a fatty...just a little on the big side. Add to that the glasses, hiding in the corner, and being about 40 years old and you see why I was let alone. Again, though, I didn't mind. The last thing I needed was some drama about River City's broadcaster going to gay bars.

I smiled a bit as I watched the instant replay of the home run from earlier, even more when the camera caught the beaming face of Louie. For someone who's spent their entire career around fit men, I had crushed on surprisingly few. Maybe I just never let that kind of thing get in the way of professionalism, I thought as I finished the glass of wine I had been nursing.

It was a quiet night at the bar. Just a few dozen people divided into a cluster here and a table there. My eyes turned upwards as they caught movement coming towards them. Headed my way from the bar was a somewhat short and stocky black panther carrying a tray above his head that looked to have a glass of wine and at least one or two plates upon it. He was about my age and size, though he had a little less flab and a little more muscle. That was Donnie, the owner, and he gave me a hearty wink as he approached.

"You know," he said as he placed the tray down on the table in front of me, "I really think you ought to get yourself a little hook up one of these times."

I looked at the food first, which probably said more about my strange priorities than just about anything I could tell you. Chicken tenders and fries, not bad. The fact that Donnie himself was bringing me food I hadn't ordered told me that this was on the house. I took the glass of wine and took a sip; looking back up at him.

If anyone at ZigZag knew me it was Donnie. We talked at least a bit every time I had visited, even on the first time. He was a laid back sort, preferring to just make drinks and light conversation over getting too involved in his patrons. I think it was because of his clientele. Some gay bars attracted an older crowd; bears and the leather types mostly as far as that went. This wasn't one of those. ZigZag had, for some reason or another, become a hot spot for the younger generation. In fact the only reason I had ever went in the first place is because it was the best reviewed bar in the area when I looked online, and after I met Donnie I was hooked. He and I clicked fast; two aloof older guys out of their zones and under the same roof.

He took a seat on the other side of the booth and raised his brows at me; waiting for me to reply. I chuckled and pushed my laptop off to the side. "C'mon you know I'm not the sort. I don't want to just bang some random twink boy here." That reply didn't meet his satisfaction, and I heard him clacking a claw on the hard table slowly. "Ok, so I would want to, but I wouldn't."

"Didn't stop you from blowing me in the back room that one time." The big cat across from me flashed a toothy grin. He was right, last fall after way too many drinks that is exactly what happened.

"Donnie that was different. You and I are..."

"...Old?" he finished my thought, and I nodded at his reply.

"Yeah, that." I sliced a piece of chicken off with the side of my fork and brought it to my nose, giving a little sniff before chewing it. Eh, the same average appetizers as always, but can't argue with free. "Look, you know my work. I don't have time for any of that stuff with some random kid."

He just stared at me, his claw still tapping the table. Yep, he was right. He didn't even have to say what he was thinking. "Yeah, okay, Donnie, I know, that's exactly why I could use a little hookup."

That was met with a nod. "And? So? Why are you fighting it?"

"I'm not, I just don't want-"

"A kid?" Goddammit he really was on the same wavelength as I was. He chuckled and placed his paw on mine in a surprisingly tender way. "Don't worry, I spied with my little eyes something you might like."

Oh god, he was really looking around his bar for guys that I might want to have sex with? That was both a little bit sweet and a little bit creepy. I think the sweet part would have won out if I had put them in contest with each other. His tender touch really caught me off guard. Maybe I hadn't recognized the friendship we'd been nursing for years now, I thought, as I remembered we even texted each other at least a few times a week. Of all the towns I visited he was one of the few locals that I knew, and who in return knew what I did for a living.

The panther knew my thoughts almost as well as I did; the mark of a good bar tender perhaps. He flicked his head subtly in the direction of the corner far opposite of mine, where I could make out a lone figure in the dim light. "He's been minding his own business for about forty-five minutes now. Seems a real nice guy, and he's not a twink kid. Go say hi before ya go, eh?" Donnie gave the paw he had been touching a playful pat and walked off back towards his bar.

He hadn't given me a chance to reply to that; clever.

In any event, my blood alcohol content was far too low still for me to consider approaching the stranger, so I got back to work on the blog I had been typing away at. Once every few minutes I'd glace up, towards the stranger in the corner. It was of no use. The way the shadows played and the fact that he was faced away from me was making it impossible to get any sort of real look.

The time passed by with each paragraph I wrote for the article. It was slow going that night, wasn't feeling that groove, but I had to get it submitted. My eyes wandered back up again, but the stranger was gone. I looked towards the bar, and Donnie was looking right back at me and shaking his head. He casually threw the towel he had been wiping down the counter with over his shoulder and headed my way.

Here we go, I thought. I was going to get dressed down for not being a total desperate pervert. Maybe I deserved it, maybe not. There was a tapping sound on the floor beside me from Donnie's foot. "You know, he's off getting a blowjob in the bathroom from some cute little bunny right now."

"And? I have work to do tonight."

The panther rolled his eyes and sat in the booth again. Not on the opposite side, but right next to me. He was looking at my laptop. "Oh yeah, this couldn't have waited, now, could it? What's it about anyway." He chuckled and held a paw up defensively to stem a quick reply from me. A wise move, because he knew exactly what I did. "Baseball, I know, but anything particular?"

I lowered my nose at him and looked over my glasses in an expression that meant to convey that I knew better than to think he was really interested. "C'mon, you really want to know?"

"No." He laughed and I felt his slender tail creep around my waist. I didn't mind. "But... why not."

"Alright." I started explaining the events of the game, he seemed uninterested, and I couldn't help but notice the ever so slight yet constant shifting of his body closer to mine. So this was his game. I let out a quiet merf such as only a fox can as I felt a strong paw caress my bottom. My eyes shot around the bar, hoping nobody could see.

"Relax, there ain't but half a dozen people here. And who'd kick me out, anyway?" Point well made, I mused.

I couldn't help but get excited at the very notion of what was going on. It was hot, and risk; just the kind of thing that someone like me would have avoided. I felt his fingers pressing against the sides of my thick sheath through my jeans and leaned my head into his.

"Someone finds this arousing." He spoke into my ear, and gave it a playful little nip with his sharp teeth. He wasted no time, and expert fingers were undoing my belt and pants button. It was only a few moments before I felt those cool fingertips brushing along my tip, which was already well on its way out of hiding.

I arched my neck up a bit at the touch, and the opportunity was immediately seized by Donnie. I closed my eyes and rumbled, reveling in the little nibbles and nuzzles I was receiving, and of course the skilled manipulations down below which had me completely unsheathed and exposed. At that point I didn't even care about the public nature of this, I just wanted more. That want was communicated to him as I pressed against his paw.

My left paw gripped at his leg as his own thumb rubbed along the tip of my shaft. It found the pre I had been leaking and rubbed it around in small circular motions. I shuddered a little, and the smell of my own manhood reached my nose. He started stroking then in long slow motions, with just the right amount of tension in his grip. Say what you will about the more obvious forms of sex, a good handjob can be wondrous.

This was one becoming just that. Unable to just sit there and enjoy it, I started bucking my hips up into his paw. He responded well to that, and with his free hand ever so carefully ran a claw across the my tight and fuzzy sac. I could feel it scrunching up a bit in pleasured response. "Mmm, not bad, kitty."

"Oh I'm quite bad." He retorted in a hushed tone. His manipulations changed then. Instead of just stroking up and down he now began to give my tip a little twist and tease, and on the way back down he was sure to give the same treatment to the knot that had no so subtly made itself known.

That was almost too much already, and I tried desperately to steady my breathing as my burning desire to get off was creeping towards the surface. I was pent up, anyway, so this was bound to be a short affair. I gripped down on the edge of the booth as I humped firmly into the handjob. I felt my maw creep open a bit and my vision got a bit blurry, and that was it. With a sharp gasp inward I felt my shaft begin to throb and release its load. Donnie had anticipated it, and had positioned his spare paw to catch all of the ropey, sticky mess I was leaving.

A few pants and thrusts later and things got back to reality. Donnie was already using the towel he had put on his shoulder earlier to clean his sticky paw up, and gave me a little peck on the cheek. "Whole tab is on me."

I nodded absentmindedly and buttoned my pants back up. One of the waiters was grinning at me, I sheepishly nodded his way and decided it was time for me to get back to the hotel. That's when the bathroom door opened and out came an adorable young bunny boy, who was not very subtly wiping his lips with a paw.

That wasn't what got me. I was very happy to have gotten what I just had, and didn't feel jealous that some mystery man had gotten blown just then. What got me was when the mysterious guest from earlier stepped out.

I could finally get a look at him, and if I had felt exposed getting a handy in a booth, I felt a thousand times more vulnerable as my eyes saw none other than Louie Hartnett. My heart skipped a beat. My man crush to end all man crushes had been in here the entire time? He wouldn't have wanted you anyway, my brain told me. I froze up and started planning a way out. I couldn't let him spot me here.

It was of no use, for he had already seen me. At first there was a look of terror on his golden face, but when he noticed that I, too, was in shock, it turned into that genuine boyish smile that only Louie could make. "Text me!" He said, as he gave me a playful two-finger salute and headed for the exit.

"Home run." I grinned to myself.