Summer Loving And Somebody Is Getting Played

“I have always been able to walk away from a rivalry getting what I want, no matter the differences,” the Pinstripe entrepreneur acknowledged, heading down the cement chipped staircase, leading to the underground railroad.

Raising his briefcase, to the proper level, Joltin Joe was able to drop a token into a slot and was magically, granted access, allowing the financial district tenant return passage. Standing peacefully, on the platform, the economic wizard found himself surrounded by strangers, and for the next several minutes they were going to share a transportation reality, travelling to their important destination.

Making a loud arrival, a subway train decked out in a noncommissioned art scheme, giving the quick-moving carriage inner city Bohemian features complementing the fast-paced lifestyles. Holding his business security blanket the affluent aristocrat, entered the academic sociology experiment. Gripping a pole, a young lady fashionably dressed in shorts and an athletic Jersey, planted herself like a supporting character playing a movie role.

“May I?”

Unleashing a small grin the established straphanger advertising true colors, blue and orange, watched the gentleman’s hand move above hers; to combat this action she placed her polished fingernails above his, only for Joltin Joe’s response, repeating his original action.

“So, are you trying to top me or something?” Street Queen Rusty Bearah curiously interjected.

“No, just getting proper position,” Joltin Joe civilly retaliated, not wanting to retreat from the competitive scene.

“What do you do all day? Wearing all that magazine cover outfit stuff.”

“I work the books,”

“Oh, you are in publishing?” Queen Rusty tried clarifying.

“No, I mass market media numbers, write the results on paper and bound the findings in a professional portfolio then distribute them to a targeted audience,”

“As I said, Publishing,” Queen Rusty replied, feeling the car’s speed pick up.

“May I ask you? What you do?”

“I am an artful dodger, not a bum,” Queen Rusty defended, “I sacrifice, I steal, I get on base until you all,”

“Put it out of the park,” Joltin Joe finished the thought offering a swashbuckling smirk.

“I will also tell you; I creatively avoid anything and everything, except the big game,”

“The big game?”

“One I am going to,” The partying personality confidently answered.

Knowing in about two more stops Joltin Joe would be back in his own private high-class world, inhabiting a respectable living residency, showcasing a nice view, following a long elevator ride.

“I have an extra ticket, I know the stadium is at the end of the line, but”

“Worth the trip,”

Shaking her head affirmatively, Queen Rusty stared down the royal bachelor image, releasing one final luring pitch glare, hearing the welcomed question, “who was the extra ticket for?” Inquired the long ball hard working slugger.

“My ex, the polo field lone resident legend, is working late, going night fishing, down at the wharf,” she confessed.

“At which restaurant is he cooking things?”

“Details, details,” Queen Rusty stated, wondering if he was going to depart and sit inside the single kitchen bedroom apartment, eating Chinese food off paper dishes. Observing him staying motionless, she saw the green light flashing confirming, no going back now.

“Who's suiting up? Joltin Joe continued the conversation.

“Highlanders and Metropolitans,” she squeaked.

Accepting the ticket emailed to his mobile device Joltin Joe made one last tempting tease, “do you want to fly off in my giant jet to a cabin in the swamp and enjoy fresh Bayou catfish?”

“Frozen or straight out of the A. Angler’s Spear Hunter tank?” This marvelous mystical monarchy madam moment where Queen Rusty met her true Prince ended with the heroine scoring a diamond and crossing a clean home plate.