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Message-ID: <30889asstr$992711404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: RevCottonMather@excite.com (Reverend Cotton Mather)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 15 Jun 2001 13:44:13 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Playing the Game 4/? (mf rom) by Rev. Cotton Mather
Date: Sat, 16 Jun 2001 13:10:04 -0400
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
Welcome to the Church of The Right Reverend Cotton Mather. This story is
the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or downloaded for
the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for anyone to download 
or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as long as there is no 
intent to charge money or barter for the privilege of acquiring this 
material.

(copyright 2001, Rev. Cotton Mather)
------------------------------------------------------------------------



PLAYING THE GAME
by Reverend Cotton Mather



- 4 -

THE TREE


Later that afternoon I was scheduled to referee an under-8 boys game.  
All during the preparations for the game I kept on thinking of my 
morning with Kayla.  It wasn't until kickoff that I was able to get my 
mind on the game.  During the game I felt a little disconnected from 
things, and afterward I almost went over to the two coaches and 
apologized.  The game had ended in a 2-2 tie, so both coaches and all
the players were happy, so I opted to leave well enough alone and 
ended up not saying anything to them.

As I was bicycling home from the game, I decided to ride by Jake and 
Kayla's house to see if anybody was home.  Jake was bouncing a tennis 
ball against his garage door, playing an imaginary baseball game.

"Hey," I said as I rode up his driveway.

"Hey," he replied as he whipped through a double-play, shortstop to 
second to first, against the garage door.  "How was the soccer game?"

"Two-two tie," I said.  I caught his liner off the panel of the door 
and spun it back toward him off the same panel.  "How's Kay feeling?"

"Leg's pretty good, I guess.  Better now than when she got up this 
morning.  I think she's downstairs now, anyway, watching TV with 
Jaimie."

He threw the ball back at the garage door for me to catch.  "Want to do
something?" he asked.

"I guess," I answered.  "What did you have in mind?"

"Come on, I'll show you something," he said.  He picked up the ball, 
and put the ball and his baseball mitt into the basket on his bike, 
then climbed on.  "Follow me.  I found out something that I think 
you'll really like."

It sounded mysterious enough that he got my interest, so we pedaled 
off into the field behind his house, into the woods on the other side. 
We dropped our bikes down onto the ground, and he led the way along 
one of the many paths that kids of a dozen generations have made 
through the small patch of woods.  He branched off the path and headed 
off toward the edge of the woods on the other side, until he came to a 
tree that had slats of wood nailed to it to make a crude ladder.  
Warning me to be quiet, he climbed easily up the tree trunk, and then 
used branches to climb a little further up.  He motioned me up, so I 
clambered up until I was on a branch opposite the trunk from the one 
he was perched upon.  He pointed in the direction of a house about 30 
yards away, and leaned toward me around the trunk of the tree.

"What do you see?" he whispered.

I looked, trying to figure out what it was he was showing me, but I 
was stumped.

"Ummm…..a house?" I asked.

"Yeah, idiot, a house.  Whose house?"

"The O'Toole house," I said.  Why was he asking me whose house this 
was?  He knew as well as I whose house it was.

He looked at me as if I was the village dunce.  "And who lives in the 
O'Toole house?" he asked, speaking slowly as if to a very dim child.

"Josh lives there," I said.  Josh was another of our neighborhood 
gang, a good guy we both had been friends with since about the second 
grade.

"And?"  Now Jake was getting just plain annoying.

"And….."  The light bulb went on, and I felt just as dumb as Jake was 
thinking I was just then.  "And Heather and Molly," we said together.

Of course.  Heather and Molly were Josh's sisters.  Heather was going 
to be a senior, 17 years old and drop-dead gorgeous.  She was a 
cheerleader, and one of the most popular girls at school.  Molly, 
Josh's twin sister, was 15 and was a slightly younger version of 
Heather.  I figured that Josh had to have been walking around his 
house with a perpetual boner for about the past three years, living 
with those two.  He claims, however, that they are just sisters to 
him, just as annoying as typical sisters.

"So what are we looking at here?" I said to Jake.

"You see the window on the far left?  That's Heather's room.  The 
window on the right is Molly's.  That window in between, the one you 
can see the mirror in, that's the bathroom they share."

"Yeah?" I said to him.  "So what?  The curtains are closed.  How do 
you know?"

"Josh and I peeked into their rooms a couple of weeks ago," he said.  
"And just because the curtains are closed now doesn't mean they are 
always closed.  Understand?"

I stared at him disbelievingly.

"It gets better," he whispered.  "They never close the curtains in the 
bathroom.  And the mirror you see just happens to be positioned 
advantageously in respect to the very branches in which we are 
perched," he finished with a smug little smile.

"Jake old pal," I said, "You are my new best friend."

"I thought I was your best friend already," he said.

"Well, you were, but you've just confirmed my good taste in best 
friends," I replied.

We made plans to meet later that night to check out the windows and 
headed back to Jake's house.  As we were riding back across the field 
from the woods, I couldn't help but notice (now that Jake had got me 
to thinking about windows and curtains) that Jaimie and Tara's 
bedrooms were at the back of their house, and they lived in a ranch 
house, so their windows were all on the ground floor.

The possibilities were staggering to a typical 15-year-old hormonally 
charged boy such as me.

Sometime after 9:00 that night Jake and I made our way back through 
the woods to the tree behind the O'Toole house.  As quietly as we 
could, we climbed up the slats to the branches we had perched in that 
afternoon.

"Damn!" I heard Jake softly swear.  'I meant to bring a pair of 
binoculars."

"That's okay, we're close enough for now," I said.  Binoculars would 
have been a great idea, though, I had to admit.

The mosquitoes were out in abundance, and Jake and I were getting 
bitten up sitting in the tree.  There still was no activity in the 
windows we were watching.  After about an hour, we both had had enough 
of branch sitting, and mosquito swatting, and dark house watching, so 
we gave it up and climbed back down.  On the way back out of the 
woods, it occurred to us that maybe we should have called Josh to make 
sure they were home.

"Oh, well, so I'll call him tomorrow," said Jake.

We walked back across the field and I glanced at Jaimie's house.

"Look!" I stopped Jake and pointed.  Tara's curtain was drawn across 
the window, but there was a gap in Jaimie's.  We quietly crept up 
closer to try to see into her room.

Jackpot!  Jaimie was there, sitting on her bed, brushing her hair.  We 
could hear the faint sound of a CD playing, and she was nodding her 
head in time to the music.  She was wearing only a bra and panties, 
and her boobs stretched taut as she raised her arms to brush her hair.

"Oh, man, sweet!" Jake exclaimed.  "Boy, would I like to get some of 
that."

"Why not ask her out, then?" I asked.

"I don't know," he whispered.  "Maybe she's just too tight with my 
sister.  I can't think that anything good could come of that."

"Aw, your sister's okay," I said.

"Easy for you to say, she's not your sister," he replied.  "I guess 
she's not so bad, but she's still a sister, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said.  Actually I didn't know, since I only had 
brothers, but it was easier to just agree with him.

We watched as Jaimie got up and put on a robe, then left her room.  
When she came back in a few minutes later and hung up her robe, we 
could see she had on her nightie.  She pulled back the bedspread and 
got in her bed, then turned out her light.

"Show's over," Jake said, and we started back toward his house.

"Hey, Jake, you want me to see if I can talk to Jaimie?  Maybe I can 
see if she likes you, and then maybe you can get together with her."

"That's okay," he said.  "I'll think about it.  I don't know.  Christ, 
why is this all so difficult?  Oh, well, see you tomorrow."  He headed 
into his house, head hanging down.

Yeah, Jake, I thought to myself, sometimes we really make it tough on 
ourselves.



(Continued in Chapter 5)

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