(Many thanks to my colleague Phil Gorman for his proofing and editorial assistance)

I was bored out of my mind. I had no interest at all in the game on TV and the rest of the offerings were just plain shit! I searched the streaming services and found nothing I wanted to watch. Earlier I had jerked off to some hot lesbian porn and didn’t feel the need to watch any more. I needed to do something! I read shit-loads of stuff and just didn’t feel like reading anything at the moment.

I wandered into the kitchen and searched for a drink. Nothing! I try not to drink much at home, especially when alone and bored.

I sat at the kitchen table and decided I did indeed want a drink. I tidied up a bit and headed to the Lodge. Many years ago some friends of mine convinced me to join their Lodge. I found the place and members to be very welcoming. I’ve moved several times since, and every place I’ve lived has had a Lodge. One thing is absolutely true; you always have brothers, and now sisters, at the Lodge.

I really liked this particular Lodge. I’ve been involved here for several years and have managed to make many acquaintances and a couple of real friends.

The lounge area of the Lodge was pretty empty when I arrived. Susie, the withered bartender, looked at me and I replied, “A pint.”

She gave me a crooked grin and poured a pint of Bass Ale. I scanned the room and off at a side table sat Jeff Wilkinson. Jeff was an interesting fellow and we had shared more than a few beers over the years. He lifted his glass to me and I wandered to his table, greeting a few other members along the way.

Jeff had been a very successful high school basketball coach in town many years ago. Most people still called him Coach W. I never inquired about his departure from that position, I heard things, rumors mostly. Supposedly, the situation involved female students, his ex-wife, and a married co-worker. Regardless, he had made quite a lot of money in the real estate business since his departure.

We sat and exchanged pleasantries. We then exchanged some disdainfulness over the human condition. Eventually, we agreed that beer was a moral good and we needed another round.

At one point we raised and clicked our glasses in a toast to Johnny Unitas. As we set our glasses on the table, Jeff said, “You’ve never asked me about my past. Sooner or later everyone does...”

I was surprised by this comment and immediately I was very interested; but, I knew that if he had something to tell me, he would do it of his own volition.

“Jeff, I don’t pry. I try to take things as they are.”

“Yeah, but I’ve seen people telling you about themselves ... pretty racy stuff too. You pay real close attention ... I was on the internet the other night. Surfing around, you know, porn shit and stuff. I came across a website filled with stories. Pretty damn good, pretty fucking hot. Anyway, I read one and if I’m not mistaken, I think the main characters were Ted and his niece.”

The accusation hung in the air. Fuck! I thought I had pretty much hidden their identities perfectly! I had no choice but to deny! Deny! DENY!

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Jeff, and I’m not too sure if I care for the insinuation or accusation.”

Jeff laughed a little and said, “Good God man, I don’t give a fuck! It is a great tale and you made it better! Oh, I figured out your penname pretty quick. Really, I don’t care! I’m not telling anyone. What I want to know is ... do you want a good fucking story? I mean a good story, a good story with good fucking?”

I ordered up another round and listened.

The Coach’s Best Fucking Year Ever (as told by The Coach)

It’s been my experience that very few things in life “just happen.” There are things that occur that come together, culminate, at some point. Kind of like that “Butterfly Wing” thing. Know what I mean? Now, what happened in that great fucking year was the culmination of two years of unrelated events, or so they seemed at the time.

I graduated college and the only job I could get was at Summersville High School. They needed a basketball coach and no one would touch the job with a ten foot pole. In my third year we were contending. Our biggest win came against Westside. That was a Tuesday night and that Friday we were going to play Southside. We pretty much ran them out of our gym that night. After the game, a gentleman came up and shook my hand.

He palmed a business card to me and said, “Call me, if you’re interested.”

Turns out, that gentleman was the Principal of Westside High, Steve Connors. For the next eleven years, I was at Westside. In those years we never had a losing season. We only missed the playoffs once and made it to the finals four times. We brought the first state title in basketball to that school. I had great kids and was given complete control of the program. All those years, my best friend was Steve Connor. Steve stuck with me through thick and thin. We had his family; Steve, his wife Erin, and their two kids over to our house. My wife, Jane, and I were guests at his house. Christ, we took vacations together! I swear ... I was on top of the world!

During my last year, CC State College came sniffing around and offered me their basketball job. At the same time, Thee Big University was making inquiries about making me an assistant coaching position. Shit! Life was great!

During what was to become my last season, Steve missed his first games. He told me he was spending too much time away from his family and would be handing administrative duties over away games to an Assistant Principal. It sounded reasonable to me. A week later, Jane tells me she didn’t feel like making the trips to away games. I didn’t give it a second thought.

Yeah, you got it! Goddamned Steve was coming over to my house, fucking my wife, in my bed while I’m at away games. I don’t know how it started and I don’t care! Anyway, he asked me to call when a game was over to tell him the score and highlights. So there I was, calling and talking to the fucking asshole while he’s either fucking my wife or having his dick sucked by her. Then he goes home and is able to tell his wife all about the game.

Pretty good set up if you think about it.

Anyway, about halfway through the season, I’m at the Piggly Wiggly picking up some shit and I run into Erin. We shoot the shit and the last thing she says is, “Sometimes I wish Steve didn’t have to go to all your games. Especially the away games, the kids miss him so much.”

I covered for him.

As I drove home, I started to think. I formulated a plan. We had the ACAD Academy away game coming up and we weren’t likely to even play our starters. I decided to take “ill” at half time and leave the game; my assistant could handle it. Everything went as planned and at about the time the second half tip-off was happening, I was looking at Steve’s car parked in my driveway.

There was quite a scene. I beat on Steve pretty good and Jane called the cops. Who shows up? Deputy Bennett, that’s who! Dave Bennett played for me five years ago and now he’s in the middle of a major domestic disturbance involving his old coach and principal. He calms us down and then calls the school superintendent. In a half hour he’s at my house, as well as the actual County Sheriff. Now, me and the wife, we hadn’t been getting along too well for a couple of years. We put on a good front for everyone, but at home it was like ice. I wasn’t mad at Steve for fucking her or her fucking him. I was mad at Steve because he betrayed me! The son of a bitch stabbed me in the back. Shit! If he, or she, had asked, I probably would have given them my permission.

Anyway, I spilled this in front of the Sheriff, the Superintendent and Dave Bennett. As you know, the Superintendent is a true man of God, a good Christian man. But he understands the weaknesses and faults of people. He convinces the Sheriff to let him settle the situation. Both Steve and I agreed to adhere to whatever the superintendent decided.

Three weeks later, Steve was reassigned to an open Elementary School Principalship. The reason given was that he needed more time with his family. I had to resign at the end of the season and, the next year, I was assigned to Southside, teaching “challenged” ninth graders. The superintendent told me I was “suspended” from coaching for two years and if I tried to go elsewhere, he would blackball me.

Erin never knew a thing about anything, which, was the way she was about most of life. Jane and I split that night. The divorce was finalized by the end of the school year and she moved to Phoenix to be with her sister. We had a No-Fault divorce and neither of us could make any other claims on the other. She insisted on this since she and her sister were planning on becoming very successful Amway associates or some such shit.

So, this puts us in the next year. I was starting all over at a new school. The basketball coach, Pete James, thought for sure he was out the door until I told him my coaching days were over. He tried to get me to assist but I turned him down. Didn’t matter, no way the Superintendent would approve; he had been clear about that. The coach and I did talk quite a bit “ball” though.

One day he mentioned that his wife, who ran a real estate agency, was looking for new agents. He said the test was easy and that I would probably be a good agent. I gave it some thought and decided that I should try and make some extra money with my new free time. In no time at all I was licensed and making sales! For some reason, people bought what I was selling! I felt pretty good about that call. Sometimes that real estate money can be pretty fucking good!

Two other things happened that year that developed into something more: One involved a first year teacher. Since I was new at Southside, I had to attend a daylong orientation, as well as a welcome dinner. The orientation was before the beginning of the school year and held in the school library. I sat in the back, at a table by myself. The Principal, who really wasn’t too happy with me being there, pretty much stayed out of my way and let me do as I wished. Anyway, five minutes into his presentation, in walks a leggy brunette in a tight skirt and frilly blouse.

This girl was in her early twenties, not the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, but something about her worked. Ever see a video with a semi-porn star named Mila Azul? Well, that’s kind of the vibe going with this girl. Go take a look if you care. She had long brown hair and an engagement ring on her left ring finger. She smiled at me and slipped into the chair next to me. We sat together the entire day. She was a quite a cut-up, with snarky remarks and a running commentary on what was going on. Her name was Betty and she was going into her first year of teaching. Turned out she was going to teach the same bunch of ninth graders that I was going to have.

At the welcome dinner that night, she sat next to me and we became friends. I liked the way she touched my arm when she wanted to share something with only me. She was gregarious with the other teachers and seemed to fit in real easy. I hung back and fulfilled my requirements. I was older, divorced and reserved. She was young, outgoing ... and engaged.

The second thing that happened that year was Shanna. Shanna was a student in one of my classes. Shanna was a very pretty blonde. She stood out immediately from her peers, primarily because of her looks and also because of the way she dressed. She wasn’t slutty or overdressed, but she made a pair of jeans and a t-shirt come alive. She was a bit more than properly developed for a fourteen year-old girl, with all the proper curves and developing bumps.

Shanna was polite, mannered and sharp. She was also bright. As I got to know her, I found out she was very intelligent, but her hidden insecurities kept her from shining through.

Let’s be clear about something: being a male and working around young girls can be a challenge! For the vast majority of us it’s just a part of the work day. For those on the outside, many of them find it hard to believe that we’re not spending the entire day drooling over the young pussy. Guys like that in our profession don’t last for long. I’m personally responsible for the removal of three of those lecherous bastards.

Let me give you an example of something like reality: There is a movie called Mr. Holland’s Opus. All together, a pretty average movie with a predictable plot line and obvious ending. Watching the movie, you can tell whoever wrote it, wrote it from the inside. Anyway, throughout the guy’s career, there is only one girl that gets to him. One girl, who could make him leave everything. He doesn’t, but Emmy R makes it incredibly tempting. That aspect of the story was pretty accurate. Nothing happened; but, all the ingredients were there.

It’s the connection that matters. With Shanna, I still can’t explain it. The second week of school I had the class working in self-selected groups. I was sitting with a group off to one side. She was across the room and had a question. I signaled her over. She was wearing white jeans and a white t-shirt. She stood next to me and leaned down to show me what she didn’t understand on the assignment sheet. I caught a whiff of her natural scent, she leaned an arm on my shoulder, some of her hair brushed the side of my face.

She said, “Sorry” and flipped her hair away.

I said, “No problem.” and went on to answer her question. She stood next to me and listened.

With a smile she said, “Thanks Mr. W!” and walked back to her desk.

It was that walk back to her desk that got to me. She knew I was watching and she made the most of every step she took. The connection was made. I became a part of her life that year. I knew everything about her home life. Her parents had split years ago, they had never married. Her mom worked two jobs to provide for her and her younger brother. In many ways, she and her mom were co-mothers to her brother. She told me about every boy who tried to be with her. She rejected most and even brought a couple of possibilities by for my approval. A couple of them were O.K. and I told her as much.

We made it through the school year and she was very sad to see it end. She commented that she would miss seeing me every day over the summer.

Now, Betty added to that year as well. We had the same planning period and during the year we became very close. She liked to tease me about Shanna, calling her my “little-girlfriend.” Once, I thought Betty had gone too far and she quickly apologized and expressed her great respect for me and hoped I wasn’t upset with her. I quickly accepted her apology and we were O.K.

I met Betty’s fiancé at a teacher social event early in the school year. To say I was unimpressed with Scott would be an understatement. For the life of me, I couldn’t see what she saw in him. I asked her once how they met and she told me they had been dating since high school and everyone just expects that they will get married.

They had a Christmas wedding planned and Betty invited me. I sent my regrets. After school, on the last day before Christmas break, she caught me in the hallway outside my classroom and asked me if I would reconsider, that she hoped I would come. I expressed my regrets and turned to go back in my room. She didn’t say a thing; she turned and headed down the hallway.

Something came over me; I stepped back in the hallway and called to her.

“Betty! Hold on ... come back ... I’m sorry.”

She was silhouetted by the light from the window at the end of the empty hall. She stopped, dropped her head, paused, and then turned back. Slowly she approached, women’s briefcase in one hand, her lunch bag in the other. Her shoulders were down and she eyed me cautiously. I stood aside and guided her through the classroom door. She stepped inside and turned to face me. I took the briefcase and bag from her hands and set them down on the nearest desk.

I took her by the arms and said, “Betty, don’t do it. Please, don’t do it!”

I’ve never seen her look as sad as she did then, “I can’t call it off ... Everyone is expecting me...”

“Fuck everyone, when you get down to it, there’s only you ... and me.”

She fell forward into my chest, I wrapped her in my arms around her and repeated, “Don’t do it.”

She ducked out of my grasp, grabbed her stuff and walked out the door. I heard her run down the hall.

She went through with the wedding. Things were different for a while. I tried my best to be the same; she seemed to be trying to keep her distance.

Slowly things began to return to normal, whatever the fuck that was! On more than a few occasions she asked me to join her and Scott for dinner, or some event. In each and every case I declined. Once I even told her that if it was just her, I would gladly accept. There were some faculty events where seeing the two of them was unavoidable. I usually stayed long enough for propriety’s sake, then departed.

I can’t explain it ... kind of like the forbidden fruit or something. Damn! She got to me!

The end of the year arrived and that meant the legendary Southside end of the year faculty party. It was a raucous, drunken, bacchanalian legend. One long time faculty member owned some acreage outside of town alongside a small lake and had several shelters near the shoreline. The administration spent the day cooking and copious amounts of alcohol were laid in.

It was everything it was reported to be. It was one of the best times I ever had with a faculty. Betty showed up ... without Scott. We had a fair amount of interactions and she got friendlier with every drink she took. I was cautious, I really liked her, I didn’t want to put myself out there, like I had done in December.

The day was closing and everyone was gathered at a shelter. I was standing in the rear, leaning against a concrete block piling as various lip-synch performances had everyone entertained. Betty came up on the other side of the piling and slid in between me and the piling. I placed my hand on the small of her back and she snuggled in closer.

I slowly turned my hand until the tips of my fingers were under the top of her shorts. She giggled and moved her ass around a bit. I adjusted and slid my hand down until I had her bare right ass cheek firmly in my hand. She moved closer and moaned. I had to step in front of her a bit in order to get in a proper position. I moved my hand further down and inside and moved for the hole.

She was leaning hard into me. I could feel her tits starting to press into my side. From the corner of my eye I spotted movement. I quickly repositioned us in time to greet one her friends who was the designated driver.

Sandy commented, “I’m glad to see the two of you getting along once and for all.”

Betty slowly pushed by me and said, “Coach, we’ll catch up later.”

Back at the Lodge

Coach looked at me and said, “You want another?”

I begged off and he said, “Tell you what, you ever been to Edwin’s Steakhouse?”

“Can’t say that I have, but I hear it is excellent.”

“OK, tell you what, you look pretty tired; I’m kind of beat myself. Let’s say we meet there tomorrow at seven and have some dinner, on me. I’ll finish the story and you can tell me what you think.”

“Coach, so far you got me. Seven sounds good. See you then.”

The next evening we met at Edwin’s and had an unbelievable meal. Edwin himself came over to greet Coach and sat at our table for a little bit after we were done. We exchanged pleasantries, when Edwin got up to leave us; he picked up the tab and carried it away.

Coach leaned in and said, “That reminds me of something else that went on a few years back when I was at Westside. I’ll tell you about that later.”

Two pints of stout were delivered to the table and the Coach picked up where he left off.

So, my second, and last year, at Southside turned into one, fucking, great, year!

Over the summer I worked full-time on the Realty business and was raking in the dough. I made more that summer than I did teaching the previous year! Shows you how fucking bad teachers are paid.

Anyway, over the summer I heard twice from Betty. One time she wants to know if I wanted to come over for dinner. She and Scott were having a dinner party for our teacher team at school. Again, I declined. I made up a sorry-ass excuse that she knew was a lie but had no choice but to accept.

Then she called a few weeks later wondering if I would join them for dinner. I didn’t say anything. She eventually says, “Are you still there?”

I said, “Yes, I’ve always been here.”

There was silence on the line. I added, “I’ve said this before, and you know exactly how I feel. I want to see you; but, it has to be you alone. I don’t want to come over for dinner with you and fucking Scott or with a bunch of other fucking people. We have to work together and function together. I don’t have to socialize with you and your husband.”

I thought she was going to say something, and thought I heard her start; but there was nothing. I hung up on her.

Through the first three weeks of school Betty behaved as if she was embarrassed to talk to or be around me. I figured I was barking up the wrong tree and altered my routine so I wouldn’t be bumping into her during or after the school day. Anyway, I had no clue as to the turmoil I was putting her through!

What helped was that the Principal had changed my room and teaching assignment. I was moved from the main building out to one of those portable classrooms. It was pretty fucking sweet! Brand spanking new with all the bells and whistles! There was even a storage room with a small working bathroom. Shit, I could have lived in there! I was given honors-level ninth grade classes.

I’ve brought up two of the three things that made it a great fucking year. The third thing showed up in my class that year. The group of kids I had that year were almost unbelievable! They were the most sociable and academically talented bunch I ever encountered. They could sit and seemingly aimlessly talk while at the same time produce the most thoughtful work I had ever seen from ninth graders.

They could switch between socializing and philosophizing at the drop of a hat. They loved talking to adults. Groups like this come along once a decade. What this means is that among them are the most intelligent and sociable girls you’ll ever meet!

From out of this group came Elizabeth. She wasn’t as outgoing as her peers but had the same open nature as them. One day, after school, a group of the guys were in my room working overtime on a presentation. As is their wont, they drifted off topic. I was at my desk grading papers and I don’t think it ever occurred to them that I could hear their discussion.

Boy 1 - “No way, I don’t believe you! No way she did that! Ricky, you’re full of shit!”

Boy 2 - “Yep, I heard that about her, she’s done it with TJ also.”

Boy 1 - “Y’all are full of it, not Elizabeth, not with Ricky!”

Ricky - “I’m telling you the god-honest truth. She ... gave ... me ... a ... blow ... job.”

Boy 3 - “I was at that party, it happened.”

Boy 1 - “No way...”

Ricky - “Way!”

Boy 2 - “TJ said it was after the skate party last year ... out in the parking lot.”

Boy 3 - “Think she’d do it for me?”

Ricky - “I don’t know, she can be kind of picky, only wants the best of men!”

Boy 1 - “You are so full of shit!”

Boy 3 - “Fuck you Ricky!”

Upon the drop of the F-Bomb, they all looked at me.

I glared at them and said, “Did I hear what I just thought I heard?”

“No, Mr. W, you didn’t hear what you thought you heard!”

“We were just talking, Ricky’s being a ... a jerk!”

“So it was Ricky I heard?”

“No, Mr. W., it wasn’t me! We didn’t mean anything. We’re sorry!”

“Fine, get back to work!”

Of course I found this fascinating! Elizabeth?! God, she was something. A tall, lean blonde; she had sort of a Darryl Hannah look about her. Not a classic beauty but, a look that would break some hearts. Elizabeth was taller than most of the other girls and presented herself as very nice, very mannered, very polite, very smart. If this information was true, there was much more going on behind those blue eyes than she let on.

I treated her no different than any other kid. In some ways, I kept her a little further away than other kids. I think that may have been the trigger for what was to come.

Before I get too far ahead of any one part, let me try and even up what was happening.

Shanna was now in tenth grade. She passed my room every day as she walked to her English class. I usually stood outside and monitored the walkways between classes and each day she would stop and spend a few moments with me. Every day we connected just a little bit more.

I think it was October when I noticed that she was losing weight. Now, she tried to wear loose clothes but, I could see it. I had to ask. She downplayed the whole thing. It took a week before she showed up in my room after school on the verge of a breakdown. Now, I’m good ... but I’m not that kind of good. I gathered her up and escorted her to the guidance office.

She was out of school for two weeks at some anorexia rehab-type of place. The first time I visited her, she wouldn’t talk to me ... she ordered me out. I came back two days later; she broke into tears and reached for me. She sat up in bed and I sat on the edge. I held her as she cried, it didn’t seem very long but, I think I held her for fifteen minutes. The only words she spoke were “Thank you.”

She was so small in my arms.

I asked the nurse if there had been any other visitors, she said that Shanna’s mom and little brother came by every evening for about an hour and, except for a couple of kids the first few days, I was about it.

The second week she was much better. I stopped by every day. I brought her schoolwork for her.

With oozing sarcasm, she said, “Oh, jeez Mr. W, I can’t thank you enough ... my school work ... how nice.”

I set her books, except for her literature book, on the small dresser, walked to her and gave her a fatherly kiss on the forehead. I sat down and opened to the story they were reading in class, of course it was Romeo and Juliet.

One afternoon her mother showed up earlier than usual; it was nothing bad, she wanted to thank me for being so nice. She tried to tell me I didn’t need to help but then expressed her gratitude that I was helping. Go figure! Regardless, I was OK.

Shanna returned to school and our routine resumed. She was more reserved now and seemed to lose interest in her peers. I tried hard to brighten her day as well as provide her with a shoulder to lean on.

OK, so Shanna is recovering, Liz is intriguing, and Betty, well...

That year, Homecoming was later than usual. As it turned out, Halloween and the big game were both on Friday. The prior Friday the football team had a bye week and two of the coaches who lived together held a faculty party. Now, I had been over to these guys’ house before. Mostly cards, drinking, sports on TV, drinking, followed by some drinking. So they lay in a keg and all sorts of liquor. I show up a little early and park on their front lawn, After about an hour, in walks Betty, by herself!

She tells me that Scott is tired and didn’t feel like coming; he felt out of place around all of us. She practically never left my side the entire night. I played real cool and did my best not act on my deepening desires. And I was doing some desiring too! She was looking fucking hot! One of the coaches told me later that she was the hottest woman at school. I couldn’t argue.

Parties are parties, and pretty soon it was time to wind down. Betty and I were sitting at the dining room table talking when she said it was time for her to go. I stood and said I would walk her to her car. She told me earlier she had to park down around the corner from the house. As we left the house she spotted my car, and with her finger, drew a heart on my dew covered rear window.

Laughingly I ordered, “Hey! Don’t mess up my windows!”

She backed away from the car giggling and looking at me. “Now when you drive and look in the mirror, you’ll think of me!”

We walked to her car arm-in-arm, and I held her door for her as she got in. She powered her window down and I crouched down. We said good night and then there was a pause. I said, “Please drive carefully” and leaned in the window to give her a kiss. She quickly responded and kissed me back. She really kissed me back! Her tongue entered my mouth and we were in it for the long haul!

I cradled her head with my right hand and she had her right hand on the back of my head. We made out like teenagers! I said, “Unlock the other door.” She popped the lock and I slid into her car where we continued our make out session in earnest. I tried everything. My hands were everywhere and she was receptive ... to a point. She wouldn’t come to my house, she wouldn’t meet me at a hotel, and she wouldn’t climb in the back seat with me.