The four players sitting around the lunch table looked up and stared as one unit as the tall, attractive blonde strolled past them. "Ohhh, those eyes," the veteran center sighed.

"Ohhh, that ass," the shooting guard said.

"Yes, that ass, but ohhhhh, those legs," the small forward agreed wistfully.

"Ohhhhhhh, the way she moves..." the point guard moaned.

They gathered themselves and shared sheepish glances. "Okay, so that's one thing we have in common," the small forward said with a laugh. "We want her."

"And we want her bad," the point guard said.

"So how would you go after her?" the shooting guard asked.

"I'm an old-fashioned girl. I'd go the secret admirer route. It's got an element of mystery that would appeal to her. I'd send her flowers, cards, candy, stuffed animals, that kind of thing. I'd reveal myself eventually and take her out to a romantic dinner at the nicest restaurant in the city- candlelight, stylish dress, wine, the whole nine yards. We'd talk for hours, stay up so late we'd miss the start of practice, and I'd take all the blame for it from Coach."

The shooting guard guffawed. "You'd never get as far as dinner! C'mon, she's been stalked before- think she's gonna like having someone send her stuff and she don't know who? You did that, then told her it was you? She'd be pushin' for a trade to Phoenix in a second!"

"All right, so how would you do it?"

"So I do my research, find out what kind of flowers she likes, buy a bouquet of those. I stop by the Kangaroo and Kiwi for Violet Crumbles and Tim Tams- those'll win any woman's heart, from what I've heard. I get out my best tank top and my nicest slacks, and I tell her I'm crazy for her and ask if she'd go out with me. If she says yes, I take her for Italian and make sure I pick up the tab. I don't think she wants someone being coy."

The center laughed, her voice musical and deep. "You're going about it all wrong, both of you. You can't treat her like a girl. That's not what she wants at all."

The guards exchanged a look, then stared at the center, acknowledging the fact that she'd known the object of their affections the longest. "So? How would you do it?" the point guard asked.

"Flirt with her, of course. Make her want me. Let her take the lead in the relationship. Put her in the position of power. Wait to see what she wants, and then make sure that I can be what she wants. Maybe lead her on a little bit of a chase, tease her a little bit. But when she would finally get around to asking me out, I'd say yes in a New York minute, and you and I know how short those are. I think she'd pick somewhere rowdy, somewhere fun, maybe a pub where everyone knows her and no one cares who she's coming in with. Maybe we'd go to a Mariners game."

"You were doing so well until the baseball," the small forward said, shaking her head. "Have you ever seen her at a game that the front office didn't tell her to go see? I don't think so. Baseball is an American thing."

"So? How would you approach her?"

"First, I'd do something I've been meaning to do for ages now, and that's get my surfboard out of storage. I'd wait until the end of the season, or a Los Angeles road trip if it came at the right time, and I'd invite her surfing. I think she'd be surprised- did I ever mention it to her? I don't remember. It wouldn't surprise her if I knew the best beaches on the West Coast, though. We'd have a blast, get so sunburned that we'd be peeling for weeks afterwards, but we'd be laughing about it too. Or she'd have forgotten to put that little smear on her nose- you know how people usually forget that. I'd buy her something from the boardwalk, if we were somewhere near one, or just something quick at a diner- but it'd surprise her that I was treating, and she'd think it was sweet, and she'd want to do it again. So for the second time, I'd make sure we were near a fancy restaurant, and I'd bring an outfit to change into, and take her by surprise that way. She likes surprises, she likes things to be different."

"You've got this all planned out neatly, don't you?" the point guard teased. "That's my job, you know. How long have you been thinking about this?"

"None of your business," the small forward replied snappishly.

"Blonde or dark hair?" the center asked, changing the subject.

"I don't know what she looks like as a brunette, so blonde," the shooting guard said.

"She just doesn't look healthy as a brunette," the small forward agreed.

"I don't know. I liked her with the darker hair- and it was really closer to red than brown, by the way- but she's happier as a blonde, and she plays better as a blonde, so that makes her look better, so."

"Did you have an opinion in there?" the small forward needled the point guard. The point guard's response was non-verbal and directly to the point.

"Funny, I liked her better with the dark hair. There are so many blondes in this world, but she was different. Guess I'm the only one," the center sighed.

"Does it really matter what color she dyes her hair? The only color that matters, most people don't dye," the shooting guard opined, fiddling with her straw.

"Ohhhh, that's a good point. And you can't see hair color in the dark," the point guard purred. "That's the important question, isn't it?"

All four of them paused to fantasize about the object of their affections. "Mmmm, but why would you turn out the lights on her?" the center countered.

"Because the glare gets in your eyes and you can't see anything," the point guard said practically. "Trust me on this one. My ex used to leave the lights on so she could see herself in the mirror, the little narcissist. I can't stand that. Besides, there's a level of trust in the dark. You have to believe what the other person tells you and what you can feel, or hear, or smell, or taste."

"For being the youngest, you sure got a lot of old-fashioned ideas," the shooting guard teased.

The point guard shrugged, the motion dislodging her shoulder-length brown hair. "I like to keep things simple and romantic. I have an idea of what it should be like. It should be gentle, and sweet, and mutual, and romantic. It'd take a while to get to that point, for one thing. I wouldn't hop into bed with her at the first chance- it's always better for waiting. I'd lead her in with rose petals, and there'd be candles on the dresser. I'd be slow and gentle with her. We'd spend all night at it, trying to find all the right places to be. She'd taste sweet, so sweet that I'd lick my lips and take it in."

"That sounds completely unexciting. You want her to fall asleep on you?" the center asked with a smile.

"Maybe. Hey, we all get tired sometimes. It's a side of her no one else would see. It's all about trust."

"Please," the shooting guard said dismissively. "And you wouldn't add any flavor to it. Now me, I think she'd love goin' at it right after the first date, 'cause if we didn't fit together that way, we wouldn't be able to do anything else. Hotel room, assumed name- we're not ready to go home just yet, you know? She's a post player, you know she's used to rough handlin', so I wouldn't worry too much about bein' gentle. We're both strong women, we can handle whatever we could do to each other. All night, yeah, but better believe no one's sleepin' that night."

The center shook her head. "No, no, no. Just because we post players are used to getting banged up doesn't mean we want it when we bang. Let her decide. She won't be happy unless she takes the lead. She wants it gentle, I can be gentle. She wants it rough, I can be rough. She wants it on the locker room floor, you had all better clear out or I start throwing you out."

"You people have no sense of imagination," the small forward declared. "That's why my idea is the best of all. Third date, I'd take her to the beach again, and when we finally had to come out of the water, we'd have a picnic dinner on the dunes, and then we'd go at it on the sand, right where it's damp and soft, and she'd taste salty like the ocean and salty like her sweat, and damn, but I'd love every second of it. I'd see her in the moonlight, which is something you three haven't considered at all, and she'd absolutely glow, like a goddess, and that would make me love her even more. Yeah, you three just think Sex on the Beach is a drink, not an idea for a date."

"Three dates? Aren't you just the little vixen?" the center teased. "Salty? No way. Sweet, succulent, young. She's so mature sometimes that we forget that she's younger than any of us."

All eyes turned to the shooting guard. "I don't know what she'd taste like. She'd be too busy pleasin' me for me to get in there, and there's just too much of a height difference for us to pull off a 69. I'm guessin' salty, just from what I know, but I'd be too busy with her breasts to worry 'bout anything else."

"Ohhhh, yes, her rack. Let's not forget that," the small forward said.

"Yeah, there's a rumpled Black and White in your bedroom, isn't there?" the point guard said.

"Bathroom, actually. My pants are already down, so it's easier to fully enjoy her spread." The small forward's voice was even, her composure perfect to match the perfect elegance of her face.

The object of their conversation strolled back past them on her way out of the restaurant. "Oh, that gorgeous..."

"...stunning..."

"...spectacular..."

"...babe."

"Coach is going to kill us if any one of us makes a move on her, isn't she?" the small forward sighed.

"Probably, yes," the center agreed mournfully.

"Who would have thought having an MVP on your team could suck so much?" the point guard groaned.