Chapter 24

Cheering sections for individual wrestlers usually consisted of just immediate family and a friend or two. It was not a big spectator sport. Sean was already the star of the first match of the year when all five of the Gang, Roger, Alan, Dan, Sarah, Jess, Troy, Tracey, Rebecca, and Rebecca's girls stood and cheered when he was announced. Brad sent his regrets, but he was out of town.

He was not expecting that, but it did not throw him off. He won the match quite handily in a first-round fall. Although not all of those people made every match, he had a good section for the next four, which he also won, two by falls and the other two quite decisively.

By the third match, Sean's 'irresistible force' approach seemed natural. For those who knew him well, the intensely aggressive demeanor took some getting used to. Soon, though, they began to anticipate it. As each match began with Sean's deliberate but purposeful charge, his friends started greeting it with a yell. Quickly, his teammates joined in. At least a couple of his early wins were due to complete intimidation of his opponent just from his initial charge and the accompanying noise.

Phyllis and Nancy had indeed become involved, helping several of the boys whose families were amenable. Only two of the others went at it with anywhere near Sean's determination and discipline, though.

The sixth match was at Sarah's school. Her group of female friends had expanded quite a bit, and she had six friends who were anxious to see Sean's muscles more revealed. There was added drama because his opponent was Grant Jacobs, the previous year's sectional champion and the star running back of the football team.

Jacobs was also the boy who had tried to 'take over' Sarah at her school dance. Afterwards, he had asked her out. Her refusal had been polite, but he did not reciprocate. On numerous occasions, he tried to ridicule Sarah. Her new-found composure held, but barely. Because they talked frequently, Sean knew all about what Jacobs had done. For the first time, he had a strong emotional incentive in a match.

Once he had gotten locked into his proper weight class, Sean had been pointing at this match since practice started, and not just because of Sarah. He was honestly beginning to believe that he had championship potential. Above all, though, he believed that he owed it to Phyllis and the others. He loved those women, all of them. Collectively, they were the mother he never had.

From the beginning, Phyllis had demanded that he pick a weight class and stay four pounds from the upper limit of that class for the entire season. She was dead set against the situation of wrestlers having to sweat off a pound or two before weigh-in. Fairly recent rules had eliminated the practicing of jogging around the school premises. Still, those with a weight problem found a way.

She believed that if Sean was always safely under the limit and could use a relaxed preparation for a match, it would give him an edge. Even high school boys with their seemingly boundless energy had to lose something from the last-minute running and forced loss of fluids. Since Sean had indeed adopted the 'irresistible force' persona, every bit of extra energy was very important.

Jacobs instantly recognized Sean from the dance. Obviously, he also knew that Sean was undefeated. Having already won an All-State award as a running back, Jacobs was looking forward to having two championship trophies. After all, the wrestler who had denied him the title the previous year was now on a college scholarship and had been invited to Team USA tryouts. The kid from the dance had not even made the competition squad the previous year. It should be another step toward that trophy.

Not considering him a serious threat, Jacobs had not bothered to attend any of Sean's matches to scout him out, although Sean had scouted Jacobs carefully. Referees were always on guard for obvious intimidation moves, such as a handshake contest. Comments were also carefully monitored. Not much could be done about gestures or facial expressions, though. Jacobs oozed condescension.

His first surprise came on Sean's patented charge. Sean's cheering section made up a good portion of the crowd, and with his teammates, their now well-rehearsed opening cheer would disconcert anyone.

Jacobs made a habit of quickly getting under his opponent to try to lift him for a quick throw. Sean knew it was coming and had practiced against it. With quickness that had been increasing with every match, Sean timed his countermove perfectly. When Jacobs ducked down to set up a lift, Sean to a long step to the side. His lead leg was out of Jacobs' reach and he spun a little to keep the trailing leg out of reach, as well. Jacobs was left grasping for air. Meanwhile, Sean was in perfect position to move along Jacobs' side. He grabbed Jacobs' leg and lifted, hoping to topple him to the mat.

Experience and native ability saved Jacobs from a very sudden ending to the match. Realizing the danger from Sean, he spun and staggered his way off of the mat. That cost him a point. His reaction was irritation, rather than surprise or admiration.

Sean's next move, however, did produce surprise. Sean chose the bottom position on the restart. Shaking his head and grinning, Jacobs made it obvious how stupid he thought his opponent was. The recent near miss seemed to have made no impression at all.

It had taken a lot for Sean to convince his coach that choosing bottom would offer him an advantage. Absolutely certain that no one could topple him from his hands and knees position, Sean felt that he could more efficiently use his strength from that compact stance. Finally, the coach had to admit that Sean was unusually stable and immovable on all fours. Consistent with his chosen style, he would be constantly moving and exerting pressure, trying to achieve a reversal. The opponent on top would have less leverage and should tire more quickly.

For over a minute, Sean made one vigorous attempt after another to reverse their positions. There was never a danger of him being penalized for inaction. Grabs for ankles, attempts to roll over the arm holding his, rearing up to reach for the neck or a shoulder; Sean had quite a list of moves he could. With all of those moves, he found ways to put maximum force against Jacobs' legs. While his own low position and his ability to use both arms and legs for leverage gave Sean a lot of stability for the energy expended, Jacobs had to counter every attack by bracing with his legs.

Again, Jacobs' experience, strength, and athleticism made Seans' task difficult. Because Sean never let up, though, Jacobs had no chance to try his own offensive move to get Sean on his back.

With assistance from Phyllis, Sean had researched Jacobs' football year and discovered a mid-season knee strain late in a game. It had not kept him out of for the next game, but had reduced his numbers for a couple of games. Phyllis had insisted that was a small advantage that Sean could use. From his own observations, he noted that Jacobs always kept the leg that had been injured forward, close to his opponent when he was on top. If Sean could get Jacobs in a stance with the supposedly weaker leg back in the main support position, it could be the small edge he needed.

It finally happened. Sean could hear Jacobs begin to pant heavily and hoped it might make him a little careless in his footwork. Better yet, Sean detected a slight quiver in the suspect leg, which was pressed against him. Sure enough; barely maintaining his balance after another strong attempt by Sean, Jacobs ended up with his feet reversed from his normal stance. Besides that, Sean noticed a slight easing of Jacobs' hold on him, perhaps trying catch a very brief bit of relief after the last minute's relentless exertion.

It was probably not a conscious thought, but Sean felt a sense of gratitude to the women for all of their work and encouragement. A warm sense of 'Phyllis' came over him as he started the move he had been waiting to make.

There had been times during the past strenuous minute when Sean perhaps could have escaped. However, he had bigger plans than just the nice point for an escape and hopefully winning the round. He very much disliked his opponent and wanted a decisive, 'statement' victory. This was his chance.

Instinct told him to push out and up on Jacobs' close leg. He used all of his strength and some speed he never knew he had. As hoped, Jacobs' suspect leg could not exert the force to keep Sean down.

Later, he would have to watch the video several times to even understand what he had done. Once the attacked foot left the floor, he used that leg as a hold to lift Jacobs' lower body off the floor. Spinning around to get his own feet under him and rise up, he had his opponent nearly upside down and vertical for just a moment.

With one arm through Jacobs' crotch from behind, he put his other arm on Jacobs' chest and dropped to his knees. He could not hear it from the silent videos and he did not remember it, but his fans swore that he yelled something like "Heeeeyaaaah!" at the top of his lungs.

Later, the opposing coach complained that Sean should have been DQ'd for a dangerous move as he slammed Jacobs' shoulders to the mat, but the ref did not see it that way. What he saw was Jacobs resting only on his shoulders, unable to use anything else to avoid the pin.

It took a second or two for Sean to realize the import of the referee's sharp slap on the mat. Then, he held on for another second or two before letting Jacobs' legs drop to the mat. Still not fully aware of what he was doing, he put a hand on Jacobs' chest and used it to push himself to his feet.

As he mentally returned from whatever zone he had gone into, Sean thought the absolute silence was rather strange. He looked toward his fans and saw every jaw hanging open in astonishment. Just then, though, they recovered as one, and the silence was obliterated.

Already acting way out of character, Sean could not resist another chance to 'count coup'. It took a great deal of effort, but he forced himself to breathe almost normally, instead of painting from exertion as would be expected. Even more impudently, he gently jogged in place while waiting for the ref to raise his arm in victory.

He hoped his fans understood that he had to go to his teammates first. He assumed that Phyllis would explain that. After exchanging fist bumps with the other guys, he hurried toward the stands. Predictably, it was Mike who came flying through the air to wrap herself around his neck and waist before he reached the others.

Sarah was not far behind Mike, hugging him rather dramatically, kissing him heatedly, and whispering "Thank you," in his ear. He knew just what she meant. He sincerely hoped that he had gotten Jacobs out of her hair for the rest of the year. It should be the kind of object lesson a guy like him would understand.

Once all the hugging after the meet was over, Phyllis pulled him aside. "Keep working, Hon. You'll probably meet him again."

"I already heard it from Coach," he said with a hug. "Phyllis, I just plain outworked him! That's thanks to you."

"Well, you came up with the right strategy," she acknowledged. "I had to work on the coach to go along with you. You really are like a rock when you're down."

"Thanks."

"Did you notice that he was listed right at the weight limit?" Phyllis asked. "Maybe him having to sweat off a pound or two today gave you enough advantage. That was an awesome fall! You just ... manhandled him. I thought you would just go for the escape."

"Maybe I shouldn't be this way, but I kept remembering how stressed Sarah was. I really wanted to put the jerk down."

"Oh, I hadn't heard about that. You mean there is something personal between you two guys?"

"If Sarah wants to, she can tell you."

"Whatever the reason," Phyllis said, "you became a different person in that match."

"To tell the truth, I can't remember exactly what I did for the fall," he admitted.

"Well, I hope you figure it out. If you can do that whenever you need it, no one can beat you. By the way, that was Jacobs' first ever fall."

"Glad I had the honor."

Because he rode back to school with the team, Sean was unaware of the conversations in four different cars of his fans. The topic was his uncharacteristic demeanor at the end of the match.

Jess had a particularly blunt comment for Sarah. "You mean you could have him for your boyfriend, but you said 'no'? I think maybe Cinderella ended up brain dead."

"Jess, we've talked about that a lot."

"Yeah, I know, and I think I understand, but, wow! Don't try to tell me it didn't make you horny."

"Would you believe me if I denied it?" The cousins were finally at the point where they could share ribald comments without bursting into tears over all that they had missed before.

Two days after that match, Sean arrived home for dinner to find his mother very angry and his father looking completely puzzled. "How could you let us look so foolish?" she demanded.

"What are you talking about?"

"Some reporter covering high school sports was here. She asked our reaction to your win over this kid who was favored for the state championship this year? How stupid do you think we felt when we knew nothing about how you were doing in wrestling?"

He had to take a deep breath to keep from showing the level of anger he felt. "You tried your damndest to get me to quit wrestling. Why would I think you cared about how I was doing?"

"Well, it made us seem like terrible parents!" He felt great satisfaction in just staring at her wordlessly and seeing her face flush from the silent rebuke.

To his utter amazement, both parents showed up for his next match. It was they who were amazed at the size of his cheering section. Carole took the initiative and introduced everyone. She introduced the Gang as Sean's initial customers for the lawn service.

That left Melanie with more questions than answers. However, there was no way she could miss the quality of the clothes the Gang wore or the care that went into their grooming. That her son was connected to so many 'matrons' of obvious means gave her more to puzzle on.

By Christmas break, Tracey had racked up two quarters of far and away her best grades ever. In fact, they were better than anyone who knew her thought she was capable of. She had kept her nose completely clean, and had hardly gone out at all. Her only free time was after school, and she made the best of it. She spent a lot of time with Sean, when he was not doing late season yard work, and a lot of time with Claire and the other women.

She was fascinated by what Carole did, and came up with a few hundred dollars to buy some of the same high-risk fund that Sean had chosen. She berated herself before the women for blowing the rest of her generous allowance on frivolous things.

Unfortunately, Tracey's obvious turnaround did not trigger the hoped for response from Celeste, her mother. When there was less to be concerned with in Tracy's behavior, Celeste seemed to work harder to find any little thing about which she could beat on her daughter. The Gang all agreed that it had become ridiculous and that Tracey was ready for the 'doomsday weapon'.

Sean was not looking forward to showing Tracey what he had. He knew that her relationship to her mother was stronger than his own, and that Tracey would be devastated to learn about the swinging.

Tracey and Sean were alone in Carole's den, with Carole standing by elsewhere in the house. "Tracey, I have to warn you one more time. This could completely destroy your relationship with your mother. Do you want to risk that? Think of marriage, childbirth, and all of those other things without a mother and grandmother involved. That could happen."

"Sean, I can't imagine anything that bad, but I'm afraid at this point I don't care. I've done everything I could to change her mind, and it's driving me crazy. Just tell me. Please!"

"OK. Our parents were involved with three other couples in swinging parties."

"Swinging? Oh, my God! You can't mean..."

"Yes, Tracey. Orgies, sex with other people's spouses, sex with multiple partners, the whole bit. I have pictures - many, many pictures. I have chosen five pictures of your mother that she absolutely would not want anyone to see. If you look at them, you can never think of your mother the same way again. Do you want that?"

"Wow! Now you've got me worried. I had no idea it was anything like that. How could she..."

"Of course, your dad is involved, too."

"Do you have pictures of him, too?"

"Of course. I assumed you only needed to deal with your mother. Was I wrong?"

"No, you're right. You saw the pictures of your mother?"

"I did. Remember, though, I had no real relationship with her. I never loved her and don't even like her. I think you still love yours."

Letting out a long breath, Tracey admitted "Yes, I do. God, Sean, what am I going to do?"

"How about we get Carole in here to help us think."

Carole hugged Tracey when she heard what the problem was. "You're having to grow up in a hurry, aren't you, Honey. You're doing it very well. You don't want to see the pictures, then?"

"No. I can't handle that."

"Do you at least want Sean to describe what's on the pictures?"

"No, not that, either."

"OK. We anticipated this. Here's what you should do..." Later, the other women joined them and they scripted out what Tracey should say in a number of different situations.

It was easier for Tracey to find the right time with her mother, although her siblings presented a minor problem. Three days later, the other kids were taken care of and Tracey got Celeste to sit down at the kitchen table.

"Mother, the relationship between us is going to change, starting now. I have done everything I can to prove that I am trustworthy but you have just become more and more overbearing."

"You can't tell me how I..." Celeste started

"Shut up and look at these," Tracey snapped. Mouth open at her daughter's unprecedented impertinence, Celeste reached shakily for the envelope Tracey had slid across the table. It could not contain anything good, her instincts told her.

"I have not seen the pictures and I do not want to. I want to preserve some of the respect I once had for you," Tracey said, following the script exactly.

What followed had not been anticipated. Celeste pulled the first picture part way out of the envelope, shrieked, and ran from the room. She let the envelope drop to the table, and all five pictures spilled out. Tracey could not help catching brief, disgusting glimpses before forcibly closing her eyes and turning away.

She decided to follow her mother, although nothing had been rehearsed for that situation. Predictably, Celeste was sprawled on her bed, sobbing. Rather than pity, Tracey felt a wave of anger.

"Mother, I did not want to look at those filthy pictures. You spilled them all over the table. Get down there and put them back in the envelope. Then, we need to talk."

When Celeste did not respond, Tracey's anger increased. Celeste had spent a fortune on lounging pajamas, in which she admittedly looked very, very good. She had some on then. Tracey had always wondered if Celeste wore panties or thongs under the pajamas, and she was about to find out.

The objective was a good, hard swat to her mother's ass. The bottoms were just in the way. In her anger, Tracey grabbed the waistband and yanked too hard. There was an expensive sounding rip. With an angry snort, she pulled the ruined garment all the way off, revealing nothing but bare ass.

Celeste had realized what was happening, but was too distraught to react quickly. Only the sudden pain of Tracey's hard slap on her bare ass cheek got Celeste's adrenalin going enough so she could think. The second slap, even harder than the first, got her in motion. Unfortunately, as she pulled her knees under herself to scramble off of the bed, she gave Tracey a perfect target for two more vicious blows.