Monday, August 26, 2013

Switch Hitter excerpt by Alex Morgan and Jon Michaelsen

In this re-release of Switch Hitter by Alex Morgan and Jon Michaelsen, a sluggish bat threatens to derail top ranked National League baseball player Jase Dockery’s record-breaking streak and he turns to forbidden sex. To the world Jase is a hero, but deep down the MVP harbors a secret…one that just might prove deadly.

To fulfill his craving for domination, Jase agrees to a tryst with the captain of APD S.W.A.T. The night of unbridled passion drives him to plot another rendezvous with the hard-boiled cop at practice the next day, but his plans are soon disrupted by a stalking fan intent on using the ballplayer for his own desires.
Can the alpha cop rescue the hot baseball player without risking coming out to his comrades?
Switch Hitter
Wilde City Press (August 14, 2013)


Twisting the throttle and roaring the engine of the customized BMW Megamoto, Jase popped the clutch and shot the bike into the garage, more in an act of defiance of himself, rather than any other soul. The garage door began to draw shut the moment the rear tire of the bike cleared the path of the crimson laser beam that sliced his trail into darkness. Always mindful someone might have spotted him entering the club, he turned to watch the door closing before removing his helmet.

Not an hour before, Jase had duped his muscle-head bodyguard into thinking he’d retired early for the night for much needed rest after the week’s away-game series, where he’d seen his .395 batting average slip the first time all season. 

Inside Jase felt safe, trusting in the words of the svelte club owner, and never once doubting her pledge. Upon joining the private establishment, the proprietor had insisted Jase make appointments with an assistant, but he had refused. Jase needed assurances a mere staff member could not provide, discretion afforded to those with everything to lose, before he would commit to stepping inside.

He had to remain anonymous in his actions in order to avoid leaks to the press that he had visited the call house, much less the public learning of his special interests. Discovery meant breaching his fourteen million dollar-a-year contract, switch-hitting for one of the hottest baseball teams in the National League for five years running.

Jase still feared threats against his life because of his secret, a prime target of extortion from the crazies out there looking for a big score. Jase knew fans would never accept his sexuality, nor understand his desire for authority and dominance. The condemnation of perversion flowed thick in his veins, and had forced him to seek extreme measures to protect his secret. Banishment from the game he loved so much beleaguered him most of all.

He steered toward a spot near the elevator, and killed the engine. He sat in the low light and recalled the conversation he’d had with the team’s manager two nights earlier, after a 6-5 loss to the Pirates.

“You fucked up, Dockery, plain and simple. This loss is on you, son. Not against the team.”

Jase had stood there like a jerk, eyeing his boss with his knuckles clinched. “Christ, Fletcher! What’d you expect? You called for a fucking suicide squeeze play!”

“What did I expect? What the fuck do you think I expected? I wanted you to bunt, asshole!”

Jase recalled how the veins in the old man’s neck had bulged, a black and blue roadmap he’d stared at throughout his manager’s entire tirade.

“I expected you to man-up, Jase. That’s what I wanted, nothing more, nothing less. We had a man on third and first, two outs and at full count. All you had to do was tap the fucking ball into right field like you were instructed, and force a play at home plate.”

He knew his mistake in judgment meant irritated words and jabs from the rest of coaches and teammates for days. “I took a chance for the team, all right?”

“You’re not paid to take chances, you ass. That’s my job!”

Fletcher had shouted until the air in his lungs went out, and his face turned cherry red. “You do what the fuck we tell you and nothing more. You got that? Do you hear what I’m saying to you, son? I’m tired of your smart-ass, cocky attitude, Dockery. We all are.”

An hour later after the game, Jase had huddled alone in the back of a chartered Delta jet, away from the team, headed home. The mood in the cabin was somber, everybody tired from the grueling six-day road trip. Most of the team had slept or listened to music through headphones, but not Jase. He had spent the time brooding over his sluggish swing, and had blamed the anxiety that riddled his body on a bad swing, instead of admitting the actual reason behind his angst.

Jase lifted weights, swam at least four times a week, practiced on days when not in the starting line-up, but none of it had proved tough enough to expunge the anguish that had all but consumed him. He stood six foot four, an amazing two hundred and ten pounds of lean, powerful bulk with long, muscular arms, wide shoulders, bulging calves, and an eight-pack belly trimmed to perfection. Taking care of his body had meant the difference between getting the largest payout ever paid to a free agent in major league baseball, or a lifetime of remorse and what ifs.

When not playing the game or working out, Jase visited the driving range, taking his frustration out on golf balls; a mindless exercise less dangerous than those he preferred most, which his contract expressly forbade. Plagued with injuries the past two seasons, Jase couldn’t afford to push his body any further, much less take chances getting hurt in some extreme recreational sport. He held the highest batting average in the National League, but the slump of this past week threatened his goal to remain at the top through post-season play when his contract was up. Avoiding injury had become his full-time goal, so the decision to visit Club After Dark had proved an easy one to make upon returning home following a disappointing away-series.

Jase glanced at the wide door before him, which according to the proprietor led to a private elevator accessed by code. He heeled the kickstand of the bike and straddled his legs while surveying the area. Lady Velvet had assured him complete confidentiality, utmost discretion, no one privy to his arrival or departure, not even the staff. He tried to relax as his gloved hands gripped the handlebars with enough torque to crush a turbine. Anxiety, fear and excitement balanced against trepidation; all these emotions coursed through his body like a pinball striking against bumpers. His anguish amplified into misery as he sat there contemplating, anticipation building a fire in the base of his balls.

It had been three years since Jase had ventured out, and then he’d strayed to the other side at a club two hours outside of town, recommended by a faceless acquaintance he’d chatted up online one lonely night. The encounter had proved disastrous and almost exposed Jase to the world, but a boatload of cash and a crafty lawyer had sealed that leak forever. If the jerk ever came forward with a defamatory—albeit truthful—accusation or evidence that Jase was a liar, unreliable and disreputable, the ball player’s attorney, Brody Brown, a longtime friend and confidant, awaited him. The scandal would die the moment the guy cried ‘foul.’

Jase thought back to when he’d first met Brody. They played on the same little league baseball team years ago and had become fast friends, long before each had shot into the spotlight at an early age for their skill in the game. Both had copped scholarships to the same university. Jase and Brody Brown bore dreams of playing the same pro team one day, until a drunken stunt of riding on the back of a ‘92 convertible Firebird during Rush Week had almost cost Brody his life, and dashed the dreams of his ever playing baseball again.

Letting go of the handlebars, Jase sat up straight and pressed his wide palms against his thighs. He rubbed the fabric of his jeans as if wiping away the sweat building beneath the leather gloves. His heart pounded in his chest like a jackhammer. He sat there building up the nerve to walk to the door, and punch in the number for the elevator. A private room awaited him, reserved for the uppermost VIPs at Club After Dark.

A skullcap shielded his face when Jase removed his helmet. Lady Velvet had assured that the room held for him would be dark and sultry with ample glow to enjoy his partner, but not enough to give away his identity. In fact, Lady Velvet had given him the facemask he had tucked inside his leather jacket to wear during the session, a request made of the partner she had lined up for him for tonight.

Though he was uncomfortable with the idea of a male prostitute, Lady Velvet had surprised him with a client with all the assets he had requested. Jase thought back to her description of the man; at least six foot, thickly muscled, in perfect form and presenting a dominant nature, race or nationality unimportant. Lady Velvet said she had located the perfect partner; a S.W.A.T commander who had demanded just as much discretion.

Jase listened for footsteps that might sneak up behind him. His nerve fading fast, he had to move soon or turn the ignition and get the hell out of there. Sucking in his gut, he set his helmet on the gas tank in front of his crotch and began to remove his gloves, pulling on each finger. Anxiety made him dizzy with trepidation. He questioned more than once if he could go in.

Gloves stuffed in his pocket, he thought long and hard, contemplated his next move. All he had to do was leave before committing further, explain to Lady Velvet later that pressing matters had forced the last minute cancellation. Hell, she could keep his money to make up for the inconvenience to the cop he’d ditched.

That’s it. Split decision made, Jase reached out to turn the engine, when a huge hand came from behind to grip his left. In one fell swoop, a large man of solid weight slid in behind Jase on the bike. Jase’s heart thudded and his mouth went dry.

Oh God! Some crazy fuck must have followed him in from the street. Mesmerized by fear, unsure of his next move, the hulk pressed into him and wrapped his arm around Jase’s waist from the right in a powerful, yet pleasing grip. His captor leaned into Jase’s ear and hot breath caressed his lobe, caused the hair on the back of his neck to react. The smell of tobacco, liquor, and a heady male musk filled the air.

“Thinking of leaving?”

Jase tried to speak, but his tongue lodged in the back of his throat. A hard chest pressed into him, a show of force he chose not to challenge. The stranger was bigger and more muscular, plenty of strength to keep Jase from writhing, if necessary.

No chance fleeing now, Jase thought. Even if he put up a fight, his attempts would be ineffective at best. “I-I need to go,” Jase managed to say. “There’s someone waiting for me at home.”

His captor tightened his hold. “Yeah? You planning on stiffing me, bud? I don’t go for pussies.”

Jase swallowed hard and counted to ten before taking a breath. Jesus Christ! He expected his subjugator to bust him over the head, take his wallet and bike, but nothing happened.

“I…look, I’m sorry, man,” Jase managed. “Just forget it, all right? I made a mistake.” He flinched as the arm slipped higher around his chest. “I really need to go, now.”

The man breathed against his neck. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I’m horny as hell tonight, and you’re precisely what I need. Lady Velvet has never disappointed me. Anonymity is as important to me as it is to you, she assured.”

Jase didn’t answer in words, but in the thickening of his cock. Tendrils of lusciousness rose from the base of his balls, and surged through his abdomen. He glanced down at the hand covering his left, at the thick fingers that clamped over his own. Lady Velvet had said the man was a cop, a S.W.A.T. officer at that. What luck!

Fighting off fear, Jase found his voice. “I-I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he said, still feeling uneasy. The man’s hand moved up to caress his chest, fingers tweaking his hard tits. Jase held his breath, ready to drop his load right there on the bike without shedding his clothes.

“My friends call me Cap.” The tip of a moist tongue slid up the base of Jase’s neck as the man’s hand settled on his crotched and squeezed hard. “I hear you’ve been a real dick lately and need some attitude adjustment.”

Those final words sealed the deal. Concern and fear evaporated in the heat churning between them. Jase wanted nothing more than to lose himself in the arms of this beast, captain of a S.W.A.T team.

Jase dismounted his motorcycle, and faced Cap. His heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his throat. The mustachioed face, more handsome than any professional athlete or model, stared back at him. The brown eyes seemed to draw him in, engulfing his vision. He couldn’t look away, didn’t want to look away. Cap’s torso seemed to explode from out of his narrow waist. His T-shirt stretched across a huge, muscular chest.

The gorgeous specter smiled, and Jase’s legs nearly buckled.

“Let’s see what Lady Velvet has in store for us.” Cap draped an arm around Jase’s shoulders and led him to the elevator.

Jase pushed the access code, and instantly wished he hadn’t. What if this was a set-up? Maybe he should’ve had Cap enter the code to see if he was for real.

The questions in his mind were shoved aside as the doors opened, and Cap guided him inside a small, mahogany-paneled elevator. Jase noted only one button on the panel by the door. He punched it without hesitation. The door slid closed, and the elevator rose.


Victor J. Banis said...

Okay, it's not my scene but I have to admit it's a terrific intro - so I'm sure it will work for lots of guys. I can think of a bunch of friends...

Mykola ( Mick) Dementiuk said...

The only baseball story I've ever read was The Natural by Bernard Malamud but yours is more meatier and has more jissum to it, good job gents.

Jon Michaelsen said...

Thanks, Victor; I really appreciate your comments, too Mick. Makes me feel we've achieved something special. Thanks again, guys!

Lloyd Meeker said...

Ah. Terrified of saying yes -- I can relate...

Jon Michaelsen said...

LOL...hope you enjoyed it, Lloyd!

Anonymous said...

Nice. Baseball was never sexier. Well, all right, sometimes the uniforms they wear can cause tingles and more. But your work is right up there!

Joe DeMarco

Jon Michaelsen said...

Thanks, Joe for your very nice comment!