Lean on Me
Copyright© 2025 by Danny January
Chapter 27
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 27 - 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
Saturday morning, Vince picked me up in his aerodynamic Volvo. We sped down Folly Beach Road, breaking the sound barrier twice and outrunning the cops, who were hopelessly outmatched by the power of the Volvo 240 Sedan.
“This thing’s a pig, Vince.”
“True, but it’s really good in the snow.”
I leaned forward and looked up at the sky. “Maybe this weekend,” I said, but there was no snow in the forecast.
“You just wait. It will snow one day, and then you’ll see.”
Vince parked, and we walked toward the pier. Natalie was already there, stretching. “Hey, Aquaman, Vince.”
“Hey, Natalie. Is this your first run after your doc cleared you?”
“Yes, so I want to keep it short. That’s what he recommended.”
“What’s short?” Vince asked, somewhat, and justifiably skeptical of Natalie’s version of short.
“Eight miles okay with you?” she asked, and Vince laughed.
“As long as it’s a short eight.”
“Can Vince keep up with you?” Natalie asked, and I laughed and nodded. “Let’s go out at six-thirty and see if we can pick it up on the way back.”
We ran the first half mile, just sort of stretching and warming up, then we picked up the pace. We settled into a pretty good pace, and Natalie announced that we were doing six-thirty. She just knew. I guess she had run so much that she could tell the pace by feel.
I hadn’t had a good run in a while, and I was feeling good. We took turns running closer to the water, where the sand was slightly more packed and running was a little easier. Natalie and I were both about six-two, and Vince was probably two inches taller. We were zinging down the beach at a pretty good pace, and once again, we were getting some looks. It was weird.
When we turned the corner to come back, there wasn’t much of a breeze. “Six?” Natalie asked, not knowing what kind of pace Vince could hold.
“Five-thirty,” I answered. She smiled, and we picked it up. I knew she could run five-minute miles, but this was her first run after taking a couple of weeks off. “How are the shins?”
“Seem to be good. We held that pace until we got close to the pier and then eased back down. Vince went to his car to grab some Gatorades and my training sheet. When he got back, we were all ready to gulp them down.
“How was that on your legs?” I asked.
“Good. Maybe the break did me some good. You do pretty well for a big guy,” she said to Vince. He lifted his Gatorade in salute back to her.
“I typed up my plan for the next year, and I’d like your thoughts,” I said, handing her the sheet. We sat facing the water, and she studied it.
“How many races have you done?” she asked.
“One.”
“One triathlon. How about just runs?”
“None.”
“And I’m assuming no bike races either. Lots of swimming, though. I bet you learned a few things with the mass start swimming.”
“That’s an understatement. The good news is that I was able to separate myself from the crowd pretty quickly. I feel bad for the guys swimming a mile in more than twenty minutes. Crowded.”
“Okay, since triathlons all start with the swim and you’re a good swimmer and have one behind you, competing is going to give you a different experience. Let me think.”
Vince caught my eye, then raised his brows. She was fast. Neither of us was used to running that fast and that far, and it felt weird to have a girl keep up with us when we were pushing it. She was definitely fast.
“I like the way the training is broken down into distance, speed, and hills. I try to have a goal every time I run. Today, I just wanted to shake things loose and see how I feel. Having goals for every practice is definitely good,” she said, tapping the paper. “Not having long runs on the same day as long bikes is good. Same for speed or hill days. But I’d think that every now and then, you’d want to have a day where you combine them. You need to see what it feels like to bike far, then run far, and the same for speed. You’ve got a total of four triathlons marked, and that’s probably good. You could add some runs. You’re going to run anyway, so why not make a speed day a race day? I think you’ll learn a lot about pacing. Also, you can schedule your runs earlier in the season, when it’s too cool for anything else.
“Cyclists can be assholes. I’ve never raced, but I know people who have. Not encouraging. Dog eat dog. With runs, you can also begin to find out how much gas you have in the tank near the end of a race. How much did you have left today? Could you have run another mile at that pace?”
“Probably.”
“You should know. Also, where on here do you practice transitions? Are you happy with your gear? You said you talked to the guy who won your division. Did you talk about gear or transitions?”
“No.”
“It’s part of the race. How about diet? I bet you know about that from swimming. Is it different for a run or a triathlon? I don’t know. Who’s your biking guru? Do you have someone you can go to for that? You told me that Coach Miller filmed you swimming. What about biking and running? You’ve got these races noted, but you don’t have a goal time. You should have a goal for the race and for each leg. What’s a good time for a one-point two-mile swim?”
“Twenty minutes is good for an open water swim,” I answered. Vince listened, but didn’t say anything.
“If you came out of the water in twenty-two minutes, would you change anything? Would you try to make up the difference during the bike or run, or would you just blow off your goal time?”
“Those are all good ideas. I guess I’d try to pick up the pace on the bike to get back on track.”
“Okay. Let’s say you planned to do your thirteen-mile run at a six-thirty pace. If you picked up your pace on the bike to make up for a slower than planned swim, would you still be able to run at a six-thirty pace? Would you even be able to finish? Those are things you want to know before your big race at the end of the season.”
“Sounds like you need to science it up, Aquaman. You’ve already tackled the swim like this,” Vince said to me, then to Natalie, he said, “I bet you have detailed plans for race day.”
“I know exactly when I want to reach each mile checkpoint and what my heart rate should be. If my heart rate is too fast, I have to slow down or I won’t finish.”
“You have a serious training log, don’t you?” he asked.
“I have a very serious training log. Today, I’ll note the distance, pace on the way out and back, the temperature and general weather conditions, who I ran with, and how I feel before and after the run. I keep a log of everything I eat. There are foods that I absolutely love but won’t eat within days of a race.”
“I guess the question, Aquaman, is just how serious you want to be,” Vince added.
“Vince is right. That’s really the first question you need to ask yourself. Did you know how many miles you’d have to put in, watching that black line go by?”
“Well over a thousand. Natalie, I’ve gotten a lot of good advice from different people, but you gave me stuff that none of them did. This is really good.”
“The more elite the competition, the more you need to refine your approach.”
“I can do that. This is great. I’m really glad your legs are feeling better.”
“We’ll see how they feel in the morning.”
We talked for a few more minutes, and I promised to call her the next time I wanted to push myself. We walked back to Vince’s speed mobile. “She’s fast,” he said.
“She needs to run a five forty-mile pace for an entire marathon if she hopes to win,” I said.
“That’s crazy.” It was quiet for a few minutes. “How fast for the men?”
“Just under five minutes per mile. Four fifty-five.” I’d looked it up after the first time I talked with Natalie.
It was quiet for a while as we each considered just how fast that was. “If you trained for a marathon, how fast do you think you could do one?” Vince asked.
“I did a half-marathon at a seven-thirty pace. I’d already swum a mile and biked fifty-six. If the effort to swim and bike were equal to the first half of a marathon, then I could just double my time. Three hours and sixteen minutes.”
“Dude! That means Natalie would only beat you by about forty-five minutes.”
“Good thing we caught her on a slow day, huh? I’ve run with her a couple of times before, and I tried to push her. She didn’t even breathe hard. It’s like the difference between your Volvo and Franklin’s Corvette.”
“Hey now. Let’s not be trashing my pride and joy.”
“I couldn’t come close to competing against the top women, probably in any age bracket. Maybe they have a women over eighty bracket. I bet I could beat the winner of that.”
“No kidding. That’s crazy fast.”
Vince drove us back to my house. He’d brought a change of clothes, and I pointed him to a guest bedroom where he could shower and change. I did the same. I met him in the kitchen, where I had planned on telling Mom we were going Christmas shopping. She slowed that down.
“I don’t suppose you’d like some lunch before you go. Shrimp Po Boys, if you’re interested.”
We were interested, and they were outstanding. We each ate two. We thanked Mom, and I said, “We are off to do Christmas shopping.”
“On the Saturday before Christmas? Good luck, gentlemen.” Oh-oh. We hadn’t thought of that.
We didn’t have a lot of choice. Christmas was around the corner. The Citadel Mall was an absolute zoo. The good news was that neither of us had a huge list of people to shop for. The previous year, I’d bought presents for probably twenty people. This year, we were having a small celebration. Kim’s parents were going to be out of town, celebrating Christmas with her mom’s family in Kentucky or Missouri or something.
After twenty minutes of wandering around, trying to get ideas, Vince said, “We’re shopping like women. You shop. I’ll shop. I’ll meet you in front of Macy’s at two.” That’s what we did.
I was all but finished shopping when I met Vince. “Finished?” he asked.
“I need to stop at the jewelers on Maybank Highway and the Bally’s Blades nearby on Riverland.”
“Let’s go. Maybe I’ll have luck at the jewelers.”
We went there first. The jeweler I’d met at the bridal show had finished and was happy to show me the results. “What do you think?” he asked, opening the little box to show me.
“These are outstanding. Both of them. Perfect.”
“What do you have?” Vince asked, looking over my shoulder.
“Earrings. One of them is the Wallace family crest, and the other is McTighe. And they each have an aquamarine, which is Kim’s birth month.”
“Okay, that’s kind of cool. Why Wallace?”
“That’s my side. I have a couple of Scottish lines, but Wallace is my nearest ancestor.”
I paid for them, thanked him, and saw Vince do the same with jewelry he’d found for someone. From there, it was a quick trip around the corner to Bally’s Blades. According to everyone I’d asked, R.J. Bally was one of the best knifemakers in the state. He had an amazing assortment of knives that he had handmade and a display case with knives made by friends of his. He normally had a two-year wait, but I’d been very persuasive, or maybe I’d just caught him in a good mood.
“Wow,” Vince said when we walked in. It was the appropriate response.
“Just finished last night,” Mr. Bally said, walking behind his workbench to retrieve the knife he’d made for me. He came back to the counter, running a polishing cloth over it, and Vince joined me to take a look.
“What did you get?” Vince asked. I nodded to Mr. Bally.
“This, my friend, is a hunting knife. It’s got a five-inch Sleipner full-tang stainless steel blade with a drop point, and a serrated thumb ramp for better control. The handle is an ash, maple burl, which turned out really nicely, I think. Rory, your jeweler friend, designed the Wallace and McTighe crest insets. One crest, the Wallace is on the left side of the handle, with McTighe on the right. Janice made the leather sheath for it, and I thought the Celtic knot design was a nice touch.”
“You had the jeweler make the insets for the knife? That’s crazy. And Kim will like this?”
“Frontier Woman will. We went to the Highland Games last month, and I watched her as we checked out the booths. She’ll like it.”
“Oh, you didn’t tell me that. Were there a lot of vendors at the games?” Mr. Bally asked.
“I was surprised by how many. I saw some of the knives they had. Most of them were made in China.”
“They ain’t worth a hill of beans. They use the cheapest stainless steel they can find. The blades are soft, so they sharpen quickly, but they don’t hold an edge. With the edge on this, you could dress a dozen deer before you’d need a sharpening stone. I don’t need the business, but I might just get a booth next year.”
“If you did, you’d be overwhelmed with orders. Boot knives and those neck knives seemed to be popular. The people there seemed anxious to spend their money.”
“I’ll think about it. Now, you promised a picture. Let me see just who I’ve made this for.” I pulled out my wallet and showed him a couple of pictures of Kim. He whistled. “And she’s a hunter. Oh, be still, my heart.”
“Yup. She went with her dad last week and they each got a deer.”
I paid, and it wasn’t cheap, that’s for sure. I knew Kim would love it. We walked back out to his snowmobile Volvo. Vince was struggling with what to get for his non-Scottish, non-hunting wife.
“I’m at a loss. You’re done, and I’m stuck.”
“Have you asked Lori?” He gave the proverbial deer in the headlights look, so I repeated the question.
“That’s genius.”
“Dude. How could you not know to do that? Lori has known her big sister for her entire life. I don’t know her very well at all. I know Lori, but not Lani.”
“I feel like an idiot. Mrs. Newsome probably has some good ideas, too. What a dunce. You asked Kim’s parents, right?”
“No. Actually, I didn’t. I haven’t. Kim’s pretty easy, I think. Dane is tough. Doctor Legare would be impossible, but we’re keeping the gift giving down this year so I don’t have to worry about it.”
“I need to talk to Lori.”
Vince dropped me off at home and took off for Lori’s house. I didn’t say anything about how long it took his Volvo to get there.
The tree and lights were up, thanks to Dane. Mom was working on food, although we were having a small get-together, so that wasn’t a big deal, especially for someone who loved to cook and host. Kung fu lessons were on break until the new year. My shopping was done, and Kim was at cheerleading practice. The only thing I needed to do was wrap presents. I wrapped presents.
It was still early, so I went to the bookstore. The new bookstore. I didn’t think I’d find what I was looking for in any used book store. It was crowded, but it seemed like most of the shoppers were looking at big picture books they might give as gifts. The section on sports was empty. I didn’t find a single book on triathlons or triathlon training. I didn’t find anything on training for multiple sports.
I did find a couple of books that I thought might be helpful. I picked up Strength Training for Athletes by John P. Jesse and Weight Training for Sports by Daniels and Huhn. A little further down the aisle, I found Bicycle Road Racing by Edward Borysewicz and added that to my growing collection. Were triathlons too new for anyone to write a book about them?
I checked the wall of magazines. There weren’t any magazines specifically for triathletes, but I picked up a copy of Runner’s World, VeloNews, and Bicycling. With three books and three magazines, I thought I’d exhausted the available resources. Standing in the checkout line, I was halfway through Runner’s World by the time I got to the front. What a zoo.
I got home to the sound of Nat King Cole singing Christmas songs. The album was one of Mom’s favorites. I didn’t have to guess about what record would drop next. I’d hear Perry Como and then Bing Crosby, and that night she’d watch either It’s a Wonderful Life or White Christmas, whichever was on. When it came to Christmas, Mom was pretty predictable unless Veronica and booze were involved.
I walked into the kitchen to find Mom, Veronica, and Angela working on various things. I looked around and didn’t see any evidence of booze. Previously, the two of them had gone to Myrtle Beach to go shopping, gotten plastered, and come home with a fourteen-foot Christmas tree they wanted me to help bring indoors. It barely made it inside, and I had to cut a couple of feet off the bottom to get it upright. I was glad to see that it wouldn’t be happening this year.
“Wow. You two look good. What have you been doing?” I asked.
“What about me, Sport?” Mom asked, trying to sound offended.
“You do, too, but I know what you’ve been doing.”
“There’s a little gym at our apartment and we’ve been using it,” Angela said. Veronica batted her eyelashes at me. Mom saw that and bumped her.
“The gym helps,” Veronica said. “But to be honest, since I stopped drinking, I’ve been getting better sleep. The exercise bike and some of the machines are good, too.”
“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up.” They thanked me for that, and Mom asked about my shopping trip.
I spread out my haul from Barnes and Noble. “There aren’t any books or magazines about triathlon training.”
“I’d never heard of them until recently, Buddy. Isn’t it pretty new?”
“1974, I think. But, according to Doctor Legare, the 1982 Hawaiian Ironman is what’s going to spark growth. I guess that makes it pretty new.”
“Compared to swimming, biking, and running,” Angela said. “I don’t think you’re going to find any records of the first running race. It probably had to do with Cain chasing Abel with a rock.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what makes it interesting. I like swimming the individual medley because whoever wins isn’t just the best at one stroke or the other, but the best swimmer. Triathlon is kind of like that. You have to be pretty good at all three.”
“Before you disappear into your office, Gizmo called and said there was a change of plans on delivery, whatever that means, and he’d explain it tomorrow at Coach Miller’s dessert fest. Gizmo? What’s his real name?”
“Gizmo.”
“I know you all call him that, but what’s his real name?”
“Gizmo. He said his parents were hippies. Gizmo is his real, no-kidding name. He said no one ever forgets.”
“He’s got that right. Somehow it seems to fit.”
Sitting in the library, Mac sort of on my lap, I’d already finished Runner’s World and was reading Bicycle Road Racing, when the phone rang. I picked it up.
“Hey,” Kim said.
“Hey, yourself. Good practice?”
“Really good. We really worked hard, knowing that no other team could have been doing more. Really good attitude, and you know what? Marci did that.”
“I have a hunch you might have had something to do with it.”
“No. This was Marci’s doing. She was there today. It was good. How about you?” I told her about my day.
“Natalie is that fast?”
“Oh, Baby, she is lightning. She can run a marathon at a pace I couldn’t hold for more than a mile. Two or three at the most. Vince was blown away. World-class. The woman who won Boston this year held a five-forty-two pace.”
“Wow. That’s nuts. And she gave you some good ideas?”
“Really helpful, and my kind of help.”
“Analytical.”
“Exactly. We should go riding tomorrow.” I’d said the magic words. Riding in the morning, take her parents to the airport, and then off to Coach Miller’s house for dessert.
We started early the next morning. We hadn’t been riding much lately, and we planned to make up for it over the Christmas break. The weather was breezy with some drizzle, so we practiced in the indoor arena. The indoor arena wasn’t really indoors. It was covered and had stalls on two sides with the other two sides open. When the weather got really bad, we could drop the canvas sides to keep the wind and rain out. The riding area was one hundred by three hundred. That was plenty big enough to practice basics, but after spending a lot of time on the trails, and the larger, outdoor arena, it seemed cramped.
Maveric greeted me about the same way Mac did. On the way back from his pasture, he kept nosing around my pockets, checking to see if I’d brought treats. Kim and I kept it simple, practicing transitions and running through a few western obstacles. Maveric really wanted the exercise so I let him canter for eight or ten laps before walking him to cool off. We didn’t stay nearly as long as we wanted to and remain on schedule.
Back at Kim’s house, we helped load her parents’ luggage into her mom’s car, then drove them to the airport. Mrs. McTighe gave instructions while she drove, and Kim nodded and agreed. Mr. McTighe read the paper. He’d heard this all before. Charleston International Airport only had six gates. Kim pulled up to the loading and unloading area, and I helped get their luggage to the check-in station.
Back at her house, Kim said we should have an argument so we could have make-up sex. I said I didn’t want to argue. She said she did. We repeated that three or four times, considered that our argument, and then had make-up sex. I thought it seemed a lot like normal sex, but I was happy with that.
We lost track of time and had to hustle to shower and change, swinging by my house so I could put on some clothes that didn’t smell like Maveric. It was almost four-thirty by the time we pulled onto Coach Miller’s street. It was pretty easy to figure out which one was his. The street was lined with cars, centered around his house.
There was a party atmosphere, with little groups of people all over the house, each involved in storytelling. Coach’s house wasn’t made for a party of this size, and it was crowded. It seemed like half the football team was there, along with Bobby, Mel, Gizmo, and Cassidy. Kim and I wandered through, sort of eavesdropping on conversations. Most of the stories revolved around silly stuff the kids had done. There was a long table filled with desserts, and I recognized a couple of Mom’s dishes.
“Can I have everyone’s attention,” Coach Miller boomed, and it went quiet. “Thanks for coming. Telling stories and enjoying some dessert together is exactly what we had in mind. This was Aquaman’s idea, by the way. I think everyone here knows Miss Del Monico. She’d like to say a few words.”
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