About Two Games: A Matched Pair of Sports Stories

by Julia Talbot and BA Tortuga
14 pages / 4700 words
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc, epub, Sony-formatted pdf

Two Games features two tales about hot, sporting guys, from tennis and football studs to a former pro baseball player. In Volleys and Touchdowns, by BA Tortuga, tennis-lover Mitch and football man Jackson have a friendly argument about who gets to control the TV remote. The argument might just end in a little game of their own. Will the boys settle things like men?

In Hitting Streak, by Julia Talbot, Jose is a former baseball player who's out of the game due to a freak accident. Dave thinks Jose might just be the hottest thing going, and has no idea baseball is a sensitive subject and not the best ploy to get a date. Can Dave make it up to the blind Jose the best way he knows how? Both stories previously published in the Play Ball anthology.

Sample

Jackson tapped his feet on the rungs of his barstool, hands wrapped around his cue stick.

The remains of the Monday night football game party lay all over the den, popcorn bowls empty, the big nacho plate covered with a sticky layer of cheese residue.

Mitch was the only one left, the rest of the guys taking off once the post-game show was over. Jackson kinda liked it that way; he and Mitch felt easy. Good. Even if he was gonna kill the man for flipping channels until he found some Australian tennis match.

"How can you stand that pussy shit?"

He got flipped off, Mitch's blue-blue eyes just rolling. "God-for-fucking-bid you should have to watch a sport that requires thought and skill, dickhead."

"Oh, blow me. Football takes a lot more thought than chasing a little, bouncy ball all over a court." And it took padding. So there.

"Bullshit." Mitch bent over the table, lined up his shot. Okay, so pussy tennis gave a man great thighs. So what? "You got too much sense knocked out of you. I, at least, had to own up to every shot I missed. I couldn't blame it on the guy next to me."

"Well, that's not exactly impressing me with your intelligence. I mean, I could blame the line if I got sacked." Which he had. Too many times to mention. "You'll never make that shot."

"Fuck off, man. You bet your ass I'll make it." Mitch stretched out, going up on tiptoe. "You just can't admit you aren't athletic enough to run around in the heat trying to have a perfect backswing."

"And you couldn't handle playing on an icy field in twenty below."

God, that man had a fine ass. Jackson sighed. And that thought and a dollar would get him a cup of coffee.

"Tennis balls don't bounce worth shit on ice." Mitch took the shot and fucking made it. Asshole.

"No. And football pads don't go well in the heat. You're comparing apples to oranges. I, at least, am talking technical stuff."

Mitch walked around the table. "There's a shit-load of skill in tennis, man. The game's faster moving, there's more action, it takes speed and quick decisions. You already know the play before you play it; you just have to not fuck it up."

Willing the guy to miss so he could get a few shots in himself, Jackson nodded. "And in football you have to coordinate all those other players and make snap decisions and all kinds of shit could go wrong."

Yeah, so he also wanted Mitch to stop shooting so he could stop staring at that ass. It did him no good. None.