Chapter 11: Luscious Girl Dilemma

I knew that there was no way that Kristina's parents would allow her to go to the block party with me, and I wouldn't ask her to sneak around against her father's wishes, so I decided to give Becky Steinman a call. After all, why should I be the only kid there without a girl to hang out with?

"Hi, Becky," I said when she got on the phone. "It's Sean."

"Sean? Sean who?" she asked teasingly. "Not Sean Porter, is it? I thought he dropped off the face of the earth."

"Nope," I replied. "Just been busy, that's all."

"Oh," she said. "And no telephones anywhere to be found, I suppose."

"Hey, you could have called me, you know," I said defensively.

"And what would you have thought of me if I had called? That's not my style, to be so forward."

"So," I said, "let me get this straight. You'd rather do nothing than risk having someone think you are too forward?"

There was a pause from the other end of the line. "I guess it doesn't make a lot of sense when you put it like that, does it?" she said. "Okay, next time I'll call. Do you want me to sigh and swoon for your benefit, too?"

I laughed. "Sure," I said. "You'd better practice first, though. I get the feeling you're not very good at sighing and swooning."

"I don't have anything worth sighing and swooning over. Not yet, anyway," she added coquettishly. "I'm afraid that, even with practice, I wouldn't be very convincing in the swooning department."

"I think you're right, Becks. You're just not the swooning type, I'm afraid."

I told her about the block party on Saturday, and asked her if she would like to go there with me.

"Be still my heart," she sighed. "I think I might swoon."

It was almost too much to take, and we both started laughing.

The next day I was working with Davey, Kip, and Justin at the park. We did some passing warm-ups and some stretching, and then I took them over by the baseball fields. We jogged around to the outfield fence, a wire fence about five feet high.

"Okay, men, here's the drill," I instructed. I took them out so they were about ten meters away. "I'm going to go to the other side of the fence, and I want you to kick the ball over the fence to me."

"Why, Sean?" asked Kip.

"Because, stupid," retorted his brother, "the fence is in the way. You can't kick it to him without going over the fence."

"Don't call me stupid!" cried Kip.

"That's right, don't call him stupid," I admonished Davey. "He's asking a good question."

"Okay, then, why?" asked Justin.

I lofted my ball over the fence, and then leapt up, grabbing the top bar, and hoisted myself over the top, dropping to the other side. I ran over to retrieve my ball, and tossed it back over the fence to the boys.

"I want you to learn how to pass the ball through the air, not just on the ground," I said. "There will be times in a game when you might want to pass the ball over an opponent's head, for instance."

"Or hit him in the head!" laughed Davey.

"Nope," I said. "Never deliberately kick the ball so that somebody nearby might get hurt, Davey. Okay?"

"I was just kidding, Sean," said Davey, by way of apology.

"I know you were, buddy," I said. "Anyway, can you think of any other reason why you might want to kick the ball into the air, instead of on the ground?"

"I know!" yelled Kip. "To kick it really far!"

"That's right," I said. "The ball goes further in the air than it does on the ground."

We were at the limit of instruction by talking, so I got them going on booting the ball over the fence. The three boys started out just kicking at the ball, with no sense of where it was going, and only about a quarter of the time the ball made it over the fence.

"Okay, hold up a minute," I said. I had three of the four balls on my side of the fence, so they couldn't continue, anyway. "The object of the game is not only to get the ball over the fence, but to make it a pass to me. Everybody got it?"

"Okay!" "Yep-sirree!" "I got it, Sean."

With a little more practice, and a little more concentration, they started being much more accurate about their drill. Most of the balls were making it over the fence, and quite a few were in my vicinity, as much or more than I could have hoped for on our first try at this drill.

After about fifteen minutes of lofting the ball, I called a stop to it. I tossed the balls back over the fence to the boys, and hopped back over to their side. We started dribbling back over to our gear.

"There's one more time when you might want to get the ball off the ground a little," I said. "Anybody care to take a guess at when that might be?"

They thought about it for a few moments, and then Justin said, "When you're shooting?"

"Right you are, buddy-boy," I said. "The best places to shoot for when you're attacking the goal are the four corners. Most keepers your age can't defend a shot aimed at the high corners. If you can practice lofting the ball accurately, you'll score more goals."

"All right!" shouted Davey enthusiastically. "Score more goals!"

"But," I admonished, "it has to be an accurate shot, otherwise it's just another wasted opportunity, and you've ended up giving the ball back to your opponents."

"Okay, Sean," said Davey.

I informed them that practice was just about over. "Okay, guys, I want two laps around the outside of the soccer field. First lap use just your right foot, second lap just your left foot. Ready? Go!" And off they went. I trailed behind them, also using only one foot to dribble the ball. If it was good enough of a drill for them, it was good enough for me. I never wanted to be the kind of coach who wouldn't do the exercises that I assigned to my players.

As we were finishing up the last lap, I saw Wendy pull up to the curb and park her car. She walked over toward our gear as we jogged up to her, each of us dribbling the ball with just our left foot.

"Hi, Mom," called out Justin.

"Hi, Champ," said Wendy. "Davey and Kip, your mom asked if I could give you a ride home. Okay?"

"Sure, Mrs. Marcus."

"If Mom says so, it's okay with me, I guess," said Kip.

"And you're okay with that?" she asked, turning to me with a smile.

"Sure," I replied. "I guess you and Lori know each other well enough, how could I object?" I rummaged around in my gear bag for a towel so I could wipe the sweat from my face.

Wendy sent the boys off to the car. She stepped up a little closer to me.

"Careful," I said. "I'm pretty sweaty and smelly."

"I like the smell of healthy sweat," she said. There was a little trace of hunger in her voice. "It's kind of sexy."

"Sexy? I don't think so," I said nervously.

"Arthur's working late tonight," she said quietly. "Lori would be glad to keep the boys for dinner. I'd be home, all alone. I might enjoy some... company," she continued.

"Uh," I mumbled, suddenly embarrassed. "Look, Wendy, I..."

She glanced around quickly. There was nobody else nearby, and the boys were involved in choosing who got to ride in the front seat of the car, paying no attention to us at all. Wendy stepped up to me, her large breasts pressing lightly against my chest. She reached down and ran her hand smoothly up my thigh, letting her fingernails lightly scratch me under the leg of my shorts. I could feel my cock beginning to rise, and the recognition of that fact was clear in her eyes. I stepped hurriedly away from her and crouched down by my gear bag, pretending to look for something that wasn't going to be found there.

"Look, Wendy... it's not that I don't appreciate the offer... or the attention, you understand... but I don't think..."

"I'm not asking you to think, Sean." There was an edge to her voice. I glanced up at her. She was standing there, hands balled into fists, fists perched on her hips, staring at me. "A simple yes or no will do. Do you want to fuck tonight, or not?"

Hearing her talk like that made up my mind for me.

"Nah," I said. "I guess not." I went back to packing my bag. She stood there a moment, no doubt shooting daggers at me, and then she turned and, without a word, strode back to her car.

On Saturday afternoon, Becky and I got to the field behind the Lehigh house fashionably late. The softball diamond had once again been set up, and a tee was standing in front of home plate. The little kids were playing tee-ball, encouraged by their parents. We walked over to the tub that contained the sodas in ice, and each grabbed something to drink. Most of the teenagers were sitting or lying down on the grass in the outfield, waiting for the tee-ball game to end. Jake waved to us as we wandered over toward them. Jaimie was also there, in the crowd and not too close to Jake, in deference to her parents. I also saw Kayla, and the kid who I supposed was her boyfriend, a stick figure of a boy with spiky hair and acne on his chin. There were a few of Jake's football friends there, some with girls I knew from school, and there was a whole gang of younger teens, apparently led by Jaimie's younger sister Tara, who moved as a herd. I was surprised to see my brother Stephen among the group, following Tara around like a wounded puppy.

And it was no wonder he was panting after her. If I had been his age, I might have been on her scent, myself. For a girl who had just recently turned thirteen, Tara was acting and dressing way beyond her years. She had on denim cutoffs that were cut short, so that her ass cheeks were peeking out, making her slim legs look very long. She also wore a tube top that was tight enough to mash her small boobs together, giving her some cleavage showing from the strapless top. The clingy material molded itself to her, her nipples evident through the cloth. Her brown hair had grown out, and she had put some blonde streaks in it, but it was still an unruly mop, and she wore too much makeup. She looked hot and ready for action. I wondered at the disparity of Mr. and Mrs. Jacks allowing their younger daughter to run around looking like she did, while keeping such a tight rein on Jaimie. It didn't make a lot of sense to me.

"Hey, Sean," said Jake, by way of greeting. "Hey, Becky."

"Hey yourself," I answered. "When's the softball game start?"

"Pretty soon," he said. "Just waiting for the kids to finish their game. Dad's cooking up hot dogs for them, so they'll eat while we're playing. Gonna be kind of an assembly line meal today, what with all the people here."

And there were a lot of people in the back yards and in the field. It was a much bigger gathering than last year's. It looked like it had expanded beyond the houses on this block. As I was looking around, I saw Mr. and Mrs. O'Toole come around the corner of a house. Heather and Josh were with them, and so was Josh's girlfriend, Andrea. The kids spotted us immediately, and headed over toward our group. Becky walked over to meet them, and she, Heather, and Andrea went off to join another group of girls over closer to the woods.

"What's up, Josh?" I asked.

"Nothin' much," he replied. "My parents wanted to make this some sort of family outing, but Molly took off this morning with that asshole Joey, and nobody knows where they are. Mom and Dad are really pissed off over her disappearing act." He spotted Tara and her group as they sped by us. "Whoa, who's that?" he asked, giving a low whistle.

"That's Jaimie's sister," said Jake. "I think she's a Molly-in- training."

Josh whipped around to stare at Jake. I thought it was an unfortunate remark, too, and so, apparently, did Jake.

"Sorry, man, I didn't mean anything by it," he offered by way of apology. He looked truly sorry, too.

Josh just shook his head, as if he had gnats flying around his ears. "Aw, shit, that's okay, Jake. I'm just a little uncomfortable knowing others are seeing the same thing in my sister that I'm seeing lately, that's all. It's not the kind of confirmation I was looking for, you know what I mean?"