I enter the gym down on the first floor and I am pleased to see that it is empty. I tend to come a little later than most people. But that's because I enjoy sleeping in. I spot a treadmill across the room and I make my way over to it. I put my water bottle in the compartment and turn on my MP3 player, picking out my workout mix (an array of angry and intense Nine Inch Nails songs to get me pumped). I slide the small electronic device into my arm sleeve and I hop on the treadmill.

I am normally not one for just running aimlessly, but it's really all I have. I normally do Billy Blanks' Tae Bo workout DVD's, but I don't have enough space in my hotel room. So, treadmill it is.

As my feet hit against the exercise machine and sweat begins to bead at my hairline, my mind wanders to my most tenacious client. I think about how I kissed him on the cheek. I definitely regret that. Max is a sweet guy and I really appreciate that, but I have a persona when I'm with a client. I'm not supposed to show compassion. I definitely won't be doing that again; don't want Max getting any ideas.

A surprising person then pops into my head-Alex Avila. Man, do I feel awkward about that. He could have easily caught Max and I. I wonder if he heard any of the whipping or Max's cries. God, that would be so embarrassing for Max and unfortunate for me. I would probably lose my best client.

The timer goes off on the treadmill and it slowly comes to a stop. I step off and go to the open space to my left. I sit down and begin stretching. Sit-ups and push-ups next.

But, I mean, Alex is really cute. I would be curious to find out if he was a dom or sub. People who are against BDSM preach about how what we do is a sin and it's sick and twisted. But what they don't realize is that everyone is either a dom or sub. It's rarely equal ground in the bedroom. There can be only one leader and then follower(s).

Now that I think about it, Alex probably did hear us and, thinking it was just "normal" sex, and came to the idea that I'm a prostitute. I don't really blame him. A mysterious woman exiting his room in the middle of the night? Just call me a woman of the night! I wonder if he actually believed me when I told him that I was just a friend...

I stand up and walk over to the stack of towels. I wipe my face off and take one ear bud out. Taking a swig of water, I leave the exercise room. All the Tigers have left for their day game with the Indians so I can just waltz up to my room and not worry about any of them seeing me.

I take a long shower in my room and then, after putting curling spray in my hair and brushing it out, I put on a black bra and panties. A fluffy white robe, courtesy of the hotel, goes on after that.

I turn on the television and begin to search through the channels; nothing good. I land on the baseball game and I sit for a moment. I never really got into baseball, or any other professional sport.

After not finding anything interesting on TV, I decide to bust out my laptop. I do the usual: check my e-mail, Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, Reddit, and some BDSM community message boards that I subscribe to. I get bored so I pull out my my handy-dandy vibrator. Masturbating when I'm bored is a common occurrence in my life. It may seem sad but it's just how I live.

As I pack away my sex toy, I hear a knock at the door. I inhale a shaky breath, still overcome by my recent orgasm. I tidy up my robe and I padded to the door. I cleared my throat and opened it, praying it's Max.

"Hey," he says.

My prayers are answered! "Hey, how was the game?"

"We won!" Max seems frenzied and like he is in a hurry.

"Great job! That means you won the series, right?"

"Yes! Um, but, I have something I need to tell you..."

I turn my head slightly, eyeing him carefully. "Go on..."

"Um, you and me and some of the other guys are going out to dinner tonight..." He winces, already predicting my reaction.

"What?" I hiss. "How? How do they know about-wait, did Alex suggest I come?"

"Um, yes, actually. He told me about you meeting him the other night and since you told him that you're my friend, he wanted me to invite you." Max smiles.

I cross my arms. "Did he also tell you that he asked me if I was a prostitute? Did he mention that he thinks we're fucking?"

"He doesn't think we're fucking," Max brushes off.

"Yeah, he does-he totally does. Why else would he ask me if I was a prostitute? He probably heard us the other night."

Max freezes for a moment, seriously considering the though. He then snaps out of it. "No, that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you're going to dinner with some of the guys and me at a nice restaurant. Now, get ready!"

Before I can protest, he walks down the hallway and into his own room. i let out a soft groan of frustration and then recede back into my hotel room. "Nice?" How vague is that, but I try my best. Luckily, my hair was already done so I adorn a black fit-and-flare dress with red roses, black heels with red tips, and ruby earrings and necklace. I then apply a charcoal smokey with a hint of purple and light pink lipstick.

"Ready?" Max asks, standing in the hallway.

"Let's get this over with..." I grumble.

"That's the spirit!" The pitcher laughs.

I hook my arm with his and note the other players in the hallway: Torii Hunter, Ian Kinsler, Rajai Davis, and of course... Alex Avila. "This is all who's coming?" I ask, surprised.

"Yup; everyone kind of breaks up into groups sometimes depending on where people want to go to celebrate," Max answers.

"I guess without me, this would be a sausage fest, eh?" I smile humorously.

"If you want to look at it that way, be my guest." He turns his head. "Guys, I want you all to meet my friend, Elizabeth. She's been staying at the hotel in our block."

We all exchange hello's and other greetings. I can feel their eyes on me as we walk toward the elevator. Never have I felt so exposed-even with what I do for a living. I just keep to myself all the way to the restaurant because that is when the real shit begins.

The six of us are seated at a large table with a burgundy table cloth and small candles flickering before us. I'm sitting in between Max and Alex (oh, joy!). The waitress comes over and the men order champagne-"Keep the botte at the table."

We order our food and then the men immediately burst into chatter about their successful series against the Indians. I try to pay attention to it but it all really goes over my head so I just sit there quietly. A few minutes pass and I realize one Tiger has left the conversation... Alex Avila. I turn my head slightly and I smile at him.

"So..." Alex begins, obviously trying to break the awkwardness. "Where do you live?"

"Detroit," I say a little bit too fast. "But I'm from Grand Rapids."

"Ah, interesting. What brought you to Detroit?"

And then it begins: I start lying through my teeth. I tell him that I'm going to Mercy to become a physician's assistant and that I work at small floral shop. I explain to him how my family is loaded and that's why I can afford my apartment downtown. The lies flow out of my mouth with ease-I'm used to this. I really don't even bother asking him questions; he just naturally shares information with me.

Alex is nice-nicer than most of the guys I come into contact with. He has soft, kind eyes and an extremely pleasant smile. I realize now how attractive he really is as he nods and makes comments. I have such a thing for facial hair and thick eyebrows. Intimate thoughts creep into my head-a symptom of having an obsession with sex. I start to imagine kissing Alex, embracing him with great intensity. I picture myself feeling on his crotch, unzipping his pants, and...

"Elizabeth?"

"W-what?" I snap out of my day dream, blinking, and turn toward Max.

"We're leaving now," he chuckles.

I then notice all the other Tigers are standing around, waiting for me. I blush slightly and stand. "Right..." I mumble.

I'm quiet on the ride back to the hotel. I'm extremely embarrassed. Normally I have more self-control for my wandering my mind. Maybe it was just the stress of the day. Max is a handful to begin but four other Tigers? That's just asking for trouble.

Just as I slide the key into the lock and open the door to my hotel room, Alex comes up to me. Before I he can say anything, I blurt out, "I had a really nice time tonight."

Alex looks somewhat surprised. "Yeah, me too." He pauses for a moment. "So will I see you around at Comerica Park?"

"Oh, no, I don't like baseball," I say with nonchalance.

The catcher's jaw drops but then he catches it. "How are you friends with Max Scherzer and you don't like baseball?"

"I don't know. I just never got really into it." I shrug.

"I'll have to change that!" He laughs awkwardly, like he regretted saying that. "Well, since I won't see you at any of the games, could we exchange phone numbers? You know, to keep in touch... since we had such a great time tonight."

My eyes widen, shocked that Alex Avila actually asked for my number. I've been known to be extremely intimidating, but I guess he hasn't seen me in my corset with a riding crop in my hand. I really shouldn't but I want to so badly. Max would probably kill me for fear that his secret pasttime with be brought out of the shadows.

"Sure," I say firmly. I pull my phone out of my purse and open up a New Contact, handing it to the major leaguer. He does the same for me. "Well, I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, definitely!" Alex waves a little and then retreats back to his own room.