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Message-ID: <34310asstr$1009487409@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" <RevCottonMather@excite.able.boy.com>
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 27 Dec 2001 15:22:28 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Playing the Game  27/30 (mf rom)
Date: Thu, 27 Dec 2001 16:10:09 -0500
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We're getting closer now, folks.  I hope you are enjoying the tale.


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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather. This
story is the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or
downloaded for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for
anyone to download or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as
long as there is no intent to charge money or barter for the
privilege of acquiring this material.

(copyright 2001, Rev. Cotton Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather@excite.com
Don't be shy!  I enjoy hearing from you.

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PLAYING THE GAME
by Reverend Cotton Mather



- 27 -

A WALK IN THE SNOW



Ever since the All-State selections had been announced, my parents
had fallen back onto their old parenting ways, pretty much letting me
be a teenaged kid.  As long as I didn't get myself into trouble again
(or found myself being dragged, kicking and screaming, into trouble,
such as what Jake did to me), and as long as I kept my grades up,
they were willing to pretty much stay off my back.

All during the playoffs, from the conference tournament all the way
to the state playoffs, Molly was acting funny around me.  It was like
she was distracted or something.  And, to tell the truth, all during
that month I was plenty busy.  The homework load didn't ease up just
because we were still playing soccer, and our games were no longer
local affairs.  We were traveling longer distances to play, and the
further we got in the tournaments, the further it seemed we had to
travel.  So I didn't have any time on the weekends to spend with
Molly, and during the week all I could spare was a quick phone call
occasionally.

She was still really friendly during school, but it seemed like she
was distant and distracted whenever I called her.  Monosyllable
answers to my questions, no prompting from her to help the
conversation along, and uncomfortable silences were the norm.  It got
so that I didn't like to call her at night, content just to see her
at school instead.

Finally, though, the soccer season ended.  I had a weekend free, so
when I saw her at lunch on Wednesday, I asked her if she could do
something on Friday night.

"Ummm...I don't know for sure yet," she evaded.  "Call me tonight,
okay, Sean?  Look, I've got to go.  I've got a meeting set up with my
adviser.  I'll talk to you later."

She abruptly got up from the table and threw the rest of her lunch
away and left the cafeteria, leaving me feeling awfully alone among a
sea of students.

That night, after dinner, I dialed her number.  Josh answered the
phone.

"Dude, what did you do?" he asked.

I was puzzled.  "What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Man, she's really in outer space tonight.  She was snapping at all
of us at dinner, and even yelled at the dog.  I laughed at her when
she did that, and almost got my head handed to me."

"Great.  I wonder what the hell is wrong?"

"Well," he said, "I hope you can figure it out before she gets on
the phone.  But you did something to piss her off, Sean, bet on it."

There was a loud clunk as he let the handset drop.  Great, I thought
to myself.  I'm in trouble, and I don't know why.

I heard Josh calling Molly to the phone.  A few moments later, she
picked up the handset.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mol.  It's me."

"Oh.  Hi."

Silence.  Uh-oh.

"Um, you said I should call," I prompted.

"Oh, yes.  That's right, I did."  She took a deep breath.  "Sean, I
need to talk about something, okay?"

"Sure, go ahead," I said.  My heart started beating a little faster,
and my stomach was doing tricky things.  I wished I had gotten myself
some water or something to drink before I dialed.  Maybe that would
have helped calm me down.

"It's about us, Sean.  I think we've got problems we're not talking
about."

"What problems, Molly?  Besides, we're talking now, aren't we?" 
They were weak arguments, I knew, but they were all I had at the
moment.  I was still trying to wade through the minefield of this
conversation.

"We haven't been talking before now, though.  I'm just not
comfortable right now with where we are, Sean.  I know you've felt
it, too.  Ever since the costume party..."

"Wait a minute.  The costume party?  You mean the one at your house?"

"Of course the one at my house."  She sounded exasperated with me. 
"What other costume party have you gone to?  Never mind, I don't want
to know."

"Molly..."

"Shut up for a minute, Sean, and let me work this out.  Ever since
the costume party, when I saw you kissing Kayla..."

"Molly..."

"I saw you kissing Kayla, Sean.  And you both looked like you were
enjoying it."

"Molly..."

"And you were both enjoying it.  I can't get that image out of my
mind, Sean."

"But you kissed Scotty..."

"Didn't you hear me?  I said you were both enjoying it.  That's the
part that has been really bothering me, Sean."  I could hear the
tears just starting on the other end of the phone.  My stomach
dropped into my toes.

"Look, Molly..."

"Just let me talk for a minute, okay?"  She took a deep breath to
get herself back under control.  I tried it, too, but it didn't work
for me.  "I'm afraid you're not taking this relationship very
seriously, Sean.  I thought you loved me.  I thought you were
committed to me.  But ever since that party, I haven't been able to
convince myself that you are in this with me 100 percent."  She
stopped again.  I could just detect a sob trying to work its way out
of her and into the open.  "I think we're going to have to stop
seeing each other for awhile," she whispered.

"Molly..."  But I had nothing to say.  She had said it all.  When I
didn't respond, the sob that had been waiting for its opportunity
finally escaped.  Without another word, she set the telephone down
and broke the connection.  No slamming it down in anger, just a quiet
click.  The thunderous sound of that click seemed to drop an entire
wall of bricks onto me.

Shit.

The whole next day at school, I walked around numb.  At lunchtime,
Molly found somewhere else to sit, so I ate with Jake and Eric and
Keisha and Toby, but I just couldn't track any of their
conversations.  I think Josh had probably clued in Jake about Molly
and me, so he at least was a little sympathetic, but even so, I
really didn't want to spill out my personal problems to the table, so
I endured some good-natured ribbing about my long face.  It was a
long day, but at least I could go home right after school and try to
bury myself in homework.  It was one of the few times I was grateful
to my teachers for piling it on.

Friday was a little better.  I had gotten over the shock of Molly
calling it off, but it still hurt.  I understood more now how Josh
must have felt when Shayna broke up with him, back in September.  I
thought I would make it through the day pain-free.

No such luck.

It all began around lunchtime.  I was walking toward the cafeteria
with Jake, when Toby came up and grabbed my arm.

"Man, you're not gonna believe what I just heard," he said as he
tugged on me.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jake
frantically waving his hand at Toby, trying to get him to shut up
about something.  I turned toward him.  His hand dropped like it
suddenly weighed about 50 pounds, and he got this innocent look on
his face that immediately made me suspicious.

"What?" I asked sharply.

"Who, me?" he asked.  By the look on my face, he realized how stupid
that sounded, so he dropped the act.  We made our way to some empty
seats at our usual table and sat down.

"Okay, guys, what gives?" I asked.

Toby and Jake glanced at each other.

"Okay," said Jake.  "You're probably going to hear about it from
somebody else later today anyway, so you might as well hear it from
your friends first."  He glanced around to make sure someone wasn't
listening in, as if it mattered.

Toby leaned in close and spoke quietly.  "Molly's going out with
someone else on Saturday."

I stared at him, then looked at Jake.  He gazed back at me solemnly.
"She's got a date?" I asked stupidly.

Jake nodded.  "Scotty asked her out.  She said yes.  They're going
to some party that Tessa knows about somewhere.  Hey, I'm sorry,
Sean."

I nodded mutely.  I told myself we had broken up, she was free to go
out if she wanted.  It didn't help.  It was only two days!  I was
still trying to assimilate our conversation from Wednesday, and she
was already going out with someone else?  It didn't make any sense to
me.  And she told me she didn't enjoy her session with Scott in the
laundry room.  Or did she really say that?  I started running our
conversation back through my mind.  Hold on, there's something wrong
here.  She was upset that I seemed to be enjoying kissing Kayla, but
she never said she didn't enjoy kissing Scott that night.

Maybe there was more to this breakup than she was telling me.

Not that, ultimately, it was going to make any difference.  Whether
she and Scott were going out because of the costume party or not
didn't really matter.  Whether there was an attraction there before
our breakup really didn't matter, either.

But this news really did hurt.

And Josh and Toby were absolutely right.  I heard from five or six
other friends that Molly was going out with Scott on Saturday.  Bad
news travels fast, I thought to myself.

Then, just before my last class of the day, Jake found me in the hall.

"Sean.  You're not going to like this news at all, but I just heard
from somebody who saw them together, that Molly and Scott went to a
movie together last weekend.  While you were at the state tournament,
she was already going out with somebody else.  Man, I'm really sorry
to have to bring you this news, Sean."

He looked like he sounded.  I would have felt sorry for him, but I
was busy feeling sorry for myself, and couldn't spare any for my
friend.

Now I really felt like crap.

Friday night Josh and Jake and I met at the mall and I lost myself
in a maze of pinball and arcade games, dumping quarter after quarter
into the machines.  Air hockey, I discovered, was a very good outlet
for anger and frustration.  Even when you were winning, you were
slamming the puck as hard as you could, trying to break that little
disk into a zillion pieces.  I felt oddly better after about a half
dozen battles at the table.

On Saturday, I tried to lose myself in chores around the house.  The
grass wasn't growing, but there were leaves to rake, gutters to
clean, and the garage to sweep out.  I finished the afternoon by
taking my soccer ball back behind the garage and kicking it against
the back, chasing down the rebound and dribbling back to an imaginary
line and firing the ball against the wall again.  It was getting
pretty cold out, but by the time I was done, I was breathing hard and
sweating from my exertions.  I just wasn't tired enough to stop
thinking about Molly going out with Scott tonight, though.  It was
like a splinter in my thumb.  I had to worry it and pick at it until
it throbbed, so I could be unhappy about how much it more hurt now
that it was getting infected.

I trudged into the house and stripped off my soaked sweatshirt and t-
shirt and dumped them in the laundry basket in my room, and headed
for the shower.  The sky had just started spitting little wet clumps
of snow flurries.  Oh, good, I thought to myself.  Now the weather is
turning bad on me, too.  What next?

I spent the next several hours looking at the television, but not
really seeing anything.  I would switch to one channel, watch for a
few minutes, then get up and walk over to the selector on the TV and
switch to a different channel.  I would sit back down again, only to
get up a few minutes later and go through the motions again.  Nothing
grabbed my interest enough to stay with it, and I got more and more
frustrated as I continually flipped through all the channels, only to
start all over again at the beginning.

Finally I decided that taking a walk in the freezing weather suited
my mood.  Maybe I could walk far enough to tire myself out so I could
just go to sleep.  I slipped on my letter jacket, slapped a baseball
cap on my head, made sure I had gloves in the pockets, and trudged
out the door.

I walked aimlessly around the neighborhood, not paying any attention
to where I was or where I'd been.  I just walked through the building
snow and slush, head down, hands thrust in jeans pockets, staring at
where my next step would land.

Eventually I found myself stopped on the sidewalk by Jake and
Kayla's house.  No lights were on, but it didn't matter.  I didn't
want to see anybody anyway.  I walked up their driveway and around
the garage, into the field in back.  My body was on autopilot, my
mind switched off.  I was letting my feet take me where they wanted
to go, or so I thought.

I shuffled through the accumulating snow all the way across the
field, and into the stand of trees.  The snow was reflecting what
little light there was outside, and my feet found the worn path
through the woods easily.  My body stopped, and it was a few minutes
before my brain reconnected.  I was standing on the path, shoulders
hunched against the cold and wet.  Ahead of me was the tree Jake and
I had climbed so long ago.  I mentally shrugged, telling myself it
was a lesson in futility to even think of going up there, but my feet
began to move again in that direction.

I pulled out my gloves and put them on, and reached up to climb the
tree.  The branches and limbs were slippery and wet as I climbed
higher.  I got to the branch I had sat on months ago, and glanced at
the back of the O'Toole house.  No lights were on here, either.

Wait a minute.  There was a dim glow coming from one window.  I slid
over to the branch on the other side of the tree and stood up on it
to try to peer into the window.  I knew it was Molly's room.  She
probably just left a closet light on or something, I told myself. 
She's not there.  She's out with Scotty, I reminded myself.  She's
not there.

My eyes adjusted to the light coming from the window, and standing
on the branch allowed me to see most of the room.  the faint light
was coming from her bedside lamp.  It was so dim because she had
thrown a t-shirt or something over it to cut down on the glare. 
Scott and Molly were lying on her bed together, kissing and holding
each other.  As I watched, my eyes grew more accustomed to the amount
of light available coming from her room.  I saw Scott's hand move
tentatively up from Molly's waist, brushing along the nap of her
sweater, to softly grasp her breast.  I saw Molly arch her back a
little, making her chest raise up, pushing her boob harder against
his hand.  Her mouth opened as she kissed him harder, and she pulled
him tighter to her, keeping her upper body turned just slightly so
that he didn't lose contact with her sensitive breast.

I saw him drop his hand down and urgently scramble for the hem of
her sweater, anxious to slip beneath the sweater.  I saw the fabric
of the sweater raise into a ridge as his hand and arm slid up, eager
to reclaim possession of her breast.

I stayed there in the tree, unaware of the temperature or the snow
or anything else surrounding me as I watched Molly push Scott away
for a moment so she could sit up and pull the sweater over her head. 
Her bra was askew on her, one cup pushed up over an exposed breast
where Scott had wormed his fingers underneath.  She reached behind
her and unfastened the bra, pulling it off her shoulders and tossing
it onto the floor.  She lay back down and pulled Scott back to her
for a kiss.  He took the hint and grabbed at her breast clumsily as
he was brought back down to her.

I continued to watch as Molly took charge of an apparently
inexperienced Scotty.  She rolled him over so she was partially on
top of him, slipping her knee between his legs as she raised up
slightly, guiding her swollen breast to his lips.  He licked and
kissed her turgid nipple, but it looked like he wasn't sure what she
wanted.  He let his hands slide down her bare back and tried to slip
under her jeans and onto her ass, but her pants were too tight.  He
contented himself to grasping the globes of her ass over her jeans,
squeezing and pulling the pliant flesh.

I stayed there the whole time.  I watched Molly unsnap first her
jeans, and then Scott's.  I saw her pull out his dick and hold it in
her hand, playing with it and pumping it up and down while he was
frantically trying to dig his fingers into her cunt, all the while
staring wide-eyed at what Molly was doing to his hard cock.  I saw
him jerk practically off the bed, unexpectedly shooting his seed
straight up into the air as she jacked him off.  I saw her giggle,
her boobs quivering, as she rubbed her fingers in the mess on his
stomach and chest with one hand, hanging on to his reinflating cock
with the other. I saw her kiss him hard as she held onto him,
swinging her leg over to straddle him.  I watched as she held the tip
of his hard cock against her drooling slot, knowing what he was
feeling, dreading what I was about to see.  I saw her drop down on
him, letting go with her hand as she imbedded herself on him.  I felt
the knife go into my chest and slice down to my stomach as I saw her
move, her hands now on his shoulders, her head back in pleasure, her
eyes closed in concentration.  I watched her fuck him, I watched as
he watched her, unable to believe his luck.  I saw her open her eyes
and say something to him, saw her reach down and take his hand, saw
her press it to her breast as she moved up and down on him.  I
watched it all, hardly able to blink, as she rode herself nearly to
completion.  I saw Scotty tense up, saw his hips working up and down
frantically.  His movements were inhibiting Molly's, keeping her from
cresting, and I was glad to see it, in a perverted way.  His eyes
opened wide as his climax came on him unexpectedly, and I saw Molly
jerk herself off him just as he started to spurt.  His hips thrust up
into the air, his spasming cock searching in vain for the warmth of
Molly's encasing walls, as his cum came spilling out of him, puddling
on the bare skin of his twitching stomach.

I couldn't bear any more.  I closed my eyes against the vision, and
then concentrated on getting out of the tree.  I did not want to look
at the window, so I turned to face back into the woods as I climbed
down.  I dropped to the ground and fell on my ass.  I leaned back
against the tree as I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.  I
intensely regretted coming to the tree, and I was miserable and cold
and wet and suddenly very tired.

I dragged myself up to my feet and shuffled back out to the path. 
As I was making my way back toward the field, my subconscious noted,
for future consideration, something that I did not register at the
time: another set of footprints in the snow, feet quite a bit smaller
and narrower than mine.



(Continued in Chapter 28)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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