Lean on Me
Copyright© 2025 by Danny January
Chapter 26
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 26 - The continuing chronicles of Jack Pierce. Autumn of 1982. The chronicles, in order are: 1. Feasting with a Silver Spoon 2. Summertime and the Livin' is Easy 3. Something Fishy Going On 4. Centerfield 5. Tourist Season 6. Lean on Me They are progressive and not meant to be stand-alone stories.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Consensual Heterosexual Fiction
On the drive in to school on Monday morning, I asked Kim about her day hunting. If I wasn’t going to hunt, I could at least learn about it and show an interest. Kim knew who all the members of the American swim team were in 1976, and the only reason she did was because of me.
“The first tree stand we got to had a hornet’s nest in it. No, thank you. We debated what to do about it and decided to mess with it at the end of the day. Remember when we looked at the little all-wheel drive vehicles? They have one at the hunting lodge, and we used it to get our deer back to the truck. It was pretty handy.”
“How big were the deer you shot?”
“We weighed them at the processors. Dad’s was two-ten and mine was one-eighty. We both got good shots.” She could see that I had no idea what that meant. “Shot placement is important. You want a clean kill so it doesn’t suffer, but you don’t want to shoot it in the gut or high shoulder. You ruin a lot of meat that way. Heart or brain kills it quickly and doesn’t ruin meat.”
“I had no idea.” She smiled, happy, I think, that I’d asked good questions and shown an interest. I’d been a bonehead for not doing that sooner.
The cheerleaders had a meeting at lunch, so I went to my old, familiar table. Gil and Gizmo joined me. I asked Gil about life after swimming. “I don’t know what you mean. I have a couple of scholarship opportunities, and swimming is going to pay for college. At least, I hope so.”
“You’re not going to swim in college?” Gizmo asked.
“I don’t plan on it. It’s been fun, but I think I’m done.”
“Well, you don’t have anything to prove, that’s for sure,” Gizmo said, and Gil nodded.
“Do you know where you’re going to go?” I asked either of them, just as Cherry and Mei showed up.
“I do,” Cherry said with a big grin. “I’ve just been accepted to the Chinese University of Hong Kong. Mei got her letter, too.”
“Wow. So you’re both going. Mei, do your parents know?”
“Yes, and they are very excited for us.”
We talked about what that meant for them and how her father was magically more accepting of Cherry than he ever had been. I suspected that Cherry had planned on that all along. It was getting near the end of lunch, and Mei wanted to tell another friend. When she left, I had a question for Cherry.
“In Chinese culture, it’s important to honor your parents. More so than here, isn’t it?”
“Definitely. It’s a big part of the culture. Mei is excited not just because of being accepted but because her father now knows that I’m serious.”
“And you waited until you had the letter to tell them.” It was a whole different world. It helped make sense of how Sifu Chen could talk to Li-Jen’s father about his knife attack on Tien, Franklin, and the rest of it. Once he’d told Li-Jen’s father, it was over.
Lunch was over, and I swung by the office to grab an ornament. I figured that anyone who wanted to sponsor a child’s Christmas had plenty of time to do that. I watched from the doorway as Mrs. Wetzel grabbed the last one. She passed me with a smile. “I have Audrey. She’s eleven.” I had no idea how many kids we’d sponsored as a school, but it was a lot.
We weren’t needed at the center that night. They’d had at least two people there to help on Monday through Friday for the last month. Some of the kids were ahead on their schoolwork rather than trying to catch up. I went to dinner at the McTighe’s. Kim made Cajun pasta with blackened shrimp, Andouille sausages, mushrooms, and peppers. It was really tasty, and I had to struggle to keep from making a pig of myself.
After dinner, we played bridge. Kim paired up with her dad, and I paired up with her mom. Between every hand, we received instruction. It wasn’t the playing but the bidding that was challenging. Despite our best efforts, Kim and Mr. McTighe won hand after hand.
“I think they’re cheating,” I said after the fourth straight loss.
“You keep thinking that, laddie.” We were doomed.
I was trying to get back on track with getting more sleep. That meant hitting the sack earlier. When I made the decision to do that, it reminded me of Vince, and I hadn’t talked with him in a while. By the time I thought of it, it was too late.
Tuesday afternoon, after working out, I gave Vince a call. I got lucky and caught him before he had to go to an afternoon class. He was doing well and only had a couple more days before Christmas break. I called to check in with Bobby, and he was doing fine, too. I thought about who else I should check in with. I don’t know why I thought it was important to do that, but I did.
On Wednesday, I thought I’d be the first one to lunch, but I got a surprise visit. Marci was sitting at our table. “Hey!” I hollered as soon as I saw her.
She stood, walked to me, and kissed me. She didn’t kiss me on the cheek. She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a full, on the lips kiss, like she meant it.
“Marcie?” I asked when she broke the kiss. “What? Why?”
“Because I’ve always wanted to, and no one else is here. That’s why. I’ve wanted to do that forever.”
“Really?”
“No. Not forever, but since the first time I went to a swim meet.”
“I remember that. Men on parade, I think you said.”
She laughed. “You look good. You’ve been working out. Here comes everyone,” she said, and we sat down.
“That was a nice kiss, Marci. Thank you.”
She gave me the raised eyebrow treatment. “I suppose you’re still engaged to Kim.”
“We are very much engaged. You’re funny, Marci. You’re also very pretty, and that was a very nice kiss. Let’s not tell Kim how nice that was.”
“Want to try again?”
“Probably not a good idea.” I did want to try again, which was exactly why it was not a good idea.
“Here they come. Okay, well, I got one, anyway.” I tried to laugh, but she gave me what I think is called bedroom eyes. If she was trying to send a message that I could have as much of her as I wanted, she had done a good job of it.
She greeted everyone in French. I had no clue what she said. They each gave her a hug. I noticed she didn’t try to kiss anyone else. We all sat, and everyone at the table asked hundreds of questions about France, Paris, The Sorbonne, and how Marci was doing. She seemed to be having a good time answering them. I thought it would be best if I stayed out of the conversation. I could taste her on my lips, and I didn’t want to feel guilty. Why should I feel guilty? She kissed me. Maybe I felt guilty because I enjoyed it. Huh.
“The bureaucracy is soul-crushing. Professors lecture for three hours straight with no breaks and no interruptions. The bread and cheese are both amazing, and I think even little kids have wine with their meals. Oral exams are ridiculous. You have 10 minutes to defend your entire semester’s work. Everyone says the French are rude to Americans. They are, but they’re rude to everyone. Customer service is ridiculous. There isn’t any.”
When lunch was over, Kim grabbed Marci and motioned me to her. “Marci, I’m at a loss. We have a good team this year. You know most of the girls. Cassidy was on the Ben Lippen team last year, and she’s good. You and Jan are gone. I’m just not seeing the motivation to compete. It doesn’t help that we have a two-week Christmas break, then, only a couple of weeks to prepare.”
“Are there practices scheduled over the break? What does Miss Bentz say?”
“She doesn’t like that the competition is after the break, either.”
“I don’t know. What time is practice? I’ll come back. Let me think about it. Je réfléchis de mon mieux en français, tu sais.”
Marci left, and we walked to class. “What did she say?” I asked.
“She does her best thinking in French. She’s so silly.”
Marci had been in France for only a semester. Had she changed? Definitely. Was she silly? Sometimes. Was that kiss silly? Not even close. Did I protest? No, and that bothered me.
I had arranged to skip PE to meet with Coach Miller that afternoon. After talking with Michael and looking over the list of races, I wanted to get his idea about them. I also wanted to talk with him about Michael’s training program and suggestion.
“I agree with him about swimming. Nevertheless, competing in Master’s swim meets will help you keep an edge. I do like how he has a different strategy for each training session. I don’t do hills simply because we don’t have them, but I see the benefit. I might give that a try. What races do you have picked out?”
I showed him the list he’d given me with three races highlighted. He looked over the list again, tapping his pencil as he thought. He put a tick mark by a couple of other races.
“This is almost too short, unless you want to practice your transitions. Since you’ve only done the one race, that’s not a bad thing. You wouldn’t even need to train for it, though. Look at this one,” he said, pointing to a different race a week later. “It’s just outside Columbia, so it’s not too far away. The swim is one mile, the bike is twenty-four, and the run is a 10K. Your time for that is going to be around two hours.”
“Have you done that one before?”
“I did it last year. It’s early in the season. That’s good because it lets you know where you stand, and you can make adjustments in your training. It’s bad because Lake Murray is still pretty cold that time of year. I practically froze my na-nas off.”
“No one likes frozen na-nas.”
“No. Smarter people than me wore a wetsuit.”
“No kidding. Is that legal?”
“It is. There are a couple of advantages to that and a couple of disadvantages. The two advantages are that you stay warm and you get a bit of additional flotation. On the other hand, it complicates things and takes some practice getting out of it quickly. You have to practice. If you get used to it, it opens up a bunch of early-season races.”
“Those distances would favor a good swimmer, wouldn’t they?”
“Ah-ha. Now, you’re thinking about competition. Yes. The swim is almost as long as the half Ironman, but the bike and run are about half the distance.”
“Okay. I’ll have to look into wetsuits. You have one, don’t you?”
“After freezing last year? Absolutely. They aren’t too expensive and I can go with you if you want. McKevlin’s Surf Shop has a pretty good variety.”
We talked for another thirty minutes, and I picked the same two races as Coach Miller did, and the Savannah Half Ironman would be the third. There was another short race or two that I could choose to race if I wanted to. He suggested doing a couple of 10K races as well.
I thanked him and went to the gym to see how Kim was doing. They were talking, and Kim and Marci were in the middle of it. When Kim saw me, she motioned for me to keep my distance, so I opened a book and started reading. I had just gotten into Miyamoto Musashi’s Book of Five Rings when they finished, and Kim came over. Marci was still talking with a couple of them.
We walked out to my car, and I asked her what the deal was. “No one likes that there’s a two-week break between now and when the competition is. No one. I suggested we practice over the break, but that’s impractical because not everyone is staying in town. It’s not realistic for everyone to cancel their Christmas plans. Some girls were saying we shouldn’t bother, and others said we should practice hard now and then when we got back.”
“What did Marci say?”
“She asked Cassidy what she thought of their team without her. Cassidy is really good, and it’s huge for us that we have her. Cassidy said their coach was really good, and they probably had the talent. Then Marci said that competing last year was the only thing that demanded a real competitive effort, and she thought it was good for her. She said she wishes we’d won, but didn’t regret the hours we spent preparing. Then she said, ‘When high school is over, it’s over. You’ll never have this chance again, and regrets suck.’ We talked about it for a few minutes and then voted. We’re all in.
“We have two more practices, then we’re going to do a long one on Saturday. Over the break, everyone committed to doing what they could on their own. Everyone will be back in town the Saturday before we come back to school, and we’ll all be here for a long practice.”
“That sounds good. Did anyone mention that every other team is in the same boat?”
“Mel did, and Miss Bentz agreed.”
“So, it went well, and Marci played a role.”
“Yes. Nice timing.”
We had a good leg work out that afternoon. Mac had begun coming out to the gym with Mom. After his initial tail-wagging, butt-shaking greeting, he settled down to watch. While we were lifting, I was trying to figure out how my weightlifting routine would need to change for triathlons, or if it would need to change at all. I decided that it shouldn’t change. Both training for triathlons, along with weight training, were just a means to an end, and that end was to be as fit as possible.
Kim and I both had finals on Thursday and Friday, so I took her home so we could study. We had tried studying together, but it just didn’t work for us. I would help her with Spanish if she needed it, and she didn’t have a math class her senior year, so there wasn’t much for us to do together anyway.
At dinner, Mom laid out her Christmas plan, complete with a list of things for me to do. It wasn’t bad. I thought I would check with neighbors about Christmas lights.
After dinner, I sat down at the computer and typed up a note about triathlons. I included the races I planned to do, along with a couple of others I was considering. I typed in my training details and a rough timeline of where I hoped to be. I printed four copies and sent one to Michael and one to Marty. I kept one to give to Coach Miller, and I wanted to share the other with Natalie. She’d never done a triathlon, but she probably knew more about competing than anyone else I knew.
Then, I got a crazy idea and checked the results of the Savannah Half Ironman. The winner of my age bracket was Travis Alcorn from Greenville, South Carolina. How many people with the last name of Alcorn lived in Greenville? Three. I called information and got him on the third try.
“Travis, this is Jack Pierce. I came in third in Savannah last year. I have a strategy for this year. Want to talk about it?” He did. We talked for over an hour. I was totally transparent, figuring it was only a friendly competition, anyway, and hoping I’d get more than I gave.
Travis was a runner who hadn’t been swimming that long. He had written down his current times for each event, then the best times he thought were reasonable as goals. He measured progress against those goals and revised his training accordingly. I thought it was a pretty good approach. He liked Michael’s idea of dedicating a day to endurance, one to speed, and one to hills.
“You know if this works, I’m going to kick your butt next year,” I said, laughing, when we were about done.
“Not if I learn how to swim. I passed you on the bike last year. It was probably around mile twenty-five or so.”
“If you beat me next year, I’ll buy you lunch,” I said. We were enjoying this.
“Deal. I’ll buy you lunch if you win. Man, I wish we didn’t live three hours apart.”
We talked for a few more minutes, exchanged addresses, and promised to stay in touch. Mom asked who I’d been talking to, and I told her. When I did, something big dawned on me.
“The end of high school swimming isn’t the end of competition or even having friends that compete.” I was surprised by the revelation. Then, I was surprised that I was surprised.
“No. It just looks different. I wonder if there’s a club around here. You know, maybe a group of guys that train together.”
I called Kim to tell her my discovery. She acknowledged it and then asked if my TV was on. She gave me a channel, told me to watch, and hung up. She was clearly tracked. I turned on the TV.
It was pretty obvious why she wanted me to watch. The college cheerleading national championship was on. Wow. I watched for thirty minutes, and that was enough to see Ohio State and Kentucky and they looked good. They looked really good. The girls from Florida State and Alabama were better looking. Who was I kidding? They were drop-dead gorgeous.
“Why did you want me to watch that?” I asked over the phone.
“Emory doesn’t have cheerleaders.”
“That’s not surprising.”
“I like competition. I like teamwork. You already know you’re going to miss swimming.”
We talked for an hour about triathlons. I told her that she’d find new ways to compete.
“Like what?”
“Like bodybuilding.”
“What? You’re crazy.”
“Am I? There’s a mirror in my gym. Look at the picture of Rachel McLish and then look at yourself. She’s a professional champion.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do. You know why she looks so well-defined? She has probably between ten and twelve percent body fat. If you got down to that, you’d look pretty damn competitive. Listen, I’m not saying that’s what you should do. What I’m saying is that you can find a competitive outlet. It doesn’t have to be cheerleading, okay?” Crickets.
“I like cheerleading. Not so much at football games, but the competition.”
“Cassidy does gymnastics. You’re every bit as athletic as she is.”
“Ha, ha. Cassidy is in crazy good shape. You should see her.” I waited. “Okay, maybe not,” she laughed.
“I bet she looks good.”
“Stop it. She does. She’s rock solid and she’s really strong, and flexible.” Quiet. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I can hear you thinking. Just stop. You’re impossible.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to, you pig. Male chauvinist pig,” she said, but she was laughing.
“That’s me, alright. Focus on getting ready for competition. Talk to Miss Bentz. There are competitive possibilities for you. We just need to figure out what appeals to you. You’re a good runner.”
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