Love, Love, Love

Starsky and Hutch are eager to play a new game.

Author’s Note: I was trying to nap, but then this started swimming around in my head. Therefore, no nap. Ugh!

“Love, love, love. Love, love, love. Love, love, love.”

“Will you shut up?” Hutch said with feigned annoyance, drinking from a carton of milk.

“Whassa matter, the truth hurts?” Starsky replied, finishing the Beatles tune that seemed to foretell their day ahead.

“Look, we agreed to play with your balls. I think you owe me the right to choose what music we use,” Hutch responded cheerfully. Starsky hadn’t seen Hutch in such a good mood in, well, he couldn’t remember when. He was glad the anticipation of the activity they would soon embark on had brought on such a positive attitude in his partner. Hutch was practically glowing.

“It doesn’t matter whose balls we play with. This is our first time; I think we may take a turn with each of ours.”

“Well, that’s big of ya, Starsk.”

“You have no idea,” Starsky responded slyly.

“Oh, I think I do.” Hutch said, eyeing his partner knowingly as he pulled up in front of their destination.

“Seems kind of a shame to be doin’ this inside, it’s such a beautiful day.” Starsky smiled as he got out of the car, enjoying the image of the game they’d soon be playing. He figured they’d start off slow and smooth, finding their rhythms, but he knew the anticipation would become too much for both of them, each dealing in their own way with the reality of what was soon to play out. He imagined the volleying for dominance, each one taking an advantage at some point during the early evening activities. Starsky figured by the time they were through he will have worked up quite an appetite. For food.

“You picked the place, buddy. Of course, I don’t think Bay City’s quite ready to watch us do this in the open.” Hutch laughed, picturing a crowd gathered around them for the event, a referee handy just in case things got out of hand.

“Speak for yourself, Blondie. I’d like to think I could impress anyone with my skill. And stamina,” he joked, sending a wink toward his partner.

Hutch barely managed to keep the last gulp of milk in his mouth. And he decided that Starsky had timed that last comment to elicit at least a little of the white juice spewing out. He was glad he was able to control himself, but paybacks were a bitch, he thought to himself.

“You keep dreaming, pal. Your ass is mine,” Hutch responded, once he had the fluid in his mouth under control.

“In your fantasies, maybe.” They were inside now. Starsky and Hutch looked hesitantly at one another.

“It’s going to be my pleasure to beat you into submission, Gordo.” Hutch looked at his partner, eyes ablaze, his mouth set in a smirk that said Starsky had something to be concerned about.

Starsky was only slightly taken aback by the quick and clever response. He was more worried about that look. And not one to allow Hutch the last laugh, Starsky continued, “So, Hutch, how do those balls feel?”

Hutch seemed not the least put off by the question. “Soft, a little fuzzy. Pliable but firm.” Starsky blushed, and Hutch knew that he had the upper hand and decided it was time to get started.

“Okay then. Let’s volley for serve.”

The End