Chapter 8

Except for some night lights that were on all the time, it was dark. He knew where she slept. He knew the schedule the aliens maintained to check on their experiments. He had two hours. He wouldn't need that much time.

He giggled as he moved silently from the room he shared with two other experiments. Hell, he'd never needed more than ten or fifteen minutes before. The scrawny body he now occupied probably wouldn't need that much time.

He padded into the room where Grace slept. She was asleep, as were the old hag and fat broad. They wouldn't wake up. One of the night meds, he'd discovered through trial and error, was a sleeping pill. That was one of the meds he'd faked taking earlier that evening.

He pulled the blanket and sheet down off the sleeping woman. She didn't move. She also wore a long nightgown. That had to go. She had to be naked. He wanted her naked on her back with her legs spread. He wanted to see her tits, suck on them, lick them, get her nipples hard.

Removing the nightgown wasn't easy. She was dead weight, flopped around like spaghetti on a fork. Good, she was naked under the long nightgown. He wouldn't have to struggle with her to remove her panties. He arranged her on the bed, placed her hands on each side of her head on the pillow, and then pulled her legs apart before he pushed them up so her knees were bent.

She whimpered! Was she awake?

He hoped she was. It would be better if she were awake. She'd move against him as he moved over her. She'd fuck him back. She probably needed a good fuck as much as he. Yes, that would be better.

He touched her pussy. It felt dry. That didn't matter. He'd have his way with her. Nothing could stop him now.

After removing his pajamas, he settled on top of her. He couldn't believe how aroused he was. He hadn't touched himself, and he had a full-blown hard-on. He kissed her lips. They didn't respond. Then his mouth wandered down the side of her neck, licking and kissing her warm flesh.

Yes! This is what he needed.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth, nibbled on it, then bit it, not hard, but Yvonne had liked her breasts handled roughly, liked him to bite them.

"A little pain is a good thing," she'd said.

His mouth moved to the other breast, but he couldn't stay focused on her breasts. His need was too great. He needed to be inside her.

Too dry! Next time, he'd bring something to lubricate her, some baby oil, maybe. He could steal some baby oil, hide it, and retrieve it when needed.

Then he was inside her.

So good! So good!

He thrust slowly at first to savor the exquisite sensations, but he'd come to her bed for release, and soon he was pounding her, driving her into the bed.

With an audible groan, he climaxed and collapsed. He made no attempt not to crush her. He luxuriated in the feel of her flesh along the length of his body combined with the relaxed aftereffects of his climax.

She's wet now, he thought and giggled.

His panting breaths slowed, and his racing heart. He pushed himself up with his hands and arms and looked into her open eyes.

Awake! She's awake!

How long had she been awake? He saw no terror in her eyes. He saw ... nothing. It was if she couldn't see him, couldn't see anything. Crazy bitch.

He rolled from atop her and stood up. In the dim light, he could see his glistening semen dribbling from her pussy. She was awake but she hadn't moved. Her hands still rested on each side of her head on the pillow where he'd placed them. Her legs were still spread, her knees up and bent. He straightened her legs, but he didn't have it in him to expend the effort needed to put her nightgown back on.

So tired, he thought as he pulled on his pajamas.

He did cover her with the sheet and blanket before he moved silently back to his bed.

Danielle had contorted her lovely body into a position I didn't think possible for a human being to achieve. She accomplished this feat seemingly without effort and with a majestic grace only a confident woman can exhibit.

My forehead broke out with beads of sweat just thinking of the pain I'd endure if I were foolish enough to assume the position she was demonstrating for Nora and Cory. Surprisingly, the students, although not as adept or graceful as Danielle, were doing a credible job of matching the yoga postures she demonstrated.

"Makes you feel like a new age Richard Simmons, huh?" Robyn said.

I laughed and said, "Now there's a picture."

I'd believed yoga would be a good warm up with what I'd assumed would be stretching exercises, but Danielle had performed some warm-up exercises before moving to any yoga exercises. Next, I'd show them the beginning form of tai chi. Robyn would then take the floor to demonstrate some pilates exercises, after which we'd run laps around the floor of the gym.

I turned to some sounds behind me. A middle-aged woman I'd seen around the school walked in with a teenage girl. The older woman was slim; the girl was ... Obese was the word I used in my mind, but to be fair, the girl was probably just short of obese.

"Hello, Gloria," Robyn said.

Ah, the woman is Gloria Sanger, the home ec teacher. I didn't know the girl.

"Good morning, Robyn. And good morning to you, too, Coach. I'm Gloria Sanger." Her hand reached out; I shook it. "This is Marylyn Pope. She'd like to join your weight-loss and physical training program. And, I've arrived with the diets I designed for the participants in the program. All three of them."

Marylyn Pope should not wear tights, I thought unkindly. I didn't express my thoughts but smiled and said, "Welcome aboard, Marylyn. Follow me. The program starts with recording your vital statistics and a conversation."

She hurried to match my long stride, but her strides waddled.

In the weight room, instead of immediately weighing and measuring her, I sat her down to talk with her. I didn't want a repeat of my fiasco with Larry.

"Tell me about Marylyn Pope," I said.

She blushed and lowered eyes. "What do you want to know?"

"What about being Marylyn Pope appeals to you the most?"

She frowned. "I don't understand," she muttered.

"What makes you happy?"

"Ah, Coach, I'm pretty miserable most of the time," she said.

"Why?"

"Well, duh, because I'm fat."

"Do you have any friends?"

Tears filled her eyes, but she sat up straighter and said, "No."

"Do your parents hate you?"

She looked shocked. "No!"

"Do they love you?"

"My mom loves me. Sometimes my dad loves me; sometimes he doesn't."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"A brother."

"Older or younger?"

"Younger by three years."

"Is he fat?"

"Sort of. Not like me."

"What about your parents? Are they overweight?"

"My mother is; my father isn't."

"Are you a good student?"

"I do all right, A's and B's."

"What's your favorite subject?"

"Math."

"Does solving a complex math problem make you happy?"

"Yes," she said and smiled. When she smiled, she smiled with her entire face.

"There you go. Now I know one thing that makes you happy. What's your favorite pastime?"

"I like to read."

"What kind of books? Fiction, non-fiction, biographies?

"Fiction."

"Novels?"

"Yes."

"Romance novels, the trashier the better?" I said.

She blushed. "Sort of."

"I bet you sometimes live life vicariously through the heroines in those books."

"Sometimes."

"And when you do, you feel happier."

"Sometimes, but sometimes afterward I get depressed."

"Have you ever considered suicide?"

She said nothing.

I said, "When you considered suicide, was it a serious consideration or a passing thought."

"A passing thought."

"Do you have these thoughts frequently or rarely?"

"Rarely, only once, actually, and that was years ago. I couldn't commit suicide, Coach. I'm not that brave. Besides, suicide is stupid. It solves nothing except ruining the lives of those close to you after you're gone."

"Do you know Nora or Cory?"

"I know them, but not well. They live in Ely. I live in McGill." McGill was a small town 13 miles from Ely that once upon a time was the company town of Kennecott Copper Company. The copper mine was in Ruth, another small town near Ely. The ore was shipped by rail from Ruth to McGill where the company operated a mill and smelter. High school students from Ruth and McGill were bused to the high school in Ely.

"How did you find out about the weight-loss and fitness training program I'm conducting?"

"From Ms. Sanger."

I stood up. "Okay, Marylyn, from what I can see, you're a normal teenager in a normal family and an above-average student. For the most part, you find small pleasures in life, not large ones, but you're lonely because you have no friends. And, if I were to guess, the other kids in school make fun of you because you're overweight. You suffer from depression and lack self-confidence, especially in social situations. With all these negatives, you have some very positive things going for you. Do you know what they are?"

She shook her head. "No."

"You want to change yourself. You want to lose weight. You want some friends in your life. You want more love than you're getting. And most important of all, you're determined to make these changes happen. Even better, you'll have some help achieving these goals. I'll help. Ms. Sanger will help, as will my friend Danielle Kurt, and your guidance counselor, Ms. Clark. And Nora and Cory will help. You have a support system to call on. Got it?"

She nodded.

"Say it out loud, Marylyn."

"I understand, Coach. Yesterday I didn't have a support system. Today I do."

"Great, now let's weigh and measure the before you so we can track your progress and compare the before and after picture, but we won't take a picture. Okay?"

-- "You bet."

"Oh, my God," Gloria Sanger whispered.

"No man that big can move with that much grace," Robyn said.

"He's making me wet," Danielle said.

Me, too, Robyn said but she kept the thought to herself.

They were watching Coach demonstrate the beginner's form of tai chi.

The teenagers gathered together out of earshot of the adults while they watched Coach.

"I want to be able to move like that," Nora said.

"Me, too," Marylyn said.

"We will," Cory said. "He said he'd teach us, and Coach keeps his promises."

When Coach finished the form and stood relaxed, his audience applauded. He bowed graciously.

"Okay, let's break each move down," Coach said. "This morning with the time constraints we face, I'll only teach you the first few postures of the form."

While he was positioning the teenagers, Danielle stepped forward. "May I learn with them?" she said.

Coach smiled and said, "Sure."

Robyn and Gloria made the same request. When everyone stood where Coach placed them, he moved in front of them.

"Each move or posture in tai chi is an exercise in balance, co-ordination, physical control and the regulation of breathing," Coach said. "The moves within a form are named. For example, this one is called snake creeps down." He moved into the posture. "Notice that the posture is similar to a Western exercise sometimes referred to as the hamstring lunge. The difference is that snake creeps down and other named postures are integrated into an overall pattern of precise, controlled movement. The beginning form I will teach you has many names: the Beijing 24 form, the 24 step form, the Peking form, simplified tai chi, and even just the 24 postures. This simplified tai chi form was created in 1956 by the National Physical Culture and Sports Commission of the People's Republic of China as part of the drive to document and standardize Wushu training and introduce competition forms. This morning we'll learn the first six postures. They are: the beginning posture, parting the wild horse's mane, white crane spreads its wings, brush knee and side step, play the lute, and finally step back and repulse monkey. This is the beginning posture. Please move into the posture with me."

He's patient but pleasantly demanding, expects excellence but accepts 100% effort in lieu of excellence, Robyn thought as Coach demonstrated each posture and helped his students move into them. A good teacher. No, he's better than good; he's a superior teacher. He doesn't need the money, but I'm happy he plans to continue teaching, to continue coaching. He excels at it, and his head is in the right place. He's helping these kids on his own time, helping them to become better human beings.

If I look awkward, Danielle thought, if I don't assume the posture perfectly, will he touch me again, use his hands to arrange my body precisely? She shivered with pleasure when she considered those large, sensitive hands roaming over her body. Each time she was with him her attraction to him became more compelling.

Hoo boy! I'm glad I decided to personally escort Marylyn to the gym this morning, Gloria thought. I like tai chi; I like it a lot. And look at Coach! If I were ten years younger, and if I weren't married, I'd trip him so he fell between my legs. Whew! He's hot!

Danielle faced the entrance to the gym. Coach didn't. He stood in front of his students with his back to the door. So Danielle saw Harry Wiggen step into the gym before Coach. Oh, oh, she thought. Harry doesn't look happy.

"Okay," Coach said. "Now let's put the six postures together. Remember, move slowly with grace from one posture to the next. Follow my lead."

"Coach Windom," Harry Wiggen said, "may I speak with you—privately?"

Coach turned to him. "Good morning, Harry. I'll be finished in about five minutes. Would you mind waiting until then?"

"Do you have signed releases from the parents of these students for this activity?"

"No," Coach said.

"Then, you're finished right now," Harry said.

"I don't think so," Coach said. "I'll stop by the administrative office after we're finished and pick up the release forms. These students can take them home after school today, get the required signatures, and bring them with them for this activity tomorrow morning."

"Not good enough," Wiggen said, his fists clenched, his arms stiff by his legs. He looked at Robyn and Gloria. "Ms. Clark, Mrs. Sanger, I'm surprised you condoned this activity without following proper procedures."

"Harry," Danielle said, "you're being a stuffy prig."

Harry glared at her. "And you! You shouldn't be involved in a school activity at all!"

"Mr. Wiggen!" Coach said loudly as he moved close to the smaller man, invading the assistant principal's space. "You're a rude man. Before I lost my memories..."

"That's a farce! Amnesia, my foot! The only amnesia even similar to the complete memory loss you claim happens in Hollywood when writers and directors use outlandish artistic license to achieve their ends. I don't know why you pretend such extensive memory loss. Artistic license to achieve an end doesn't fit, but that doesn't alter the fact that you're faking amnesia. Now, get out of my face!"

"As I was saying," Coach said menacingly, moving even closer, "before I lost my memories, I was known as a bully. Your rudeness has caused the loutish character trait to resurface. I suggest you leave this gym before it blossoms to full strength."

"I'll have your job!" Harry shouted.

"I don't think so, but go ahead and try," Coach said, looking down at the man, his face only inches away. "Now get your rude fanny out of here, so I can teach these students how to become better human beings. Your bad-mannered example is hampering the progress I was making."

"We'll see about this! We'll see!" Harry sputtered furiously. Then he stomped away.

Coach turned back to his students, including the three adult women. "Robyn, Gloria, if you don't want to become enmeshed in this altercation, you might want to leave now."

"I'm staying," Robyn said.

Gloria hesitated, but said, "Me, too."

"What about you, Danielle?" he said.

"You couldn't pull me out of here with a tow chain hooked to an eighteen wheeler," Danielle said.

"Okay, where was I?"

"You were going to put the six postures together, Coach," Cory said.

"Thanks, Cory. Okay, take the beginning posture ... Good ... Now move into parting the wild horse's mane..."

When I finished my part of the weight-loss and training session, I turned the students over to Robyn to demonstrate some pilates exercises, admonishing the teenagers that any time left before school started after pilates should be spent running laps around the gym. However, I didn't rush to the administrative office to pick up the release forms. I suspected that I'd hear from Tom soon. I'd pick them up when Tom called me to his office. Harry would complain about me to his boss, and his boss would have to respond. Tom wouldn't have a choice. If I were Tom, I'd lend lip service to Harry's complaint, and then demand that I apologize to Harry for my inappropriate remarks. I'd apologize. My remarks had been inappropriate, but dammit, the stuffy prig, as Danielle had called him, had pissed me off.