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Message-ID: <47938asstr$1085137807@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" <revcottonmather@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} NEW Playing the Game III: The Competitive Edge, Ch. 24
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Date: Fri, 21 May 2004 07:10:07 -0400
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And the story continues to limp right along...

Enjoy!

RCM

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**

<1st attachment, "CE24.txt" begin>


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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather. This
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downloaded for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for
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(copyright 2004, Rev. Cotton Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather (at) hotmail (dot) com
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THE COMPETITIVE EDGE:
PLAYING THE GAME, BOOK III


by Reverend Cotton Mather




- 24 -

HARD TO REFUSE



The team was at a series of clinics being conducted in Athens,
Georgia.  Offensive units and defensive units were split and working
on different fields.  Specific skills were being drilled during the
three-day event, both offensive and defensive, so the squad was
divided along those lines.  Midfielders were also split up between
the two units, depending on their orientation.  Pick's peculiar sense
of amusement contributed to his decision to reverse us for this
particular set of clinics.  Frenchy, Tad, Rick, Brad, and the rest of
our defensive players were pretending to be offense, showing up for
all the offensive drills.  Jesse, Bryan, Spencer, Jose Maria, and the
other forwards and midfielders were attending the defensive drills in
our place.  I heard some grumbling from some of the other coaches and
clinic participants, but Pick's reasoning was sound, and perfectly
within the stipulations of the clinic's rules.  The whole exercise
broadened our experience team-wide and made each unit think about how
they were impacting play across the entire field.  I could see why
Pick wanted to do it, and just because the other coaches either
didn't understand it, or didn't consider it for their own teams, was
of no concern to him.

During the Saturday afternoon session I was with my teammates on the
field.  I was playing up, pretending I was a forward.  The clinic's
instructors were working on corner kicks, and we were lined up
against the Alabama defensive unit.

I stationed myself at the near point of the box in anticipation of
the corner kick, and I was jostling with one of the Alabama players,
a guy in a practice jersey with the name "Anders" arced across the
back, for position.  He knew our offensive unit was supposed to
collapse down toward the net, and he was doing everything he could to
get in my way.  I didn't care; it was an exercise, not a game, and I
thought the guy was taking it all way too seriously.

Brad was taking the kick, and just as he raised his arm to indicate
his readiness to launch the corner kick, Anders hooked his arm in
mine and spun me around just as I was taking my first steps around
him toward the net.  He used the momentum to whip me around him, and
I stumbled and ended up on the ground.

"Nice move," I said sarcastically as I got up.  "Sure to draw a card
in a game situation."

"We ain't in a game situation," he said.  The smug way he said it,
along with his smirking attitude, grated on me.

I looked around quickly, feigning surprise at his statement.
"Really?" I said.  "I thought this was the SEC Championship game."

"No, Doofus, you already lost that one," he said.  "You're not even
supposed to be here.  You're supposed to be working on the 'D'
drills."

I laughed at him, and his face turned red.  "Dude, our defensive
unit doesn't need work on defense," I said.  "We need work on this
side of the ball."

I didn't think he understood the thought process behind such a
difficult concept, but he blustered on.

"Yeah, well, if you assholes are so great, how come you got blown
out in the NCAA?" Anders sneered.

"Because we had an off day," I said.  "Say, tell me, sport, where
was the Crimson Tide seeded in the Big Tournament?"

His face got even redder, nearly matching his jersey in color.  I
knew as well as he did that Alabama never even got a bid to play in
the NCAA Tournament.

"Fuck you," he said angrily.

"Ah, an eloquent comeback," I retorted.  By this time we were back
to jostling for position again, as Brad was resetting the ball for
another corner kick.

This time, as Brad took two steps to the ball, I eluded Anders'
grasp easily.  As I twisted away from him, he spun around, throwing
his elbow up and out.  He caught me right above my left eye, and I
dropped like a stone, momentarily stunned by the hit.  I could feel
blood trickling down my face as I got up off the ground once again.
I saw Rick, Frenchy, and Tad trotting over toward me, but I waved
them off.

I turned to Anders and put my hands on my hips.  I hadn't bothered
to wipe the blood off my face.  I wanted him to see it clearly, so he
would understand the potential consequence better.

"Aside from the fact it was an illegal move, it was also a cheap
shot," I said.  I let a little of the anger I was feeling slip into
my voice.

Anders, however, was unrepentant.  "So what?" he countered.

"So what?  That's your only statement?"

He laughed, glancing around.  A few of his teammates were watching,
and each was flanked by one of my own teammates.  Not much of an
audience to play for.

While Anders and I were having our confrontation, Luke Severin had
taken Brad's place at the corner, and he was setting up.  Everybody
else reluctantly moved back into their positions.  I knew I could
escalate this situation by being as sneaky and underhanded as Anders
had been, but that would only turn the whole thing into a bloody
brawl.  I needed to take this asshole down and keep him down.

I walked a couple of steps away from him, wanting to put just a
little distance between us, shaking my head at his foolishness.  He
took my actions as cowardice, and he began to laugh derisively.  He
stepped closer to me and began hassling me again in advance of the
corner kick.

I let him push me around a little.  I wanted him over-confident, but
I knew what he was planning.  As Luke launched the ball Anders
whirled, throwing his elbow toward the spot where he expected me to
be, up about nose-high.  But I had ducked under his arm, and I used
my hands on his waist to turn him faster than he was expecting.  He
got tangled up with his own feet, and he began flailing as he lost
his balance.  Crouching down, I held him steady for just a moment,
and then turned him a little more, keeping him off-balance.  He began
to bend at the waist, losing his center of gravity, and his arms were
outstretched as he frantically tried to stay upright.  I braced my
chin against my chest and stood up, just as he was starting to drop.
The top of my head met his chin, and I heard his teeth clack
together.  His head flew back, whiplashed by the collision, and he
fell over backwards.  He landed flat on his back, barely conscious.

I was standing over him as his eyes fluttered open.  I smiled grimly
at him, until I saw pain and recognition show on his face.  I wanted
him to remember this incident, so I knelt down next to him.  By all
appearances I was giving the impression I was helping him, belaying
any potential suspicions from his teammates.  Anders groaned and
worked his jaw, trying to get it to stop throbbing.

"Shit, man, I think you knocked loose a couple of teeth," he said,
his voice wavering just a little.

I put my hand on his chest.  My fingers so close to his sore jaw got
his attention.

"Here's the thing," I said quietly.  I tapped my fingertips against
his chin lightly, and Anders flinched each time he felt my fingers
drum against him.  By then others were beginning to move toward us,
no doubt concerned that Anders had not yet gotten up.  "I got your
move now, sport.  It only gets worse from here.  I can, and I will,
put you down on the ground each and every time you try to pull shit
like that again.  Understand?"

He nodded tersely.  I could see even that small movement was painful
for him, which gave me a small measure of satisfaction.  I stood and
held out my hand to help him up.  He looked at it as if it was a
viper, but then he reached up and let me pull him to his feet.  His
knees were a little unsteady as he walked slowly toward the
sidelines, holding his jaw.

He's going to be eating soft food for a few days, I thought as I
watched him go.

Frenchy trotted over to me as some of Anders' teammates huddled
around him to help him off the field.  "You gave him a - how do you
say it? - a Sloaning, n'est ce pas, Porter?"  Frenchy was smiling,
perhaps remembering his own Sloaning.

I laughed.  "Yeah, Frenchy, I guess I did."

"Good on you," he said with feeling, clapping me on the back.  "I
was watching, yes?  He deserved his Sloaning."

I looked over at him, a little startled, but there was no deception
to be seen in my teammate.

"Thanks," I said.

"No problem," said Frenchy, sounding quite happy.  He trotted back
off to his own assignment, leaving me just a little bewildered.

The next afternoon, in the bus on the way back to Florida, I was
sporting a bandaged forehead and a black eye.  Everybody seemed to be
considering it an honorable badge, but I certainly didn't.  It hurt
like hell.

The oddest part of the whole incident was how Frenchy loved to tell
the story of how I had acquired my shiner.  His embellishments each
time the story was retold got a little embarrassing, but my teammates
certainly seemed to enjoy them, laughing and encouraging him into
telling the tale over and over again.


____________________________________________________________________


Off the field and on campus, I tried to keep a low profile.  I
wanted to keep my nose clean, and I had had enough of complications
in my life to last me a very long time.

Alex, of course, had other plans.  She called me every few days,
just being friendly, and we met occasionally for lunch or for drinks
after dark.

There was considerable attraction between us, but I thought we both
were more interested in being friends than exploring anything
further.  Alex just wasn't into anything serious, and I had no desire
to go down that path, either.  Even so, she had me thoroughly
confused, a condition I was unfortunately very much used to.

Very often, when we got together, we were joined by one or another
of her friends.  Sometimes it was another guy, and sometimes it was
one of her girlfriends.  Her most frequent companion, however, was
her friend Erin.

Erin turned out to be a lot more fun, and even sometimes downright
silly, a different girl from the one Alex had introduced.  They say
first impressions are the ones that stick, but with Erin my opinion
changed almost every time I saw her.  She was self-assured and acting
older at the bar the first time I met her, but she was a typical
eighteen-year-old freshman the next time she came along with Alex.
She was wearing an REM t-shirt with a smear of dirt across the
stomach as she practically tumbled into the booth at Chaucer's,
laughing at something Alex had said.

The next time, getting a Gator Tail at Joe's Deli, she was dressed
all in black, with black nail polish.  Only her ash-blonde hair, this
time falling loosely to her shoulders, and her open and friendly
smile kept her from achieving a complete Goth look for the day.

One time, while the three of us were at Chaucer's, Alex the pixie
was sitting next to me.  She had her legs crossed Indian-style, and
she would occasionally rock up onto her knees in the booth, balancing
herself casually.

"There's a Beach Boys tribute band playing at the Warehouse tomorrow
night, Porter," she said.  "Wanna go?"

"I shrugged.  "Sure, I guess," I said.

"How about you, Hughes?"

Erin glanced at me, and then at Alex.

"I don't have a date," she said.

Alex laughed.  "So what?  We'll go as a threesome."

I thought I saw Erin blush just a little.  A modest girl, I thought
to myself.  Embarrassed about an oblique reference to a threesome.
How cute.

Damn it, Porter, get your head out of the gutter.  It was an
innocent remark, I chastised myself.  What a freak I could be
sometimes.

"Okay," said Erin.  "It sounds like fun."


____________________________________________________________________


I risked my life by letting Alex drive again.  This time I crawled
into the back seat, tightened up my seat belt, and wedged myself into
a corner to pray.  Erin looked pretty relaxed in the passenger seat,
chatting with Alex as we sped along.

"Do you think that's a good idea, distracting her while she's
driving?" I managed to say from clenched teeth.

Erin glanced back at me in surprise.  "What do you mean?" she asked,
seemingly genuinely perplexed.

I closed my eyes and kept my mouth shut all the rest of the way to
the Warehouse.  They're both nuts.

Once again we made it alive.  I was very happy to be able to crawl
out of the back of Alex's car, still in one piece.  It wasn't as
crowded outside the club as it had been the previous time Alex and I
were here, but Chugs was on duty as usual at the front door.

"Hiya, Chugs honey," said Alex as we walked up to him.

"Alex.  How ya doin'?"

"Lookin' forward to fun, fun, fun until Daddy takes the T-Bird
away," she replied.

Chugs chuckled, a deep rumbling sound.

"How you, Sean?" he asked.

I was a little surprised he remembered my name.  "I'm good," I said.

"Who's your friend?" Chugs asked, looking Erin over.  "You got an
ID, sweetheart?"

Alex sidled up to Chugs.  He bent down.  She whispered in his ear
for a few moments, and then he straightened up.

"Goddamnit, Alex," he began.  She pulled him back down and whispered
to him urgently again.

Finally he sighed.  "You're gonna get me fired someday, Alexandra
Claudine Wallace."  He gestured roughly toward the door.  "You hear
my whistle, and you get her cute little ass out the bathroom window.
You hear me?"

Alex gave him her sweetest smile.  "You're the best, Darrell," she
said.

He just grunted sourly, but I thought he was holding back a pleased
little smile.

Inside, the place was as dark and noisy as I remembered.  We found
an empty booth and claimed it.  The girls stayed in the booth while I
fought my way up to the bar to buy our first pitcher of beer.  I came
back with a frosty pitcher and three plastic cups.  I carefully
poured out the beer, and sat down next to Alex.  She casually lifted
her arm and began to idly play with the hair on the back of my head
as we talked.

The house band was playing.  They called themselves Plaid Armor, and
what they lacked in musical ability was more than made up by their
volume.  Erin was looking a little uncomfortable, sitting across from
Alex and me, probably feeling like a third wheel.

Alex pushed at my shoulder.  "Go dance with Hughes," she instructed.

It was not a suggestion, so I slid out of the booth and held my hand
out to Erin.

"Go on," said Alex when she saw Erin's hesitation.  "He's a good
dancer."

"Are you sure?" asked Erin, looking at Alex.

Alex laughed.  "Nope.  Actually, he's kind of a goof.  But he's fun
to dance with."  She waggled her hand at us.  "Go.  You'll have a
good time."

Erin shrugged, and then took my proffered hand and slid out of the
booth.  We held hands as we walked toward the crowd on the dance
floor.

"She can be... hard to refuse sometimes," said Erin with a smile.

"Oh, I'm finding that out," I told her.  I let go of her hand, and
we began dancing to the music.

I took the opportunity to watch Erin as we danced.  It was a
pleasure.  She was a very attractive girl, slender but certainly not
thin.  She was filled out in all the right places.  She was wearing a
scoop-necked yellow shirt that had "No Angel" embroidered in shiny
gold thread on it.  Her shorts were tight and her legs were long,
shapely, and deeply tanned.  Her leg muscles flexed as she danced,
showing their definition as she moved.  She had her ash-blonde hair
gathered loosely into a ponytail, and strands came loose as we danced
and undulated around her face.  I found myself admiring her body as
we moved around, and I thought she was perfectly aware of my
admiration.  She didn't seem at all uncomfortable with me watching
her so openly.

After about four songs, Alex came out and cut in.  Erin laughed and
acquiesced as Alex took her place.  She headed back toward our booth,
and I couldn't help glancing appreciatively at her backside as she
walked away.

"She's cute, isn't she?"  I was startled to find Alex beside me,
also watching Erin.

What the hell?  An odd thought flashed across my mind, but Alex
didn't give me any time to ponder.  She spun me around and began her
seductive dancing.

We stayed out on the dance floor for a few songs, until I begged to
stop.  Keeping two girls satisfied on the dance floor was going to
exhaust me.  I was hugely thirsty already.  We walked back to our
booth, holding hands.

The pitcher only had a little left in it, so I poured it out for the
girls and took the empty back for a refill.  By the time I got back,
I saw Alex and Erin heading for the dance floor.  Holding hands.

What the hell, I said to myself as I poured myself a nice, cold
beer.  What was I missing here?

After a little while, the band stopped, and the girls came back to
the booth.  They were both breathing deeply, and a sheen of
perspiration coated both their faces.  Alex guided Erin toward my
side, and then she slipped into the opposite seat.

"Have a good time?" I asked.

They were smiling as they nodded.  Alex began waving her hand at her
face, trying to create a breeze.

"It's hot in here," agreed Erin.

"Let's go outside until the other band starts up," suggested Alex.
There were a lot of people heading for the exits, intent on cooling
off, so we all got up and joined them.  Alex held one hand, and I
felt Erin grasp my other hand as we walked out.

What the hell?

The air outside was remarkably cooler than inside.  It was a cooker
in the Warehouse, and all those sweating, dancing bodies heated up
quickly.  We inhaled the cooler air deeply, stepping away from the
crowds and the cigarette smoke.

"It's a good thing you're in shape, Porter," noted Alex.  "You're
going to be working hard keeping two girls happy and satisfied in
there."

"It's an awesome responsibility, but I'll do what I can," I said.

Erin's eyes were twinkling with mischief.  "Keeping one girl happy
is tough.  Keeping two satisfied is nearly impossible.  We'll see if
you can rise to the occasion," she said.

Modest?  Did I once describe this girl as modest?  Her double-
entendre was intentional, and I could feel the blood rushing through
my body as my dirty little mind began working overtime.

We stood around, making small talk, but all the time my thoughts
were circling around the triple enigmas of Erin, Alex, and Erin and
Alex combined.  It was too much for my feeble, masculine brain.  I
tried to leave it all alone and just enjoy the fact I was spending
the evening in the company of two very attractive college girls.

Life was good.

Our cups were empty, so I gathered all three of them and worked my
way back to the door.  I squeezed back into the hot warehouse and
refilled the three cups from our pitcher, and I carefully made my way
back through the maze, holding the three cups together in my two
hands as I shuffled sideways through the people.  I handed each of
the girls their cup, and they thanked me.

A couple of times single guys would sidle up and try to wedge in on
our conversation.  Both girls were diplomatic, but Alex was
particularly adept at turning them away with a smile.  I began to
stand up a little straighter.  It was cool being between these two
ladies, being the one they wanted to be with.  They touched my hands,
or wrapped their arms around my waist for a few moments, and
occasionally reached up and touched my cheek.  I saw them both
furtively glancing at the scar on my arm, but they didn't ask about
it, and I found myself slipping that arm around one or the other of
them.  To hide it, or to feel them close to me, I wasn't sure which:
either excuse was good enough for me, and neither Alex nor Erin
seemed to mind at all.  In fact, both of them moved a little closer
to me, on each side, even when we weren't holding on to each other.
I was beginning to really like the attention.  A lot.

After about thirty minutes outside, we could hear the next band
tuning.  People started moving toward the door, and I took both girls
by the hand and escorted them.  The jangling guitars began, and the
band started doing a very good rendition of "Surfin' USA."  We
dropped our cups at our booth, and the three of us made our way up as
close as we could.  The band was putting on a show and we didn't want
to miss it.

By the time the first set ended we were all drenched in sweat.  Even
Alex's hair was damp.  The girls joined the crowd heading outside,
and I stopped and refilled our pitcher.  The band was going to take
at least a half hour break, I was sure, and I didn't want to have to
go back in every time my cup was empty.  I got my pitcher, picked up
my change, and stepped outside into the blessedly cool evening air.

Alex and Erin were off to the side, leaning against the brick wall
of the warehouse.  A couple of guys were standing by them, but the
girls were doing a good job of ignoring them.  I walked up to them
and refilled their cups for them, and they both showed their
appreciation by giving me a kiss on the cheek.  It was enough to make
the two hapless victims slink away when they saw me collecting kisses
from both the girls, and it made me stand up straighter.  Prideful?
No, not me.

"So," I said, "you two never told me how you met."

Alex glanced at Erin.  "Mutual friends," she said.  "They thought
we'd get along."

Erin had an enigmatic smile.  "And we do," she said.

"So, do you, like, have a boyfriend at home or something?" I asked.

"No," said Erin.  "I dated a guy my senior year, but we broke up
before we left for college."  She took a sip of her beer, looking at
me over the rim of the plastic cup.  "What about you, Sean?  Is there
somebody waiting for you at home?"

My good mood began to evaporate.  "Not anymore," I said.  I looked
down at the ground.  "There used to be," I said quietly.

"Ah, I understand," said Erin.  "I'm sorry, Sean.  Long-distance
relationships can be hard to maintain."

"Yeah, well, there was an age difference, too," I said.  It was a
bluff, but a relatively harmless one.  Erin and Alex didn't need to
know that, even though she was two years younger than me, Kayla was
far more mature than I was about most things.

"That makes it even harder," said Erin sympathetically.  She stepped
closer to me and put her arm around my waist.  I looked up from
staring at the ground, but it was difficult for me to look her in the
eye.  She didn't care about that, though.  She just lifted up her
head and gave me a soft kiss on my cheek.  "Don't worry about it,
Sean.  Time heals things like this.  Give it a chance."

"Oh, I am," I said.  "It's not like I have much choice, anyway."

We heard the band begin its warm-up, and so we gathered up our stuff
and headed back inside.  Alex led the way, pulling on my hand, but
Erin stayed behind me, her hand touching my shoulder the whole time.

"Enough melancholy!" shouted Alex as we put our stuff back on our
table.  "Let's dance!"

Once again the three of us wove our way through the crowd to get as
close to the stage as we could, and we let the music wash away our
troubles as we danced and shared the good vibrations.

Even during the slow songs, "In My Room" and "Surfer Girl" and the
others, we tended to dance together, Erin and Alex and me our arms
intertwined around one another.  At one point, Alex lifted up and
took my face in her hands and pulled me down to her level.  She gave
me a hot and moist kiss, her eyes closed as she concentrated.  She
broke the kiss after several minutes, let me go, and threw her head
back and laughed, sheer joy personified.

Not to be outdone, a few minutes later Erin did the same thing.  She
didn't have to pull me down as far, so our kiss was more comfortable
for me, though that was not much of a concern.  When two beautiful
girls decide they want to kiss you, comfort be damned.  Her kiss was
just as sensuous as Alex's had been, and maybe even a little hotter.

Throughout the second set of music, the contest went on.  First Alex
would kiss me, and then Erin would match it.  Each set of kisses got
a little hotter, a little wetter, and a little longer, until,
finally, we were giving each other full, open-mouthed tongue kisses,
right there in front of the band, as we swayed in each other's arms.
By the end of the set, the three of us were one six-armed and six-
legged being, and I was having the time of my life trading kisses
back and forth, swiveling my head from Erin to Alex and back again.
Finally, either the music or the mood overwhelmed us, and Erin and
Alex turned to each other and gave each other an equally hot, open-
mouthed tongue kiss.

Damn, that's hot, I thought to myself as I watched the two girls
kiss.  I should have waited a moment, because a few minutes later it
got even hotter when both Erin and Alex turned to me simultaneously.
They both were going for another French kiss, but this time with me,
and I was determined to play my part.  We ended up in a three-way,
open-mouthed kiss, with three tongues dancing and caressing in the
middle.

Gawd DAMN.  What the hell just happened?  We stopped kissing when
the music stopped, all three of us breathless.  We looked at each
other, wondering what we would see in each other's eyes.  All I saw
was a look of lust staring back at me from a brown pair of eyes and a
blue pair of eyes, and I knew the girls were seeing the same look
from me.

Alex finally broke the spell, if only temporarily.  "Let's get the
hell out of here, okay?"

Erin and I both agreed, and we broke land speed records getting out
to Alex's car.  We squeezed three in the front, with me in the
middle.  At each stop sign and red light, Alex turned to me and
kissed me hard.  While she was driving, Erin held my attention by
kissing me and holding me.  It was the most interesting car ride I
had ever experienced, and it ended very peculiarly.  Alex wheeled
into the parking lot of my dorm and stopped.  She grabbed my head and
gave me one last hard kiss, and then pushed me away and into Erin's
arms.  She, too, kissed me hard, and then she slipped out to let me
out of the car.  I stood there and watched as Alex and Erin drove
away, leaving me hot, horny as hell, and asking myself a million
questions, with one in particular always floating to the top:

What the hell happened tonight?





(Continued in Chapter 25)
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