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Message-ID: <51365asstr$1118279404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" <revcottonmather@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} RP Playing to Win: Playing the Game II by R.C. Mather 4/41 (mf soccer)
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Date: Wed,  8 Jun 2005 21:10:05 -0400
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And the game continues...

Enjoy!

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, "PTW4.txt" begin>



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

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 2002, Rev. Cotton Mather)

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



PLAYING TO WIN:
PLAYING THE GAME, BOOK II


by Reverend Cotton Mather




- 4 -

TWO TELEPHONE CALLS


I spent the next week or so racking my brain trying to figure out
what to do.  I finally decided that the direct approach was probably
the best.  I certainly didn't want to confront her at school, so I
waited until I could get the nerve up to call her one evening.  After
pacing my room nervously, I finally called Molly.

"Hello?"

"Molly, it's Sean.  Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She chuckled softly, a throaty sound even over telephone wires.  "I
thought I'd hear from you eventually," she said.

"Hey, all I want to know is if what I've heard is true," I said
roughly.  "Nothing more."

"And what have you heard, Sean?" she asked, almost playfully.

I took a deep breath.  The next couple of minutes would have a very
real impact on the rest of my life.  "Are you pregnant, Molly?"

There was a long pause.  At the time, it felt like it was about an
hour before she said anything, but it was probably only a few seconds.

"What would you say if I told you I was, Sean?  Would you be happy?
Or would it upset you?"

I felt like my head was going to explode.  "Is it mine?" I croaked.

I heard her sigh on the other end of the line.  "I'm going to make
your day, Sean, and maybe even give Kristina Mendoza a little gift in
the process."  I could hear her take a big breath before continuing.
"There is no baby.  I'm not pregnant.  I've never been pregnant.
I've been on the pill since last fall.  If we hadn't broken up, I was
going to tell you about it at Christmastime."  She took a large,
hitching breath before continuing.  "Do you feel better now, Sean?
Do you?  I wish to Christ that I did."  And she hung up.

I set the telephone back down gently.  A great load had just been
lifted from me.  I felt great!

Or did I?  But I was too buzzed to consider that thorny question.

My first thought was to call Kristina and tell her the good news.  I
dialed the Mendoza home, and Jorge answered.

"Jorge!  I've got great news.  Molly's not having my baby.  I mean,
she's not pregnant.  I've got to let Kristina know!  Is she home?
Lemme talk to her, buddy."

"Hold on, man, take it easy.  I'll go get her.  You can tell her
yourself.  Thass great, Sean.  Hold on a minute."

The handset thumped down and I could faintly hear his footsteps
fading away.  In just a few moments, I heard somebody pick up the
phone.

"Kristina?  It's Sean.  Guess what?  I just talked to..."

The deep, rumbling voice of her father interrupted me.

"Kristina cannot come to the telephone," he said.  "You have
disappointed me greatly, Mr. Porter.  Do not call here again."

"Mr. Mendoza, please, I just need to..."

"No mas, Senor Porter.  No mas."  There was no room for argument in
his voice.

"Yes, sir.  No more," I agreed reluctantly.  With that, the line
went dead.

My buzz departed just as swiftly as it had arrived.





(Continued in Chapter 5)
<1st attachment end>


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