"I bet you'd lose at least a hundred, even money." Shit," I said. I felt my stomach turn over and sink."How was I to know I'd end up pitching for Wash...ngton?" He waved his hands."You can't bet on baseball," said Mr. Ambrose quietly, his fingers now clamped together before him. "You ever hear of Pete Rose?" But I never bet on a game," he cried, waving his hands. "Not one fucking game." Is there a relief pitcher loose somewhere?" I asked Ambrose while Charlie sputtered"No," he said, shaking his. At first, I had raised some weak protests, but Wendy waved off my pleas for modesty. She told me that since I had given over my body to her that it was up to her to see it dressed -or undressed- as she pleased. And so I found myself in a tiny little thong with a small triangle of orange nylon that barely covered my genitals and a thin little cord that disappeared between the tanned globes of my ass. "Run upstairs and get that wet bikini off," Wendy said, eyeing the bulge growing in the front of. More

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