Chapter 47

While there are some that might have felt that Suzie was in complete control of the relationship between her and Sean, she had gotten used to having him around. After all, she had fantasized about having him for a boyfriend for years and the reality had far exceeded fantasy. The lack of intimacy for the past three days had driven home the point that she was just as much in love with him as he was with her. She didn’t know how she would last another day without wrapping herself around him.

When Sean arrived at his truck to meet with Suzie to give her a ride home, she walked over to him with her arms outstretched to give him a kiss. As soon as she stepped within four feet of him, she stepped back and said, “Whoa. I thought that smell of garlic would be gone by now.”

“Sorry,” Sean said disappointed that the closest she could get to him was four feet. Of course, what really disappointed him was that he hadn’t kissed her in three days.

Suzie sighed and said, “This has got to come to an end soon.”

“Yeah,” Sean said.

“I can’t take it much longer,” Suzie said. She tried to step closer, but the odor of garlic drove her back.

“Same here,” Sean said.

Licking her lips, Suzie said, “I was looking forward to spending the night with you last Saturday night.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Sean said getting seriously depressed.

“I had all kinds of ideas for that night,” Suzie said. She ran her hands over her chest and then hugged herself in frustration.

“Uh,” Sean said watching her hands.

She rubbed her legs together and said, “I can’t stand it.”

“Ug,” Sean said.

“You’ve got to do something. If I can’t get my hands on you I’m going to explode,” Suzie said. Her entire body undulated in an extremely sexy manner.

“Dim bumb,” Sean said.

“Do something,” Suzie said impatiently.

Entranced, Sean stepped forward to kiss her, but the odor of garlic forced her back. Hurt by her reaction, he said, “Ing mung mim, awww.”

“It is too strong,” Suzie said near tears.

Sean thought about what Mr. Booker had suggested about sweating the garlic from his system. Despite that fact that he didn’t really like the idea of visiting Coach Slaughter, he was beginning to get desperate. He said, “I go slaughter and sweat.”

“Huh?” Suzie asked.

“Coach Slaughter sweat, I go.”

“What are you going to do to Coach Slaughter?” Suzie asked confused.

Sean took a deep breath in an attempt to gain control over his hormones and said, “I’ll go to Coach Slaughter and sweat in his sauna.”

“He has a sauna?” Suzie asked.

“Yes,” Sean said.

Thinking about it, Suzie said, “That just might work.”

“Mr. Booker suggested it,” Sean said frustrated by his overwhelming desire to wrap his arms around her.

Pointing to the truck, Suzie said, “Go there now!”

Worried about the kind of welcome he would receive, Sean knocked on the front door of Coach Slaughter’s house. The door opened and the Coach started to say something until overpowered by the odor of garlic. He stepped back and shook his head. The effect of getting hit with the garlic odor was the same as having an ammonia capsule broken under his nose. It definitely cleared his sinuses. Sean took advantage of the distraction to say, “Hello, Coach Slaughter.”

“It’s you,” Coach Slaughter said.

“Yes,” Sean said wiggling his eyebrows.

“What are you doing here?” Coach Slaughter asked convinced that nothing good was going to come of this.

“Mr. Booker suggested that I come over to talk football with you.”

“Football?” Coach Slaughter asked knowing that Sean was not athletically inclined. He was still trying to figure out how Sean had managed to beat him in the pushup contest. He wondered if breath that bad would force the ground to push him away.

“Oh, and to borrow your Sauna so that I could get rid of the garlic smell,” Sean said. Suzie had been rather assertive in demanding that he get rid of the garlic smell as quick as possible.

Coach Slaughter looked down at Sean’s scrawny legs and then said, “You could just run thirty laps and sweat that garlic smell away.”

“I told Mr. Booker that you would say that,” Sean said thinking that this hadn’t really been all that great of an idea. He added, “Mr. Booker said that you would be interested in my suggestions about how you might start winning football games.”

“Mr. Booker, eh?” Coach Slaughter asked. The librarian had found him some books on football to read when he had gotten the job as a coach. He jogged on occasion and was a descent enough jogging partner.

“That’s right,” Sean said. He figured the Coach didn’t think too much of Mr. Booker. A male librarian was probably not too high up on the food chain as far as athletes were concerned.

“He’s a good man. We occasionally jog together in the morning,” Coach Slaughter said opening the door a little wider. Half tempted to tell Sean to leave; he gave Mr. Booker the benefit of the doubt and decided that he would listen to what Sean had to say. He grunted, “Come in.”

“To my parlor said the spider to the fly,” Sean said peering into the house. He figured that the Coach had torture equipment in the form of exercise equipment in every room of the house.

“Come in,” Coach Slaughter repeated making sure that he kept far enough away from the cloud of garlic fumes that surrounded Sean.

Sean stepped through the door and looked around the room. It looked like a normal living room. It even had furniture instead of exercise bikes and rowing machines. He said, “Nice.”

“You look surprised,” Coach Slaughter said.

“I was expecting exercise equipment,” Sean said relaxing a little.

Coach Slaughter raised an eyebrow, but said, “So what is this about talking football?”

“You need to take Ms. Woodhill as an assistant coach,” Sean said.

Coach Slaughter laughed at the suggestion and said, “She knows nothing about the game.”

Sean said, “She knows more about it than you.”

“How can you possibly say that?” Coach Slaughter asked.

“Quite easily. I can even say it three times in a row real fast,” Sean said.

Shaking his head, Coach Slaughter said, “Tell me one thing that can convince me of that.”

“Her twin brother is the quarterback of the Florida Fishes and her boyfriend is a coach for the Fighting Tigers. She actually knows a lot about the game according to Coach Reynolds,” Sean replied. He paused and said, “That’s two things. Sean, my boy, you are an overachiever.”

“You’re kidding?” Coach Slaughter said. He had met Coach Reynolds at a coaching camp the previous summer.

“No. I really am an overachiever,” Sean said.

“Not that. Her brother and boyfriend thing,” Coach Slaughter said.

“Her twin brother is Carl Woodhill,” Sean said.

“I’ve heard of him. I didn’t know he was related to her,” Coach Slaughter said. There was no way that someone growing up with a football player of that stature could help but know a lot about the game.

“She’s got a boyfriend who isn’t her brother but used to play with his brother,” Sean said.

“Coach Reynolds?”

“Right. He was telling us that he often goes over game tapes with her to help spot problems with the offense for their team,” Sean said.

“She calls the quarterback the pitcher,” Coach Slaughter said unable to believe what Sean was telling him. Everything she said about sports, suggested that she knew less about football than he did.

“She’s just having a little fun with people. Like me, she’s a lot smarter than people think,” Sean said.

“And she’s just as irritating,” Coach Slaughter said.

“Talk to her,” Sean said.

“I’ll talk to her,” Coach Slaughter said. He had never really liked the ditzy English teacher since she was always spouting poetry in his general direction.

“Great. Mr. Booker said that you would do that,” Sean said nodding his head.

“I’ll only do that because I hate losing more than poetry,” Coach Slaughter said. He knew that the team wasn’t doing well because he wasn’t a good football coach. That hadn’t been a problem before since there had been another coach who did the football coaching. He had done the soccer and the team had actually done quite well until the other coach retired. The football team now had four losing seasons in a row and there was a lot of grumbling over the matter.

“That’s what I suspected,” Sean said. He asked, “Can I use your sauna now that I’ve saved the entire football season?”

Whether Sean had saved anything remained to be seen. Coach Slaughter said, “Well, come into my weight room and get in the sauna. I figure about fifteen minutes in there should get rid of most of that garlic smell.”

“Okay,” Sean said following Coach Slaughter though the man’s house. There were all kinds of pictures of the coach holding up awards and trophies on the wall. Sean stopped in front of one of the pictures and said, “That trophy is almost bigger than you.”

“Oh, yeah. I was nine when I won that,” Coach Slaughter said looking at the picture.

“It must be hell growing up as an athlete. Every year you compete, the trophies get smaller. I guess when you win the geriatric Olympics they give you a thimble,” Sean said.

“What planet are you from?” Coach Slaughter asked.

“Rumor has it that I’m a native of Earth, but I’m not saying one way or the other,” Sean said with a grin.

Coach Slaughter led him to the room that was intended to be the master bedroom. There was exercise equipment neatly lined up around the room along with a couple pieces in the center of the room. It looked like a professional gym. He said, “I had to use this room since it was the largest room in the house. It also has a shower in it.”

“You really like exercising,” Sean said stopping to examine a particularly gruesome looking piece of equipment. He had visions of being strapped in it and forced to exercise. A shudder went through his body.

“You’ve only got one body so you had better take care of it,” Coach Slaughter said.

“That’s why I avoid exercise at all times. People who exercise a lot seem to spend most of their time recovering from injuries,” Sean said.

“It toughens you up.”

“It hurts,” Sean said.

The coach went over to where a wooden box with a door stood in the corner of the room. It was a small sauna. Coach Slaughter fiddled with a knob on the outside of the sauna setting the temperature to a moderate level. There was no sense in baking Sean. He said, “Strip out of your clothes and put a towel around your waist before you get inside.”