Page 71 of The Sweet Spot

Whit: I'm not answering that.

JB: Your hand. Good to know. Do you have time to talk today?

Whit: I'm at the gym right now; will be back at 11.

JB: Just when I have to head to the stadium.

JB: It's late there. You up?

Whit: I shouldn't be. Watched your game. Good hit in the 6th.

JB: Thanks, didn't stop the loss, though. Max just didn't have the velocity tonight.

Whit: It happens.

JB: Cheer me up. What are you wearing?

Whit: Picture Attached

JB: Fuck. Catfish jersey ✅, soft bedding ✅, my favorite girl ✅. I want to be there so badly.

Whit: I want you here, too. Maybe not here as I don't want to scar my father.

JB: You don’t think he’d appreciate his daughter getting some world-class tongue action from his favorite catcher?

Whit: Never—and I mean NEVER—talk about sex and my father in the same sentence again. I will ghost you.

JB: 🫡 Yes, boss. Sorry.

Whit: You're forgiven.

JB: Does that mean you'll tell me what's under your catfish shirt?

JB: What? 😏 come on, don't get shy on me now.

Whit: Just... panties. Nothing else.

Incoming call: JB

Whit: We did it again.

JB: Did what?

Whit: The first time we've both been awake AND alone in two weeks. And we spent the entire thing phone-fucking while you talked dirty about how you planned to devour my pussy next time you see me.

JB: 🙋🏻‍♂️Guilty.

JB: But you weren't complaining last night. In fact, if I remember correctly, you said, “JB, please don't stop.”

Whit: I had questions. Real ones. About your family, and instead I ended up with my hand down my own panties. 🤦‍♀️

JB: In fairness you started it with the catfish shirt.

Whit: I'm not saying it was bad.

JB: I know it wasn't. I was there.

Whit: I just miss the talking. The actual talking, not all the texting. I never thought I'd be a person who says that out loud, but I want the whole thing.