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From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" <RevCottonMather@verywarmpostalservice.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} -RP- Playing the Game, Ch. 26-30 by Rev. Cotton Mather
Date: Tue,  8 Apr 2003 06:10:05 -0400
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Just a little something for those of you who have not yet met my good
friend Sean Porter...



---------------------------------------------------------------------

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@hotmail.com
Don't be shy!  I enjoy hearing from you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------




PLAYING THE GAME
by Reverend Cotton Mather



- 26 -

THE PLAYOFFS



We entered the conference playoffs as the team favored to win.  Our
local paper was helping to fuel the interest by featuring pictures
and biographies of each of the starters in the week prior to the
first game of the playoffs.  I got a lot of razzing at school the day
after my picture and bio appeared.  I was pretty uncomfortable with
all this attention, but I was in the minority from my teammates. 
Most of the rest of the guys on the team were really enjoying their
moment in the spotlight.

We waltzed through our first playoff game against the eighth seeded
team, winning 5-1.  John Pennington's defensive adjustments on the
field were solid, and Kevin and I stopped just about every ball that
came our way.

Our second round opponent gave us a tougher game, but the result was
still a win, this time 3-1.  By this time, the big-city newspapers
were paying attention, and the Metro Times had us rated in the top 20
in the state, a huge boost for us.  Their small article about our win
in the second round also pointed out what their reporter considered
to be a major flaw in our game, however.  He wrote that he wasn't
sure we had the depth to win against Rockton Heights, the only team
to defeat us in the regular season.

Coach Neville made sure he read that article to us during our
warm-ups the next afternoon, and he posted copies of it on every
locker as a reminder of what was expected of us.  He wanted us to
confound expectations, and he had every confidence that we could.

Since we were seeded first in the tournament, we had the home field
advantage.  Rockton came to us to play the championship game, and we
made sure the stands were packed with fans.  We wanted it loud, and
we got it.  The cheerleaders, normally only required to perform at
football games in the fall, voluntarily showed up to lead the crowd. 
They cajoled people to slide over closer to each other so that more
people could sit down, until there were no gaps to be seen at all. 
Heather O'Toole even went so far as to climb up into the stands and
act as a traffic cop, moving people around and filling in spaces. 
She got a lot of laughter, and no small amount of applause, for her
efforts as she picked her way back down to the sidelines, her golden-
red ponytail swishing back and forth.

And it was all very much worthwhile.  Rockton Heights came into the
game a little overconfident, and we capitalized on that, scoring our
first goal within the first ten minutes.  By the final whistle, we
had trounced the toughest competition we could find in our
conference, beating them 6-1.  I even scored a goal, only my second
as a varsity player, but it was very satisfying to get that goal in
the conference finals.  We were conference champs, the first team
from our school to win the title in soccer.

Sectional playoffs didn't start until the next weekend, so we had
Saturday and Sunday off from practice, to give our scouting and
coaching staff time to prepare for an unfamiliar opponent.  We would
enter the sectionals seeded fourth out of eight conference champions.
The winner of the sectional tournament would go downstate for the
State Tournament, again a single-elimination tournament for the eight
winners of sectionals from around the state.

The Monday Metro Times ran a big story about our conference win,
tracing our season from the beginning that had held so much promise,
the schools that had been scouting Skip, and our wins up until the
accident.  Then, the article continued with how our team's makeup had
changed so much because of the loss of our top two players, the
struggles, and ultimately the triumphs of the team.  Surprisingly,
they assigned a large amount of our team's success to "the quiet
sophomore with the loud game, defensive standout Sean Porter."  There
were quotes from some of my teammates about me, and even Coach
Neville was quoted.  There was even a picture taken of me, during the
Rockton Heights game for the conference championship, frozen just at
the moment the ball left my foot on a pass upfield.  I hadn't even
been aware of a reporter talking to anybody, so it all caught me by
surprise.

By the time the Friday of the first sectional game dawned, the Times
had come out with their picks for all the metropolitan conferences of
All-Conference honors.  I was shocked when I got to school and was
informed, via an announcement over the intercom by Dr. Osgood, that I
had been selected as one of the All-Conference defensemen for our
conference, despite the fact that I had not started out the season as
a starter for our team.

Sectionals were being hosted by a college about an hour's bus ride
away.  We were nervous and tense on the ride down, again followed by
a caravan of cars containing kids and parents supporting us.

Because of the All-Conference selection, and the article in the
Metro Times, our opponents started focusing on me a little more,
double-teaming me and making an effort to pass the ball into the
middle of the field before I could get to it.  That was fine by me. 
I sure didn't want to trip myself over my own two feet in an attempt
to save the game, so if the opposing team was accommodating me, so
much the better.  The end result of that strategy was that, when the
ball got down into our half of the field, the available playing area,
from our adversary's point of view, shrank down in width by a third. 
It worked just fine to our advantage, especially since we then were
presented with an open side when we cleared the ball, the side that
Kevin and I patrolled.

On one opportunity, John Pennington picked up a weak rolling shot,
ran up a few steps, and rolled the ball over to me on the right side.
There was only one guy by me, so I let the ball pass me and took its
momentum up the field.  I was to the midfield stripe by the time
anybody came close enough to challenge me, and by then our offense
had a set play in position.  I lofted a pass up to the middle, and
the play developed just the way it was designed, with a Trent Abbott
goal and our first sectional win the result.

Each successive sectional game was against tougher opponents, but we
made it through, winning our three games 1-0, 3-2, and 3-1.  We were
State Tournament bound.

The next weekend, we left by bus on Thursday for our game downstate
on Friday.  Once again, there were eight teams in the tournament. 
The first two games would be played Friday and Saturday, and the
Championship game would be held the next weekend.

In our first game, we played the Planey Warriors, a team that was
very experienced, having been here the previous year.  They put
together some play sets that were completely different from anything
we had ever seen before, led by their senior All-American forward,
Jesse Wilhoit.  They moved the ball in to Jesse every chance they
got, and Mike Evanson, our junior sweeper, along with both of us
defensive players, were hard put to keep him from scoring at will. 
As it was, he collected three quick goals within the first 20 minutes
of the first half.  We were in real trouble of being blown out, for
the first time all season.

Finally, we dropped our defensive center midfielder back, so in
effect we had left and right sweepers, and that seemed to stymie the
Warriors.  We managed to neutralize Wilhoit, and any time the ball
came down into our end of the field, we were able to clear it back
out to midfield.

At halftime, we were down 3-1, but we were feeling much better about
how we were playing than we did during the first few minutes of the
game.  Eric and Trent let us know that the Warriors had a weaker
player on defense on their side of the field, so if we could clear
the ball up, they felt they could make a play on goal.

A few minutes into the second half, their confidence was rewarded. 
The ball cleared to Eric on the left, and he lit his afterburners and
torched the defenders, streaking down the sidelines and angling in
toward the middle.  Trent dropped over to cover the left side as Eric
charged the middle, and at the very last possible moment passed the
ball over to Trent, who stepped toward the ball with his left foot,
and launched a high bullet at the far post.  The ball just slipped
under the top rail and clanged against the back post of the goal.  It
was now 3-2, and the Warriors were on the defensive.

About seven minutes later, a similar play developed, but this time
Trent gave Eric a give-and-go past the defender, and it was Eric's
goal that tied the game.

At about the 35 minute mark, Kevin and I switched positions on an
errant pass by the Warriors, and I took the ball up toward midfield. 
Our opponents were so worried about Eric and Trent on the far side,
that they made the mistake of letting me advance the ball.  Their
midfielders were holding their positions, which meant that I just had
their left defender in front of me.  I faked a pass into the middle,
giving myself a looping pass around their defender, and picked the
ball up again behind him.  I came in toward the goal just as their
sweeper and goalie decided I was a threat, but it was too late.  I
threaded a pass in to Trent, who tapped it in for the winning goal. 
We were advancing to the semi-finals, winning the game 4-3.

On Saturday afternoon, we were facing the Rock Falls Lions, another
perennial soccer power from downstate.  We were pretty tired from the
game on Friday, but we figured the Lions would be tired from their
win on Friday, too.

We were wrong.  This was our first trip downstate, and emotions
played a huge part in our win on Friday, leaving us pretty drained
for Saturday's game.  Not so the Lions.  They had been here before,
and knew what it meant to leave it all on the field on the first
game.  They didn't make that mistake this year.  They razzled us,
they dazzled us, they embarrassed us.  We went down in flames.  We
got trounced, we got thoroughly beaten.  We walked off the field
after 90 minutes of play, knowing we had a lot to learn about
tournament play.  The final score was 7-2.

Our season was over.

The only true bright moment after that humiliating loss was the
following Monday, when the Metro Times announced their All-State
Team.  Of course, leading the team was Jesse Wilhoit, the All-
American forward from Planey.  But, to my surprise and my team's
delight, I was chosen as a second-team All-State selection on
defense, only the second player in our school's history, the first of
course being my mentor Skip Horvath, to have been so honored.

And I truly was honored.  All I had wanted to do was go out and play
the game, and here I was, being recognized for playing it my way,
just as Coach Neville advised.  My hard work, and the hard work of
Coach Neville and Coach Reyes and all my other coaches and assistants
and teammates, had paid off dividends I had never even dared dream of.



(Continued in Chapter 27)


---------------------------------------------------------------------

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@hotmail.com
Don't be shy!  I enjoy hearing from you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------




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)


---------------------------------------------------------------------

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(copyright 2001, Rev. Cotton Mather)

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PLAYING THE GAME
by Reverend Cotton Mather



- 28 -

THE FLYING MENDOZAS



Even while it seemed like my personal life was going into the
crapper, my soccer-playing alter-ego was flourishing.  In the two
weeks since my selection as an All-State athlete, even snooty
upperclassmen were saying hello to me at school.  It was an odd
juxtaposition.  On the one hand, Molly  and Tessa were barely
speaking to me.  On the other hand, I was becoming something of a
BMOC, a Big Man On Campus.  The other jocks in school, football
players and basketball players and track and field guys, finally were
accepting the fact that soccer could actually be a real sport, and
the members of the varsity and junior varsity soccer teams were
finally being accepted into the Fraternity of Sweat.

The next weekend, my family and I were invited down to the State
Capitol for a reception for all the All-State honorees.  Soccer still
wasn't a first-tier sport, so the Governor wasn't going to come,
opting instead to send the Lieutenant Governor in his place.  We
checked into the sponsoring hotel on Friday evening.  There was an
informal party for the All-Staters in one of the conference rooms
that night after dinner.  It was a chance for the players from around
the state to get together socially, so we could try to get to know
each other.  Parents and families would be there, but were invited to
the formal dinner and ceremonies on Saturday night. Friday night's
party was reserved for the athletes.

I walked into the room a little nervously.  I only knew a couple of
the guys by sight, having played against them during the tournaments,
but I hadn't ever met any of them before, since there wasn't anybody
else from my school, or for that matter from my home conference, that
was selected.  I saw Jesse Wilhoit, the All-American forward from
Planey, standing with a couple of other guys near the soda bar.  He
glanced over at me, leaned in to his group to say something, then
started walking toward me.  

"Sean Porter?" he asked as he came up to me.

"Yeah," I answered.  "You're Jesse Wilhoit, right?"

"Right," he said.  "We played against each other a couple of weeks
ago.  You torched me pretty good that game, Porter."

Suddenly embarrassed, I quickly replied, "No, I didn't.  I think you
scored three quick ones on us early in the game, didn't you?"

He grinned.  "Yep, I did, but then your guys on defense shut me
down.  That was a cute trick, using a double sweeper.  Didn't hurt
your offense any to do that, either, did it?"

I smiled.  "No, I guess it didn't."

"And, if I remember right, you got the assist on the winning goal
that game, didn't you?" he asked.

"Well," I said hesitantly, "yeah, I guess I did."

"See?  You did torch me."  He laughed.  "Set on fire by a sophomore!
Boy, that felt good, let me tell you."  He started steering me toward
the group he had left to come talk to me.

"It felt good?" I asked.  It was a puzzling thing to say.

"You betcha.  I was way too big for my britches all season long.  I
was headed for a fall.  I'm just glad it happened now, when I was
still playing high school soccer.  I've got a full ride to the
University of Florida next year, and I would have really been in deep
shit if I had walked in there thinking I was King Soccer, and then
have somebody there kick my ass like you did.  So, you see, you did
me a big favor in that game," he finished as we stepped up to the
others.

"Okay, if you say so," I said doubtfully.

Jesse introduced me to Wayne Phillips, a senior keeper, and to
Harlan Corwin, a junior forward, both from Rock Falls, the state
champions.

"Jesse's been telling us about your game against Planey," said
Wayne.  "I'm glad you got that out of your system before you played
us."

"Well, we were on a high for Friday's match, but by the time we got
to you guys reality had set in," I replied.  "Besides, your team was
really good.  You deserved to win State."

We fell quite naturally into an easy friendship that evening, and I
relaxed and enjoyed meeting all the guys.  There was just one other
sophomore on the All-State team, a midfielder from South High School
in the city named Spencer Goldman.  I saw him standing near the door,
looking uncomfortable, so I excused myself from the group and went
over and introduced myself.  I insisted he come over with me, which
he reluctantly did, and Jesse, Wayne, and Harlan treated him with the
same respect they had showed me.  It made me realize that these guys
were all here for the same reasons, because they loved the game they
played, and they were recognized as being good at the game, just like
everybody else in the room.  It created a real sense of comradeship
among all of us.

The next night at the banquet, Jesse made sure that we sat with his
family at a large round table.  My mom and dad and my brothers
Michael and Stephen were falling all over themselves over the fact
that they were sitting at the table of the state's only soccer All-
American.  Jesse and I just laughed at the absurdity of it all. 
Jesse introduced his parents and his younger sister Anna, a pretty,
dark-haired freshman with shiny braces on her teeth.  She must have
been embarrassed by those braces, because she rarely smiled.  When
she did smile, though, her whole face lit up, and she turned from
merely pretty into something extraordinarily precious, and I couldn't
help staring at her in awe.

Later on, after dinner and dessert, and after the Lieutenant Governor
had given his speech and handed out plaques to all the players, a
band set up in a corner of the room began to play.  Jesse, having
noticed the effect Anna was having on me, amused himself by insisting
I dance with her.  After cajoling me mercilessly, joined in by
Michael and Stephen, I finally got up and asked her if she would like
to dance.  Her face turned beet red, but I was rewarded with one of
her radiant smiles as she nodded and stood.  She was nearly as tall
as I was, and very self-conscious as we walked to the dance floor and
found a space.  It was a fast song, so we shook and jumped all over
the place together, hidden in the middle of the crowd.  Her hair
bobbed up and down as she danced, and, even though I tried not to
stare, I couldn't help but notice that her small boobs jiggled just a
little bit as she moved.  Unfortunately, all that did was remind me
of how much I had missed warm female companionship, now that Molly
was getting her itch scratched somewhere else.  I certainly wasn't
going to try anything with Anna, especially with her big brother
around, but it was apparent that I was a horny young man who was
temporarily smitten.

I tried to concentrate on watching Anna's face, but I still found my
eyes sliding down occasionally.  I would notice where I was looking,
and jerk my eyes back up to her face.  A couple of times she noticed,
but was too nice to slap my face or anything.  She would just turn a
faint pink again, smile at me, and continue dancing.

To my surprise, I found myself having fun with Anna.  We ended up
staying out on the dance floor, shaking and shucking to the fast
songs, box-stepping to the slow songs, and even standing there, side
by side, watching the band play on those occasions when the beat was
one of those in-between rhythms that I have always found it hard to
dance to.  She was comfortable staying by my side, and I fell into an
easy association with her.  By the last set we were holding hands in
between dances, neither of us willing to go back to our table and
possibly break the spell.

Finally, though, the band played their last song.  Anna and I were
just about the last couple left on the dance floor, and we stayed
there, dancing close, until the echoes of the last notes bounced off
the walls and faded into quiet.  Only then did we reluctantly turn to
walk back to our table.  Jesse and Michael were still sitting there,
paying absolutely no attention to us.  Apparently they were becoming
good friends, from the look of things.  Wayne and Harlan and a couple
of other All-Staters were also there, sitting in on their
conversation.  When Anna and I walked up, she dropped my hand before
her brother could see her and say anything.  We sat with the others,
until a few minutes later it was clear that the party was breaking
up.  As we all walked toward the banquet hall doors, Anna and I
delayed as much as we could, lagging behind the others on the way
down the hall toward the elevators.  Jesse managed to herd everybody
into one elevator, and, with a little smile on his face and a twinkle
in his eye, pressed the button to close the door just as Anna and I
got to them.  He winked at us just before the doors closed, leaving
us to get our own elevator.  Anna's cheeks turned red, and she shyly
reached for my hand once the coast was clear, and we stood there,
hand in hand, as we waited for the next elevator.

An older couple got on the elevator with us, so we stepped to the
back corner, silently holding hands, until we got to the fourth
floor, where the Wilhoits were staying.  I walked her to her door,
which was left open a crack.  We stood facing each other silently,
each of us nervous about what might be expected of us by the other,
until I finally slipped my arms around her and pulled her to me.  She
put her arms around my neck as I kissed her softly on her lips.  I
could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as she flushed, so I
let her go and dropped my arms, stepping back.

"Goodnight, Anna," I said quietly.  "I'm glad you were there
tonight."  I turned to go back to the elevator.

"Sean?"

I turned back to her.

"Thank you for tonight.  I'll remember it always," she said.  She
had one hand on the doorknob, the other at her throat.  I tried to
memorize how she looked in just that moment, so I could recall the
vision she presented as she stood there, shy and smiling her
dazzling, beautiful smile, shot through with white and silver.




Back at school on the next Monday, I very quickly fell back into the
routine, and only occasionally thought about calling or writing to
Anna, until, finally, I hardly thought about her at all.

Around Valentine's Day, our school held its annual Turnabout dance. 
Back when my parents were going to school, a turnabout dance was
themed around Sadie Hawkins Day, a fictional holiday created by
cartoonist Al Capp.  They dressed up like hillbillies straight out of
"Li'L Abner" and Dogpatch, his cartoon creation.  By now, though, our
school had dropped the Sadie Hawkins name, the bib overalls and
blacked out teeth and hay stuck in your hair had been abandoned in
favor of casual, comfortable clothes, and the event was moved from
mid-November to February.  It was still a turnabout event, though,
with the girls asking the guys out, asking the guys to dance, all
that stuff.

The bunch of us decided to go to the dance as a big group, instead
of putting ourselves through the pressure cooker of finding dates. 
Josh had been going out with Andrea Coulter since just before
Christmas, and they were going to be joining Toby, Jake, Jorge,
Kristina, Ashley Horvath, Becky Steinman, and me at the dance, and at
a local restaurant afterwards for desserts and sodas.

The dance was held in the school gym, and it was decorated Dogpatch
style, with hand painted banners and signs, bales of straw, and
crockery jugs marked "XXX" with magic marker, I suppose as a sop to
the old traditions.

I met up with the group at the dance, and we wandered slowly around
the gym, stopping to catch up with our friends, checking out who was
with whom.  I stopped and traded backslaps and lies with some of the
kids I knew.  I happened to glance over toward the double doors of
the gym and saw Kevin Soranno and John Pennington come in the door
with their dates, and there was a big crowd gathering around them. 
Jorge, Kristina , Ashley and I headed their way, intending to say
hello, when the people standing around them parted momentarily, and I
got a glimpse of a wheelchair being pushed through the door by a man
who looked like he was somebody's father.  As we got up to the edge,
John and Kevin spotted us and waved the group back to let us through,
just as Mr. Jameson was able to wheel Theo into the room and to the
side.  Theo saw me and smiled, all the while nodding and waving at
all the well-wishers gathering around.

"Porter!" he called in a surprisingly strong voice.  "Damn, boy,
it's good to see you.  I've been reading about you, and these guys
here," he said, jerking his thumb at Kevin and John, "can't seem to
shut up about you.  Congratulations!"

"Thanks, Theo.  We all have been thinking about you, too, obviously.
How are you feeling?"

"Pretty damn great right about now, but I think that's because I'm
living better through chemistry.  I've got a whole damn drugstore
running through my veins right now."

"Wow, it's really good to see you.  This is such a surprise."

"I don't think I'm going to get out on the dance floor tonight, but
I'm getting closer," he said with a smile.  He looked over my
shoulder and saw Ashley Horvath standing behind me, peeking around to
see Theo sitting there.  His face kind of crumpled.

"Oh, Ash, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there.  How are you doing?" 
Seeing Skip's sister wasn't something he was expecting, and it was
affecting him.

Ashley could see it, too, and rushed over and knelt to give Theo a
fierce hug.  "I'm doing okay, Theo," she quietly whispered to him. 
"I'm glad to see you're doing better, too."

"Yeah," he whispered back to her, "I'm doing better.  It's been
really tough.  But it's been tough on everybody, especially you.  You
sure you're doing okay?  Say, you didn't bring this sorry excuse for
a soccer player, did you?"

She looked up at me, and her face tinged pink.  "No," she said,
smiling.  "I just came with along with Sean's friends, that's all."

"Well, if he tries anything, you come look for me.  I'll give him
what-for," he said as he let her go.  His eyes were shining with
unshed tears, for Ashley, for Skip, for himself.

"Thanks, Theo.  I will."  She turned then and walked away quickly. 
I thought she needed a moment to compose herself, so I shook Theo's
hand, assured him I would come talk to him later, and handed him back
to John and Kevin before going off to catch up with Ashley.

She was still slowly walking away, staying close to the wall, when I
jogged up and put my hand on her shoulder.

"Ash?" I asked gently.  "Are you okay?"

She turned and melted into my arms and sobbed.  "I miss him so much,
Sean," she cried.  Her face was buried in my shoulder, and I could
feel the sobs wracking her.

"So do I, babe," I whispered.  "So do I."

She got herself under control and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss my
cheek.  "Thanks, Sean," she said.  "Thanks for being a friend."

"Aw, cut it out," I said.  I wiped the last of her tears off her
cheek with my fingertips.  "Go fix your makeup, kiddo.  I'll be right
over there," I continued, pointing to where Jorge and Kristina were
standing, waiting for us.

"Okay," she said.  She headed toward the girl's restroom.  Kristina
saw where she was going and met her on the way.  She started
chattering to Ashley as they pushed open the door.  I knew Kristina
was trying to distract her, take her mind off her dead brother with
idle gossip.  She was very perceptive about other people's moods and
feelings, a sympathy that came naturally to her.  I walked over to
Jorge to wait for them to return.

"She's upset about Theo and Skip?" asked Jorge.

"Yeah.  She really misses her brother.  Hey, Jorge, why don't you
work on getting her to dance with you?  When they do the Men's Choice
dance, you should ask her," I suggested.

"You t'ink?" he asked.  "I dunno, man, I don' wanna get shot down,
you know?  I t'ink you da man in her eyes right now, Sean."

Well, that surprised me.  I hadn't thought of Ashley in that way
before.  In fact, I really hadn't thought of any girl in that way too
much since my split with Molly, except maybe for Anna Wilhoit.  Sure,
like any red-blooded teenager, I was in lust with nearly every girl I
saw, but I was also a bit of a romantic.  Me and Ashley?  Nah.

The girls came out of the washroom together.  Ashley was laughing at
something Kristina had just said, and was turned to her, hand on
Kristina's arm, as they sauntered our way.  I looked at both of them
a little more closely.  Ashley had on a skirt and sweater.  She was
very slim, barely five feet tall.  She had light brown hair cut just
to her shoulders, and when she smiled, her silver braces flashed. 
She was extraordinarily cute.

Unfortunately for Ashley, she was walking next to somebody who, I
suddenly realized, made her look thin and drab in comparison. 
Kristina, walking beside her, was devastating.  She tended to dress
either in black or in white, which set off her coloring very well,
and tonight was no exception.  She had on a sleek black dress that
was very modest at the hem and neck, but tight enough to show off her
very fit form.  Her hair was jet black and long, almost to the middle
of her back, and she had thick bangs that were cut below her dark
eyebrows.  Her skin glowed, and her eyes flashed with amusement as
they glanced our way.  I noticed that she seemed to almost glide
across the floor, instead of walking with a stride like Ashley.

Damn, I thought to myself.  Have these two always looked this good?

That was the moment, I believe, that I realized I might be
completely over Miss Molly O'Toole.

The four of us wound our way across the gym to the rest of our
group, now congregated against the folded-up bleachers.  As soon as
we walked up to them, Becky grabbed my hand and dragged me out to the
dance floor.  Becks also played soccer, but only recreationally.  I
had acted as referee for one of her games during the summer, but I
didn't get to know her until school started.  She was almost my
height, with dark blonde, almost brown hair that she almost always
wore in a short ponytail.  Tonight, however, her hair was down, just
touching her shoulders.  We were dancing fast to an old Chuck Berry
song, and her hair was swinging back and forth across her face,
hiding and then revealing her features as she moved.  It was almost
hypnotic in its metronome sway.  By the time the song ended, I was a
little lightheaded just from watching her hair fly around.  We held
hands companionably on our way back to the group.

Just as the next song, a Beach Boys record, started up, Ashley took
my hand and led me back out.  I was still trying to get used to this
sudden popularity, but I was willing to ride the ride as long as the
wheel went round.  Ashley was gyrating around, moving her hips while
keeping her feet nearly still, and I smiled to myself as I danced
with her.  She was such a quiet, shy girl, it was odd to think that
she was actually swinging her hips to and fro like this, in public
and everything.

By the time we made it off the dance floor and back to the group, I
was breathing hard.  Dancing with these girls was hard work. 
Fortunately, a slow song came on, and I was just breathing a mental
sigh of relief when Kristina beat Ashley to me, reaching for my hand
and wordlessly leading me back out to the dance floor.  She flowed
into my arms effortlessly, and seemed to mold herself to me, resting
her head on my shoulder as we box-stepped around the floor.  I was
sorry when the song ended, and Kristina slipped away from me and led
me back, still holding my sweaty hand.

The next fast set began, and Ashley pulled me back out for another
dance.  When that one was done, Josh's girlfriend Andrea came my way
as Becky took Josh out.  I pleaded exhaustion, so she took Jorge out
to boogie.  I watched all the kids grooving and jiving out on the
floor.  Out in the middle of the crowd, I could see Molly dancing and
shimmying with Trent.  I looked around, and saw Scotty leaning
against the wall, looking sourly out toward Molly and Trent.  He
looked very unhappy.  Welcome to the club, I thought.  I raised my
paper cup to him in a mock salute, but he wasn't paying any attention
to me.  Just as well, probably.

My eyes kept on dragging back to Ashley and to Kristina.  There was
quite a contrast between the two, but they were both very attractive
girls.  Ashley was swaying back and forth with Toby, who had his
hands on her hips as they danced together.  They looked good
together, I thought.  I glanced over at Kristina, who was gliding
around Jake, her lithe body moving with all the grace of a leopard. 
As I watched, she glanced over at me.  Our eyes met, nearly stopping
my heart, until she dropped her gaze, moving around Jake in a sinuous
move to the music.

Becky grabbed me for another fast song.  Strands of her hair were
getting matted with sweat as she swung her head back and forth to the
beat.  I led her more toward the middle of the floor, thinking I
might catch a glimpse of Molly dancing with someone, but I didn't
find her.

The song ended, and almost immediately another slow song came on. 
This time, Kristina didn't even wait for us to get off the dance
floor.  She met Becky and I at the edge, and Becks wordlessly stepped
aside, in what almost felt like an unspoken agreement, letting
Kristina slip her hand in mine and guide me back out.  This time I
put both arms around her waist and held her to me.  As she lay her
head on my shoulder, I felt her take a deep breath, and pull me even
tighter to her.  The feel of her body against mine triggered some
rather dirty thoughts in me, creating an unfortunate blood flow into
an appendage that I didn't want awakened in this situation.  It was
too late to stem the tide, however, so I did the best I could under
the situation by slowly sticking my butt out so that my swollen prick
wouldn't be noticed by the girl in my arms.  I was certain she would
be upset if she knew the reaction she was creating.  After all, she
was a quiet girl from a large, close-knit family, and the last thing
I wanted was to insult her or her brother by rubbing my private parts
against her during a simple dance.

Just when I thought my strategy was working, though, Kristina moved
somehow, and I found myself pressing against her flat tummy with my
boner.  I scrunched my pelvis away from her again, but she took a
natural step in our dance and ended up close to me again, my now
completely hard and painful cock standing up between us again.  Once
more I sidestepped to remove the pressure, and a moment later she
stepped into me again.  This time I could have sworn I felt her hips
shift ever so slightly as her tummy rubbed against me, creating just
a hint of friction between us.  I resigned myself to my fate and did
not try to move away again, but attempted to minimize the rubbing and
stimulating for the rest of the dance, hoping against hope that it
would deflate by the time we walked back to our group.  In an effort
to buy some time, I maneuvered us into the middle of the dance floor,
so that when the song ended, we would have a little extra time in the
crowd before my condition might be revealed.

My strategy worked.  The song ended, and we were right in the middle
of everybody.  Without letting go of me, Kristina looked up into my
eyes wordlessly.  I could have sworn she was waiting for me to kiss
her, but that couldn't be.  Could it?  A fraction before the
hesitation turned into embarrassment, she turned, releasing me from
her arms, and slowly made her way back toward our side of the gym. 
She held her hand behind her and wiggled her fingers at me, confident
enough not to turn around to see if I was following her.  I took the
hint and held her hand as we walked, and she didn't let go until we
were back within the circle of our friends.

Jorge looked at me silently.  I shrugged at him, at which he rolled
his eyes, as if to tell me that I was the densest fool he knew, and
turned away to say something to Jake.  Ashley said she wanted to go
find Theo and roll him around the dance floor, and took off to look
for him.  I heard the opening samba beat of Santana's "Oye Como Va"
start up, and Jorge leaped up, grabbing Kristina by the arm, and the
two of them practically ran out to the dance floor to do some cutting
to the strong Latin beat.  And dance they did.  I didn't know Jorge
had those kind of moves in him, but he was absolutely sensational out
there, putting on a real show for everybody.  All the boys' eyes,
however, were on his sister.  She was swaying and pouting, dipping
and twirling, stalking and stretching like a cat and practically
purring with pleasure all during the dance.  It was unlike anything I
had ever seen before, and I was enthralled.  In fact, most of the
other dancers out there stopped to watch in appreciation, marveling
at the two Mendozas showing 'em how.

As Kristina and Jorge flowed together across the floor, I had the
distinct impression that, even though Kristina was concentrating on
dancing with her brother, her focus was toward me.  There was nothing
she was doing that I could say with any certainty was aimed at me,
but I still had the feeling that she knew exactly where I was all the
time, and her sudden exhibitionistic fervor was for my benefit. 
Whether it was a conscious effort on her part or not, it had a
definite effect on me.  I could not tear my eyes from the dance, nor
did I want to stop watching.  And when the final notes of the song
echoed into the gymnasium, the two of them stood there in a pose,
oriented toward each other, arms upraised, still as statues while
their schoolmates, having seen a side of them that had been unknown
up until just that moment, broke into applause and cheering for the
display.  The sudden barrage of cheering and clapping seemed to snap
them out of their trance, and they looked around them, somewhat
embarrassed over the attention they were getting.  Panting and
sweating from their exertions, they dropped their arms, turned and
smiled at each other, and then walked back toward the group of us. 
We were standing there, mouths agape in awe, having just witnessed a
true transformation among kids we all thought we knew pretty well.

Everything after that was denouement, since the music stopped a
couple of songs later.  We all gathered our coats and headed for the
door and the restaurant, laughing and teasing each other easily. 
Ashley rejoined us by the door, having spun Theo around for one song
and standing by him while they watched The Flying Mendozas, and we
all piled into a couple of cars and headed out.

When the evening finally ended, after an hour of ice cream and pop
and cake and coffee, our rides were showing up to pick us up.  Mr.
Mendoza drove up to take Jorge and Kristina home, just as my brother
Michael rolled up to take me and Jake home.  Just before she ducked
into the car, Kristina took my arm and pulled her lips up to my ear.

"Please call me, Sean.  Please," she whispered.  Without another
word, she ducked into the car and pulled the door shut behind her.  I
knew saying those words cost her a lot.  I promised myself that I
would do my best to not disappoint her.

And I did remember.  It was late the next day, Sunday, that I
finally got up the nerve to call her house.  Jorge answered the phone.

"It's about damn time, Porter," he admonished me.

"What are you talking about, Jorge?"

"She asked you to call, man.  No, she din' tell me, but I know her
well enough.  She did ask you, right?"

"Yeah, she did, and..."

"And nothin', man.  She been on pins an needles all day, waitin'.  I
knew she was nervous about somethin', and I finally figured it out. 
If you wasn' gonna call soon, I was gonna come over there an' kick
your ass, man."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Kristina, man, what choo think?  You know how hard it was for her
to grovel like that, asking you to call?  You better do the right
thing wit' her, man."  He sounded as serious now as he did when he
was sitting on top of Del Toro that day in the hallway.

"Just get her, will you?  And don't worry, man," I tried to assure
him.  "Of course I'll do the right thing."

"I know you will, Sean.  I just wanted you to know how much this
means to her, thass all."  He set the telephone down and went to get
his sister.

A quiet voice.  "Hello?"

"Hi," I said.  Then, as an afterthought, I decided I had better
introduce myself, since she probably didn't recognize my voice over
the telephone.  "It's Sean."

She giggled.  "Of course it's you," she said.  I could hear the
smile in her voice, and it made me smile, too.

We talked about nothing for about twenty minutes, until I could hear
a heavy voice rumbling in the background.

"I've got to go, Sean," she said softly.  "Thank you for calling."

"Uh, wait a minute, Kristina," I said hurriedly.  "Do you...I mean,
would you...uh...maybe we could...what I mean is..."  Boy, was my
tongue ever getting tangled now.  Where did I suddenly get this
attack of nerves?  I took a deep breath and started all over.

"What I mean is, would you like to do something next weekend with
me?" I finally finished.

"Sure," she replied quietly.  "What would you like to do?"

"Well, maybe we could go to a movie or something."

"Okay," she said.  "I'll ask my parents and let you know tomorrow at
school.  Is that all right?"

"Uh, sure, that's fine," I said dumbly.  "See you tomorrow, then."

"Goodnight, Sean.  Thank you for calling."  She hung up the phone,
leaving me standing there stupidly, a dead line humming in my ear,
resonating in a sonic harmony with the memory of the sweetness of her
voice.




(Continued in Chapter 29)


---------------------------------------------------------------------

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@hotmail.com
Don't be shy!  I enjoy hearing from you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------




PLAYING THE GAME
by Reverend Cotton Mather



- 29 -

RESPECT



On Friday night, Michael drove me over to pick up Kristina.  We were
meeting Josh and Andrea at the mall, and then we were going to go see
a movie.

I knocked on the front door, and Mr. Mendoza opened the door.  He
stepped inside, gesturing me in.  He was not very tall, but he was
substantial.  I could see just how Jorge would look in 20 years,
looking at his father.

I stepped into the hallway.  Mr. Mendoza held out his hand, and in a
heavy accent said, "Welcome, Sean.  Kristina will be here in uno
momento."

The smaller Mendoza children, four all told, were peeking at me from
doorways, whispering to each other and giggling.  I felt like I was
on display.

Jorge came out of the kitchen, his mother trailing behind, and came
over to me.

"Hey, Sean," he said with a smile.

His father turned to him and said something in Spanish.

Jorge turned back to me, a grimace on his face.  "My father has
asked me to translate for him.  He says that he is very glad to meet
you.  He also said he wishes to say something to you."

"Okay," I said, suddenly apprehensive.  This was a new one on me.

Mr. Mendoza looked at me as he spoke, and I stayed facing him as
Jorge translated.

"He says that Kristina is his oldest daughter, and so is very
special to him, just as his oldest son is special to him."  Jorge's
voice was expressionless as he spoke.  I saw Kristina, dressed in a
simple black sweater and cotton pants, just coming in from the
hallway.  I glanced at her and smiled before turning back to her
father.  She looked a little embarrassed, but said nothing.

Her father glanced back to see her standing in the doorway, and then
turned and continued.

"We have tried to raise our children to respect all others, even
when we ourselves have not been shown that same respect," Jorge
continued translating.  "It is a sad fact of life that not all people
have been taught how to respect others."

Jorge stopped, firing off a burst of Spanish to his father.  It
sounded like a question, or maybe a complaint.  His father answered
back implacably, and Jorge, resigned, continued translating.

"He says that he expects you to treat his daughter with all the
respect she is due.  If you do not, he will know, and he will have
words with you about it."

He did not look like a man I would want to have "words" with,
particularly alone in a small locked room.  Still facing him, I
composed my reply before opening my mouth.

"I give you my word that I will give Kristina every consideration I
can.  I think of her as a good friend, and Jorge is a good friend,
and I would do nothing to harm either friendship."

Jorge translated for me.  Mr. Mendoza nodded, held out his hand, and
shook mine to seal the deal.  He smiled then, and turned and held out
his arm, as if presenting his daughter to a crowd.  Kristina came up
to him, kissed him on the cheek, and we headed out the door to
Michael's car.

It's always awkward when you have to be driven around because you're
too young to drive yourself, and picking up a date is even more so. 
We solved the problem by squeezing into the front seat with Michael. 
It was crowded, but I certainly didn't mind, and Mike didn't feel so
much like a chauffeur, either.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that with my father," Kristina said
as we started down the street.

"Hey, it's just fine," I assured her.  "I know he worries about you,
and wants to protect you, and all that..."

"Yes, well, he's decided that the best way to get his point across
is to speak Spanish, and have Jorge translate.  In reality, he speaks
English nearly as well as we do.  He's just trying to make an
impression on you," she said with a smile.

"Oh, he made an impression on me, all right," I said.  "He scared me
a little," I added.

"He'll be glad to know that," she said with a laugh.  She shifted a
little, and the contact I felt with her, up my side and my arm, from
my hip and down my leg, got just a little more substantial.  We
stayed in unacknowledged close contact with each other, just like
that, all the way to the mall.

Once we met up with Josh and Andrea at the mall, thoughts of the
punishment Mr. Mendoza might be planning to wreak on me if I got too
improper were banished, and we had a great time together.  When we
got to the movie theater, we settled in with popcorn and sodas, in
one of the side rows of the auditorium, Andrea and Kristina sitting
between Josh and me.  By the middle of the first reel of film, our
hands had found each other, and we spent the rest of the movie in
awareness of each other, maintaining contact with clasped hands and
knees just touching.

On the way home, Kristina and I once again squeezed into the front
of Michael's car, and Andrea and Josh climbed into the back.  We
dropped off Andrea first, and Josh walked her to her door, giving her
a long kiss goodnight before trudging back to the car for a ride back
to his house.

Kristina's house was our next stop, and I walked her to her door,
also.  I wondered if Mr. Mendoza was watching through the curtains,
making sure I treated his daughter properly.  I looked at the windows
nervously, and I think Kristina guessed my thoughts, because she had
a small, secret smile on her face as she stood there, waiting for me
to make up my mind about what to do.  Finally, she took both my hands
in hers and turned me to face her.

"Good night, Sean.  Thank you for a very nice evening."  She leaned
in toward me just a fraction, watching me.  I bucked up my courage
and bent toward her, and our lips touched softly for just a moment. 
She turned toward the door and opened it, flooding the landing with
light from the hallway.

"Kristina?" I suddenly asked.  She turned around and looked at me
quizzically.  "Did you really have a good time tonight?  What I mean
is, would you go out with me again?"

She smiled her secret smile again.  "Yes, Sean, I would love to go
out with you again."

The pressure I had been feeling, but had tried to ignore, dissipated
into vapor, to my immense relief.  I headed back to the car, my feet
barely making contact with the sidewalk.

The whole next week at school, I didn't have much of a chance to
talk with Kristina.  I kept on telling myself that it was just one
date, not a lifetime commitment, and to chill out about it.  It
didn't help.  I called her on Tuesday evening, but her father said
she couldn't come to the phone.  I called her on Wednesday, but she
wasn't home.  I called her on Thursday, now very near panic, thinking
that I had done something wrong, that she didn't want to see me
again, that she was evading me.  She answered the phone on the second
ring.

"Si, hello?"

"Kristina?  Hi, it's me, Sean."

"Oh, Sean, I was hoping you would call," she said.  She sounded
happy, not upset.  Did I worry all week for nothing?

"You were?" I asked before I could think about it.  "I thought maybe
you didn't want to talk to me."

"Why would you think that, silly?"  She sounded amused.

"Well...ummm...I called the other night, and then again last night..."

"Oh, that," she dismissed.  "My father just told me tonight that you
had called.  He wouldn't let me call you back.  He says it's not
ladylike to be calling boys."

"That's okay," I said, relieved.  "I just wasn't sure if I was
making a pest out of myself or not, that's all."

She giggled, a tinkling sound that sent shivers up and down my
spine.  "You can be a pest, if you'd like," she said softly.  "I
won't mind."

"Um, would you like to do something this weekend with me?"

"Of course.  What did you want to do?"

"Well, Eric and Keisha were thinking about going out to the bowling
alley on Saturday night.  It's something about using glow-in-the-dark
pins, or something.  Would you like to try it?"

"Okay.  What time?"

"I'll call Eric and find out and call you back," I suggested.

"No, don't call back tonight.  Just tell me tomorrow at school, or
call me tomorrow night.  I'll ask my parents if it's okay, but I'm
sure they will say it's fine, as long as I don't stay out past 11:00."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, then.  Bye."

"Bye, Sean.  Thank you for calling."  The telephone clicked in my
ear as the connection was broken.

Eric, who had just gotten his driver's license, picked me up
Saturday night for our dates.  It was so wonderful having a little
more freedom, instead of relying on older brothers or parents for
rides.  My birthday was coming up soon, and I could hardly wait to
take my driver's test and get my license.

We picked up Keisha, and then drove over to Kristina's house.  I
thought I must have passed some sort of test with her parents,
because she came bounding out the front door and down the sidewalk,
waving back toward the house as she headed for our car.  I didn't
have to go through a grilling from her father this time.  Maybe he
figured he had scared me sufficiently that first time, which was
true, or maybe he had come to trust me a little bit.  I hoped to be
trustworthy, not only in his eyes, but in Kristina's, too.  She
climbed into the back seat with me, and as soon as we were down the
street and out of sight of her house, she scooted over to sit next to
me.  I took her hand and held it in mine, glad of even that little
touch.

At the bowling alley, most of the lights were out, and there was a
disco ball rotating above the alleys, a spotlight shining on it and
scattering shattered rays of light all over the interior.  Some of
the bowling pins had been painted with fluorescent colors, and there
were blacklights shining down from the pinsetters, making the pins
glow at the far end of the dark alleys, and giving the place a
surreal feel.  There was loud music, and the pulse of the bass was
thumping, reverberating through the floor and into our bodies.

Kristina was a terrible bowler.  She had only gone bowling once
before in her life, and the challenge of trying to knock the pins
down in the dark was beyond her.  Nearly every time she whipped the
ball down the alley, it ended up in the gutter, usually within about
ten feet of the foul line.  She didn't care, though, and neither did
the rest of us.  We were laughing and joking about how awful we all
were at this game.  On the rare occasions when Kristina actually
managed to knock a few pins over, she would jump up and squeal
excitedly, hands in the air in triumph, and then she would run over
to me and jump into my arms joyfully.  I loved it every time she did
that, being able to hold her tightly like that, with a crowd all
around us.  It really felt special to me.

On the ride home after we finished bowling, we snuggled up in the
cold back seat, her arms threaded through mine as we waited for the
heater to kick in.  Keisha and Eric were pointedly ignoring us, so I
took the opportunity to lift up her chin and lean toward her.  Her
eyes were wide and solemn, an infinitely deep pool of brown and
black, and her lips were slightly parted in anticipation of this
moment.

I kissed her.  Softly, oh so softly and gently, I paid homage to her
soft and sensitive lips.  Her eyes closed, and she pressed toward me
for more.  I turned in my seat and slipped my arm around her waist as
we continued kissing.  I was getting very warm, but it had little to
do with the car heater.  I was hoping she was feeling the same.

She was wearing a long coat that buttoned down the front with four
large buttons.  I stopped kissing her and gazed into her eyes as my
hand found the coat button near her waist and fumbled to open it up. 
I wanted to be closer to her, but I didn't want her to be cold.  I
just wanted to slide my arm inside her coat to hold her closely.  I
finally was able to push the button through the buttonhole, and as I
slipped my arm inside her coat, my fingers accidentally brushed
against the bump of her breast, barely hard enough to feel.  But I
saw her eyes widen, and she jerked a little.  By then, of course, my
hand was on her waist, and she understood that it was an accident,
but I was afraid the damage might be done.  She relaxed, though, and
moved to kiss me again, a soft and tender touching that washed away
all worry.

We stayed just that way, until we pulled into her driveway.  We
walked to her front door, but this time the light didn't come on.  I
pulled her to me.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

I think she might have blushed just a little.  "Of course I am.  Why
wouldn't I be?"

"Um... well, it's nothing," I stammered.

"Look, Sean, I... There was a boy I liked, when we lived in Texas." 
She paused.  "I was only 13, almost 14.  We... he and I... he is the
only other boy I've ever kissed, Sean, besides you."

"It's okay, Kristina..."

"No, I just want you to know... that I have no... experience... in
this."

Tears were just starting to well in those deep, dark eyes.

"So," she continued hesitantly, "I'm a little frightened sometimes,
Sean.  If you don't want to see me anymore, I understand... but..."

I was devastated by her words.  "Don't you want to go out with me,
Kristina?  I thought you liked me."

She hugged herself to me.  I instinctively held her tight, trying to
understand what she was saying.

"I do like you, Sean, and I do want to go out with you.  It's
just... I mean... I can't... you know... I can't be like some of the
other girls, and... if you don't want to be with such
an... inexperienced... person..."

"Hold on a minute," I said.  I pushed her away from me a little, so
I could look in her eyes.  "You think I won't like you, just because
you're not like Molly or someone?"  She didn't move, but her eyes
told me the truth.  "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever
heard you say, Kristina.  I like you because you are YOU, not because
of anything you might or might not have done in the past, or for
any...um...favors you might give in the future."

"Really?"  The tears started spilling, but I thought it might be
from relief instead of sadness.

"Really.  Don't get me wrong here, Kristina.  I would love to share
something beyond a few kisses with you.  Hell, I'll come right out
and tell you that I lust after you."  She finally smiled, a very good
sign.  "I would jump your bones in a heartbeat, if I thought you
would be willing.  But I know you're not, and it's all okay.  I like
you for who you are, and your innocence is all a part of you.  If you
want to wait, I'll wait.  Maybe some days I'll be a little impatient,
but just tell me to back off and lighten up, Kristina, and I promise
I will.  And that's no lie."

She sobbed and crushed herself to me, holding me as tightly as she
possibly could.

"Hey," I said.  She looked up at me, her head still against my
chest.  "Would you go out with me again?" I asked.

Eyes shining, she lifted up and kissed me, pressing hard against my
lips with hers.

"Yes, of course," she said happily.  She gave me one last quick kiss
before turning to the door.  "Thank you, Sean.  Thank you for
understanding.  Call me?"

"Maybe even tonight, when I get home," I threatened, even though we
both knew I wouldn't.  Her parents would never let her talk on the
telephone this late.

I don't think my feet touched the sidewalk at all as I strolled back
to Eric's car.

Over the course of the next week, I called her so we could chat in
the evening a couple of times, and she even managed to call me once,
a very short, whispered conversation.  I was impressed, since she
apparently managed to sneak that call in to me, a huge accomplishment
considering there were seven other family members in her house at the
time.

In the back seat of Eric's car the next weekend, we were snuggling
and sharing small kisses again.  This time, when I brushed against
her as I put my arm around her waist, she didn't flinch or look upset
at all.  In fact, she kissed me hard, and opened her mouth just a
little, allowing her tongue to slip out and brush lightly against my
lips.  Encouraged, I let the tip of my tongue touch hers, and the
contact was electric.  Her mouth opened a little more, her tongue got
a little more daring, and she was making small noises deep within her
as she felt her passions begin to escalate.  As we kissed, her body
turned slightly away from me.  My hand at her waist was moved from
her side to her tummy, over her sweater.

I was so involved in enjoying the new development of our new way of
kissing, that her body language didn't register with me at first. 
Finally, one of those odd contact switches in my brain clicked, and
it occurred to me that this was her silent signal to me that it was
probably okay to take our physical relationship up another step.  I
slowly, cautiously allowed my hand to move up the outside of her
sweater, ready to call an instant retreat at the first sign of
discomfort.  I felt the nubby cotton of the knit of her sweater, and
then I could feel the harder edge of the bottom of her bra beneath. 
Still no sign of hesitation came from her; in fact, her kissing got
hotter and wetter as my hand moved further up, finally cupping her
small breast through the layers of clothing.  I caressed and lightly
squeezed her, and then slid over to pay attention to her other
breast, treating it the same.  I could just feel her expanding nipple
under my palm as I pressed my hand against her, squeezing and rubbing
and stimulating.

Unfortunately, it was a short ride to her house, and we arrived way
too soon for my liking.  But arrive we did, so we scooted out of the
back seat and I walked her, as usual, to her door.

This time, her goodnight kiss held quite a bit of heat, no doubt
left over from our activities of a few moments before.

"You are a surprising young lady," I said as I held her there.

Again I thought I could detect a blush.  "I don't want you to think
I'm cold," she whispered.

"Hey, I've seen you dance.  You are anything but cold, sweetie."  I
kissed her again.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," she said.  "My momma taught me a
dance..."  She stopped talking abruptly, and this time I knew she was
blushing fiercely.  It made my blood race a little faster through me,
let me tell you.

"Will you dance it for me?" I asked teasingly.

"Oh, maybe some day," she replied coquettishly.  "If you're a very
good boy."  She pecked me on the lips and turned to the door.  "Good
night, mas querido.  Sleep well."

Sleep well, she said.  It would be a very long time before I could
get the image of Kristina Mendoza, her cinnamon skin naked and
glowing as she danced alone just for me, out of my mind enough to be
able to fall asleep.  By that time, my hand was sore, but
satisfaction was still a long, long way away.



(Continued in Chapter 30)

 
---------------------------------------------------------------------

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@hotmail.com
Don't be shy!  I enjoy hearing from you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------




PLAYING THE GAME
by Reverend Cotton Mather



- 30 -

TRUST BETRAYED


Tryouts for the girl's varsity and junior-varsity soccer teams were
held at the beginning of March.  Jen, Ashley and Molly ended up on
the JV team, while Kristina and Tessa both made the varsity team. 
Practice was every day after school, starting about the second week
of March.  The girls were doing a lot of running laps, out on the
track when the weather cooperated, and in the gymnasium when it
didn't.  The girls did a lot of good-natured complaining about it,
but they knew the benefits of all that boring running of laps would
pay off once the season began.

Because of her practice schedule, I couldn't see or call Kristina
much during the week.  Her parents were very strict anyway, and with
so much of her free time taken up with soccer, she only had time for
homework after dinner.  No time for poor Sean.

I had a plan, though.  My sixteenth birthday was coming up the first
week of April, and so was Toby's.  We came up with the idea that we
should have a combined birthday party to celebrate.  My parents
offered to host the party, so all our friends were invited over to my
house on the first Saturday of April.  Toby and I asked Ashley and
Kristina if they could come over early in the afternoon to hang out
with us while we got the basement ready for the party, which they
did.  Toby and Ashley had become something of an item, ever since the
turnabout dance in February, when they discovered a remarkable
compatibility together that began on the dance floor, and expanded
from there.  I was really happy about it for Toby's sake, because it
meant that he was finally getting over his serious crush on Jen
Davies, who still was madly in love with Sam.  Ashley was a better
fit for him anyway, I thought, since she didn't tower over him by a
foot like Jen did.  The four of us had a great afternoon getting set
for the party, watching TV, and gossiping about our friends.

Most of our friends were at the party.  The music was loud, there
were some quieter and darker corners for the couples (though my
parents made sure they patrolled those areas frequently), drinks were
spilled, chips and dips were consumed in huge quantities, and
everybody seemed to be having a very good time.

At one point, during the height of the party, Eric came over to me.

"How's it going, Sean?  Another year older, huh?" he said.

"Yeah, the time's really flying now," I replied.  "One day you're a
fifteen year old punk, and the next thing you know you've got your
driver's license, and you've got a bunch more new friends needing
rides."

"Don't I know it.  I got my license and all of a sudden I had to
start driving my younger brother and sister around all the time.  Got
old pretty quick," he complained.  I could sympathize.  My brother
Michael was more than happy to see me get my license, since that
meant that I could drive our younger brother Stephen around now,
instead of him having to cart the both of us.  "Hey, have you heard
the rumors going around about your old girlfriend?" he asked.

I shook my head.  This oughta be good, I thought to myself.

"You know she broke up with Scotty, right?" he asked.  I hadn't
known, but then I wasn't paying a lot of attention to what Molly was
up to lately, either.  "Well, Scott's been spreading some dirt about
her.  About how she was putting out for him so easy at first, but
then shut him out after awhile.  Calling her an ice bitch, things
like that."

"You're kidding."

"Nope.  Ask Keisha.  She's really been getting the down-and-dirty
from the rumor-mills in the girls' johns at school.  Anyway, the
story that Keisha picked up is that Molly was two-timing Scotty with
Trent, then dropped them both and jumped on Mikey Evanson for a poke."

"You have got to be shitting me, Eric.  Molly is doing this?  What
the hell is wrong with her?"

Jake walked up, just in time to hear my question.  "You guys talking
about Molly 'I'll Do Anything For a Long Hard One' O'Toole?  Yeah, I
heard, too," he said.

"I don't believe it," I said, shaking my head at the news.  "What
the hell is she trying to prove?"

"I don't know, but her brother better not find out about it," said
Jake, glancing over in Josh's direction.

"On a happier note, man, it looks like you and Kristina have got
things going," said Eric.  "You're a lucky dude.  She's one of a
kind."

"Yeah, well, my track record for keeping women happy is a pretty
dismal 0-1 so far," I said.  "I'm trying, but who knows how
successful I'll be."

"You know the secret to keeping a woman happy, don't you?" asked
Eric.  Jake and I looked at each other questioningly, then both said
no.

"Just repeat after me: 'Yes, dear, Of course it was my fault,
Anything you want, my little love-muffin' and everything will be
hunky-dory," he said.

We all laughed.

"Lessons in life we could all learn from," said Jake.

As a birthday party treat, my parents agreed to let me drive Josh
and Andrea and Kristina home after the party.  I was using my mom's
old car, a '75 Buick Century with a split bench seat in the front. 
Josh and Andrea got into the back, and Kristina slid over next to me
as I started up the old beast.  We were barely out of the driveway
when I heard giggling and kissing noises coming from the back. 
Kristina looked at me and smiled, taking my arm and holding it as I
tooled down the street.

In almost no time at all, I was pulling into Andrea's driveway.  I
stopped the car, throwing it into park while we waited for them to
disentangle from each other and walk up to her front door.  While
Josh was kissing her and saying goodnight, I slipped my arm around
Kristina's shoulder.  She tilted her head up, and I bent down and
kissed her tenderly and softly, just the way I knew she liked to be
kissed.

The back door opened and Josh climbed back in.

"All right, you guys, that's enough," he complained good-naturedly. 
"Can't you see I'm lonely back here?  It's bad enough I don't have my
girlfriend here, I have to watch you two and your disgusting public
display of affection?"

I took my arm back from around Kristina's shoulder and put the car
in reverse.  As I was looking through the back window, backing out of
the driveway, I glanced at Josh.

"It's not exactly a public place here, I don't think.  But we'll
stop anyway, because we are sensitive to your loneliness," I said.

"Thank you very much," he shot back.  "Thank you from the bottom of
my bottom."

"Josh!  That's gross!" Kristina complained, but I could see she was
smiling as she said it.

I drove through the side streets to Josh's house and dropped him
off.  I was reluctant to drive straight to Kristina's house, wanting
to spend as many minutes with her as I could, so I turned in the
opposite direction, intending to just drive around for a few minutes
with her by my side.

"Good, I don't want to go home just yet," she whispered when she saw
that I had turned in a different direction.

We drove slowly down the street.

"Stop over there," she said, pointing to a dark area in the middle
of the next block.  I pulled over to the curb, in front of a new
house under construction.  There were no lights around us as we came
to a stop under a tree, the street lights on the corner too far away
to afford much light here in the middle of the block.

It was chilly out, so I left the car running with the lights off.  I
turned to her and put my arm around her once more.  She turned into
me, slipping her arm around my back as she tilted her face up,
inviting me to kiss her.  I bent down and pressed my lips to hers in
a soft, warm and tender kiss.  I planted lots of little kisses on her
lips, the corners of her mouth, her cheeks, and her chin, receiving
lots in return.  I didn't want to rush her in any way, so I contented
myself to nibbling and kissing her softly.  Finally, her lips found
their way to mine, and I could feel her trembling as her mouth opened
just slightly and the tip of her tongue just touched my mouth.  My
lips parted, and my tongue slipped out to meet hers, tip to tip,
before retreating and breaking the kiss.  I nuzzled her throat,
feeling the heat radiating from her skin just below her ear, and
returned for another kiss.  Her lips and tongue were bolder now,
being guided in their explorations by her rising temperature, until,
after several brief darting jabs at each other, our mouths finally
opened and our lips sealed onto each other as our tongues intertwined
in our first truly hot, wet, demanding kiss.

She moaned into my mouth and twisted her body so she could hold me
tighter against her.  My hand snaked around her waist to hold her
tightly to me.  My knee was pressed against hers, our torsos twisted
around as I struggled to get even closer to her around the steering
column of the car.  She reached up and threw her arm around my neck
as we kissed, and I could feel her sweater inch up from her jeans, so
that two of my fingers were resting against the hot skin of her lower
back.

Just that small touch of her soft skin lit the afterburners in my
body, and my blood raced through me, making me feel flushed and
swollen.  My fingers slipped under her sweater, still at her waist,
and rested there, reveling in the feel of her incredibly smooth skin.
My hand warmed from the touch, my fingers tingling, as I pressed my
palm hard against her back.

She moaned again, and pulled me even harder to her.  I took that as
a good sign.  My hand on her waist, almost on its own, began to slide
up her side under the sweater, tracing the hidden musculature just
under the soft layer of skin.  My fingers felt the rough cotton and
elastic of her bra, and quite naturally followed its path under her
arm to cup her small, round covered breast under the sweater.  She
was making lots of small sounds into my mouth now, and she twisted
just slightly, giving my hand a little more room to caress her.  I
gently squeezed the soft mound, feeling her true shape for the first
time, and wondering all over again at the miracle of the female form.
My hand followed her bra back around under her arm again, intent on
finding the key to releasing the treasure.  Without seeming to move,
her body language spoke of disappointment that I had abandoned her
boob, but I had better plans in mind for both of us.  I fumbled at
her back, fingers searching for the complicated hooks and eyes I had
encountered a few times before, and found none.

I think I might have panicked as my hand scrambled around,
scratching and searching for the secret to her confining bra.  She
stopped kissing me for a moment and giggled slightly as she reached
under her sweater in front of her.  The tight strap mysteriously came
loose on her.  As she reached back up to pull me down to resume our
kissing, she whispered, "It attaches in front."

She opened her mouth against me again, her tongue intruding and
exploring the recesses of my teeth and gums, as she twisted just a
little away from me in my arms, giving my hand a hint as to where she
wanted it to go.  I obliged by slipping under the now loose bra, back
to her front, to gently grasp the bare skin of her pliant breast.  I
pressed my palm against her, feeling her nipple expand against it,
and then lightly pinched the swollen nub to stimulate it even more. 
I hefted the small weight of her boob, held the whole thing in the
palm of my hand, felt the heat emanating from her.

We stayed like that for a time, kissing each other while she held
the back of my head and I held her breast like a precious work of
art, until the headlights of a car turning down the street from the
corner interrupted our reverie.  We both glanced at the clock on the
dashboard.

"I've got to get home," she said regretfully.  "Jorge is probably
already there, and my parents will be worried that I didn't come home
with him."

I reluctantly let go of her, and she reached under her sweater and
put her clothes back into place, lifting up on the seat to pull her
sweater back down.  I watched her sadly, wishing fervently we could
have continued, but I had made a promise to myself that she would
guide me.  I would only go as far as she was unhesitatingly willing
to go, and would not push her to go beyond.  I could see now, though,
that it would not be an easy promise to keep.

Two minutes later, I was walking her to her door.  The porch light
went on just as soon as we stepped to the door.  She reached up and
kissed me lightly on my cheek just before the front door opened, and
she stepped inside.

"Thank you, Sean," she said.  "Good night."

It was a long time before I finally fell asleep.  That night I
dreamed of a raven-haired beauty, dressed all in black, dancing a
samba just for me.



Just as soccer practice had started for the school teams, the
recreational teams for all ages were starting to gear up.  I got a
call from Davey and Kip's coach, Bill Pinella, asking if I would be
his assistant coach for the spring session.  To help seal the deal,
he had asked Lori Wilkinson to call me, too.  She told me that the
boys were clamoring to see me again.

"It seems to them like it's been years since they saw you," she said.

"Well, it's been since the fall sometime," I recalled.

"So, will you do it?  Will you help out Bill with his team?"

"Sure, Lori, I'll be glad to," I said.

Bill and I met a couple of times at his house to go over some drills
he had in mind for the team.  He was going to be out of town for a
couple of games, and he insisted on letting me make up my own lineups
for those games.

The first couple of practices we held were just information
gathering exercises for us, watching the boys kick the ball around,
timing them as they ran up and down the field, and asking each one
which position he liked to play best and why.  They still had plenty
of soccer left to play before they got locked into a specific
position, or even being labeled defense or offense, so we didn't take
anything they said too seriously, knowing full well how changeable
kids that age could be.

After the second practice, I recruited Jorge to come along to some
of our practices.  We had a core of three boys who were most
interested in playing keeper, so Jorge took those three aside for
about 30 minutes each time and worked with them on punting, blocking,
and moving their defensive players around the field.  The three
keepers got more and more enthusiastic about trying out their new
knowledge in a game, so we dedicated the last half of each practice
to scrimmaging, dividing the team in half and playing either a half-
field game or a full-field scrimmage.  Sometimes we drew lanes on the
field with flour, making them stay within their lanes.  Some days the
lanes had about 10 feet of space between them, sometimes we drew them
so they overlapped, but the rule always was don't step out of the
lane.  We knew that when it came to game time, they would follow the
ball anyway, but we were trying to convince them that if they played
positions, they would be able to move the ball better.  Some days it
worked, some days it didn't.

Lori came down whenever she could to watch at least the last half of
practice.  She asked if I could work with the boys again on the side,
and I was looking forward to helping them out again.  She also
mentioned that Molly was still babysitting for her occasionally, but
she had noticed that she was pretty unhappy lately, and asked if I
knew anything about it.

"Nope, I don't," I said.  "Molly and I haven't really spoken much
since around November."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Sean," she said.  "I thought you two made a
really cute couple together."

"Well, at the time I thought so, too, but what can you do," I replied.

She could tell I really didn't care to talk much about it, so she
dropped the subject.



A couple of weeks after my birthday, I borrowed my mom's car and
picked up Kristina for our Saturday date.  It had been a warm and
sunny day, the first real promise of the summer to come.  We decided
to forego the movie we were going to see, and instead drove to Silver
Lake, a town close to us that had built up around its namesake body
of water.  There was a public promenade all around the lake, with
park benches and gazebos and a band shell, so we parked the car at
dusk and just started meandering around the lake, pausing and sitting
when we felt like it, walking and holding hands when we got tired of
sitting.

It took us a couple of hours to make our way all the way around the
lake, and we were kind of chilled by the time we got back to the car.
Ours was the only car left in the lot as I started it up and threw
the fan and heater on high.

"Ohhh, I'm so cold," she complained as she scooted over to nestle up
against me.  I put my arm around her and pulled her tighter to me.

"Snuggle up here, I'll warm you up," I said as I wrapped my arms
around her.  She twisted around to press more of herself up against
me, trying to take advantage of my body heat.  I unzipped my light
jacket and pulled it around her as she shivered against me, her face
tucked under my arm and her arms drawn in to her.

I felt the beginnings of heat coming from the floorboards.  "It's
warming up now," I said.  She just shook her head and burrowed deeper
into me, now snaking her arms around me, inside my jacket, to hold me
around my waist.

"You could probably safely come out now," I said as I felt my feet
begin to warm.  She shook her head again, staying right where she
was.  "Come on, you can do it," I said encouragingly.  Again she
shook her head, and pulled even tighter on me.  I grasped her
shoulders and gently pulled her out from her warm cocoon.  She lifted
her head and smiled at me, then moved up closer to me.  I bent down
and kissed her softly.  She practically purred as I kissed her, her
pleasure and contentment obvious, even to me.

I felt her lips open slightly, her signal that she wanted more.  I
let the tip of my tongue peek out and touch her warm lips, and they
parted a little more as her own tongue came out to meet mine, tips
touching and caressing, exchanging information on a cellular level.

My own internal temperature climbed, and I stopped kissing her long
enough to reach for the zipper of her coat.  She watched me solemnly
as I slowly lowered the tab and opened her coat so I could slip my
arms around her.  When I did, my hands encircling her waist, she
closed her eyes and lifted her face up to kiss me again, opening her
lips a little more and becoming more daring with her tongue in my
mouth.  She suddenly thrust her tongue as deeply as she could into
me, and the resultant flare that shot through me almost made me cry
out.  My hand found its way to the hem of her sweatshirt, and my
fingers wormed their way underneath, encountering the soft skin of
her tummy.  I could feel the depression of her belly button, but that
particular area was not my goal at the moment, as my hand slipped up
her sternum to find her small breasts.  I grasped one and squeezed,
slid my hand over to fondle the other, then moving back to the first,
almost as if comparing the roundness and firmness of her feminine
charms.  Her tongue continued thrusting into me, taking my breath
away, as I found the front clasp of her bra, having learned from my
previous session, and I managed to fumble with the clasp until the
encasing material magically parted to allow me access to her hot,
desirable flesh.

As soon as I released her swelling breasts and touched her engorged
nipples, she moaned and opened her mouth as wide as she could,
inviting my own tongue in to invade and explore.  I was so confused,
my brain so addled from the fires raging in me, that I didn't know
what to concentrate on.  I really wanted to lift her sweatshirt off
so I could pay proper homage to the treats in the palm of my hand,
but that was impossible, so I let my tongue do its exploring within
the moist confines of her mouth, while my fingers played with the
exquisite treasures of her boobs.

My cock was painfully swollen, caught in the seam of my jeans, so I
reluctantly abandoned her soft breast for a moment and took my hand
out from under her sweatshirt so I could make a minor adjustment of
my own.  Her body language spoke of disappointment that I seemed to
be done with her sensitive nipples, until she realized what I was
doing.  Of her own volition, she dropped her hand onto mine as I
adjusted the position of my steely cock.  As I twisted in the seat
and repositioned my shaft, her hand stayed on top of mine, feeling
what I had done.  I slipped my hand from beneath hers, and felt her
hesitate when her hand dropped onto my hard cock, feeling its length
and girth for the first time.  She allowed her hand to lie there,
passively holding me, creating even more blood flow into the area.  I
was afraid I might go off in my jeans if she did start to hold me,
but it was a chance I was willing to take.  Her actions made me bold
enough to reach back for her waist, but instead of gliding up her
body back to her delightful breasts, I moved my hand to the snap of
her jeans.  She was not quite ready to take that large step, however,
and she abandoned my crotch to grab my wrist, stopping me.  I placed
my hand flat on her tummy, and she returned to exploring my cock
through my pants, taking up where she had left off.  After a few
moments of letting my hand rest there, I tried rubbing her through
the layers of her clothes, at first lightly and slowly moving from
the snap of her jeans to between her parted legs, and then
progressively pressing harder on her as she allowed this intimacy. 
Finally I was pushing against her covered cunt hard, and I could feel
her legs quiver as they lay open for me.  Her kisses were very hot
and wet, and our tongues were squirming and darting, licking and
tasting without reservation.  Judging that she just might be ready
for more, I took the tab of her zipper and tried to lower it without
undoing the snap on her jeans.  As I struggled to slide it down, her
hand on my cock stopped its rubbing as she paused, waiting to see
what I was going to do.   Her zipper parted, and I slipped my hand
into the opening, encountering the silky fabric of her panties.

I felt hot moisture soaking her panties as my fingers moved lower. 
Her jeans were too tight for me to be able to reach the source of the
heat, but I could just detect the crinkle of her pubic hair through
the thin fabric of her panties with my fingertips.  I felt her hips
move up slightly off the seat, and her legs parted just a little, and
suddenly there was a bit more room for my fingers.  I pushed a little
harder, and my fingertips found where her hot oils were coming from
as I pushed the crotch of her panties into the top of her slit,
soaking up more of her smooth, hot liquid.  I pressed against her,
vainly seeking her clit and her opening through the fabric, trying to
wish away our clothes.  She broke our kiss, panting and gasping at
the sensations rolling through her.  Her hand was now clutching at my
rock hard cock, creating a monumental pressure within me.  I pulled
my hand out to scramble for the snap of her jeans, intending to invade
the barrier of her panties and claim the prize my fingers wanted, but
that tripped a circuit breaker in her.  She froze, and grabbed my
hand, stopping me from continuing.

"No, Sean, please.  I can't."  She was still breathing very hard,
and I knew that what she did was nearly as difficult on her as it was
on me, but I couldn't deny her.  I looked into those huge brown eyes,
looking so longingly at me, and took my hand completely out of her
pants and pulled her by the waist to me.  I lowered my face to her
and kissed her soft lips, bending to her will without reservation. 
We kissed and cuddled for a time, lost in our own thoughts of wishes
and acceptance, unspoken longings and unfulfilled desires balanced by
the unreserved respect of our individual silent vows.  Our kisses
became more and more chaste, until finally they were as we had
started, soft and tender and loving.



Two weeks later, I had a very busy weekend planned.  The girls had
their first game on Friday night, and I was going to watch the
varsity team play.  There was a pizza party planned for after the
game, and Kristina and I were going to go.  On Saturday morning, she
was coming over to my house to work on a project we were doing
together for our English class.  We had the same teacher, but were in
different classes, so the assignments were the same for both classes.
Then, later in the afternoon, Davey and Kip had their first game of
the season.  I was hoping that the lane drills we had been using
would pay off during a game situation, and was anxious to see how it
worked.

The weekend started out great.  The girls played hard on Friday,
winning their game 3-0.  Tessa tallied her first shutout as a varsity
keeper, and Kristina scored the final goal, powering a shot in from
just inside the box after taking a crossing pass.

After the game, we all went to a local hangout and ordered pizzas
and sodas, talking about the game and laughing over some of the
little errors that didn't affect the outcome at all.  Most of the
team was there, along with a bunch of friends of the team, including
Jorge, Molly, Toby and Ashley.  Tessa had decided, sometime over the
course of the spring, that maybe I wasn't the Devil incarnate, and
was back to being relatively friendly to me again.  Molly still
didn't talk to me much, but we weren't enemies, either, so everybody
at the pizza place was comfortable, and happy that they got their
first win under their belts.  I ended up driving Jorge and Kristina
back to their house afterwards.  Jorge, in his usual considerate way,
quickly slipped out of the car as soon as it was stopped, giving
Kristina and I a moment together so we could share one quick kiss. 
It wasn't nearly enough, but it would have to do.

On Saturday, Kristina's mother dropped her off at my house so we
could work on the project.  Mrs. Mendoza came in for a moment and
chatted with my mom in the kitchen.  I'm sure she wanted to make sure
Kristina and I hadn't just cooked up a plan to be alone, but we
really did have homework to do.  My brother Michael was home, too,
coming in and out of the house for drinks and snacks as he washed and
waxed his recent purchase, a 1977 Honda Accord.

After about an hour, my mom called us down for lunch.  As we were
eating, she said, "I hope you guys don't mind cleaning up after
lunch.  I have to go to my bridge club this afternoon."

"No, Mom, that's all right," I said.

"If you need anything, Michael is working on his car in the
driveway," she added.

"Okay, no problem.  We'll just be working here."  We were set up in
the family room, and had the stereo going.  Kristina went back in to
continue working while I cleaned up the kitchen after lunch.

When I got done in the kitchen, I walked into the family room to get
back to work.  Kristina was lying on the floor on her stomach, one
leg bent up into the air, writing in the journal we were creating. 
It was a warm spring Saturday, and she was wearing  a short t-shirt
that had ridden up just a little, to leave a thin strip of skin
showing above her shorts.  She looked absolutely delicious, so
scrumptious that I just couldn't resist.  I knelt down next to her
and kissed the gap between her t-shirt and her shorts.  She squirmed
a little.

"Stop it, Sean," she said, but she really didn't sound like she
meant it, so I did it again.

"Sean!" she complained, but there was a laugh in her voice.  She
pretended to keep on writing as I scooted down and kissed the back of
her bent knee.  She squirmed again, but it wasn't to get away from
me.  This squirm had a definite hint of excitement in it, especially
when she straightened out her leg for me.  It seemed like an open
invitation to me, so I did it again, this time eliciting a humming
"Mmmmmmm" from her.

I kissed my way up the back of her thigh, all the way up to the hem
of her shorts, and worked my way back down again to the back of her
knee.  Her leg was silky smooth on my lips, and I could feel the
fires begin to stoke within me as I continued.  I worked my way
slowly back up her thigh, nibbling and kissing along one leg and
running just my fingertips, so lightly I was barely touching her, up
her other thigh.  Her legs parted slightly, an involuntary reaction
that I didn't think she even realized was happening.  She lay still,
the journal forgotten as she concentrated on the signals being
transmitted through her nervous system.

I began to caress just a little more with my fingertips, still
reveling in the silken feel of her skin on my lips and tongue and
fingers.  I kissed and caressed up and down her legs, each time a
memorable journey of discovery.  Finally, as I approached the hem of
her shorts, I grasped the material in my teeth for a moment, and then
stuck my tongue up the leg of her baggy shorts as far as I could,
pushing up the material with my face as I went, until I got to the
edge of her panties covering her tight butt, tasting the salt on her
skin from her thigh to the crease along the bottom of her ass.  I was
beginning to catch the faintest whiff of her excitement, a rush of
pheromones that entered my nasal passages and raced directly into the
core of my brain.

She was still propped up on her elbows, her head back and her eyes
closed as she concentrated on the pleasures she was experiencing.  As
I was kissing and chewing on the edge of her shorts and panties, I
traced a line from her knee, up the inside of her thigh, with just
one finger.  Her legs parted more, anticipating and unconsciously
encouraging further explorations of her most sensitive areas.  I let
that finger slide beneath her shorts and trace the line of the edge
of her panties, along the flare of her ass and to her damp crotch.  I
felt along that route, back and forth, without delving to her damp
center, building up pressure and expectation in her, wanting to make
her first experience of another's caress within her female flesh one
of pleasure and, hopefully, release.

Her legs were splayed apart now, and I used my hand to push up the
material of her shorts and her cotton underwear, exposing as much of
the soft globes of her ass as possible to my lips and tongue.  I
continued to caress her, now able to explore more of her.  Finally, I
was able to delve into the crack of her ass, encountering heat and
moisture coming from her drooling slit.  I touched her soft pussy
lips for the first time, coating my fingertips with her oily wetness,
gently exploring her folds.

I held her open with my fingers as I knelt between her legs and
reached into her center with my tongue, tasting her for the first
time.  She jerked when she first felt me lick her, but then she
moaned, accepting and enjoying the sensation.

It was a little difficult to work around her clothes, so I reached
up and grasped the elastic waist of her shorts and tried to pull them
down.  They didn't want to come off easily, at least until she
hunched up, taking her weight off, allowing me to slide them down her
hips.  I scrambled out of the way and pulled them the rest of the way
off.  Her eyes were still closed, almost as if she didn't want to see
me seeing her so naked and vulnerable as she lay there, still on her
stomach.  I grasped her slender hips and gently tried to roll her
over.  Without opening her eyes even a fraction, she allowed herself
to be rolled over onto her back.  She tucked her hands up under her
chin, arms tight to her chest, as I knelt beside her.  I caressed her
soft thigh again with one hand, touching her knee and letting my
fingers explore the inside of her leg, all the way up to the pink
flesh of her flowered pussy.  As my hand went further up, her legs
parted for me, opening the way for me to continue, until they were
wide apart.  I lay down between her legs and kissed her legs where my
fingers had been, starting once more at her knee, and moving up with
soft nibbles and kisses, until my lips met her opening.  I felt the
tickling of her sparse hair brushing up against my nose as I let just
the tip of my tongue explore her inner recesses, from her flooding
hole to her engorged clit, tasting and licking and loving her the
best I could.

Her hips started contributing to the motions, moving of their own
volition to guide my lips and tongue as I tried to lap up as much of
her deliciously tangy moisture as I could.  I reached up with one
hand, running it under her t-shirt to grasp her bra-covered breast. 
She moaned even louder, and her hands scrambled to release the front
catch of her bra, lifting it up and out of the way before grabbing my
hand and pressing it hard to her swollen breast and sensitive nipple.

She was panting hard now, and there was a little nearly breathless
screech at the end of each exhalation as her hips began to bump up
against my face.  One of her hands was still holding my hand to her
boob, and the other was tangled in the hair on the back of my head as
she unconsciously pushed me harder into her as I licked and probed. 
Finally, I began to trill on her swollen clitoris, using my tongue to
bat it like a boxer's speed bag, while at the same time I plunged my
middle finger deep into her vagina.  I could feel her walls pulsing
and spasming around my invading finger as she was driven over the
edge, and my taste buds were rewarded with a small flood of her hot
juices bathing my tongue.  I lapped up what I could as she came,
panting and crying out softly, her back arched in ecstasy, until,
finally, she collapsed back to the floor.  I took one last, loving
caress of her deepest folds with my tired tongue, and then scooted up
to her, putting my arm around her to hold her tight.

Her eyes were still closed, tears leaking out from under her lashes,
as I hugged her to me.  She put her arms around me, and, unseeing,
reached up to kiss me.  Her tongue poked out to lick at my lips as
she kissed me, and she encountered the taste of her own pussy for the
first time.  She was enthralled with it.  She began to lick my mouth
and cheeks, finding all evidence of her juices and lapping it up,
cleaning me from nose to chin, cheekbone to cheekbone.  When she
could find no more, she rolled over on top of me and kissed my lips
as hard as she could, forcing my mouth open so she could invade my
mouth with her tongue, trying to find the last remnants of the taste
she had come to love.

I let my hands wander down her back to grasp the cheeks of her
lovely ass, pressing her harder against my raging cock.  She nestled
down on me, pressing against my hardness with her lower body.  Her
hips flexed a little, creating delicious friction against me.  I
could feel her pussy drooling, leaving a spot of hot, oily moisture
on my shorts.  I was about to suggest we go up to my room, away from
the possibility of discovery by my brother, when the telephone rang.

"Shit," I muttered.  I scrambled up from under her, my cock still
achingly hard in my pants, and reached for the phone.

"Is Kristina there, please?"  It was her mother's voice.  Oh, great,
I thought.  A hell of a time for her to be calling, but I didn't say
anything, just handed the phone over to Kristina, who was struggling
to put her clothes back on and in order.

"Hello?"  She paused, listening.  "Si, Mama.  Si.  Adios."

She turned to me after hanging up the phone.  "My mom is coming to
pick me up.  I'm sorry, Sean."  She looked crestfallen, but I thought
she might have been a little relieved that we didn't have more time
to go even further than we did.  I, on the other hand, was not
relieved at all.  In fact, I was in some discomfort, having been left
in the lurch, in a manner of speaking.  I wondered if there was any
factual basis behind the theory of taking a cold shower.

Looking at the clock, though, I realized I might not have time for
even that cold shower.  Davey and Kip's soccer game was starting
shortly.  As soon as Kristina's mother picked her up, I would have to
borrow Michael's car and get to the game.  Frustration mounted on
frustration.  It wasn't Kristina's fault that her mother called, and
I had to be going anyway, but I still felt like I had been put
through the wringer by circumstances beyond my control.

We picked up our study materials in silence.  Kristina's shoulders
were a little hunched, and she kept on glancing at me with a worried
expression.  I knew she had detected my mood, and it was upsetting
her, but I couldn't find the right words to say to her to ease her
mind.  I just wasn't in an easing frame of mind, so I let her suffer
a little.

A car honked from the driveway.  Kristina headed for the front door,
books and papers in her arms.  I opened the door for her.  I still
couldn't think of anything meaningful to say to her.

"I'll see you later," I said lamely.

"Okay, Sean."  There was a hint of tears in her eyes that I tried to
ignore.  "Good luck at the game this afternoon.  Will you call me
later?"

"Sure, I'll call you tonight after I get back home," I said.  Maybe
by then I could come up with the proper words to tell her how much I
cared for her, words that just escaped me now.

I closed the door and sighed, disgusted with myself, and trudged
upstairs to change my clothes for the game.  I did have just enough
time to test out that cold shower theory.

It didn't work.

Michael was going out with some buddies tonight, so he let me borrow
his nice, clean car so I could get to the soccer game.  I got there
with just minutes to spare, so I ran out onto the field to give Coach
Bill a hand with warm-ups.  The referee came over to inspect the team,
and patiently explained to the young boys about how the game was to
come to a stop whenever he blew his whistle.  He also talked for just
a moment about throw-ins, hand balls, and other fairly common things
that were bound to come up in the course of a game, explaining how he
would be calling the infractions he saw.  The information was nothing
new to Bill or I, but it was good to have the boys reminded of the
rules of the game by someone in a uniform.

We took the boys over to the sidelines and talked to them briefly
before giving them their positions for the start of the game.

"How shall we play the game today, boys?" asked Coach Bill.

"Zones and lanes!" they shouted.

"Right!  Okay, remember that your lanes overlap.  That means that
you, Justin," he said, pointing to the boy who would be playing
center forward, "can move a little bit into Joey's lane on the left,
or into Davey's lane on the right."

"Oh...KAY!" shouted Justin.

"Now, Joey," he said, turning to his left forward, "can you go into
Justin's lane?"

"Yup," said Joey.

"Right.  And can you go into Davey's lane?" asked Bill.

"No way, Jose!" Joey yelled.  All the kids started laughing.

"That's right," called out Coach Bill.  The boys quieted down a
little.  "Play your lanes, and pass the ball."

Davey called out our passing chant, "One potato look, two potato
pass!"

"Exactly right!" exclaimed Bill.  "Are you ready?  Okay, team, go
out there and show them how this game is played!"

They all jumped up and down, shouting and hooting as Bill called out
their names and sent them out to the field to take their positions. 
Davey was playing forward on the left, Kip was our center midfielder.
We had three boys in reserve to substitute where we needed them.  We
were playing 12-minute quarters, and I knew by the end of the game,
some of our kids would be dog-tired.  We would be able to substitute
9 of the 12 players during the game, which meant that three boys
would have to play the whole game.  We mapped out a plan so that
those three would rotate into the goalkeeper's jersey for one quarter
each, so at least they wouldn't be out running the entire time.

We were playing a newly formed team, and their coach was one of the
dads who had been "volunteered" for the job.  He was willing, but he
really didn't know the game very well.  Our team, on the other hand,
was almost entirely intact from the fall session, so they were more
experienced.  Coach Bill had let me introduce some new drills to our
practices, many of them techniques I had found to be particularly
useful when I was learning the basics of positions and ball handling,
and we felt we had a pretty talented team on our hands by this point.
Bill and I stayed on the sidelines, shouting out encouragement and
moving our players up or back on the field as we saw how the game was
developing.  We made sure we were on the opposite side of the field
from where the parents were sitting, reasoning that our instructions
could be separated by the players from the general noise and hubbub
coming from the spectators' side.

It all worked beautifully.  Our boys pretty much played their lanes,
with just a few excursions back into swarm-ball soccer, while the
opposing team's players all followed the path of the ball in a mob. 
The end result, 48 minutes of game time later, was our first win of
the season, 7-1.  Davey had scored three of the goals, Justin scored
two, and Joey and Kip each had one goal.  After we were up 4-0,
around the middle of the second quarter, we even pulled one player
off the field, willing to play short for the sake of fair play.  We
stayed that way through the entire second half, and still, even
playing down one player, outscored them 3-1 during that time.

All of the moms and dads of the boys on our team were going nuts on
the other side of the field, getting louder and crazier with each
goal.  When the referee blew his whistle to end the game, they all
came rushing out onto the field as if we had won a major championship
or something.  Bill and I just watched from the sidelines as our boys
were overrun by the mob of parents washing onto the field to
congratulate them.

Somebody suggested that everybody could meet at a local pizza parlor
for a victory celebration.  Since it was late in the afternoon, and
everybody was hungry, it was agreed that we would have a team dinner.

As Bill and I were packing up our equipment, Lori Wilkinson came
over to us, Davey and Kip at her sides looking upset.

"Bill, I hate to ask you this, but I can't go to the pizza party
tonight.  I'm meeting some friends for dinner, and I have to get home
and get ready.  I've got a babysitter scheduled to be there in just a
few minutes, but the boys really want to go with the rest of the
team."  She looked at the two of us and smiled.  "Do you think I
could impose on you to drop them off at our house after the party?"

Davey and Kip's eyes lit up at hearing that.  How could we refuse?

"Of course, Lori.  I'll be glad to," he said.

"I have my brother's car here, too," I added.  "If it's okay with
you that they ride with me, I'll take them over to the party so you
don't have to drop them off."

"Oh, Sean, that would be lovely."  She turned to the boys.  "Okay,
you guys, listen up.  Sean and Coach Bill are in charge.  What they
say goes.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mom!"  "Yes, Mom!"

"And wear your seat belts.  No excuses!" she added.

"We will, Mom."  "We always do, Mom."

"All right," she said, giving each of them a hug and a kiss before
walking off toward the parking lot.  She turned and waved at us as
she crossed the field.

By the time we got all the pizzas, it was later than we had
anticipated.  Most of the boys were starting to fade, and Bill kept
looking at his watch worriedly.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"My kids are home alone.  My wife is working tonight, and I've got
to get home and take care of them," he said.

"So go," I told him.  "I know where the Wilkinson house is.  I'll
drop off Davey and Kip for you."

"Are you sure, Sean?  I mean, Lori asked me to take them, but..."

"I'm sure.  Everything will be fine.  Lori's a friend, I know she'll
understand.  Go, take care of your own kids."

Bill thanked me and took off for home.  I waited until the boys were
stuffed full of pizza and sodas, and herded them out to the parking
lot.  They scrambled into the back seat of the Accord and fastened
their seat belts.  By the time I carefully pulled out into the
street, they were nodding off.

They were fast asleep by the time I got to their house.  I pulled
into the driveway, got out of the car, and reached into the back seat
and unfastened Davey's seat belt first.  I picked up the dead weight
of the sleeping boy and hitched him up so he was kind of draped on my
shoulder, and trudged up to the front door.  I was holding him up
with both hands, so I kicked at the door, hoping that the babysitter,
if she was still there, would hear me and open the door for me.

I wasn't too surprised when Molly O'Toole opened the door.  I
remembered hearing about some sort of cheerleading competition that
was going on this weekend, and Molly standing there in her
cheerleading skirt and letter sweater reminded me of it.  She must
have come here directly from the competition, instead of going home
to change first.  When she saw me, her eyes widened, until it
registered that Davey was asleep in my arms.  She held the door open
for me so I could carry him into the house.  I climbed the stairs and
set him down on his bed, and then went back down and out to the car
to get Kip.  Molly had followed me upstairs, and she was able to wake
Davey enough to help him get into his pajamas and climb under the
covers of his bed.  As soon as his head touched the pillow, he was
back asleep.

I waited downstairs, pacing back and forth in the family room, as
Molly got Kip into bed.  I was uncomfortable being there, but I
didn't want to be so rude as to just simply leave without a word. 
There was an artist's pad and colored pencils on the couch, and a
bowl of wax fruit on the coffee table.  It looked like Molly was
making good use of her time waiting for the boys to show up by
working on some art homework.  I picked up the pad and looked at it. 
It wasn't bad, even for a half-finished drawing, but the perspective
of the curve of the bowl looked wrong to me.  Not that I could do any
better, I reminded myself.  In fact, I had trouble drawing a stick
figure, so I really had no right to criticize Molly's work.

I put the pad down as I heard her come down the stairs.

"Not bad," I said, indicating her drawing.

She just shrugged.  "I'm not real happy with it," she said, sitting
down on the couch and picking up the paper.  "See?  I just can't get
this bowl right."  She flipped over the pad to show me some previous
attempts at the still life.  She was right.  She was struggling with
it, but each subsequent drawing was better than the previous one.

"Don't worry about it, you'll get it," I said.  I flopped down in
the easy chair.  I was nearly as tired as the boys, I realized.  It
had been a long day.

Molly picked up a bunch of wax grapes, their finish red and dusky,
and let them roll from one hand to the other absent-mindedly.

"I could get how the grapes are round," she said, "but that bowl is
really tough."  She held up the bunch, looking at them critically. 
"Most of these fruit have a curve to them.  Why is the bowl so
difficult?"

She tossed the grapes back into the bowl and picked up an artificial
banana.

"Even this," she said, looking at the yellow fruit, "has a shape I
can handle."

She glanced at me then, and held the end of the banana lightly
against her closed lips.  My tired mind registered how her pupils
dilated slightly, but the recognition didn't bubble up to the
conscious areas of my brain until, still holding the tip to her lips,
she said, "I like bananas."  Her lips parted slightly, her eyelids
drooped just a little, and the banana seemed to slide into her mouth
a fraction.

My brain may have been befuddled, but my body certainly recognized
the signals.  I felt a little light-headed as contacts closed,
synapses fired, and blood flow was suddenly redirected to my rapidly
inflating cock.

"Do you like tasty fruit, Sean?" she whispered.  "I know you do." 
Her fingers were sliding slowly up and down the wax banana now as she
held it close to her mouth and played with it.  I was frozen there,
my hands nailed to the arms of the chair, my legs out in front of me,
as I stared at her uncomprehendingly.  I was just peripherally aware
that my now rock-hard cock was jumping up in my sweatpants, pulsing
with the beat of my heart.  It was big and obvious, and Molly's eyes
were naturally drawn to my crotch.

"Oh, yes, I see that you do," she whispered as she stared, eyes
shining, at my rearing stalk.  Her legs parted slightly as she sat
up, leaning in toward me just a little.  She dropped her hands down
to her lap as I watched, riveted there.  I watched and did nothing as
she slowly lifted up her skirt, sliding the hem up her thighs until
her pale blue underwear was showing.  She still held the banana with
her other hand, and once her legs were fully exposed to me, she
slowly rubbed the banana across her panties, between her legs.  When
the tip of the wax fruit touched her covered cunt, she sighed, leaned
back and slitted her eyes, watching me all the time she was turning
us both on.

"I've missed you, Sean," she whispered hypnotically.  "Have you
missed me?"  Could I detect just a trace of dampness soaking through
the crotch of her panties as she rubbed the banana back and forth? 
Maybe so.  I wasn't sure.  My brain was seriously disconnected from
all that was happening.

"I've missed you a lot," she whispered.  She leaned forward and
dropped to her knees on the floor, and crawled over to me.  She put a
hand on each of my knees and pushed them up along the tops of my
thighs, letting them pause at my pelvis.  The crude monument of my
dick stood up, proud and straight, between her hands on me.  She was
looking into my face, her eyes now bright and shining and confident,
as she reached for the elastic waistband of my sweat pants.  She
grabbed the sweats and the elastic of my underwear at the same time,
and pulled them both down, exposing my raging cock to the air
momentarily, pulsing and blood red, before grasping it in her hot
hand and pumping me.

I sank even further into the chair and groaned, closing my eyes as
the sensations raced through me like a tidal wave.  It wasn't going
to take long to bring me off, considering my frustrations of earlier
in the afternoon, I thought disjointedly.  My crotch humped up into
her hand, desperately seeking the completion that I could not bring
to myself, dangerously near to that climax.  I felt something warm
and wet engulf the head of my oversensitive cock, and looked down to
see Molly with a different sort of banana, a fleshy appendage instead
of a wax substitute, in her mouth.  She was still looking up at me as
she blew me, and now her eyes looked amused.  When she saw me
watching her, she opened her mouth so I could watch her tongue lave
and drool all over my swollen cock, kicking up my temperature even
more.  She clamped down her lips on me again and sucked hard on me,
still holding my fevered gaze.  My hips rocked once, twice, three
times, trying to get more of me into her hot mouth, and then I went
off.

I came in what felt like buckets, filling her mouth with my hot
seed.  She swallowed, creating more suction, and I spasmed again,
giving her another taste of my spend, and she swallowed again, ready
for more.  She took all I had to give, working her lips and tongue
and fingers to coax as much out of me as I could give her, swallowing
each spasm and going for more.  I collapsed back even further into
the chair, drained completely, my eyeballs trying to roll back in
their sockets.  I felt her lick at me some more, until finally I
began to lose my hardness.  Still she held me in one hand, while with
the other she grabbed my arm, pulling me up and out of the chair.  I
stood on wobbly legs as she shucked my sweats off.  I lifted one leg
at a time and allowed her to pull them down and off my feet, pulling
my shoes off with them.  When I was naked from the waist down, she
coaxed me down onto the floor, never once relinquishing her hold on
my rubbery cock.  I lay down on my back, arms at my sides.  When she
had me positioned just right, she finally let go of me so she could
stand and reach under her skirt to take off her soaked panties and
toss them aside.  She pulled off her sweater, undid her bra, and
joined me on the floor, straddling me.  My half-hard cock dangled
onto my stomach, and she sat on me so that her drooling pussy was
pressing on it.  She leaned down and fed her swollen nipples to me,
and I suckled on her as she wanted.  My brain was screaming at me,
NoNoNoNoNo, even as my lips were exploring her luscious breasts.

My hands found their way to her tits, and I hefted them, feeling
their weight and substance, caressing the soft undersides.  I noticed
that I could feel a filling sensation in my crotch as blood started
flowing into my dick again.  Molly noticed, too, and reached down to
hold me in her hot little hand as I inflated and hardened.

"God, I love feeling it get big," she murmured to herself as I got
to my full length with her help.  She lifted up her hips and
positioned me against her opening, and sat down on me.  She was as
tight, hot and wet as I remembered her, and I let my hands rest on
her hips as she rode me up and down, taking her pleasure, her skirt
hiding our coupling from view.

I pressed my palms against her boobs as we fucked, feeling her
sensitive nipples slide up and down my hands with her movement.  She
leaned into my hands, pressing her breasts harder against me, making
a rougher connection on her swollen nubs.  She was panting by now,
and there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead as she concentrated on
humping herself to her own completion.

I was still pretty much out of it.  My hips started hunching up as
she was powering down on me, each of us trying to bury my shaft into
her to the hilt.  I didn't even think about what we were doing when I
started spurting within her again, while at the same time her cunt
was spasming around my pulsing cock as she reached her own orgasm. 
She was screeching, I was grunting, and we pushed each other to
crashing climaxes.  I felt like I was being turned inside out, I came
so hard.  It wasn't until she finally collapsed down on top of me
that it occurred to me, much too late, that we were unprotected.  I
had come inside her.  In fact, I was still buried in her, fluids
seeping out from our joining to coat both of us, our pubic hair
intertwined and damp with her oils and my seed.

That thought, more than anything, snapped me out of my funk.  I
pushed her off me and felt my spent cock slip from her warm cunt as I
rolled away from her.  I stood up and looked down at her in disgust. 
She didn't shy away from me, but looked boldly back at me, lying
there on the floor, a small smile on her face as if to say, I've won
you back after all.

I turned away from her, nauseated by the smell of our coupling, sick
to my stomach at what we had done, furious at myself and at her.  I
found my clothes and put them on as quickly as I could and slipped my
shoes on my feet without tying them.  I had to get out of there.

Without a word I ran out the door and jumped into my car.  I started
it up and backed out into the street without looking, jammed the car
into gear and took off for home.  My house was dark when I got there,
but I didn't want any lights on.  I ran upstairs to my room, tears
burning in my eyes.  I stripped off all my clothes, scrubbed on my
crotch with my sweat pants to try to remove the feel of Molly, to no
avail.  I stumbled down the hall naked, to the bathroom.  I turned on
the shower and crawled in.  The water was scalding as I sat huddled
in the corner of the shower stall, shivering and miserable.  Tears
were coursing down my cheeks as I recoiled at what I had done.  To
myself, to Molly, to Kristina.  I hated myself at that moment.  I
stayed there, miserable and wet, as the water pounded down on me,
slowly getting cooler and cooler, until it was icy cold.  Only then
did I manage to reach up and shut it off, but I could not move from
the cold floor of the shower stall.  I stayed there for a long, long
time, convinced that I was the most amoral, evil, worthless person I
knew, utterly without virtue or value.

And I was absolutely devastated at what I had done to Kristina and
her trust.  I could never face her again.  I never wanted to face
anybody ever again.


I think I passed out there, amid floating images of a cinnamon-
skinned innocent, a cunning strawberry blonde vixen, a lovely dark-
haired angel with braces, and a temptress with white-blonde hair
dressed in a genie's costume circling and harrowing my tortured mind
until blessed unconsciousness claimed me.



THE END
(for now)




Author's note:

And so ends the first book of "Playing the Game".  I hope you have
enjoyed the story of Sean Porter. I plan on picking up his story in
the near future in Book 2.  In the meantime, let me know your
thoughts on Sean's life so far.  I know what I think, but what do you
think?  You can contact me at RevCottonMather@hotmail.com or on my
message board at my website at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ReverendCottonMather/www

Thanks for sticking with me this far.

RCM

 
4/7/03: Book 2, entitled "Playing the Game II: Playing to Win", has
indeed seen the light of day.  I have been posting it, chapter by
chapter, since September, and Chapter 41, the conclusion of Book 2, is
due out in the next day or so.  I have also created a discussion board
and mailing list, via Yahoo Groups.  Please sign up if you want to be
notified of upcoming stories and events.  You can find me at

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/RCMStories/join

Once again, thanks for sticking with me through the telling of this
tale.  I appreciate it.

RCM

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