The Unnatural *Wattpad Featured Story*

Chapter 20.1

As I remove my jersey in front of my locker, my phone rings. It's Ishtar.

"Jordy, go to the executive elevator."

"When?"

"Right now."

I walk out of the clubhouse still wearing my uniform pants and make my way to the elevator. My phone rings again.

"Is anyone else out there?"

I glance up and down the hall. "No."

The doors open and Ishtar greets me with an impish grin wearing a green camisole crop top and white short shorts displaying her lithe, athletic legs. She pulls me into the elevator and slides her tongue into my mouth.

The funny thing is I saw her before the game wearing her typical female power suit. "Where'd you get that outfit?"

She grins. "Come and see."

She sticks a small key into an aperture on the elevator panel and turns it to the right, then firmly pushes the up button with one elegantly manicured finger. The elevator rises past the club level and the executive office level to open on a private penthouse suite.

"Do you live up here?"

Her mouth tightens with annoyance. "Does this place look like me? My parents stay here when they fly in for games. I bought my own condo downtown well before Dad acquired the team."

I don't want to tell her that the suite certainly DOES fit the chic executive image she adopts when she attends team functions and games at the stadium. The elegant French décor creates an ambiance that you would expect to find in Versailles or a Park Avenue penthouse. Baroque paintings hang on the walls that look like museum-quality works to my untrained eye. Vases. Statues. Crystal chandeliers.

Ishtar's retro college girl look is a performance art rebellion against everything the penthouse stands for.

I want to fuck her brains out.

Her cryptic little smile suggests she knows exactly what she's doing to me. She says, "Welcome to my world."

I look out the windows at the multi-colored seats of Jesters Stadium. Far below us, the grounds crew is breaking down the field. They're removing the bases and going over the artificial turf for divots, seams, and thin spots. In the distance, I can see the Kansas City skyline with the KC One Tower standing out like a red, white, and blue nubbin due to its nighttime lighting.

"Why do you sit in the owner's box during games when you've got this?"

"You really don't understand what you're involved with, do you?"

I shake my head.

"Don't worry, Jordy. Most players don't. I didn't really get it until Dad bought the Jesters."

"Get what?"

"The true value of owning a baseball team."

I raise my eyebrows. If you want to bare your soul, I'm not going to stop you.

"When fans leave their everyday lives to come to the game, it's like they're arriving from the Tower of Babel. People who can't normally understand one another start to speak the common language of baseball. Out in the stands, it's nothing more than small talk. But when those people own businesses or control hedge funds, deals happen." She points one red-tipped finger at me then quickly points back at herself before she adds, "We can sit at the crossroads of many profitable conversations simply by talking to people in the box."