index


Message-ID: <47270asstr$1081170602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" <revcottonmather@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} RP Playing the Game III: The Competitive Edge, Ch. 16-20
Lines: 3482
Date: Mon,  5 Apr 2004 09:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


So we can all get caught up with the story...

Enjoy!



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

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 2004, Rev. Cotton Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather (at) hotmail (dot) com
Don't be shy!  I enjoy hearing from you.
---------------------------------------------------------------------



THE COMPETITIVE EDGE:
PLAYING THE GAME, BOOK III


by Reverend Cotton Mather




- 16 -

THE HEAT LET LOOSE



Kayla came to me then.  I shifted over on the bed and held the sheet
and blanket up for her in silent invitation.  She sat on the bed, her
back to me, and used the remote control to switch the television off.
She turned to me, and even in the darkness I could tell she was
smiling.

"I don't want you distracted by the TV," she said.  She giggled
softly as she slipped into bed beside me.

There was no way any television show was going to take my attention
away from my luscious angel, but I wasn't about to say anything.  If
she wanted the television off, she would have it off.

She settled against me, and I put my arms around her and held her to
me.  Her head rested comfortably beneath my chin as she wound her
arms around me, wanting to be as close to me as I wished to be with
her.  My initial anxiety wicked away like amorphous vapor as our
bodies adjusted to the familiar feel of each other.

'We fit together as if we were made to be together,' I said to
myself.  To Kayla, I whispered, "I love you so much."

She squeezed even closer to me.  "I love you, Sean."

She lifted her face to be kissed, and I accommodated her.  We
kissed, soft and gentle, letting our banked fires build at their own
speed.  I slid down just a little in the bed so Kayla wouldn't have
to stretch up to reach me, and our bodies readjusted slightly to the
new orientation.  I felt her breasts against my chest, and my
erection, growing by the second, began to intrude itself against her
hip.  She threw a leg across mine, pressing herself against my
hardening cock, and opened her mouth.  Her tongue met mine, and as
soon as they touched and began their jousting, the internal fires
began to roar.

Our lips sealed against each other, and suddenly there was a greater
need to press harder.  Our mouths opened wider, and our tongues began
searching deeper, more fully.  I heard somebody moan; it might have
been Kayla, but it could have been me.  My brain wasn't working so
well, melting as it was by the heat we were generating.

My hands slipped down her back, the lacy feel of her nightie
registering subliminally, and I scrunched it up so I could feel her
bare skin against my fingers.  I pushed the filmy material up as I
caressed her back, luxuriating in the feel of her soft and warm skin.
My right hand felt along her backbone, feeling each bump and ridge of
her vertebrae, and my left hand caressed the strong muscles of her
shoulders and upper back, feeling the soft layer of skin overlaying
the working musculature just beneath.

Kayla moaned again - this time I knew it was her - and she opened
her shoulder a little in invitation.  I accepted by following along
her ribs with my right hand, around her body to her small breast.

As soon as I pressed her soft mound against my palm, she broke our
kiss, threw her head back, and softly cried out, "Oh, God."  Her eyes
were closed as the sensations washed through her, and she
concentrated on them completely.  Her leg was rubbing up and down
mine, and her hips were moving against me, trying to establish more
contact with my now painfully hard cock.  The barrier of our clothes
kept the sensations muted just enough, and the ecstasy built, step
upon step.

Her nipple was a hard and sharp point in my palm.  I squeezed her
breast, and her head snapped back toward me.  With her eyes still
closed, her mouth searched for mine.  I kissed her cheek, and her
lips moved to mine and sealed against me again, her tongue once again
frantically searching for mine.  I abandoned her breast just long
enough to blindly search for the hem of her babydoll top.  I touched
her stomach and felt her muscles tense in anticipation as I slowly
ascended, now beneath the material, to once again take possession of
her soft breast.  My hand hefted the small weight of her boob before
covering it once again.  My fingers rubbed against her swollen
nipple, the friction sending needles of pleasure through her, as
evidenced by the increased movement of her hips and her leg.

I tried pinching her nipple.  Her hip released and bumped against
me.  I pinched again, and her hip bumped me once more.  Action,
reaction.  I knew I wouldn't be able to stand up against too many of
her bumps against my rampant cock, so I refrained from pinching her
nipple in favor of gently running my hand slowly across her chest to
her right breast.  I flexed my fingers against her flesh,
experiencing all over again the wondrousness of the female form.

Kayla broke our kiss and sat up.  She grasped the hem of her nightie
and pulled it over her head.  Her lovely blonde hair was pulled up as
she took off her top, only to cascade back down her face and
shoulders.  She swiped at her hair with her hand, moving it in a
white-yellow wave across her face and behind her neck.  She settled
back down beside me, putting her hands to the side of my head.  She
kissed me, softly and sensuously, and then silently urged my lips to
go lower, down toward her body.

I kissed and licked my way from beneath her chin, to her throat, and
to her boobs.  My chin rubbed against her distended nipple as I
licked the salt away from the upper mound of her left breast, the nub
searing a path along my skin.  I licked and nibbled my way around the
orb of her flesh, taking care to pay attention to the soft skin on
the underside of her breast.  I moved close to her rosy nipple but
never took possession of it with my mouth, opting instead to tease
and inflame her.

Kayla kept on urging me to her breast with her hands, while my
fingers were doing a little exploring of their own.  The palm of my
right hand was flat on her tummy as my lips were descending to her
breasts.  My fingers started moving beneath the elastic of her
bottoms while my tongue was exploring the skin of her boob.  My hand
slipped under the confining elastic, and the part of my brain that
controlled prehensile activity noted the lack of underwear.  The
knowledge kicked my internal temperature up another step and made my
fingers clench a little in anticipation as my hand continued on its
path down her tummy and into the soft curls of her pubic hair.  My
fingertips were being drawn to the source of the heat and moisture
exuding from her, and they encountered its evidence.  I dragged my
fingers through her sparse hair, searching, and the tip of my middle
finger parted her puffy nether lips just as my tongue dragged across
her sensitive nipple.  The combination was nearly enough to send her
off, and she moaned and arched her back, pressing the tip of her
flushing breast harder against my mouth.  I opened my mouth a little
wider and sealed my lips around her flesh, and I suckled as I
gathered moisture on the tip of my finger.  I dipped my finger into
her heated opening as Kayla opened herself even more to me, and I was
able to coat my finger to the second knuckle with her oils.  I pulled
my finger out and ran it back up through her folds, searching blindly
for her hidden clitoris.

I found the swollen nub and I teased it, bumping it with my
fingertip lightly.  In a rhythm with my finger, my tongue swirled in
my mouth against her turgid nipple.  The combination set up patterns
of waves through her over-stimulated body, and she practically
undulated on the bed as she was swept to sea by the passions being
transmitted to her pleasure centers from her breast and from her
pussy.

Finally I abandoned her left breast and moved my mouth over to adore
her right breast.  At the same time my hand delved back to her hole,
and I used first one finger, and then two, to stimulate her further.

Kayla's breath was coming in hitches by then, and she still clutched
my head to her bosom.  Her hips flexed up on each of my downstrokes
within her as her body attempted to feel more depth within her than
could be accomplished with just my fingers.  I let my thumb rest on
the nub of her swollen clit, and each time her hips hunched against
my fingers, she also bumped her most sensitive place against the ball
of my thumb.

The action in her middle, combined with my tongue and lips against
her tender breast, was enough to give her the first orgasm of the
night.  She cried out softly as the movement of her hips got a little
more frantic and her breathing became erratic.  I couldn't see her
face, but I was sure her eyes were squeezed shut as the sensations
washed through her and her whole body tensed.  I was nearly
suffocated when she pulled me even tighter against her soft flesh,
and I could have died willingly and happily in that embrace.  I loved
being able to impart that much pleasure to the girl I adored.

Finally the rolling pleasures eased, and she relaxed against me.
Her hands loosened their grip, and she took one of her hands and
gently pulled my hand out from her nightie bottoms.

"God, I love what your fingers can do to me, Sean, but that's enough
for now," she whispered.  I brought my hand up to my face as I
scooted up to lie face to face with her.  Her hand was still
traveling lightly on my wrist as I brought my fingers to my mouth.  I
sucked her juices from my middle finger, delighting in the
remembrance of her tangy taste.  I could see her eyes, bright as she
watched me, and I gently pressed my index finger, also coated with
her lubrication, between her lips.  She closed her eyes and accepted
the intrusion, though it was not the tasting of herself that was
making her concentrate.  She sucked on my finger, taking it all in,
and then she opened her eyes and watched my face as she worked her
tongue around my digit.  The imitation she was intentionally showing
me had its desired effect as the subliminal information went right to
my cock.  I could feel it tensing even more, on the verge of
exploding.  The skin felt extraordinarily tight, my erection nearly
painful.

She let her hand drop from my wrist to my stomach, and her fingers
made their way beneath the elastic of my running shorts.  She clasped
my steely cock in her small hand and squeezed me for a moment before
starting to pump on me, an unconscious action as old as humankind.
The combination of watching her and feeling her sucking on my finger,
along with the actions of her own hand on my sensitive pole, elevated
me into a near panic.

"Uh... Kay... stop... I'm going to..." I managed to halt her actions
before my crisis overwhelmed me, but it was a close thing.  She
stopped jacking me and rested the palm of her hand on my cock,
instead.  My finger popped out from between her lips, and my hand,
seemingly of its own volition, dropped back down to take possession
of her soft breast once again, perhaps its favorite place to be.

It didn't stay there long, though, because Kayla slid down the bed.
My hand dragged from her boob, up her chest and across her neck as
she slithered away from me toward the middle of the bed.  She sat up
and knelt next to my knees.  She reached for the waistband of my
shorts, her eyes shining in anticipation of uncovering her present.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," she sang, almost to herself,
as she lifted up the elastic and pulled the front of my running
shorts away from my rampant cock, twitching with the pumping of my
heart.  I lifted up my ass so she could pull my shorts down.

"Ah, there you are," she whispered, gazing at my erection as she
unveiled it.  "I've missed you so much."  She pulled my shorts the
rest of the way off my legs, and then she pulled her own bottoms off
and tossed them to the floor.  She straddled my left shin as she
reached out to take my stalk in her hand once again.  I felt the
moisture drooling from her pussy against my leg as she settled down
on me and leaned in to examine my crotch.  She pulled my cock up
straighter with one hand, and with the other she cupped my balls.
Her eyes were shining and she was smiling just a little as she moved
even closer to me, close enough to stick her tongue out and lick off
the bubble of pre-cum on the tip.

I jerked a little when I felt her do that, and she squeezed me down
near the base.  I felt my incipient climax recede, and I relaxed just
a little.  I couldn't take my eyes from what she was doing, however,
and I watched as she glanced up at me, saw me watching her, and she
slowly, agonizingly licked my cock from her fist all the way up to
the crown with just the lightest feather touch of the tip of her
tongue.  My cock twitched in her hand, and I knew I was close to
coming once again.  She put the tip of my cock against her closed
lips and, still watching my eyes, slowly forced her mouth down onto
my cock.  Her lips sealed around the helmet and I could feel her
start to suck hard, her cheeks hollowing a little as she worked me.

My entire body started to tense in anticipation of the eruption I
could no longer control, and Kayla must have felt it, too.  It didn't
stop her, though, and she lowered her mouth on me, taking me deep,
until I felt the head of my cock bump against the entrance to her
throat.  Her tongue expanded to press against my cock in her mouth,
and that was all it took.  The floodgates opened, the pumps
activated, and I came.

The first blast hit the back of her throat at lightspeed, and she
backed off my cock and tried to swallow.  By then the second and
third spurts were in her mouth, and she just couldn't keep up.  She
loosened the seal of her tongue around my cock, and milky white semen
oozed out of her mouth, down my shaft, and across her fist.  She was
pumping me with both her hand and her tongue, and I felt like I was
being turned inside out and emptied.

After seven or eight hard blasts the engines began to run down, and
I collapsed back to the pillow.  Kayla coughed twice, a delayed
reaction to taking my first assault down her throat, and she let up
on my slowly softening cock.  She swallowed what she had in her mouth
as she gave the head of my cock one last sucking squeeze, and then
she started licking up the detritus that had leaked out.  She stuck
her fingers in her mouth to clean them off, and then she concentrated
on licking up all the cum she could find on my cock and balls.

By the time she was satisfied she had gotten it all, I was hard
again.  As she scooted up to be beside me again she grabbed my cock,
unwilling to relinquish her ownership.  As she settled down next to
me I leaned over and kissed her softly.

"I've missed you," I said quietly.  "That was so wonderful."

She kissed me back, putting her arms around my neck.  "You're not
done yet, soldier," she said.  She pulled me over on top of her and
spread her legs apart.  I moved to between her legs, and she pulled
me by my cock toward her center.  I felt her pussy lips part as she
traced them with the head of my cock, spreading her lubrication
around, and then she placed me against her heated opening.

"Now," she whispered, and she let go of my cock and put her hands in
the small of my back so she could pull me into her.  I slid home
willingly, fitting within her as perfectly as I had remembered.  I
felt our pubic bones meet, and I was as deep inside my Luscious as I
could get.  She sighed contentedly, pulled her knees up, and lifted
her legs.  She crossed her ankles below my ass, tilting up her pussy
for a fraction more accessibility, and she used both her hands and
her legs to get me as close as she could.  She was so wet I moved
into her with no difficulty at all, even though her walls were tight,
so tight against me.

We were one.  This was where I belonged, where I always wanted to
be.  I ran my fingers through her soft hair to hold her behind her
neck, and with my other hand I caressed her cheek.  She looked at me,
and I bent down and gave her a hard, open-mouthed kiss.  She groaned
and pulled me even tighter against her body.  I could feel her hard
nipples boring into the skin of my chest as we kissed, our tongues
doing battle within the confines of our joined mouths.

Genetic conditioning wouldn't allow me to stay still within her for
very long.  My hips wanted to move, to stroke my cock in her pussy,
and as occupied as I was with our kissing and caressing, I was
helpless to prevent it from happening.  I began a slow and steady
rhythm, pausing at both the top and the bottom of my stroke.  When
she felt me moving inside her, Kayla's hips joined in, flexing and
relaxing in time with the movement of my cock in her.  She added a
little side-to-side movement, and she bumped her hips against me a
couple of times each time I paused on my downstroke when I was
deepest in her.  She must have been hitting her clit against my pubic
bone because her breath huffed almost every time she did that.

We were running out of breath, and so we broke the kiss and both
gasped.  Kayla's eyes were tightly closed as she concentrated on the
waves of pleasure crashing through her.  For me, it was getting
increasingly difficult to keep the pace of my strokes slow.  I really
wanted to pound into her to my finish, but I was determined to bring
her along with me.

The friction and the heat were building to a nearly unbearable level
for both of us.  I was having trouble coordinating what my brain
wanted and what my dick wanted, and Kayla's movements were starting
to get more erratic as her breath began hitching again.  My right
hand followed her contours to latch onto her left breast, and my head
dipped down so I could take her right nipple between my teeth.

That was the final straw for Kayla.  She screeched breathlessly, her
whole body tensing up, and she flew off the edge, taking me with her.
I felt the switches activate, and my cock tried to swell against the
constricting walls of her cunt.  I felt my semen rocket out of my
cock to coat her tunnel, and Kayla's orgasm contributed its own
helping of hot lubricant.  I gave her a couple more hard and fast
strokes, my cock sliding nearly effortlessly through her, our
combined fluids contributing to the hot and wet ride.

If I had thought my balls had emptied before, I had been mistaken.
By the third or fourth spasm I pounded into her as deeply as I could
get, and Kayla was hunching up to me, wanting to feel my presence
filling her up.

By the time my spurts were weakening Kayla had climaxed, withdrawn,
and was building back up again.  I began to pull slowly out of her
but she didn't let go, deciding instead to keep her legs around me.
When she felt just the head still buried in her she flexed and pulled
me back fully into her.  Surprisingly, my cock responded again.
Slowly, slower than before, it began to regain some of its stiffness,
and the rest of my body responded in kind.  If my Luscious wanted
more, I wanted to give her more.

I concentrated on giving her kisses and nibbles along her throat and
under her ear.  There was still just the faintest trace of perfume,
but mostly what I smelled was essential Kayla.  Her skin smelled the
way it should, and the odor of our mutual arousal was permeating the
room.  I thought distractedly that scientists a hundred years from
now might be able to extract the evidence of our passion that was
even now soaking into the walls and ceiling of the room.

I worked her slowly again, knowing I could go for a long time.  I
had already cum twice in succession; the third time would arrive, but
not before some buildup.  If I was fortunate, I would be able to give
Kayla a night to remember.

I could feel our combined juices leaking out around my cock as I
pistoned in and out of her.  My balls were coated, and I could feel a
big wet spot forming underneath us.  Each time my balls slapped
against her ass more lubrication was transferred back and forth; each
time I pulled partway out of her, more liquid was expelled along my
shaft.  It was sloppy, hot sex, and I was loving it.

"Are you still with me?" asked Kayla.  "Can you keep up?"  She was
smiling up at me.

I didn't notice until I felt a drop trickle down my nose and land
with a small plop on her cheek that I was sweating.

"I'm with you," I said.  "I can keep it up.  The question is, can
you handle it?"

"Time to switch," she said, pushing me away from her.  "Then we'll
see who can handle it."

I pulled out of her and knelt up.  What did she have in mind?

Apparently she was satisfied with our lovemaking, as was now ready
for something a little more recreational.  She scrambled up and knelt
down on her hands and knees on the bed.  She looked over her shoulder
at me, the unspoken request clear in her eyes.

I shuffled up behind her and held my cock out, pointed at her puffy
and swollen pussy.  I rubbed the head against her, and she pushed
back against me as soon as she felt me in place.  I rammed home,
sliding easily into her, and she reached back with one hand as I
paused, buried as deeply inside her as I could get, and she caressed
my balls lovingly for just a moment.  My cock twitched when she did
that, and I heard her sigh.

"Ahhhh," she moaned.  "I love feeling so filled up by you.  Promise
me you'll do this a lot?"  She let go of me and steadied herself on
the bed.

"I promise," I gritted, finding it hard to talk and fuck at the same
time.  "Whenever you want, you can have it."  I started working
myself in and out, holding onto her hips.  I tried to be kind of
gentle, not wanting to pound into her hard, but she would have none
of that.

"Faster," she whispered, and she turned to look back at me.  I moved
faster and faster, finally crashing my hips into her, making her body
shake.  Each time I rocked her, she huffed, her head hit the pillow,
and she panted in time with my rhythm.

Every once in a while I would stretch out over her back and reach
around her to grab at her dangling breasts, pinching her distended
nipples, but the additional weight on her, combined with the
increased stimulation racing along the nervepaths, made both of our
movements ragged, so I would have to kneel up again so I could work
her.

At long last, the heat was let loose.  I reached up for her breasts
one last time, squeezing the globes, and that was all it took.  She
collapsed down onto her face, surrendering to her rolling climaxes,
and I landed on top of her, still hanging on to her boobs.  My cock
felt like it was in a very wet and hot vise as it was squeezed by her
vaginal muscles as they tried to milk my semen from me.  I was nearly
there, but I was finding it very hard to move with any coherence.  My
hips felt like they had disconnected from my torso, and they started
moving on their own, pulling my cock almost all the way out and then
pushing it back in, working to extract every last ounce of pleasure
from our coupling.

Finally, I could not go on.  Kayla was up on her knees with her head
on the mattress, her legs spread out for me.  I pushed as hard as I
could into her, at last reaching depths never before breached, and I
exploded.  I had no idea how much I could possibly have given her
that third time, but I gave her all I had.  The hydraulics struggled
to ejaculate their last drops, forcing my semen up and out to splash
against her cervix.  I collapsed on top of her, and her knees finally
gave out.  We ended up with me laying on her back, still buried
deeply in her, two quivering bundles of exhausted flesh.

"Oh.  My.  God."  Kayla finally managed to groan, my first
indication she was still among the living.  For my part, I still
wasn't sure I was alive.  The sweat on my back and my legs was
starting to chill, but where we touched, from my cheek to my chest to
my softening cock slowly extricating itself from her sheath, was
still hot and sweating.

She wriggled a little.  It was my responsibility to respond, to get
off her and relieve her of my dead weight.  I didn't want to move,
but I knew I had to, so I struggled up, pulling my spent cock the
rest of the way out of her, and I flopped down beside her, on my back.

She snuggled closer to me, throwing an arm across my chest.  After a
moment she whispered, "Can you move over just a little more, lover?
I'm laying in the world's biggest wet spot."

I shifted all the way over to the edge of the bed, and Kayla
followed.  I put my arm around her shoulder so she could fit up next
to me, which she did.  I ran my hand lightly up and down her back,
feeling her drying sweat against my fingertips.

"That was certainly aerobic," I mumbled.  I could feel my heart
still triphammering in my chest, and my breathing was just beginning
to slow down.

Kayla giggled.  "Good exercise for your heart," she replied as she
pressed her palm against my chest, feeling the kathump of my heart
rate.

"You're going to make me an eighteen-year-old invalid if you keep
this up," I said.

"I'm doing my best to kill you with kindness," she said.

"What a way to go."

We stayed like that for a long time.  My eyelids were drooping and I
was nodding off when I felt her extricate herself from my arms.  I
blearily opened my eyes.

"I need to take a shower," she said, almost apologetically.

"I'd love to join you, but I think I'm dead."

"Go to sleep, my love," she said with a smile.

"I love you," I mumbled.  At least I meant to say that; I may have
fallen asleep before the words actually left my tongue.  I might have
felt Kayla return to me to snuggle up and go to sleep, but by then I
was sleeping the sleep of the sated.




(Continued in Chapter 17)



- 17 -

WHY SEAN IS HAPPY



There was a light but insistent tapping at the door.  The noise
finally insinuated itself into my consciousness, and I struggled to
wake up enough to not do myself bodily harm when I stood.  Kayla was
lying next to me, one arm thrown across my chest.  I gently picked up
her arm by her wrist and slipped out of bed.  I carefully put her arm
down on the mattress and made sure she was covered.  I found my
running shorts and pulled them on, and then I stumbled over to the
door and looked through the security scope.

Luke was standing outside the door, shifting from foot to foot as he
continued to tap at the door.

"Arright, arright," I mumbled as I removed the chain and opened the
door for him.  He slipped inside quickly, and I closed the door again
and relocked it.

Luke glanced over at my bed.  Kayla was awake, but was huddled under
the blanket quietly.

"Dude, I can't sleep on the floor again," said Luke.  "I need my bed
back tonight."

"Oh, man, you gotta do this for me," I began.  I stopped, though.
Even to my ears it sounded like whining.  Get a grip, Porter, I
chastised myself.  "Yeah, okay.  I'm sorry, man.  We'll work
something out."

"I hardly slept a wink all night," Luke grumbled.  "Fuckin' Brad
snores."  He glanced at Kayla apologetically.  "Oops.  Sorry," he
said to her.

Kayla just smiled at him sweetly.  It was enough to make Luke blush
just a little.

"I'm just gonna... uh... grab something out of my suitcase..."  Luke
shuffled over to his suitcase, where it looked like there had been a
small explosion of clothing, books, and shoes.  He reached in and I
saw him grab a pair of white briefs.  He crumpled them up and tried
to stuff them in the pocket of his jeans without Kayla seeing them,
and then he kind of slide-shuffled back across the room to the door.
"I'm going down to get something to eat," he said.  "Spencer and Brad
are already down there.  You should probably come down, show your
face around, Sean."

I glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand between the beds.
"Yeah, okay, give me about five minutes," I said.

Luke nodded, unlocked the door, and opened it just enough to squeeze
out.

"I'd better get in the shower," I said, almost to myself.  I glanced
at Kayla, and saw she had a teasing, pouting expression.  She threw
back the covers so I could see the full effect.  She had put her
babydoll top back on, but hadn't bothered with the panties.  Her legs
were together, knees slightly bent and to the side, the pale hair
between her legs plainly visible.  Her rosy nipples were not
disguised at all by the filmy material of her nightie, merely veiled
and desirable.  She managed to look demure and incredibly sexual at
the same time.  How did she do that?

That circuit breaker in my head clicked back on.  Shower.  Go
downstairs.  Breakfast with the team.  Don't give the coaches any
reason to be suspicious.

I somehow found my way into the bathroom.  Focus, Porter.  I turned
on the water and adjusted the temperature.  I shucked off my running
shorts and stepped into the tub enclosure.  I put my face up into the
spray from the showerhead and reached for the shower curtain to pull
it closed.

Instead of plastic, my hand found flesh.  I looked over, water
streaming down my face and obscuring my vision, but I could see well
enough to recognize my Luscious, now deliciously naked, stepping into
the tub with me.

"Want me to wash your back?" she asked.  I could hear the pleasure
in her voice.  She knew she surprised me, and she was pleased with
herself for being able to do so.

"You can wash my back if I can wash your front," I said, doing my
best to leer at her through the water in my eyes.

"Deal," she replied.  She reached around me for the soap.  Her
breasts sliding along my wet skin got the blood flowing, away from my
brain and to my cock.  I tried turning to face her, intending on
taking her in my arms, but she shook her head.  "Uh-uh," she said as
she turned me back around.  She began to rub the bar of soap across
my shoulders, and she used her other hand to spread the suds around
and down my back.

It would have been very soothing if I hadn't had such a hardon.
Feeling my cock bouncing up with my heartbeat wasn't exactly
relaxing, especially when I felt Kayla rubbing the soap across my
asscheeks and down my thighs.

I could only put up with that kind of treatment so long before I had
to turn around and reciprocate.

"Oh, is it time to rinse already?" she asked with a smile.

I couldn't even reply.  I took her head in my hands and kissed her,
and she moved in closer to me.  I dropped one hand down to take
possession of her breast, and I felt her cheeks tighten as she smiled
through our kiss.  She put her hand on mine and gently pulled it away
from her soft boob.

I stopped kissing her and looked at her questioningly.  She placed
the bar of soap in my hand.

"There," she said.  "Now you're prepared."

She guided my hand back to her breast and lifted her mouth for
another kiss as she pressed my hand, still holding the soap, against
her flesh.

The soap made everything a lot more slippery, and it wasn't long
before we were both exploring each other freely.

Finally, she gasped.  I was holding her ass with one hand, my other
hand behind her neck, and she was pulling on my cock.

"Why don't you find a good place to put this thing while you finish
washing my front?" she suggested.

She lifted up on her toes, and I crouched down a little so that we
could connect.  I felt the tip of my cock nestle between her moist
pussy lips, and as I pushed up she lifted first one leg, and then the
other, as I pushed her back against the wall for leverage.

All pretense of washing was thrown aside, and we concentrated on
inducing pleasure to each other in this new setting for us.  I thrust
up hard into her, and I felt my cock slide along her hot and
welcoming walls, until I was firmly seated deep inside her.  Kayla
reciprocated by flexing her legs in concert with my efforts, as
anxious as I was to feel me encased.  The water from the shower was
hitting the small of my back and cascading down, its flow interrupted
by Kayla's legs entwined around me.  The floor of the tub was a
little slippery, keeping me from gaining a good grip with my feet,
but I still managed to pound into her with some force.  The delicious
friction we achieved moved us inexorably down the road we both wished
to travel.

Before long I felt the familiar tightening in my balls, and I
hunched up against Kayla even harder, trying to get as deep into her
as I could.  I felt my cock trying to expand against the squeezing
walls of her pussy, and my semen spilled out to coat her insides in
spasmodic release.

"Oh, God, oh, God, I feel it," she huffed, and the hot injection I
gave to her sent her over into her own orgasm.  She threw her head
back, her wet hair plastered to her forehead and her cheeks, and she
cried out softly as she gave herself to her climax.

She hung on to me desperately as the waves crashed through her, her
arms around my neck and her legs beginning to hang a little limply
from my hips.  I stayed pressed inside her through my own orgasm,
wanting to feel her heat on me for as long as possible, but
eventually I had to withdraw.  I stepped back, and she slumped down
to regain her feet as she loosened her grip on me.

"That was so... nice," she said a little tiredly.

"What a way to wake up," I said by way of agreement.

She looked up at me through her eyelashes.  "I've got lots of ways
to wake you up, love."

With the water still pounding on me, I smiled at her.  "I'll just
bet you do," I said.


__________________________________________________________________



Thirty minutes later, freshly showered, freshly shaved, and freshly
boffed, I was standing in the buffet line.  I was late, but even an
undertaker wouldn't have been able to iron the smile off my face.  I
was happier than I had been since I left to go to Florida.  Kayla was
lingering upstairs until Keisha and Danielle picked her up.  Pick
just looked at me as I gathered up a full tray and joined Jesse,
Bryan, and Brad at a table.

"And why is Sean so happy this morning?" asked Jesse.

I didn't answer him.  Instead I concentrated on my orange juice.

"Oh, yeah," he said with a grin.  "I remember now."

Nothing more was said about why I was so happy, which was just as
well.  Too many people probably already knew.

I was just finishing up my breakfast when Luke grabbed a chair from
the next table and pulled it up next to me.  Nearly everybody else
had already finished, and some of the guys had left the restaurant to
get their gear.

Very quietly, Luke said, "You've got to come up with some other
arrangement, Porter.  I ain't sleeping on the floor again in their
room."

"Yeah, okay," I said.  "Just keep your voice down."  I took a last
forkful of scrambled egg.  My tank had been empty, but I hadn't
realized it until I started eating.  I didn't want to overeat and
feel stuffed at the start of the game, but I was having trouble
stopping.  I guess I built up an appetite overnight, I thought to
myself.  It made me smile to think of how that was accomplished.

I started thinking about how I was going to keep Kayla to myself all
night and still let Luke use the room.  I needed a plan, and I needed
it soon.


___________________________________________________________________



The group of us took the elevator up to our floor, and Luke and I
split off to go to our room.  I knocked before inserting the key.

"It's me, sweetie," I said softly as I opened the door.

Kayla was dressed and sitting on my unmade bed, brushing her hair.
She smiled at us as we came in.  Luke went over to his pile of stuff
and began packing his gear bag.  We were due downstairs in about ten
minutes to board the bus to Washington, D.C. and the Robert F.
Kennedy Stadium for our semi-final game against North Carolina.

"When is Keisha coming?" I asked.

"She should be here in about fifteen or twenty minutes," she said.

"I'm sorry I didn't bring you anything to eat," I said.  Sometimes I
could be pretty thoughtless, I chastised myself.

Kayla smiled.  "That's okay, Sean.  There's lots of food at the
stadium, I'm sure."  She held up her purse and pulled out some paper
money.  "See?  I'm all set."

"I still feel bad," I said.  "I really don't mean to be so
thoughtless."

She laughed.  It wasn't quite how I wanted to make her laugh, but I
still enjoyed hearing it, even if it was at my own expense.  "You are
incredibly silly," she said to me.

"Jeez, you guys," said Luke a little disparagingly.  He was at the
door, gear bag in hand.  "Come on, Porter, we've got a bus to catch."

"Yeah, okay," I said.  "Just give me a minute, okay?"

Luke stepped out the door.  I sat down next to Kayla and put my arm
around her shoulder.  "I've got to go," I said.

"I know.  I'll be watching.  Play your best."

I kissed her softly.  "I'll do what I can," I said.

I got up and, just before the door closed, I gave her a small wave.
Kayla smiled and waved back at me.  Just that vision was enough to
carry me through my day.

Luke was in the hall, waiting for me.  As we walked toward the bank
of elevators, he said, "So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know, dude.  But I'll come up with something," I said.

It was still two hours until game time, and as I stepped onto the
bus I was glad there was so much time to prepare.  I was feeling
stuffed, and I was going to need that couple of hours to try to
digest some of my breakfast before I had to play.  I took one of the
rear seats in the bus and stretched out flat on my back, feeling like
I needed to try to force my stomach muscles back into their normal
position.  I worked my back and stomach with isometrics on the way
over to Georgetown in an effort to ease the distended feeling in my
gut.

It was only about a twenty-minute ride.  I was feeling a little
better, probably from increasing my blood flow through my stretching.
Whatever works, I said to myself as I followed my teammates shuffling
down the center aisle of the bus.  We grabbed our gear bags and
walked to the locker rooms below the stadium.

After a quick strategy session, we dressed for the game and walked
up the ramp from the locker rooms, up under the stands, to the field.
It was a very big stadium, but it didn't bother us.  We had spent the
previous week at home practicing in our own football field, getting
used to seeing row upon row of bleachers all around us.  The
difference was that these bleachers were about half full, whereas the
ones at home were pretty much empty.

Even so, we took our warm-ups like we did every day, and we tried
not to let the stadium or the crowd get to us.  North Carolina,
several hundred miles closer to Washington, D.C. than Gainesville,
had quite a few fans in attendance.  There was a large contingent of
Tarheels blue and white across the bleachers near the centerline, and
only a smattering of Gator orange and blue.  School was in session
for us, so I doubted any students would have made the trip.  Besides,
soccer wasn't really much of a spectator sport; even at home our
crowds were meager at best.

Pick gave us our starting positions, and I was not surprised to find
myself playing midfield again.  North Carolina won the coin toss, so
they started with the ball.  They had seen me in the middle, and they
were anxious to test our right defensive side.

They might have known my game, but they obviously didn't spend
enough time studying Spencer's game.  He easily rebuffed their first
foray into our territory with an easy takeaway from his spot at right
midfield.  He passed the ball over to me, and I switched fields on
them, feeding the ball up on my left to Bryan.  He and Jesse worked a
two-man game to move the ball deep into Tarheels territory, but
neither of them could manufacture a good shot at goal.  North
Carolina's stopper raced over to cut off a crossing pass attempt, and
he snagged the ball and took it up the middle for several meters
before passing it off to one of his midfielders.

North Carolina was a tough, experienced, savvy team.  They showed a
lot of patience and poise.  They didn't let our powerful front line
push them around, and they didn't panic after we scored our first
goal, at about the twenty-minute mark.  Instead, they put the ball
back in play and began another set play with their offensive unit.
They didn't force it, they just let the game unfold, and it paid off
for them.  In the 32nd minute they tied it up, and in the 41st minute
they took the lead on a beautifully executed corner kick.  The kick
arced up in the air and curved from the 18-meter stripe in toward our
goal.  It came down within reach about five meters out from the near
post.  Rick, our keeper, made a play on the ball, but he got blocked
out by Ted Artichenkoff, our sweeper, and a North Carolina forward as
they jostled each other, each trying to gain an advantage toward the
ball against the other.  The ball came out of the sky right in front
of Ted and his nemesis, and another North Carolina forward elevated,
gained a little extra height on his jump by pushing off Frenchy in an
illegal move that was unfortunately blocked from the referee's view.
This second player whipped his head at the ball and made contact, and
Rick had no chance of being able to alter his momentum toward the
ball, now streaking just past his shoulder and into our net.

At halftime, defense and offense each met separately to brainstorm,
and then we huddled together as a team to critique our first half.

Jesse, in his customary role as co-captain of the team and the
spokesman for the offense, took the lead.

"So, did defense come up with a strategy to stop these guys?" he
asked, looking around at all of us.

Rick, our defensive co-captain, answered.  "We've got some
adjustments we can make.  Frenchy is going to play tighter on his
man, Stuart knows he needs to patrol into the middle a little more.
To be sure, that corner shouldn't have happened.  Other than that,
we're playing them pretty straight up."

"Yeah, we are, except for the scoreboard," said Jesse.  He turned to
me.  "What do you have to say about it, Porter?"

"Well, two things," I said.  "I could drop back into the right
defender's spot again."  Both Jesse and Bryan were about to protest,
but I held my hand up.  "Wait, there's more," I continued.  "We've
kind of let them talk us into playing positions again.  Maybe Frenchy
needs to play his guy tighter, but Jeremy isn't dropping back to
assist him.  For that matter, neither was I.  We need to reestablish
our floating assignments."

"They're a tough team to use that on," observed Bryan.  "Maybe that
scheme only works on more rigid teams than North Carolina."

"I don't believe that," said Spencer.  "It's a veiling offense and a
confusing defense when we work it right.  We're just not in sync out
there yet."

"That's why I want to move back to defense," I added.  "That's where
we started to develop our flowing positions.  I'm planning on kick-
starting it from back there by working the switch with Stuart,
Spencer, Brad, and Ted.  From there the rest of the team should just
fall into the adjustments we've practiced on for the past few weeks."

Jesse gave me an appraising look.  "You really think it will work
that way?" he asked.

Every head in that huddle turned to me.  If I was wrong, it was all
on me.  "Yeah, I do," I said.

Jesse just looked at me for a moment, and then nodded.  "Okay.
Let's clear it with Pick.  Ready?  Break!"

Everybody put their hands together and shouted with him, and Jesse,
Rick, and I stepped over to Pick and Eddie, standing a little apart
from us as they let us work out our plan.  The three of us explained
what we had in mind quickly.

Pick glanced at Eddie, but they didn't exchange a word.  He turned
back to us.  "If'n you all think that's what it will take to get back
on track, it's fine with me," he said.  "If Eddie or I see something,
though, we'll prob'ly move you guys around from over here.  So you,"
he said, jabbing his finger at me, "listen up for any instructions
from the sidelines.  Got it?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Then go win this here game, gentlemen," he instructed us.  Jesse
and I broke out into big grins, and Rick gave him a big thumbs-up and
nodded at him before turning to rejoin our teammates.

"It's a go," said Jesse to the team as we neared them.  Everybody
gathered around one last time before we took the field.  "We watch
for Porter's move, then.  We work off that.  Everybody understand?"

A round of affirmatives came from everyone, and we broke up and took
our positions on the field for the start of the second half.

North Carolina was already on the field when we trotted out to our
positions, and as soon as I moved into my defensive spot I could see
the Tarheels forwards huddling up and discussing the change.
Obviously they were not expecting that sort of adjustment, and I
hoped it confused them enough to put them back on their heels just
enough at the beginning of the half to give us an opportunity to tie
up the score.

They recovered quickly, too quickly for us to take advantage.  In
fact, they didn't really make any on-field adjustments to our changes
that I could see.  I settled back into my familiar routine and my
familiar position, and I watched the progression of the second half.

About eight minutes into the second half I saw my chance.  Bryan and
Jesse were working the ball in a two-man game deep in Tarheels
territory, so I called for Stuart to shift with me.  Spencer saw me
move and gave me a hand signal to let me know he was ready to move
over for me.  I didn't want to revert to our first half lineup,
though, so I kept on moving up, past the midfield stripe, as Stuart
dropped back to cover me.  Juan Maria was hovering up just off the
right post, anticipating a crossing pass by either Jesse or Bryan,
and I moved up toward him.  He saw me coming forward and began
sidestepping back toward me, keeping an eye on the ball and our two
forwards on the other side of the field.  I waved to him to indicate
he should move back toward the line and back me up, and he slid back
into the right midfielder's position.

Meanwhile, Jesse spotted me coming up pretty much unchallenged.  The
Tarheels were not expecting me to move all the way up into an
attacking position from way back in my corner, and so I was kind of
the forgotten man on the field for the moment.  Jesse faked a pass
back to Bryan, spun around, and gave the ball a swift ride into a
small open area just in front of me.  I was moving forward at a
steady speed, and his pass led me beautifully.  I took it in stride,
making the defense shift toward me.  The defender on my side closed
on me, and Juan Maria saw the opportunity to charge.  He took off,
seemingly toward nothing but empty grass toward the corner, but he
knew I had seen him.  I settled the ball against my inseam, and then
I used the inside of my left foot to blister a pass that raced past
the startled defender coming up on me, and into the open space Juan
Maria was just entering.  Jesse crashed the goal toward the far post
and I stepped around my defender and bore down on the near post as
Juan Maria gathered in the ball, dribbled up to a more advantageous
angle, and lofted a pass over my head toward Jesse.

The North Carolina middle defense was not drawn out of position,
though, and their sweeper and their stopper double-teamed Jesse.  He
had no play on the net, even though he controlled Juan Maria's pass,
and he was forced to move the ball back to Spencer.  The defenders on
him eased up, giving Jesse a little room to maneuver, and Spencer put
the ball back on Jesse's feet.  Again the defenders closed, and the
ball went back to Spencer.  By that time I had moved back to
triangulate with Jesse and Spencer, opening up more options, but
Spencer was happy to play straight ahead with Jesse.

Suddenly, it dawned on me what Spencer and Jesse were waiting for.
I took off at a run toward the right post from the middle of Tarheels
territory as Jesse was passing the ball back to Spencer.  Goldman
took the pass, settled the ball to make sure he had a good passing
opportunity, and he rolled the ball toward my back.  I was just
outside the box when the ball hit my heel.  It rolled up my leg, and
I gave it a boost as I bent my leg back and heeled it up in the air.
The ball looped up over my shoulder, and I side-stepped a little away
from it, jumped up to meet it, and sidekicked the ball off my laces
at about shoulder height.  The ball powered off my foot, catching my
defender completely by surprise as the ball whistled inches from his
ear.  The North Carolina keeper, watching the ball all the time, was
still just a second too slow, and the ball pounded into the back of
the net for the tie.  It was a new game.

I was mobbed by my teammates after the goal, and it took us a few
minutes to disentangle and reset for North Carolina's restart.  I
moved back into the defensive spot again, satisfied we were once
again fluid.  On the next set, I saw Frenchy moving up, and as I
switched, this time with Ted into the sweeper spot, I even saw Jesse
dropping back and switching with Jeremy, voluntarily moving to play
left midfield.

If that doesn't confuse them, they can't be confused, I thought as I
saw movement all over the field.  And, in fact, it did confuse them,
enough so that we were able to sneak one more goal in on them, a
golden goal scored during stoppage time at the end of the game by
Juan Maria Sandoval, with an assist from Spencer Goldman.  The
referee blew his whistle while we were resetting, and that was all we
needed.  We walked away with a win, and we would have to wait to see
if we would meet Maryland or South Carolina for the tournament
championship on Sunday.

We lined up and congratulated North Carolina.  They had played
ninety minutes of excellent soccer, and had come within seconds of
taking us to overtime.  We felt lucky to be moving on to the
championship game.

After the game and after Pick's post-game analysis, we were in the
shower when the solution to my problem of Luke, Kayla, and the room
hit me.  It put me in an even better mood.


__________________________________________________________________



We had to sit together as a team to watch the second semi-final, so
I couldn't go off looking for my friends in the stands.  We were in
our warm-up suits, essentially school uniforms that immediately
identified us, and I didn't want to be conspicuous drifting around
the stadium.  Besides, sitting with Jesse, Bryan, Brad, and the
coaches would give us an opportunity to analyze the play of both
Maryland and South Carolina.  We brought out our bottles of Gatorade
and awaited the kickoff, everybody exuberant with our win.

When the teams took the field, it was very strange to see two good
friends, guys I had played high school soccer with for years, in
opposing uniforms and on opposite sides of the field.  I didn't like
it, but I also knew I would have to suppress my feelings from that
moment on.  High school was over, and Eric Johnson and Trent Abbott,
at least for the rest of the fall, were members of teams standing in
our way if we wanted to win the Georgetown Tournament, as well as the
NCAA title.  No sentiment was allowed at this level.  At
Christmastime, and off the field, they could be my friends; at game
time, friendship was abandoned at the sidelines.

"So, Porter, who do you want to win?" asked Brad.

I shrugged.  "Doesn't matter to me."

"Which team do you think is the tougher team?" he persisted.

"I don't know," I said.  "You probably have a better idea about that
than I do.  You played them both last year."

"True," he said.  "Last year South Carolina was a good team.  They
only graduated about five or six guys, so they're stronger this year.
Maryland wasn't all that great last year, but they had a good
recruiting year, and they're starting a bunch of sophomores, too.
They lost about half their starters to graduation from last year,
which was probably a good thing for them.  I hear they're pretty good
this year."

"They'd have to be, to make it this far," said Jesse.  "It's not an
easy tournament to rack up three straight victories."

"But they've been scored on," Bryan pointed out.  "South Carolina
hasn't given up a goal yet."

"I think that's too much of a generalization," said Brad.  "It
probably says just as much about their draw as it does about their
defense."

"Maybe that's true," conceded Bryan.  "But you don't often see teams
seeded low get this deep into a tournament, no matter what the sport
is.  Teams ranked eighth in a draw don't often beat teams ranked
first."

"That's just the far end of the spectrum," said Jesse.  "What about
the middle of the draw?  What makes a team get seeded third instead
of fourth?  Fourth instead of fifth?  Those teams, especially in big
tournaments like the NCAA, might be so close in ability it's the play
of one guy, or even the outcome of one game in their schedule, that
might be the deciding factor.  The talent pool is so balanced, you
can see why a five team can take out a three team, or a three team
can beat a top seed."

"I'd rather be seeded first than fourth, then," said Spencer.
"Might as well start out a tourney against the weakest opponent.  If
the fourth seed plays the fifth seed, it's too much of a coin toss to
predict who goes on to the second round."

"It's always better to be the lead dog," said Bryan.  "I want them
all looking to climb up to our level.  I'd rather not be the one
doing the climbing."

"I think you mixed up your metaphors there, pal," said Jesse with a
laugh.  "But we understand you anyway."

"Which kind of frightens me a little," I added with a chuckle.

The South Carolina-Maryland game was about to start.  The teams were
on the field, and the linesmen and the referee were ready.  The
referee checked with the keepers, and received their signals that
they were set to go, and he blew his whistle to start the clock.
Maryland had won the toss, so they started with the ball.  They
passed back and began their opening offensive play.

The rest of my friends and I sat back and enjoyed the sunshine as we
studied the game's progression.  Who would we face on Sunday?

As I studied the teams, it became apparent to me that Trent was only
one of their scoring potential players.  They were very strong up
front, and very strong around their own goal.  Their middle seemed a
little soft, though, prone to playing primarily on offense.  They
tended to move back a little slowly, relying on their strong defense
to reacquire the ball and move it up to them.  I pointed out what I
was seeing to Brad and Jesse.  Maybe, with all of us watching their
play, we could turn our observations into an advantage.  Their
midfield just might be an exploitable weakness.

Maryland's game suffered from what I could only think of as
underperforming coaching.  They had a talented starting lineup, but
it became obvious very early in the game that they also had some
fractious divisions on their team, primarily between the
upperclassmen and the younger players.  Within about ten minutes I
could point out the seniors and juniors on the team, because they had
a tendency to play keep-away.  Not only were they trying to protect
the ball against South Carolina, but they also tended to pass only to
each other, and not to the sophomores and freshmen on the field.
Only at need did they allow an underclassman to handle the ball,
including the fastest man on their team, Eric Johnson.  Was it my
imagination, this on-field discrimination?

I turned to Jesse and Bryan.  "You notice anything odd about the way
Maryland is playing?" I asked.

Jesse sat up straighter.  "I wasn't paying much attention," he
admitted.  "I tend to watch to see how teams respond later in each
half.  I want to see how they react when they're tired."

"It looks a little odd," said Bryan.  "What's wrong with this
picture?"  He, too, began studying the play a little harder.

After a few minutes, I gave them a clue.  "I'll bet that, within
five minutes, you'll be able to tell me which players out there are
seniors, and which players are freshmen."

"Really?  You're discerning that much detail?"  Bryan stared at me
for a minute, and then turned back to watch.  He really wanted to
know how I knew, but I felt he would be able to figure it out quickly.

I alternated watching the game and glancing at my friends as they
studied the field.  After a few minutes, I saw the recognition in
Jesse's face.  He smiled and looked over at me.

"I'll be damned," he said.

Bryan looked at Jesse, and then at me, and turned back to the game
once again.  I watched him, and I saw when he found it, too.  He sat
up straight, and then he bent over in his seat to peer at the field,
his eyes narrowing.

Without taking his eyes off the field, he began pointing.  "Okay, we
start out knowing that Johnson, on the far side, is a freshman.  So
that means..."  He collected his thoughts, and then continued.  "The
forward on this side, the right midfielder, the left defender, the
stopper.  All freshmen.  Or maybe sophomores."  He turned to Jesse
and me.  "The rest are upperclassmen."

Jesse laughed, and I nodded at him, grinning like a fool.  "Seems
pretty damned silly, doesn't it?"

"How the hell did they get this far into this tournament playing
that way?" asked Bryan.

"Now that you see it, it looks pretty bad," I said.  "But look how
long it took you to recognize it.  And I had to give you a hint about
it first.  See?  It's subtle, but it's there.  It's just easier to
see now that you know what you're looking at."

Bryan let out a low whistle.  "Jesus H. Christ, I hope we play
Maryland tomorrow," he said.  "How easy would that be?"

"A lot easier now that we see the hole," said Jesse.

"Easy, yes, but what's the point?  Let me beat a tough opponent.
Beating up on a weak team isn't all that much fun," I said.

"Oh yeah?  It's fun, Porter.  Any win is fun."  Bryan's face was
serious, but there was laughter in his eyes as he said it.

South Carolina ended up winning the game, 4-1.  I would be facing
Trent for the championship, but that was two days in the future.  For
the rest of that day, I was planning on meeting my friends once again
for dinner, this time at a seafood restaurant in Maryland that Keisha
knew of.

Before that, however, I needed to straighten out my room situation.
To do that, I had to make a phone call.




(Continued in Chapter 18)




- 18 -

THE LITTLE GUY COMES UP BIG



When we all got back to the hotel, I went upstairs with everybody.
Once I was pretty sure nobody was roaming the halls, I took the
stairs back down to the first floor and headed over to the cashier's
station in the bar.

"Can I get some change, please?" I asked the bartender.  I slapped a
five-dollar bill onto the bar.

"Sure," he said.  "All quarters?"

"That's good," I replied.  He handed me a fistful of change, and I
walked over to the bank of pay telephones in the hallway leading to
the restaurant.  I dropped a quarter into the slot and fumbled in my
wallet for the number I needed.  I was calling my older brother
Michael at his work.  After I dialed, the operator came on and
instructed me to deposit eight more quarters for the first two
minutes.  I fed them into the box, and there was a series of clicks
until the connection was made.  The telephone at the other end rang
twice, and then a gruff voice picked up.

"Yeah.  Hello?  Murphy's Auto."

"Michael Porter, please.  Tell him his brother is calling long-
distance."

"Hold on a minute," said the voice.  There was a clunk as the
receiver was dropped.  I stood there listening to random pops and
hisses, until I heard Michael fumble with the telephone.

When he got on the phone, he sounded confused.  "Sean?  What's up,
bro?"

"I need a favor," I said hurriedly.  "You got a credit card?"

"Yeah, I've got one.  Why?"

"Call this number," I said.  I read off the phone number of the
hotel we were staying at.  "Make a reservation under the name..."  I
hadn't really thought this through enough.  What name to put the
reservation under?  Not my name.  Kayla's?  "Put it under... Lehigh.
First initial K.  Prepay for the room with your credit card, and I'll
pay you back."

I could hear the suspicion right through the telephone lines, all
the way from back home.  "What the hell are you doing, Sean?"

"Look, I'm in D.C. at a tournament," I said.  "A... friend of
mine... needs a room for a couple of nights, that's all, and they
won't take cash for the room."

"A friend, huh?"  My brother knew me very well, and he was doubtful
about the validity of all this.  I couldn't blame him, but I didn't
want to tell him the entire truth, either.  I didn't need any of this
to get back to Kayla's parents.

"Yes, a friend."  I tried to sound innocent, persuasive.  It was a
tough sell.  "I'm with the team here.  I'm just trying to get a room
for a friend, so they aren't sleeping in a doorway somewhere.  That's
all.  Come on, Mikey.  I'll pay you back when I'm home for Christmas,
I promise."

"Well... All right," he reluctantly agreed.  "If I find out you're
scamming me, though..."  He left the rest of it unsaid.  He didn't
have to complete the sentence.  I understood perfectly.

"Thanks, dude.  I owe you big time."

"Yes, you do," he said just before he hung up.

Now Kayla would be able to get her own room without having to worry
about how to pay for it.  She and Keisha could say they were checking
in for the tournament.  Two girls sharing a room wouldn't be that
unusual.

I ran back up the stairs to my room.  I just had time to change into
street clothes before our team meeting.  Pick wanted us to look at
film of South Carolina so we could begin to prepare for Sunday's
championship game.


_________________________________________________________________


Jesse and Bryan decided they wanted to go to a movie with some of
the other guys, instead of going out with me and my friends.  Spencer
came along with me, and Danielle picked us up after going by Trent's
hotel and getting him.  Kayla was with Keisha, and they would be
meeting us at the restaurant.  I was excited about telling her my
plan.

Trent got out to let Spencer and me get into the back seat.  Once we
were settled and on our way, I said, "Nice game today, Trent.
Congratulations on the win."

"Thanks," he said.  He twisted around so he could talk to us.  "You
guys played a tough one, too.  North Carolina is no pushover."

"We were lucky to escape today," said Spencer.

Trent eyeballed both of us.  "I don't know how much luck played into
it," he observed.  "You guys do all that movement on the field on
purpose, don't you?  Porter, I've never seen you play up so much
before."

"Watch out, Trent," I warned.  "I'm turning into a real scoring
machine.  I think that makes nine goals this season."

"Hey, not bad for a defensive specialist," he said.

"Yeah, but I think you had nine goals every two games in high
school," I reminded him.

"Those were the days, weren't they?  Goals came easy and often."  We
seemed a little young to be waxing nostalgic already, but he had a
point.  High school soccer was a lot easier than the college game.

"Did you say goals?" asked Spencer.  "For a second I thought you
said girls came easy and often."

Trent laughed, earning himself a dirty look from Danielle.  Glancing
over at her, he said, "No, I definitely said goals.  I didn't know
any easy girls in high school."

"Oh, you knew some," said Danielle with a knowing look.  "You were
just smart enough to stay away from them."

"And smart enough to get together with the toughest chick in town,"
he added with a smile and a wink.

Danielle kept her eyes on the road, but I thought I detected just
the faintest trace of a pleased look on her face from Trent's
compliment.

"So, did you study our game?  Find any holes to exploit?"  I was
fishing, but Trent was too wily to take the bait.

"I saw your game, sure.  You guys are tough.  I don't think we
belong on the same field with you guys.  You're gonna run roughshod
over us on Sunday."  It was an effort for him to keep his face
serious.

"You're not gonna give us anything, are you?" grumbled Spencer.

"Nope," said Trent with a tight smile.  "Not unless you're going to
give something back."

"Who, us?" I said in mock innocence.  "We've got nothing to give."

"Yeah, right," said Trent.  He turned back around, giving Danielle a
significant look.

"See?"  She glanced over at Trent.  "I told you they wouldn't tell
you anything."

"Hey, it was worth trying," he said.

When we got to the restaurant, we found our friends waiting in the
lobby for our table.  I was a little embarrassed about taking Kayla
into my arms in public, but she had no problem with it.  She put her
arms around my neck and pulled my face down to hers.

"Did ya miss me?" she murmured just before she kissed me.

"Every minute of the day," I replied.  I put my arms around her
waist and held her.  I was glad she was so open and uncomplicated in
her affection toward me.  I wished I were more like her.

I pulled her off to the side a little and explained my plan for
getting our own room.

"The thing is, you and Keisha, or you and Danielle, have to check in
and get the key.  We want the hotel desk clerks to think it's you two
girls staying overnight.  Okay?"

"Of course, love.  It'll be easy.  What room will I be in?"

"I don't know yet," I said.  "You'll have to call my room once
you're checked in.  You can let me know then."

There was a twinkle in her eye.  "Maybe I'll call you," she said.
"If you promise to be good."

"I'll be good," I said, "if you'll promise to be bad."

"I can be bad," she said with a grin.  "I can be a very bad girl."

The hostess called for the Prescott party, and we followed her into
the dining room to our table.  We sat down and I opened my menu to
find page after page of clams, mussels, lobster, clams, shrimp,
scallops, fish, clams, crab, oysters, calamari, and more clams, with
just one little section toward the back for what they called
"landlubber dishes."  A couple of selections of chicken, one steak, a
vegetarian pasta dish, and, almost as an afterthought, a hamburger.

Keisha was giving Spencer the eye.  "Now before you go and order
that burger, Midwestern Boy, keep in mind this is the Chesapeake Bay.
You just can't visit here and not at least try some clams."

Spencer looked doubtful.  "I don't like that fishy smell," he said.

Keisha brayed laughter.  "If it smells bad, it probably is bad," she
said.  "Good fish don't smell ugly."

I heard Eric softly say, "If it smells like fish, and if it tastes
like fish..."

Keisha swung around to her boyfriend.  "And if he keeps on with this
train of thought, he might not ever get a chance to test out his
theory again," she warned him with mock severity.

Eric managed to hide his laugh behind a too-innocent look.  "I
wasn't going anywhere with that, darlin'.  I ain't that stupid."

"You sure as hell ain't that smart," she retorted.  "You just like
walkin' the edge, don't you?"

"Loving you is walking enough of an edge," Eric replied in his best
English butler voice.  He leaned over to give her a peck on the
cheek, which Keisha accepted willingly.  She wasn't quite done with
Spencer, though.

"You've had clam chowder before, haven't you?"

"Good God, no.  It's got clams in it," he said with a shudder.

"Well, you're getting some tonight.  Ain't no clam chowder like
Chessy Bay clam chowder."  Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but
Keisha rolled right over him.  "Uh-uh, you are at least trying it.
You really don't know you don't like it if you never tried it.  You
can order it as an appetizer before we order our main courses.  If
you taste it and still don't like it, I'll shut up, I promise.  Deal?"

Poor Spencer was steamrolled, and he was far too polite to just tell
Keisha where she could shove it.  He nodded reluctantly, and then
favored Eric with a sympathetic look.

"Strong lady," he said.

Eric chuckled.  "You got no idea," he said.

When his steaming cup of clam chowder arrived, Spencer wrinkled his
nose and looked suspiciously at it.  One glance at Keisha, though,
was all it took, and he picked up his spoon and dipped it carefully
into the creamy soup.  He hesitantly tasted it with just the tip of
his tongue.  Apparently it wasn't nearly as poisonous as he had
expected, because he took a spoonful, blew on the surface, and ate it.

"Okay, not bad," he said.  "I can't really taste the clams."

"Stir it up a little, get some of those chunks of clams," suggested
Trent.

Spencer gave him a sour look, but did as Trent suggested.  Keisha
watched him closely as he took a mouthful of chowder.

"A little rubbery, but it's okay," he pronounced.

Everybody had been watching and waiting for Spencer.  When he said
it was okay, it was like his words were the signal for everybody else
to dig in.  It was only as we resumed our normal chatter that the
silence that surrounded our table as we watched Spencer with his
chowder became noticeable.  Kayla, sitting to my right, put her hand
on my knee and gave it an affectionate squeeze before reaching for a
plate of appetizers.  We all began passing plates of fried clams,
onion rings, and peel-your-own shrimp around the table, and our
communion was underway.

The waitress came around to take our orders.  The menu was arranged
with the house specialties numbered.  Kayla ordered a Number Four
Special, fried clams and shrimp.  I ordered a Number Two Special,
which was broiled red snapper, steamed clams, and fried shrimp.

The waitress moved over between Eric and Keisha.  "What'll you have,
honey?" the waitress said to Keisha.

"I'll have the Number Eight," said Keisha.

"I could have predicted that," said Eric with a chuckle.

"Really?" asked Kayla innocently.  She looked at the menu
selections.  Number Eight was a seafood gumbo.


Eric's eyes were twinkling with amusement as he glanced first at
Kayla, and then at his girlfriend.  "Shore," he said.  "Keisha, she
loves to get eight."

Keisha slapped him with her menu, and the waitress broke out laughing.

"What?" asked Kayla, a little confused.  "I don't understand."

"Ain't nothin' to understand," said Eric.  "All I said was Keisha
loves to get ate."

I leaned over and explained Eric's little pun to Kayla.  She turned
a bright red, and tried to hide her blushing cheeks in her hands.

"You are just awful," she said to Eric, but we all could see she was
smiling.

The waitress finished taking our orders for our entrees, and I
shifted in my chair so I could look around Keisha at Eric.

"Hey, dude, how many touches did you have on the ball today?" I asked.

He shrugged.  "I don't know.  A couple dozen?"

Trent's ears perked up.  "Not many for a quick forward," he noted.
"You should be handling the ball a lot more than that."

"It's just the way our offense is set up," Eric said.

I sighed.  "Look, Eric, you're one of my very best friends.  Can I
say something without you going off on me?"

Eric looked at me.  "Of course, dude.  You got something to say, let
it out."

Okay," I said.  "Here it is.  Bullshit."

"Bullshit?  That's it?  That's what you thought I'd take offense at?"

"Sure.  Because you know it's bullshit, even if you haven't admitted
it to yourself yet."

Eric threw his head back and laughed, a sound of pure pleasure.
"Yep, you're right, it's pure, unadulterated, warm and smelly
bullshit.  You recognized it, didn't you?  Goddamn."

"We all saw it," I said.  "Me and Jesse and Bryan, our coaches, we
were sitting watching the game and we couldn't hardly miss it."

"What?  What are you guys talking about?" asked Danielle.  She
turned to Trent.  "Do you know what they're talking about?"

"Not really, sweetie," he admitted.  "Maybe they'll let us in on the
joke, too."

"You were too busy to notice.  Too close to it, maybe.  But sitting
in the stands, we saw it," said Spencer.  "Or, more accurately,
Porter saw it.  He gave us a clue what to look for, and before long
we all saw it."

"Saw what?" asked Trent.  He was sounding a little exasperated.

Eric turned toward Trent.  "We got a little problem with our team
over at Maryland," he said.

"They fielded two teams against you today, pal," I said.

"Two teams?"  Now Trent was really confused.

"That's pretty true," said Eric, glancing at me.  "We got an
underclass team, and an upper-class team."

"And they don't share well," said Spencer.

"You're right.  We don't play well together at recess, neither."

"What?"  Trent was sounding like maybe he was starting to
understand.  "Is that why you didn't handle the ball very much?"

"That's about right," confirmed Eric.  "It's been a team... how did
they put it?  Oh, yeah, a team 'concept' for a long time.
Upperclassmen rule, sophs and frosh drool."

"Hell of a concept to run a program on," noted Spencer.

"Ain't real successful except against weak teams," agreed Eric.
"It's tough, especially as a dumb-as-a-thumb freshman, to try to come
in and make everybody see the error of their ways.  We got a good
group of younger players, though, and that change is gonna come.  You
can bet on it."

"You sound a little angry about it, Eric," said Danielle.

"It's frustrating," he said.  "I mean, we've got some pretty damn
good players out there on the field, and too many of them don't get
the opportunity to do what they can because of the attitude of the
juniors and seniors."

"It's all inherited problems, too," added Keisha.  "From what we've
heard, it was even worse last year."

"Jesse told us Maryland wasn't very good last year, but graduating
their senior class probably helped out the team," noted Spencer.

"Yeah," agreed Eric.  "I hear it's better, but it's still a bitch
when you work your ass off to make yourself a better player, and then
you don't get the chance to use your skills come game time."

"So, you think you'll transfer to a different program next year,
then?" asked Kayla.

"No," said Eric.  "Me and Keisha, we made a commitment to Maryland,
and we'll honor it.  This year will be the toughest, but it's always
tough for a freshman player coming in.  Next year will be better,
because we'll graduate the most hard-core players from the old
regime.  The sophs on the team will be upperclassmen, and no way will
they put up with what's been going on."

"That's the hope, anyway," said Keisha.

"It's more than wishful thinking," insisted Eric.  "Our sophomore
starters are just as frustrated as I am.  They tried looking to the
coaching staff to change things, but it's not happening fast enough
for them.  They'll change it next year with or without the coaches."

"For a team going through such divisiveness, you guys played well
during the tournament," said Trent.

"Even with a divided team, we got some talent," said Eric.  He
nodded at Spencer and me.  "Maybe not enough to take on the Florida
soccer machine, but good enough so we can hold our heads up in
public."

"And, by the way, what's up with the way Florida is playing their
positions?" asked Keisha.  "You guys start out in a classic three-
four-three, but then you scramble it all up."

"Classic three-four-three?  Have you become a student of the game?"
I asked.

"Shit, you watch as many games and practices as I have over the past
too-many years, even a dumb broad like me can pick up a little bit,"
she said.

"Come on, Keisha, you know what I meant," I said sadly.  "I would
never..."

She broke out into a big grin and put her hand behind my neck.
"Gotcha, didn't I?" she said, sounding pleased with herself as she
pulled me over and gave me a kiss.  Her lips were soft and moist, and
I just might have felt the tip of her tongue against my lips.
Certainly a friendlier kiss than I was expecting, considering both
Eric and Kayla were watching.  Her eyes were twinkling as she pulled
back, as if to say, 'Gotcha again, Porter.'

Keisha was never predictable, and never boring, I reminded myself.
Two of the many reasons why I liked her so much.

"So," Keisha continued as she readjusted her napkin, "are you going
to tell us about your game or not?"

I looked around the restaurant, twisting around in my seat.  "Just
where is that darned waitress, anyway?" I asked.

Keisha chuckled.  "I'll take that as a 'no,' then," she said.

"You know I would share all my secrets with you, sweetheart.  But
Mr. I-Love-to-Score Abbott over there is listening in."  I nodded in
Trent's direction.

Eric murmured, "Hey, he ain't the only one.  I love to score, too."

Keisha guffawed, throwing her head back in real amusement.  "You
surely do, Eric Johnson.  You surely do."

There was nothing much we could have added to that, so it was just
as well our waitress showed up with a tray loaded with hot dishes for
us.


__________________________________________________________________



As we were getting ready to leave the restaurant, the girls decided
that Danielle would be the one to go in and register with Kayla.  She
was driving us back anyway, and that way Keisha wouldn't have to make
the trip twice.  Besides, it looked like she and Eric had plans for
the rest of the evening, and they were a little anxious to get to
them.  We promised to get together with them the next day, and we
waved as they drove off for their rendezvous.

When we got back to the hotel, Spencer and I walked around and made
sure our teammates, scattered around the lobby and the restaurant,
saw us together.  We stopped and chatted with Pick, Eddie, and Stan,
just finishing up a late dinner at a table located by a big window
looking out into the street.

While we were chatting people up, Danielle and Kayla came in and
stepped up to the registration desk.  They signed the forms, and the
desk clerk handed them each a key to their room.  Trent had stayed in
the car, parked in the lot next to the hotel.  I glanced over just as
the elevator doors were closing as the girls headed up to the room.
I knew Danielle would take the stairs back down again, and try to
leave by a door near the parking lot unnoticed.  All I had to do now
was wait for Kayla's call to let me know what room she was in.

Spencer and I sauntered around until I felt satisfied we had been
well noticed.  We told people we were going to go up and see if
anything good was on the tube.

In the elevator, Spencer said, "Mission accomplished."

"Thanks for helping out, dude," I said.

"Hey, I'm in favor of helping true love find a way," he said.  "I'm
just a romantic at heart."

Luke had been downstairs, so Spencer came in to my room and flopped
down on the bed.

"It'll be nice to have the day off tomorrow," he said.

"What are you planning on doing tomorrow?" I asked.

"Sleeping and being lazy," he said.

I was nervous, pacing back and forth as I waited for the telephone
to ring.

"Sean, sit down.  You're making me tired just watching you."

"Yeah, okay," I said.  I sighed as I sat on Luke's bed.  I grabbed
the remote and started flipping through channels.

"Wait a minute, go back," said Spencer, sitting up.  He reached for
the remote.

"What?" I asked as I handed it to him.

He cycled back about four channels to a taped concert in a small
auditorium.

"'Soundstage,'" he said.  "This is the Doobie Brothers one."

"Groovy," I said.  "Go ahead and listen to the music."

"All the time," he answered, staring at the screen.

The telephone rang, startling me.  I reached over and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Room 648," whispered Kayla.

"You don't have to whisper," I said with a smile.  "I don't think
anyone will overhear."

"You just can't be too careful," she replied.

"Luke's downstairs.  As soon as he comes up, I'll be ready to meet
you."

"What about curfew?"  Kayla, at least, was thinking straight.  I had
forgotten about team curfew and bed check.

"You're right, sweetie.  I'd better wait until after Eddie does his
bed check."

"Call me before you come up so I can open the door, okay?"

"Okay," I answered.  Now all I had to do was wait until everything
was quiet in the halls.  Considering I was waiting to go to my
Luscious, I would do it willingly.

Luke came up about ten minutes before lights out, and Spencer headed
off to his own room.  "Soundstage" had ended, and we were back to
flipping through the channels again.

Luke looked around after Spencer left.  "Where's your girlfriend?"
he asked.

"She got a different room," I said.  I wrote the room number down on
a pad of paper for him.  "If you need to get in touch with me for any
reason, here's where I'll be."

"Dude, you know you're taking a chance here," he warned me.

"I know.  Just cover my back for the next couple of nights, okay?"

"I hope she's worth risking what you're risking," he said, shaking
his head.

"She's worth all that, and more," I said.

I had a backpack with my overnight stuff in it waiting by the side
of my bed, out of sight from the door.  I had on a tee shirt and my
running shorts, and I turned back the bedspread and slipped into bed.
I wanted to make it look like I was ready to go to sleep, for when
Eddie checked our room.  I hoped he would just poke his head in and
leave.  He was probably anxious to finish up his rounds so he could
go to bed, too.

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door.  Luke got up and
answered it, stepping aside so Eddie could come in and see me.

"You're both here, good.  Have a good night, men," he said.  He gave
us a tiny salute and stepped back out the door.

I glanced at the clock, determined to wait at least fifteen minutes
before sneaking out.  It was the longest fifteen minutes of my life.
I tried to will the clock to move faster, but it refused, seeming,
instead, to crawl along at about half speed.

Finally, after eleven minutes had passed, I gave up.  I sat up and
dialed Kayla's room.

"I'm on my way up," I whispered.

She giggled.  "You don't have to whisper," she said.  "I don't think
anyone will overhear."

"Very funny," I said, though I still kept my voice low.

"Hurry," she said softly.  Her voice had a little edge to it, and my
body responded.  I hurried.

I eased open the door and checked the hall.  All clear.  With a last
thumbs-up to Luke, I tiptoed down the hall to the stairway.  I opened
the fire door carefully, stepped through, and closed it gently.  Once
it was firmly closed, I took the stairs two at a time, up to the
sixth floor.  I found Kayla's room and tapped lightly on the door.
She opened it just enough for me to squeeze in.  Her room was dark,
with just the ambient light from the window highlighting the
furniture.  The curtains were open, and I could see the outlines of
rooftops and buildings in the night, with random rectangles of
windows lit up scattered around the scene.

Kayla was wearing a University of Florida tee shirt I had sent her,
and her soccer shorts.  Her long, pale hair was tied back in a loose
ponytail, with stray strands curled around her ears and framing her
lovely face.  I was struck again by how beautiful she was, and by how
fortunate I was to be loved by my Luscious.

She led me over to the bed nearest the window, and we sat down
together and looked at the city lights.  It was a clear night with a
moon just past full casting its blue, stark light across the
cityscape.  The stars were nearly washed out by the moon's display,
and the dome of light in which we resided, reaching up into the
atmosphere, contributed to the dimming of the celestial display.  At
that moment, I didn't care.  I had my own celestial light beside me,
holding my hand.

I let go of her hand so I could put my arm around her.  She turned
her head toward me, anticipating a kiss, and I tried not to
disappoint her.  I must have been doing it right, because I could
detect, either through my hearing or subliminally, a contented sound,
nearly a purr, emanating from her.

After a few minutes she twisted a little, so she could put her arm
by my waist.  She let her weight fall back onto the bed, and she
pulled me down with her.  We turned toward each other a little,
shifting to accommodate our relative positions, with our legs still
dangling over the edge of the bed.

I felt her lips part just a little, and her tongue peeked out to
tease my mouth.  We continued kissing, each gradually getting more
adventurous in our ardor.  Our mouths opened against each other, and
our tongues engaged in a ritual older than either of us.

In time, I felt Kayla begin to ruck up my tee shirt and rub her
palms on the bare skin of my chest.  Her fingers found my nipples and
teased each of them.  I heard her hum into my mouth as she felt my
chest and pushed up my shirt even further.

My own hand began to mirror her actions.  My fingers found their way
beneath her tee shirt, onto her tummy.  I felt her abdominal muscles
tighten just a little in response to my touch.  I slowly ran my hand
up her body until it encountered the slope of her left breast.  I was
not surprised to discover Kayla was not wearing a bra.  My fingers
explored her soft skin, skimming over her flesh along her sternum and
just beneath her breasts, deliberately staying away from her
sensitive tips.

We continued kissing, taking things slowly, almost leisurely.  We
had all night, after all, and we didn't really have anywhere to be
the next day.  Kayla had taken care of me the night before, so this
time it was my turn to make sure she was well satisfied.

Our kisses got hotter and wetter as our temperature elevated, and I
finally could not resist anymore.  I let my hand slide up over her
soft mounded flesh, and I let my fingertips brush across her swollen
nipples.  Kayla moaned into my mouth when she felt the stimulation my
fingers were bringing to her, and she began to pinch on my nipples in
response.

We teased each other with our kisses and our touching in the
darkened room, alone together in the middle of the city.  Finally,
with a gasp, Kayla had to break free of my mouth, and she threw her
head back and let herself be carried away by my fingers and my lips,
which were even then nibbling at her earlobe.  I found I was panting,
too, but since I was paying homage to her tender neck and ear, I made
sure I warmed the back of her ear with my breath as I took her
earlobe between my lips.  The combination made her shiver just a
little, and I felt it through the palm of my hand as I pressed
against her breast.

My tongue left a damp trail down her neck as I dropped toward her
throat with my mouth.  I kissed her just below the hinge of her jaw,
down below the jut of her jawbone, below her chin, to the hollow of
her lovely throat.  I spent a few minutes tasting her there, all
while my hand was kneading the flesh of her soft breast, alternately
playing with her nipple and hefting and squeezing her boob.

I had pushed up her shirt so that it had bunched up above her
breasts, so I abandoned my southern journey for just a moment.  I
began teasing her with my tongue and lips along the swell of her left
breast.  My right hand hefted her flesh, pushing the mound toward my
mouth, but I wanted to wait before taking possession of her swollen
nipple with my lips quite yet.  Instead, I nibbled and licked my way
around her breast, down the valley between her boobs, and licked the
underside of first her right, and then her left breast, gathering up
the salty perspiration that was leaching from her skin.

Once I had tasted her tender flesh, I couldn't be held back.  I
teased her as long as I could, but there came a point where I just
couldn't hold back anymore.  I allowed my tongue to circle around her
breast, moving in a concentric circle toward its rosy and distended
destination.  My lips gobbled up her nipple, and I pinched her other
nipple at the same time.  I heard and felt Kayla's sharp intake of
breath as the sudden onslaught raced through her body, and she held
my head tightly, wanting more.

I worshipped her breasts, sucking on her nipples and squeezing her
soft contours, and built her up.  She had her head back and her eyes
closed, concentrating on the electrical pulses firing along her
nerves from her nipples, to her pussy, to her brain.  I, too, was
doing my share of concentrating as I sucked in on her, trying to get
as much of her breast into my mouth as I could.  She was small, and
her skin was tightened because of the swelling of her nipples and her
breasts, so there wasn't a lot of meat to bring into my mouth, but I
did the best I could, until I felt her hard nub against the back of
my tongue.  I gave her as much suction as I could, and as I did, I
let my hand skim down her body until I found the waistband of her
satiny shorts.  My fingers slipped beneath the elastic and over her
tummy, drawn instinctively to the well of moisture below.  I
encountered the short, sparse hair above her pussy, down to her puffy
outer lips.  My middle finger parted her folds, releasing the
accumulation of oils, and my fingertips were immediately covered with
her hot lubrication.

The release of the moisture also mixed the scent of her arousal into
the air, and my nose picked it up.  My cock twitched in anticipation
as my finger delved between her spread legs.  My steely appendage
wanted to feel what my finger was experiencing as my fingertip found
her flooded hole and dipped in.

Kayla's hips hunched up at the intrusion, her body demanding more,
and I was anxious to accommodate.  I released her breast from my
sucking mouth and began my journey down to her center.  I moved over
so that I was between her legs, and I slipped to my knees on the
floor.  I reached up and gently pulled her soccer shorts down.  She
lifted up her butt to assist me, and I let them slide down her legs
and off her feet.  I dropped them to the floor, put my hands on her
inner thighs to guide her legs open.  Kayla lifted her legs so they
could rest on my shoulders, and she crossed her ankles against my
back.  I leaned in and licked her.

That first taste, oh!  How I loved that first, tangy and fresh taste
of my Luscious.  I used just the tip of my tongue to gather up her
juices, and her drooling slot seemed to flower open at my touch,
giving me more access to her.  I laved her from the skin of her legs
to her clitoris, peeking out and seeming to seek attention.  I ran my
tongue around the pencil-tip of nerve endings, spreading lubrication
and lapping up the overflow, and used my fingers to stimulate her
further along her folds.

I thrust my index finger into her as deeply as I could go, and her
hips bumped up.  As I used my tongue on her clit, I added a second
finger, and finger-fucked her in rhythm to the trilling of my tongue
against her sensitive bud.

I heard her moan, "Oh God, oh God," and I glanced up and watched her
face for a moment.  She looked almost like she was in pain, with her
eyes squeezed shut and her mouth grimacing.  She had one hand on the
back of my head, and her other hand was pinching her nipple.  No
matter what it felt like, I knew it could feel even better if
somebody else was doing it, so I reached up with one hand and grasped
her other breast, squeezing the orb for her.

Just that extra amount of stimulation was all it took to send her
over.  She screeched breathlessly, her whole body tensed up, and she
was tossed into the waves of the wonderful storm.  I continued
licking through her center, and I also worked my two fingers in and
out of her with my right hand.  My left hand pinched her nipple in
time with my strokes, and I was rewarded with a remarkably sweet and
oily discharge from her pussy.  She lost control of her body for just
a second, and three slight puffs of gas escaped from her asshole.
Kay never realized she farted, and I would never tell her about it.
It surprised me, and I started giggling as I played her.  An unusual
side effect of her orgasm, I surmised.  It was the first time I had
encountered the phenomenon, but certainly not the last.

Finally, she pushed my head away from her with a groan.  I settled
back and sat against the wall, underneath the window, as Kayla slowly
sat up.  Her eyes were slitted, and her hair was tangled, but she had
a determined look to her.  She came down to the floor and knelt
between my legs.  She grabbed my shorts and pulled them off, with my
assistance, and tossed them to join hers on the floor beside the bed.
She lifted up my shirt, pulling it off me, and it floated down onto
the growing pile of our clothes.  Still without a word, she put her
hands on my shoulders, lifted herself up, and straddled me.  She
pressed her breast to my mouth, and I opened up and nibbled on her,
taking advantage of the opportunity.  She let me play with her for
just a moment, and then she reached down and grabbed my rampant cock.
She held it upright, aimed the head toward her middle, and let
herself sink down, impaling herself on me.

It was my turn to moan.  She was very hot, very wet, and very tight.
She settled down on me, her butt resting on my thighs and my cock
buried in her, and stayed there for the moment.  I could feel her
body adjusting to the intrusion of my pole, and Kayla sighed with
satisfaction.  Her tee shirt was still around her body, so I put my
hands on her breasts - because I just couldn't resist them - and then
I ran my hands up under her shirt and pulled it up.  She raised her
arms, and I pulled it off her and tossed the shirt to the side as she
put her hands on my chest to steady herself.  She stared into my
eyes, a tiny smile on her face, and I watched her concentrate.  She
contracted her pussy muscles, squeezing against my cock, and she
grinned at my reaction.

Two can play that game, I thought to myself, and I concentrated on
flexing my cock within her.  Her eyes got a little wider when she
felt that, and the battle was on.  We both worked each other, sitting
there quietly and connected by our fleshy bond, flexing and
contracting and working each other into something of a frenzy.

Finally she had to move.  In that position, we just couldn't remain
still for very long, and her legs began to work.  She lifted herself
up, and I began that long slide as I withdrew from her body.  When
just the head of my cock was still encased inside her, she dropped
back down on me, until I was as deep inside her as I could get.  Once
I was fully sheathed, she would flex her vaginal muscles against me,
and start the process over again.

We established a rhythm in our lovemaking of upstroke, pause,
downstroke, flex.  We worked each other like this, until, finally,
our bodies betrayed us, and both of our movements got a little more
erratic.  Kayla put her hands on my shoulders again, and she
whispered, "Faster."

I was the one sitting on the floor, so I had limited control over
how fast we moved, but I did what I could.  Kayla did most of the
work, and she began to fuck herself on me, moving up and down on my
rod, her pussy contributing a continuous supply of warm lubrication
and the tip of my cock bubbling with pre-cum adding to the reservoir.
My heart rate was elevated, my breathing was rasping, and Kayla was
panting with the effort she was providing toward our climaxes.  I
felt the machinery engage, the hydraulics prime, and the countdown
begin.  Kayla was whispering to herself, "More, more, more," over and
over, willing her crisis to take her.  She was readying herself for
when she felt me go off, and I didn't disappoint her.

The muscles of my stomach, butt, and thighs clenched, I hunched up
at her, and I blasted my first streamer of semen into her.  She must
have felt it, because she huffed, grimaced, and began to bounce on
me, frantically arching her pelvis to try to rub her distended clit
against my pubic bone.  I clenched, held my breath, and pumped,
hitched in a breath and clenched again, four times, and then five,
giving her all I had.  She took it all, and her spasming walls worked
against my pumping organ for more, squeezing and gripping and
rippling against my flesh buried deeply within her.

She collapsed against me, her head lolling on my shoulder, her
climax having crested.  I put my arms around her and held her,
exhausted, and I kissed her pale, soft, and damp hair.  She sat
practically bonelessly on me, with my slowly softening member still
encased in her, and she hummed softly.  It was a happy and satisfied
sound, and it made my heart glad that I could contribute to its
creation.

"I take it she liked it," I said softly.

"Oh, yes, she liked it a lot," she whispered.  She picked up her
head and looked into my eyes happily.  "And he liked it, too," she
added.

"He loved it," I replied.  "And he loves the girl, too."

She kissed me softly, her eyes filling.  "And the girl loves the
boy," she said.

My softening cock was beginning to slip out of her, bringing with it
a small flood of our intermingled fluids.  Kayla sat up, letting my
deflated cock plop wetly down onto my leg, and she moved over to sit
against the wall next to me.  I put my arm around her, and she rested
her head on my chest.  She put her arm around my waist, and we sat
there together in companionable quiet.  She was warm beside me as we
cooled down from our exertions, and I could have stayed there with
her forever.

It didn't take long, however, before the boy once again realized he
had a naked girl next to him, and his body responded in a predictable
fashion.  I was willing to ignore the swelling of my cock, but Kayla
saw it.  She looked up into my face and smiled.

"Well, hello there, sailor," she said as her hand sneaked down to
take possession of my expanding member.  She scooted away from me
just enough to be able to drop down and lick the head of my cock as
she held me as if she was holding an ice cream cone.  Her tongue
lapped around the head, creating heated moisture and friction, and
made me grow even faster in her hand.

As her mouth closed over me, she began jacking me with her hand,
working my cock to increase its rigidity while she stimulated the
sensitive flesh with her lips and tongue.  She sucked on me, lowering
down and taking as much of me into her mouth as she could, and she
slid me between her lips, up and down, her saliva creating a
slippery, hot, and moist environment for me.

After just a few minutes I could feel my blood pounding as my heart
rate accelerated.  Kayla's hand moved from stroking my length to
caressing my balls, and, as I felt the tip of my cock hit the back of
her mouth, she began to hum.  The vibrations kicked me up several
notches, and I could feel my cock pulsing with my heartbeat,
expanding and contracting within her mouth.

Her intent was not to finish me off with her mouth, though, and
after a few minutes of stimulating me, she lifted up.  She kept up
her suction until the tip of my cock popped out from between her lips
with an audible pop.  She grabbed hold of my erection with her small
hand once again, and once more knelt over me.  She settled herself
into my lap, once again nesting me into her body, but this time she
wrapped her legs around my waist.  I had to scoot us away from the
wall when I felt her legs go around me, shimmying up a couple of feet
with her in my lap, and the bumping along across the carpet created
some delicious pressure right where Tab A was fitted into Slot B.
She smiled even as her breath caught as we both enjoyed the results
of our movement, and she bent down just a little and kissed me hard.

We stayed like that, barely moving, for a long time, until I began
to tire.  I felt like I was holding her up, and my abs and sides were
aching, so I moved us again, this time so we were parallel to the
bed, and I slowly lay back.  Kayla contorted herself so that we
didn't lose our connection as she untangled her legs from around me
so I could lay flat, and she lay down on top of me, her legs outside
mine, and she began to scrunch her hips against me.  I reached down
and grabbed the globes of her ass and squeezed them, helping her to
move on my cock with my hands, and the wonderful friction worked its
magic on us once again.

She pushed up with her arms so she could watch my face as she fucked
me, and I was able to watch her tits jiggle and sway above me.  I was
tempted to grab them, but I had my hands full, so to speak, and they
were quite happy where they were.  I bent my neck to somewhat of an
awkward angle so I could try to capture one of her nipples between my
lips.  Kayla giggled and swayed her upper body to keep me from
claiming her prize, until she finally took pity on me and fed me her
swollen tip.  She sighed as I clamped down on her with my lips and my
teeth, closed her eyes, and began to move her hips in earnest.

Her lower body started moving hard against me, and it was taking its
toll.  It took a long time to climb the mountain, but once at the
top, the fall was going to be spectacular.  I let go of her boob with
my mouth, reached up to hold the sides of her head, and I brought her
down for a hot, open-mouthed kiss.  I wanted her to feel a dual
connection, pussy to cock and tongue to tongue as we came.  We built
together, and we crashed together.

I hunched up into her, and the pumps activated.  My hot gift
splashed against her straining walls, and she cried out into my mouth
as her own orgasm triggered.  Midway through our climaxes we had to
break off our kiss as each of us gasped and panted.  I was giving her
my last, weak spurts when she climbed up once more and climaxed
again, and climbed yet again, a series of rolling climaxes that
coursed unabated through her.  I could feel her pussy clasping down
on me with each series of convulsions, milking my cock as I was
embedded in her, until, finally, her body shivered and collapsed on
top of me, completely done in by our lovemaking.

At that point I was nearly incoherent, also.  My entire lower body
seemed to be twitching in sympathy with my heart beating, and my cock
tried to let loose with one last, weak spurt before giving up.  I ran
my hands down her back to her ass, then back up again, and they
finally came to rest in the small of her back, where I could feel the
heat from her exertions radiating from her.

After resting for a few minutes, Kayla was finally able to pick up
her head to look tiredly at me.

"Wow," she said.  "Just... wow."

I ran my fingertips up and down her spine, still thrilling at the
touch of her naked flesh.  "You worked hard for that one," I said.

She nodded wearily.  "It was worth it."

As a tease I tried to flex my weary and worn-out cock, still firmly
seated inside her, but I got no response from it.  She must have felt
the effort, though, because she leaned over to the side and let my
cock slip from her pussy.

"The poor little guy's got nothing left," she said.

"Sweetie," I replied, "just a word of advice.  Naked guys don't like
to be called 'little' after a performance like we just had."

Kayla laughed out loud, and bent down to kiss first my poor,
shriveled and used cock, and then me.  "He's little now, but he came
up big when he needed to," she said, her lips still touching mine.





(Continued in Chapter 19)




- 19 -

CUTE BUTTS



True to her boast, Kayla found a new way to wake me up in the morning.

We were sleeping together on one of the double beds in our hotel
room, having fallen into slumber as we snuggled beneath the covers.
Sometime during the night Kay had stolen the blanket, and one side of
me had gotten cold enough I woke up.  I moved closer to her and
pulled the covers back over me and went back to sleep, with Kayla's
body heat warming me.  As morning approached, she must have backed
into me and woken up with my morning hardon pressing against her
butt.  She coaxed me awake as she pulled my hard cock through her
legs to rest against her bare pussy lips.  She idly rubbed on the
head, and it was this stimulation that finally dragged me up from the
well of slumber.

I started to stretch, an unconscious reaction to waking, and as my
back arched, my pelvis moved against her backside.  My cock slipped
through her pussy, and the contact started her glands.  Moisture
began gathering and transferring to my rod, hot and exciting
moisture.  Kayla was using just her thumb and index finger to play
with my cock as I slipped my arm around her.  I was fully awake by
then, aware of my situation, and willing to take any advantage my
Luscious was going to grant.  I grasped her breast and pulled her
back to me, and I began to nibble at her exposed neck.

Kayla giggled and tilted her head a little, giving me more access to
the tender skin under her ear, and she grabbed my cock in her fist
and began to jack me in short, hard strokes.  It was almost like she
was pretending to be a boy, with my cock jutting out from between her
legs.

As I played with her boob and pinched her nipple, her pussy drooled
more lubrication out onto the shaft of my cock.  It was getting
slippery down there, and I was feeling the need to bury myself in
someplace dark, warm, wet, and cozy.  Kayla must have been feeling
the same way, because she didn't complain when I flexed my hips back
and my cock slipped away from her hand.  I hunched, and she helped me
by doing something with her hips that allowed the head of my cock to
easily find the way.  She sighed as I took hold of my cock and guided
it to her opening, and began to slide home.

"You are such a tease," I roughly whispered into her ear as my cock
found its way.

"Me?" she replied, glancing over her shoulder at me.  She clutched
my hand to her breast, squeezing me hard against her sensitive flesh.
"It seems to me you are the one taking advantage here."

"I wouldn't call it taking advantage," I said.  This was a new
phenomenon we were experiencing, and it came to me in a flash of what
I thought at the time was prescience.  We were actually having a
conversation as we were making love, instead of grimacing and
groaning and concentrating on achieving the peak in the shortest
amount of time.  It was less intense, but quite loving.  "I would say
it was more a case of accepting that which had been offered."

I bumped into her for emphasis, and I felt her tense up just a
little as the sensations burst through her.  In response, she
tightened up her vaginal muscles against me, temporarily impeding me
from stroking into her.  It was my turn to tense up.

"Accepting an offer?"  She was continuing the conversation, but once
she started squeezing my cock with her pussy, I was having a little
trouble keeping track.  "There I was, sound asleep, when I was
accosted... accosted, I tell you!... by an unknown appendage.  I was
merely investigating when you interceded."

"Mighty big words for a high school junior," I said.  "Is that what
I'm doing?  Interceding?"

"Oh, yes," she sighed.  "Interceding.  And well, too."  She bumped
her ass back against my groin.  "Do me a favor?  Could you intercede
a little faster?"

I had vowed to myself a long time before to never disappoint this
girl, and this was a good time to prove myself, I decided.  "Your
desire is my command," I said, and I bent to my task.  With
enthusiasm.

Before too long, we had the bed sheets thrown to the foot of the
bed, I was holding Kayla's leg up in the air, and I was pounding into
her hard from behind her.  She was grunting every time I bottomed out
in her, and the bed was rocking and thumping with our efforts.  I was
sweating, and Kayla's skin glowed with her own sheen of perspiration.
Her tight ass jiggled each time I thrust into her, my pelvis hitting
against her, and my balls were swinging like they were hinged.  I
loved watching her ass cheeks undulate as I pounded against her.  I
was in a zone, seemingly calm as I worked her, waiting to feel her
tumble over before I was going to allow myself to come.

It felt like we were building together to give her a massive orgasm.
I was moving as fast and as hard as I could, giving her no respite.
Kayla was more passive because of the restriction of movement her
position demanded of her, but she was doing what she could to
contribute, squeezing and relaxing the muscles of her lower body.

I pulled out of her and rolled her over onto her back.  She began
moaning at the loss of sensation, the lack of the feeling of being
filled.

"Oh, no, don't stop," she began.

I wordlessly grabbed her by her ankles and pushed her legs back
until her knees nearly touched her shoulders.  I thrust back into her
roughly, my cock immediately buried fully inside her.

"Ah," she moaned, and she let her legs rest on my shoulders.  She
was rolled into a tight little ball, completely open to me, with her
cunt tilted up for maximum depth, and I took advantage.  I began to
fuck her hard, and she continued her climb up.  A pillow cushioned
her head from the wall, an inadvertent layer of protection from a
possible concussion as we continued with our frenzied coupling.

I stayed on her like that, grimacing and clenching my teeth with the
effort, until I felt the subtle changes in her.  Her pussy got a
little wetter and a little hotter, her breath began hitching
raggedly, and she was nearly there.  I dropped my head down and
nipped at her left nipple, pressing her legs even harder up against
herself, and that was the last bit of stimulus she needed.  She
screeched, her voice high and breathy, and she clutched her hands to
the back of my neck and tensed up, pulling my mouth harder against
her breast, and she came.  Spectacularly.

She could hardly move, rolled up as she was, but her pussy exuded a
fresh batch of fluid, and her body began to tremble.  Her eyes were
squeezed shut, her mouth was stretched open in a rictus of pleasure,
and her arms squeezed against me.  I felt her liquids oozing down my
balls and pooling beneath us, and the combination was all I needed to
join her, and I jettisoned my essence to splash against her spasming
walls and her cervix.

Her body accepted my offering, and it triggered another seizure
within her.  Her pussy muscles rippled as they worked to milk my cock
of all it contained, and I felt my balls contract as they offered up
the last of my sperm for her.  Kayla cried out again, the sound
forced from her overwhelmed body, as I collapsed down on her.  Her
legs slipped from my shoulders and slid down my sides until they were
splayed out on the bed.  Only then did her body begin to give her a
respite as her muscles relaxed in the aftershocks of her rolling
orgasms.

I pushed my chest up from her and looked down at her.  She was
flushed, bright red from her forehead down across her chest.  Her
nipples and areolae were bright red, swollen and tender looking.  Her
diaphragm was working to get oxygen into her lungs, and she was
sweaty where we were still connected, my slowly softening cock still
buried deep inside her.

In one of those quirky moments that help to make life even more
worthwhile, our morning had turned from a tender moment of lovemaking
into a sweat-filled fuck session, but there were no complaints from
Kayla or me.

We were lying side by side recuperating from our aerobic wake-up
when the telephone rang.  Kayla picked it up, but it was for me.  I
took the phone from her.

"Yo," I said in my very best Rocky voice.

"Yo yourself," said Spencer.  "Time to rise and shine, Soccer Boy.
Breakfast with the team in fifteen."

"Thanks, man," I said.  "I'll be there."

I crawled out of bed and trudged to the bathroom.  Just before going
in, I turned back to look at my love.  She was lying on her side, her
arms tucked, as she watched me.

"I've got to shower, and I've got to hurry," I said.  "I've got to
be downstairs in fifteen minutes.  No goofing around this morning."

Kayla rolled her eyes.  "As if I have any energy left to goof
around," she said.

I wasn't sure I believed her.  Sometimes Kayla showed me she had a
nearly insatiable side.  She did have more willpower than I, though.

She didn't join me in the shower.  I was a little bit relieved, and
a little bit disappointed.  I was completely worn out, but it would
have been a nice morning if we could have just stood together in the
shower.

'As if we would be able to do just that,' I reminded myself.  If she
had shown up, I knew I wouldn't have been able to keep my hands to
myself, good intentions or not.

The shower refreshed me.  I wrapped a towel around my waist and
walked back into the bedroom.  Kayla was still in bed, and she had
pulled the sheets back over her.  Her eyes were closed, and she
looked like she was asleep.  I tried to be quiet as I stepped over to
my duffel bag by her side of the bed.  I bent over to rummage around,
looking for clothes, when I felt Kayla's hand run up my thigh,
underneath the towel, and up to my ass.  It surprised the hell out of
me, and I jumped up and whirled around.  Kayla was trying to suppress
a giggle as she watched my antics.

"I thought you were asleep," I said.

"I was kind of dozing when I heard you," she said.  "I opened my
eyes, and you were sticking your big butt in my face, so I thought
I'd cop a feel."

I shook my finger at her in mock retribution.  "I want you to love
me for my mind, not my butt," I said.

"Oh, I do," she said with a smile.  "You can't help it if a cute
butt is attached to your desirable mind, though."

That rocked me back a little.  Girls had cute butts, not guys.  It
had never occurred to me until that moment that girls might look at a
guy's body, just like guys liked looking at girls.  Suddenly I was
hit by a severe attack of the shys.  'Jesus, Porter, you're
embarrassed,' I realized with no small amount of dismay.  How could
that be?

I must have turned red, because Kayla let out with a startled laugh,
and she jumped out of bed.  She put her arms around my neck and
pulled me down so she could kiss me.

"Oh, Seanie, it's all right," she said as she hugged me.  "It's
nothing to be embarrassed about.  Girls can think about guys, you
know.  And you are a very good-looking guy.  All my friends think so,
too."

"I'm not sure that makes me feel any better," I said.  "Guys are
just... guys.  I've never considered if a guy is good looking or not."

"Really?"  She pulled her head away so she could look me in the eye.
"Sometimes that's all the girls I know can talk about."  She shook
her head.  "Some of them can be so shallow sometimes," she said,
almost to herself.

"Who?  Like, Jaimie?"

"Oh, no, not Jaimie," said Kayla.  "She's only got eyes for Jake.  I
don't think she even realizes other boys exist."

"Jake will be happy to hear that," I said.

Kay reached up and grabbed my ears.  "Don't you dare say anything to
him," she said seriously.  "He's in love with her, she's in love with
him.  He doesn't need to think she's being obsessive or anything."

"Okay, okay," I said.  "Just don't hurt me."  I reached up and
gently pulled her hands away from my ears.  It was her way of getting
my attention, but having her nearly naked in my arms was attention
enough, especially with me just wearing a barely closed towel.

"Oops," she said with a smile.  "Sorry, Sean."  She stood up on
tiptoe and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.  "Now, if you'll pardon
me, I need my beauty sleep."  She crawled back in bed and pulled the
sheet back over her.

I just stood there for a moment, gazing down at her.  "No, you
don't," I said.  "If you were any more beautiful, you wouldn't be
human."

She didn't answer, but she did look pleased.  I found my clothes and
hurriedly dressed before the temptation to stay with her overtook me.


_________________________________________________________________



I got downstairs just in time.  I grabbed my food and slid into a
seat at a table with Spencer, Jesse, and Bryan when Pick and Eddie
walked in.  Pick looked around the room, and headed for the buffet
line.  We had more film to watch this morning, and then a practice
after that.  We were having a team lunch with the press and the
organizers of the tournament, and then our afternoon and evening was
our own.  I had just left my Luscious, and I was already looking
forward to seeing her again in a few hours.

After breakfast we filed into a conference room that was set up with
a projector and a portable screen.  Stan Harvard was already there,
threading film into the projector, as we settled into seats.  Pick
ambled up to stand in front of the white screen.

"We got two pieces of film to study this morning, gentlemen," he
said.  "I want you to take a look at our game against North Carolina
first.  We're going to be critiquing ourselves pretty severely, all
of us.  I believe we've got some holes to plug, and you can bet that
the Tarheels will find 'em if we don't get rid of 'em."

Stan gave Pick a thumbs-up to let him know he was ready with the
film.  Pick nodded and continued, "The second film will be another
South Carolina game.  You all saw them play against Maryland, and
today we're going to watch them in a non-conference game they played
a couple of weeks ago against Indiana."  He looked around the room at
his players.  "Y'all pay attention, now.  This ain't no kid stuff.
We got some work to do between now and tomorrow noon.  Okay?"

With that, Stan started up the projector.  Eddie, stationed by the
door, flipped the light switches, and we spent the next two hours
watching the games.  There was no sound with the film, but Pick
stayed up by the screen and provided his own commentary.

We paid attention, and we learned.


__________________________________________________________________



Kayla and I spent the afternoon with Eric and Keisha poking around
the Smithsonian.  It was a cool and rainy day, a good day to spend
indoors, and we took our time in the various halls and exhibits,
wandering around pretty much aimlessly, holding hands.  We ate a
light supper at a place near the Georgetown campus, and we called it
an early night.

We took a cab back to our hotel, and I lingered outside while Kayla
went in.  I watched through the revolving door until I saw her get
into the elevator, and I strolled in, trying to look casual.  I did
the same routine as the previous night, wandered around the lobby and
the restaurant looking for teammates, trying to offload any
suspicions.

Luke was sitting at a table in the closed lobby bar, playing gin
with Spencer.  Dan Ortega was slouched in a third chair, watching the
play and looking bored, and Frenchy was standing behind him with his
arms crossed.  I pulled another chair over and sat down opposite Dan.

"Did you just stay here all day, Dan?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied.  "Boring as hell.  Nothing to do."

"Why didn't you go out with somebody?"

"Raining," he said.  "Cold.  Lazy.  Take your choice."

Luke slapped a card down on the pile, upside-down.  "Gin, you sly
bastard!" he cried.  "I finally got you!"

Spencer laughed.  "Just don't do that victory dance like the last
time," he said.

I looked inquiringly at the guys.  Dan shrugged.

"Goldman's been cleaning Luke's clock," he said.  "Luke won his
first hand finally, and he did a jig around the table to celebrate.
It was pretty freakin' funny."

"Hey, you know how it is," said Luke, not the least bit embarrassed.
"You've gotta enjoy the few wins against this asshole you can manage.
I never seen anybody so lucky at cards."

Spencer shrugged expressively.  "Some guys are lucky in cards, some
are lucky in love."

All three glanced quickly over at me.  Frenchy just stood silently,
watching the interaction.  I expected him to launch into an
explanation about how the French were the world's greatest lovers,
but he stayed uncharacteristically quiet.

"What?" I tried for an innocent look.  From the expressions on
Luke's and Spencer's faces, I failed.

I stretched and faked a yawn.  "I think I'm going to head upstairs,"
I said.

"Curfew is ten tonight," Luke reminded me.

I gave him a warning look, and glanced at Dan to see if he had
noticed Luke's slip.  "I'm heading up now," I said pointedly.

"Oh.  Yeah, okay," said Luke.  It was lame, but maybe it would pass
right over Dan.  He still was desultorily sitting there, seemingly
uninterested in anything going on around him.  Frenchy was watching
me with a calculating look on his face.  It made me nervous as I
walked away, as if there was a gun aimed right between my shoulder
blades.

It got worse once I got to my room.  I called Kayla to tell her I
would be up sometime after ten, and I could tell right away she was
upset.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" I asked.

"Sean, I... I think you should stay in your own room tonight."

"What?  Why?"

She was very hesitant.  "Just before I got in the elevator, your
coach - Coach Pick?  He came out of the restaurant.  He looked right
at me, Sean.  I think he recognized me."

"No, couldn't be," I assured her.  "He only saw you, what, that one
weekend?  That was two years ago, Kay.  He may have seen you, and he
may even have thought he might have met you before, but there's no
way he would remember where or when.  He's way too busy, and he's met
way too many other people since then."

"Still, it's just one night..."

"I don't want us to spend our last night together... not together.
You know?"

"Sean..."

"It'll be okay, I promise.  Just wait for my call, okay?"

She was reluctant, but she finally agreed.  "Okay, Sean.  I'm
nervous about it, though."

"No sweat," I said magnanimously.  "I'm in tight with Pick's team
leaders.  It will work out."

She sighed.  "You're sure?"

"I'll call you when I'm on my way up to you," I said.

I took a shower and put on my running shorts and another tee shirt.
I turned back my bed and switched the television to TBS.  They were
warming up for Halloween by showing some of the better horror or
suspense movies on the weekends, and tonight's movie was "Jaws."
Richard Dreyfuss was doing his Duddy Kravitz laugh, Roy Scheider was
playing the neurotic sheriff, and Robert Shaw chewed up scenery right
up until he himself was chewed up by Bruce the Shark.  In a dark and
quiet room, it was still, even nine years later, an intense and nail-
biting film.  I watched avidly, and Luke settled in to watch, too,
after he came upstairs.  We were quietly watching as the movie built
up its suspense, and the knock on the door was startling.  I got up
and answered.

It was Eddie, doing his room check, and I opened the door for him
and got back to the movie.  Eddie stepped in to see what we were
watching, and he got involved in it for a few minutes, too.

At the next commercial break, he remembered his duties.  "Gotta go
check the other rooms," he said, almost as a reminder to himself.
"See you men in the morning."  He closed the door behind him, and
Luke and I stayed where we were, engrossed in the movie.

As bits of the exploded shark began drifting to the bottom of the
ocean, I suddenly remembered Kayla.  I jumped up and called her.  She
sounded sleepy when she picked up the phone.

"I'm coming up," I said.

"It's so late," she said groggily.

"Open the door for me," I said, and I hung up.  I grabbed my stuff
and waved to Luke.  I opened our door slowly, peered out, and saw the
coast was clear.  I hustled over to the stairway door and took the
steps two at a time up to the sixth floor.

Kayla was waiting for me with the door propped against her bare
foot.  She smiled at me and gave me a quick, small kiss before
stepping aside and letting me in.

"Sorry," she said.  "I think I was asleep.  I'm glad you're here."

She was wearing a long Winnie the Pooh nightshirt.  Her pale hair
was loosely tied back and a little disheveled from her pillow.  She
looked vulnerable, and completely lovely.

We climbed into the double bed and snuggled together.  Considering
how tired she seemed, I was willing to lie there in her arms and let
her fall back asleep, and it seemed like that was what she was going
to do.  She relaxed against me, and her breathing steadied out.  I
contented myself with having her next to me, and I began to think
about how nice it would be to spend the rest of our lives together
like this, sleeping side by side.

Her little nap must have revitalized her, though, because before too
long I felt her stirring next to me.  She tightened her arms around
me, and she lifted up her face to mine and kissed me.  I thought it
was just going to be a last good-night kiss, but it turned into
something else, and before long we were turning toward each other,
pressing our bodies against each other, and letting our hands wander
along some of the interesting contours we encountered.

I had just run my hand under the hem of her nightshirt, and was
caressing her butt cheek, when she opened her mouth against mine.
Her tongue darted out to touch the tip of mine, and the contest was
on.

This was not one of those heated and hurried couplings, but was
evolving into a tender lovemaking session.  Not the burning heat of
the previous night, but more of a steady, slow rising that would
eventually build into a substantial mutual climax.

We pleasured each other, each doing a little giving and a little
receiving, until, toward the last, Kayla finally rolled over onto her
back and pulled me on top of her.  She reached down between us and
guided my cock into her pussy, and as I slid into her welcoming
depths, she arched her back, sighed, and held me tightly to her.

For me, it was like coming home.  I was where I always wanted to be,
where I felt I belonged.  We fit so well together, I thought as we
made love.  We move so well together.  This can only be forever.

No sooner had these thoughts crossed my mind, as we slowly and
lovingly built each other up, when the jarring sound of the telephone
on the nightstand rudely intruded itself.

'Don't answer, don't answer,' I silently pleaded as we stopped
moving together.  Kayla opened her eyes, and I saw the fear in them.
With me still on top of her, buried deeply inside her, she twisted
around and picked up the telephone, and everything changed.

Damn it all, everything changed.





(Continued in Chapter 20)




- 20 -

SIPHONED AWAY INTO NOTHINGNESS


Kayla's voice quavered a little as she answered the phone.  She
silently handed it to me.  I slipped out of her and rolled off the
bed to stand by the nightstand.  With no small amount of trepidation
I put the handset to my ear.

"Who is this?" I asked.

"It's me, Jesse.  Get your ass back downstairs quick.  I just got a
call from Jose Maria.  Pick's going to do another bed check."

"Okay, dude.  I'm on my way.  Thanks."

I threw the handset back in the general direction of the table and
scrambled to find my clothes.

"I've got to get back to my room," I said to Kay.  She looked
frightened, but there was nothing I could do at that moment to
appease her.

I pulled my shorts on and struggled into my tee shirt as I ran out
the door without saying another word.  I took the stairs two and
three at a time, down to my floor, and I flung open the fire door
without thinking.

Fortunately, the hallway was empty.  I breathed a sigh of relief,
slipped my key in the door of the room I shared with Luke, and
stepped into the Twilight Zone.

Pick and Eddie were sitting on my bed, looking as casual as could
be.  Luke was standing at attention by the dresser in his underwear.
Sweat was beaded on his forehead, and his eyes looked like the eyes
of some sort of caged animal.

'I don't know why he feels trapped,' I thought raggedly.  'He's not
the one who has just fucked up.'

"Good evening, Mr. Porter," said Pick Cropper.  "I don't suppose you
have a good explanation for this, do you?"

My brain froze.  "Uh... sir..."  It was only fitting I would stammer
away any possible alibi that might have convinced my coach of my
innocence.

Coach shook his head sadly.  I knew in that instant he had, indeed,
recognized Kayla.  From that moment, I had been dead meat.  It just
hadn't hit home until now.

Pick stood up suddenly.  I reflexively took a step back.  Coach took
two steps, coming face-to-face with me.  He stared me in the eye.

"Team meeting at eight sharp.  Conference Room A.  I will not
tolerate anybody being even thirty seconds late."

"Yes, sir."

"You are not to leave this room from now until then," he said.
There was iron in his voice.  "I cannot make myself any clearer than
that.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," I answered, almost whispering.

He stared at me for a time, and I got increasingly nervous.  I was
not enjoying thinking about what he was examining within me, but I
wasn't about to tear my eyes away from his search.  He would find
what he would find.

Without another word, Pick finally released me from his gaze.  He
stepped around me, and Eddie sidled after him.  The door clicked
softly behind them.  Only then did I dare take a breath.  I
shuddered, and Luke nearly collapsed.

"Man, you're fucked," he said.

Didn't I know it.

I couldn't even take the chance of calling Kayla to let her know
what had happened.  I lay down on top of my bed, without even turning
the bedspread down.  I put my hands behind my head and bleakly
contemplated my future.

Sometime during the long night I finally fell into a troubled and
restless slumber.  It didn't last long, though, and I was awake again
by six.  I took a long time in the shower before waking Luke, and
together we went downstairs to face Pick's wrath.


________________________________________________________________


The team meeting was a disaster.  I was the pariah, and deservedly
so, but very few were spared.

Pick started out quiet, and never did raise his voice.  It was all
the more devastating hearing him speak in such normal tones.

"We seem to have acquired us a problem," he began once everybody had
found seats.  I was in the last chair in the back row, and nobody was
sitting next to me.  I couldn't blame them.

"I have always tried to treat each and every member of my team as
equal and valued," Pick continued after a pause.  "I put a
substantial amount of trust in my players, my coaches, and my staff.
I have rarely had that trust betrayed.  And yet, here we all are.
You all picked a hell of a time to toss this season into the shitter,
I got to say."

He looked directly at me.  "You got anything to say in your defense,
Mr. Porter?"

I stood up.  Might as well face the firing squad on my feet.  "No,
sir," I said.  "But I do want to apologize to my teammates for
putting them in this position.  I was wrong, and I admit it."

"It's a start, but I'm afraid it ain't the finish," said Coach.  "I
believe I've got the gist of it, and I will be willing to listen up
to anybody who thinks I might have some part of it in the wrong.
Without wallowing in the details, here's what I am basing my
decisions concerning this here tournament upon."

Everybody kind of shifted in their chairs, and many of my teammates
craned around to look at me.

"Unbeknownst to Mr. Porter beforehand, some friends of his arranged
for a reunion between him and his girl from back home.  Kayla, isn't
it?"  He glanced in my direction, but I knew he didn't need my
confirmation.  "A lovely girl.  Now, there was a couple of others
here in the room who were witnesses to this reunion, and when they
saw the direction that was being laid out, I surely do wish they had
counseled their friend toward a different set of circumstances."

He looked around the room, perhaps noting the witnesses.  Eddie
Whitehead and Stan Harvard, stationed on either side of Pick, watched
us, also.

"The upshot of this all is that Mr. Porter, here, has violated
curfew repeatedly during this here tournament, broken team rules, and
all in all behaved poorly indeed.  While his behavior has not
degraded his performance on the field, the fact that he has taken it
upon himself to be the arbiter of my rules has placed him opposite
me.  And, when it comes to this team, I think you all know how
successful somebody who stands opposite me will be.  It's my way or
the highway, as they say."

He gathered himself together and stood up straighter.  "Sean Porter,
Jesse Wilhoit, Bryan Watkins, Stuart Early, Spencer Goldman, Luke
Severn, and Brad Rickman.  You seven players will suit up for today's
game, but you will not play.  If we have an injury, we will play
short.  If we have two injuries, we will play two short.  If we end
up with a keeper and one player on the field, we will finish the game
with just those two in the game.  Understood?"

There was a murmur of assent.  The depth of our punishment was
sufficient we were, in effect, forfeiting any chance of winning the
championship.  It was startling to me that Pick would so easily throw
that away, when he could easily salvage a run at South Carolina by
merely benching me.  I looked around and saw quite a few slumped
shoulders.  The realization set in quickly.

"Any further disciplinary measures to be taken will be decided once
we get back home.  In the meantime, until we are in the bus and on
the interstate, we are in lockdown.  You all are to stay in your
rooms except during scheduled team activities."  He glanced at his
watch.  "Our game is at noon.  Breakfast will be brought in here in a
moment.  After our meal, you are to return to your rooms until Eddie,
Stan, or I come and collect you.  Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," we all mumbled.

Pick turned his back on us and huddled with his two assistants.  We
were dismissed, but we had nowhere to go.


__________________________________________________________________


Twelve hours later, we were on the bus and on our way back to
Gainesville.

The championship game was a disaster.  We lost 6-1, and were never a
threat to the Gamecocks at all.  I spent the entire game on the end of
the bench, all alone, with a towel over my head and my elbows propped
on my knees.  I could barely work up the energy to even watch the
movement of the ball.  I just didn't give a shit.

At one point, Trent Abbott trotted the sidelines and slowed as he
got to me.  He shrugged, as if to ask me what was up.  I just shook
my head once, and he continued on his way, no doubt mystified by our
play and our lineup.

After the game, at the presentation of the championship and
consolation trophies, the seven of us who did not play stood to one
side as the rest of the team mounted the podium to accept the trophy.
Pick kept his remarks short, and did not mention a word about our
abbreviated team.  I glanced into the stands just once, looking for
Eric and Keisha, knowing Kayla would be with them, but I didn't see
them.  It was probably just as well, as my feelings were in turmoil.

After we had been on the road for a couple of hours, I ventured up
toward where Jesse and Bryan were sitting, across the aisle from each
other.  Bryan was listening to music, but Jesse was just staring out
the window.  He glanced up at me when he finally saw my reflection in
the dark window, and he sat up and moved over.  He patted the seat
next to him.  I sat down.

"Look, Jesse, I just want to apologize for getting you mixed up in
this," I said.

He looked unhappy, and I knew it was my fault, even though he would
be the last person to lay any blame on me, deserved or not.  "I
stepped into it with my eyes wide open, Sean.  Not your fault."

"Yeah, it is," I insisted.  I didn't want him letting me off the
hook that easily.  "I fucked up, and you're paying the cost with me,
and I don't like it."

He just shrugged desultorily.  "I knew about it, I knew it could
blow up, and I didn't say anything to you to try to stop it.  Pick's
right.  I should have taken responsibility, as a team leader.  And I
didn't."

"It wasn't your decision.  It was mine.  You've got a right to be
pissed at me."

"I'm pissed, but I'm pissed at myself for falling into the trap.
I'm not angry with you, Sean."

"Jesse..."

"Look," he said, "if it's okay with you, I'd rather not talk about
it anymore.  I just want to try to get some sleep.  Okay?"

With that, he rolled his shoulders and tucked his head against the
window and closed his eyes.  Our conversation was at an end.  I stood
up and looked over at Bryan.  I wanted to apologize to each of the
guys, one at a time, but Bryan deliberately kept on looking out the
window, his headphones giving him a perfect excuse for not noticing
me.  I knew he knew I was there, but if he didn't want to talk to me
now, it was all right.  I'd have my chance sooner or later.

Spencer and Luke and the others were further up the bus.  I decided
I would give it a little more time before I approached them.  I
wandered back to my own bench seat, all alone in the back of the bus.

Just before midnight, Pick came down the aisle of the bus as we
hurtled into the darkness down the interstate.  He stopped at my seat
and looked down at me.  There was nobody else around me.

"I'll see you in my office at 2:30," he said.

I nodded.

"What was that you said?" he asked, anger making his voice rumble.

Without looking up at him, I replied, "Yes, sir.  Two-thirty."

"That's better," he said roughly.

I was left to myself once he walked away, with only my own thoughts
and assumptions to keep me company.  It was cold comfort.


_________________________________________________________________


Promptly at 2:30 the next afternoon, I was cooling my heels in the
reception area of the Athletic Office.  Pick's secretary, Eunice
Adkins, glanced at me every now and then out of the corner of her
eye.  She wore big rhinestone glasses and a pencil stuck into her
sticky-looking beehive hairdo.  Every now and then she took her
glasses off and let them dangle from the beaded chain attached to the
bows.  I thought she looked a little sympathetically at me, but that
may have been wishful thinking.

Pick let me stew for over forty minutes before calling me into the
inner sanctum.  By then, I was pretty steamed myself.  Hell, I knew I
had done wrong.  All I wanted was to be doled out my punishment for
what I thought was a minor indiscretion, so we could all get on with
the bigger picture, which was winning the SEC and going to the Big
Show, the NCAA tournament.

I made the mistake of slamming Pick's door a little too hard when I
finally was allowed to enter.  Unfortunately, it set the tone of the
meeting.  Eddie was there, too, probably acting as witness to the
proceedings.  I wished I had brought somebody, too.

I was just crouching down to sit in the chair opposite Pick's desk
when he growled, "Did anybody give you permission to set, Porter?"

I scrambled back up and stood to the side.  "No, sir."  I tried to
sound more apologetic that I felt.  I didn't think I succeeded.

Instead of having me sit, Pick stood up and leaned on his desk.

"Son, you remember a previous conversation of ours?  About me taking
on projects now and again?"

"Yes, sir, I do," I answered.

"I never expected you to be one of them projects, boy."

"I'm not one of those projects, Coach."

"You may not have started out as one, Mr. Porter," he said.  "You
are surely turnin' out to be such a one, though."

"Look, Coach, I realize I broke team rules, but it's not like it was
detrimental to my play on the field," I said.

"You think not?"  He looked at me sharply.  "Tell me, son, did we
win that there championship game?"

"Of course not," I said angrily.  "Because..."

"Because you broke the damn rules!"  Pick was shouting over me.

My mouth clapped shut.  I had to grit my teeth to keep from arguing
the point.

"You let your gawddamn gonads rule over your thick head, Porter," he
said in a slightly lower tone.  "It cost us that Georgetown
championship, and it may cost us the conference title before we're
done with it."

"I don't see how..."

"You just ain't learned to keep your damned mouth shut yet, have
you?" Pick growled, cutting me off.  "Maybe servin' out a three-game
suspension will give you time to see the error of your ways."

Relief at not being kicked off the team warred with feelings of
frustration over not being able to defend myself.  "Three games?
Coach, I..."

"On second thought, make that five games," Pick interrupted.  "And
one game each for Wilhoit, Goldman, and Watkins."

I kept my mouth shut.  It was only getting worse.  Pick watched me
closely, and nodded with grim satisfaction when he saw I was going to
keep quiet.

"Good.  You're learning.  You ought to be thanking me, son.  Near
about anybody else would have been packing up their locker and
heading back home if they'd pulled something like this.  I must be
gettin' soft, but I think you got some redeeming qualities.  I ain't
one to let go easily."

He stared at me hard.  I nodded and ventured a "Yes, sir," hoping
even that much comment would not draw even more punishment.

It was apparently the correct response, because he nodded again and
sat down at his desk.

"You will practice with the team, just like always," he instructed.
"You will report to the locker room for each game wearing a coat and
tie, and you will occupy a spot on the bench.  You will take notes,
copious notes, of each game, and give me a detailed summary of your
observations by the next morning.  Are we clear so far?"

"Yes, sir."

"In addition, you will quit your job with the souvenir shop.  You
will be Eddie Whitehead's gopher for the balance of the year.  Each
and every day, you are to either stop by this here office, or call
in, to see if there are any duties for you to perform.  Do you
understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's seven days a week, for the rest of the damned school year."

"I understand, sir."

"Dan Ortega is starting in your place for the balance of this
season, Mr. Porter.  With you missin' the next five games, I got to
play the men who have the game experience going into the NCAA.  We
got three games left on our schedule, including South Carolina comin'
in here in a couple a days, and then the SEC championship tourney
will start.  You'll get some game time, particularly early in the
NCAA tournament, but I can't guarantee how much."

It hurt, but I had no choice.  I was going to be a bench player.
"Yes, sir," I said.  It was no struggle for me to sound chastised.

"Now get the hell out of here," Pick finished.  "Eddie Whitehead
will take over.  I don't want to see your sorry ass except at need.
Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

I beat a hasty retreat and followed Eddie to the locker rooms to
begin my sentence.


__________________________________________________________________



Jesse, Spencer and Bryan had to sit out the South Carolina game with
me.  They were pretty mad at me, having thought their punishment in
the whole Porter fiasco was finished.  Jesse was never one to hold a
grudge, and after venting at me for a few minutes he was pretty much
back to normal with me.

Spencer, too, took his licks pretty much in stride.  He bitched at
me for a couple of hours one night in his room, got it out of his
system, and did his best to overcome his anger.

Bryan stayed mad at me.  He wouldn't even look at me, and refused to
acknowledge my presence on the bench for the next couple of games,
including the one he had to sit out.  Jesse and Bryan had differing
opinions about the severity of my actions, and the fairness of the
punishments doled out, and it was straining their relationship.

Finally, after my second game of sitting on the bench and taking
notes for my report to Pick, I managed to corner Bryan as we were
leaving the athletic center.

"Bryan, I need to talk to you," I said.

"Well, I don't need to talk to you," he shot back.  "I'm meeting
Melanie.  I don't have time."

I grabbed his arm.  He jerked it away and kept on walking.

"Look, I'm just going to dog you until you talk to me for a minute,"
I said.

He gave me a big, theatrical sigh and stopped.

"Okay, talk," he said.  "But make it quick."

I had been planning this for a long time.  I had to make it
convincing.  "I want you to know I never wanted you to have to pay
for what I did, Bryan," I began.  "You were an innocent bystander,
and I apologize.  Hell, I've been trying to apologize for over a week
now."

"I know you have, but I just didn't want to hear it," he said
angrily.  He folded his arms, his body language clear.  "You know the
damage you've done to this team?  To Jesse?  Hell, Porter, I really
don't care about me.  I'm just a team player.  I can roll with the
punches.  I love soccer, but it isn't going to be my bread and
butter, like it was supposed to be for Jesse.  He had hopes of going
pro, you know?  If not here, maybe in Europe, or even South America.
Now what are his chances?"

"What, just because he was set down for two games?  He's a junior,
Bryan.  He's got all next season."

"And you'll be back, too, I presume.  How will you manage to fuck up
the team next year?"

"That's not fair.  What makes you think I'm going to fuck up again?"
I asked.  In spite of my best intentions, he was making me mad.

"Because I thought you were a good guy this year," he came back.
"And I was wrong."

"I'm not a bad guy..."

"You screwed up our season, fucked up the team pretty royally," he
retorted.  "That's not being a good guy."

"I admit I messed up, but it wasn't intentional, you know."  I was
trying to hold back, but it was getting difficult.  But then I saw
Bryan's shoulders slump a little.  He looked at me a little sadly.

"Melanie's been on me a little bit about you," he finally admitted.
"Have you talked to Reggie since we've been back?"

"No," I said.  "She was home for break, I know, but I haven't even
thought about talking to her since she got back."

"Yeah, you've had other things on your mind," he said, a little
unkindly.  "It's really none of my business, but you might want to
give her a call.  Let her know what's going on."

"Yeah, I suppose," I said.  "It doesn't really concern her, though."

He barked out a laugh with very little humor in it.  "Not anymore,
it doesn't."  He turned and walked away, leaving me to wonder what he
meant by his comment.

In truth, I hadn't given Reggie a thought during all of this.  I
probably did at least owe her a call.  Just another person I have to
apologize to, I said to myself as I let Bryan walk away from me.  The
list was growing longer, and I was finding it harder and harder to
face them all.

The letters from Kayla were also accumulating.  I had opened and
read the first two or three, but the questions were all the same.
She kept on asking them because she never got an answer back from me,
I suppose.  After the first few, I just stacked her letters on my
desk unopened.  They were another mute reminder of my tendency to
fuck everything up.  I had every intention of reading them and
answering each and every one, but the longer I delayed the easier it
was to put it off for yet another day.  Westy took some telephone
messages from her, too, but I was just too busy, and too broke, to
even think about calling her back.

By the third week, I was receiving envelopes from Jaimie, Jake, and
even Stephen and Tara.  I started a second stack, just for those
letters.  I knew what would be in them; my so-called friends didn't
need to be chastising me.

My trusty roommate made sure he reminded me of my transgressions
just about every time he saw me.  Westy had taken an inordinate
amount of glee in hearing of my troubles.  It gave him real pleasure
to ride me, since he had very little time for going out and finding
his own trouble.  Ever since about the third week of school he had
been calling me "All-American Asshole," but now he changed the
inflection of his taunt.  Before it was "All-AMERICAN Asshole, and
now it was "All-American ASSHOLE," reflecting the pleasure he was
experiencing over my suspension.  It was also a graphic example of
how inflection can completely change a meaning.

Westy's training schedule for the swim team had kicked in big-time,
though, and fortunately I didn't see him very much.  Every time I
did, though, he made some snide comment about my predicament.  He was
still spending most of his limited spare time at the fraternity
house, so I was spared his company except for late at night, when my
own personal demons were at their strongest anyway, and Westy just
fueled them with his presence.


__________________________________________________________________



Our team's chemistry siphoned away into nothingness as a result of
the suspensions.  We lost our second game in a row to South Carolina
when they came to Gainesville the week after the tournament.  We were
still down most of our offense, though we regained some of our
defensive strength with Brad Rickman back in front of the keeper's
box.  Still, it was a 4-2 loss at home.

Our next game we managed to squeak out a 2-2 tie against Vanderbilt,
a team we should have beaten in my opinion.  I took notes at game
time as instructed, sitting by myself at the end of the bench.  I
wanted to do a thorough job for Pick and Eddie, so I waited to hand
in my report until after I had seen the film of the game the next
morning.  I wanted to confirm some of my observations and give Pick
as comprehensive a report as I could.  I typed it out carefully, put
it in a report binder, and handed it in to Eunice that afternoon.

We won the third game of my suspension, against Mississippi State,
by the meager score of 2-1, and I again painstakingly typed out my
notes, put the report in a binder, and left it with Eunice.  I
watched the tape of that game, too, sitting with Eddie in the
projection room.  We talked about what we both saw, and he spoke to
me as an equal, with no animosity at all.  I was grateful to him for
his treatment, though I had enough smarts to keep from saying
anything to him.  As Pick had told me before, Eddie was a student of
the game, and he didn't let too much get in the way of his nearly
obsessive need to learn as much about soccer and teams and players as
he could.

Because of our overall record, we finished in first place in the
SEC, assuring a berth in the NCAA tournament.  After the final game
of the season, we were surprised to learn we would be seeded second
in the conference tournament.  Our two losses to South Carolina, both
considered to be conference games, meant the Gamecocks had a better
conference record than we had, so they were seeded first for the
tourney.  The winner of the SEC Tournament, if different from the
conference champion, would also receive an automatic spot in the Big
Show.

I would miss the first two games of the SEC Tournament, to be held
in Athens, Georgia, but I would be available to play for the finals,
if we made it that far.  I also was anxious to get some game time in
so I would be ready to play once the NCAA Tournament started, a week
after the SEC finals.

It was a moot point.  We lost in the first round of the conference
tournament, to LSU.  We limped home to lick our wounds and regroup
before the big tournament started.

It was frustrating to sit on the bench and watch the game, and it
was even more frustrating to watch the film the next day with Eddie.
We should have been able to beat LSU in a walk.  Instead, what I saw
was a Florida Gators team beginning the game with an attitude of
defeat, and walking off the field at the end of the game having
witnessed a self-fulfilling prophesy.

At the end of the LSU film, Eddie and I just sat there in the room,
not saying anything.

Finally I looked over to him.  He was sitting with his head bowed,
either praying or thinking.  I wasn't sure which.

"What can we do to turn this around?" I asked quietly.

"Damned if I know," he muttered.  "Pick's stymied, too."

It made me feel even worse, something I had thought couldn't happen.
Just when I thought I had hit bottom, a new well appeared underneath
my feet.

"Let's rewind the film," I suggested.  "We're missing something."

"Come on, Sean," he said with some heat.  It set me back a little; I
hadn't ever seen Eddie display even a hint of a temper before.  "If
there was something there, we'd have seen it."

"What will it hurt?" I persisted.  "I can't play, I might as well
scout."

Eddie stood up and rewound the film, and we watched it again.  Hell,
I knew what was wrong with the team.  So did Eddie.  We just didn't
know how to fix it.

So I wrote my report for Pick.  I wrote about how Dan Ortega, taking
my left defensive spot, was a very good defender, but without
imagination.  I wrote about Frenchy's backsliding into showy ball-
hogging, and I wrote about Jeremy's sluggishness on the field.  Our
movement among our positions had all but stopped.  Spencer tried to
get some switching going, but his teammates on the field seemed to be
content to play positions again.  Jesse, Bryan, Brad, and Rick, the
team leaders, were not encouraging sliding coverages, and we were
losing games to lesser teams because of our rigid hierarchy.

I wrote it all down, Pick and Eddie read it, and I knew they agreed.
During practices we were more fluid, especially when we played Alpha
against Omega, but when game time rolled around, the team fell back
into their old, dying ways.  It was frustrating for me, not being
able to be out there, and it was frustrating for the coaching staff.
They took to haranguing the players from the sidelines, which
contributed to the level of frustration without adding any better
execution on the field.

We entered the NCAA tournament as the fourth seed in the Southeast.
Jesse and Bryan were still confident they could lead the team deep
into the tournament, and they started studying film of Indiana
University's soccer season.  They were the defending NCAA champions,
and according to the pairings, we had a chance of taking the field
against them in the quarterfinals.  They wanted to be ready, so they
convinced team to work on plays designed to challenge the great
defense of Indiana.

We traveled to Texas by bus for the first series of games, and the
pressure of the tournament kicked in.  We started playing better, and
we made it through our first two opponents.  It looked more and more
to our team leaders their choice of focusing on Indiana might have
been a wise decision.  In fact, we won the first two games, and we
were beginning to feel like we were ready to move up to the next
level, feeling more confident than we had felt since the semifinals
of the Georgetown tournament.

That feeling lasted until the third game we played in the NCAA
tournament, the game for the Southeast Championship.  We walked onto
the field on a hot and dusty afternoon and lined up against the
Tigers of Clemson University.  I was an activated player, and even
though I was not starting, I had high hopes of getting some
significant minutes in the game.

It didn't happen.  I played about six minutes of the first half, and
less than five minutes in the second half.  By that point it was a
done deal: we were hammered by Clemson, losing 4-0.  The game wasn't
even as close as the score.  We were harried on the field, outrun and
outgunned.  Watching from the sidelines, I doubted we would have been
able to stop them, even when we were playing our best.  I thought
they were damned good.

Two weeks later, watching on televisions back on campus, my opinion
was verified.  Clemson beat Indiana at the Seattle Kingdome in the
championship game, winning the NCAA tournament.


_________________________________________________________________



All during this time, my frustration with my situation grew and
grew, until I felt I was going to explode.  I was angry at everybody.
I barely spoke to my teammates.  Spencer and Jesse were about the
only friends I had left on the team.  I had finally jumped Westy
after one particularly bad day when he came into our room with
another smart remark.  He rang my bell pretty good, but I managed to
loosen a couple of his teeth before Jason and Craig, roommates from
across the hall who rushed over when they heard the fighting, managed
to pull us apart.  I brusquely told Reggie I was too busy to see her,
using the telephone like a coward.  I just didn't want the
complications.

I got angrier and angrier, mad at myself and mad at the world for
what I considered unfairly harsh punishment for a relatively minor
crime.  My state of mind spilled over into all aspects of my life,
and my grades dropped along with my attitude.

I tried to figure out a way to stay in Florida for Christmas.  I
didn't want to face the questioning from my family and my friends.  I
just wanted to crawl into a cave and be left alone.

I worked myself into such a bitter, poisoned state, I ended up doing
the stupidest, most Porterish thing I had ever done in my nearly
nineteen years of living to that point.  I took a good, hard look at
my troubles over the previous weeks, and I squarely placed the blame
at the source of my misery.

I blamed Kayla.




(Continued in Chapter 21)




Rev. Cotton Mather
Senior Pastor,
Church of the Erotic Redemption
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ReverendCottonMather/www
http://www.storiesonline.net
www.ruthiesclub.com

Would you like to be notified when I post new chapters or stories?  Sign up 
at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/RCMStories/join

**If I had to do it all over,
I'd do it all over you**

_________________________________________________________________
FREE pop-up blocking with the new MSN Toolbar - get it now! 
http://toolbar.msn.com/go/onm00200415ave/direct/01/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+