Chapter 50

We got to the church hall just in time; the late Saturday afternoon had been thicker than anticipated. It was three forty-five, and I just had time to change in to my strip. Both the teams, including subs, were on the court as I dashed past and in to the changing rooms. I got a very stern look from the woman I took to be Ms Prendergast. So, I'd already missed one chance at ogling the girls.

I changed in to my Angels strip in record time, Superman would have been proud of me. I trotted confidently out on to the court, Maggie was seated so that she could get an unobstructed view; she waved and smiled encouragingly. Then I had to face the ire of Ms Prendergast.

'Umm, I'm so sorry I'm late everybody, the traffic was horrendous.' I fixed the couch with my most beguiling smile. 'I do apologise coach.'

Ms Prendergast looked me up and down with a contemptuous frown.

'So you're the wonder wing attack I've heard so much about.' She glanced at her clipboard as if she couldn't remember my name, then back at me. 'Miss Jennifer Pierce?'

I didn't know if she wanted me to curtsey or not, so superior was her manner.

'Yes coach, and I'm really sorry I was late and that I missed practice. I'll try to make it up to you.' There was no hidden agenda in what I said, I really did intend to make it up to her and the team; besides she was almost definitely straight and as frumpy as hell. She looked to be about forty or so, her long, limp mousey hair just hung around her face like old tatty curtains. She was also stick thin; a slight breeze would surely blow her over. All in all, a quite unappetising woman, it had to be said. I looked at the young eager faces of my teammates, no sign of Leona Stubbs sadly. There was only one face I recognised; Gemma Pritchard, GA, goal attack. She smiled warmly and said, 'Good to have you back Jenny.'

Gemma played on the opposite side of the court to me and was my partner in getting the ball to the goal shooter. I grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. 'Nice to see you again Gem.' Ms Prendergast was speaking.

'Now, those of you who are new to the team, that'll be you Jenny... ' Another little dig, I was beginning to dislike Ms Prendergast.

' ... I'd like you to get to know your teammates. So, Goal Shooter is Pauline, Goal Attack is Gemma. Then we have Annette at Centre, Wing Defence is Carol, Denise handles Goal Defence, and we have Yolandie as Goal Keeper. OK?'

Each girl, as her name was read out, gave me a little twirl so that I could see the position letters on her back. But as they twirled, I also got a brief and tantalising glimpse of their black panty-covered bums. Yolandie was the one that I noticed most. She was exceptionally tall, over six feet, a pre-requisite for a goalkeeper.

She was black and pretty with a well filled out figure; I took an instant fancy to her. She gave me a bright white smile that I hoped meant that she liked the look of me; out of all the team, I had the biggest boobs. So if any of these young ladies liked big boobs, especially Yolandie, I was in with a shout.

I had missed the warm up, and now the ref. was calling us on to the court. I glanced over at the subs bench, an array of unfamiliar faces, except one, Tamsin Roberts, who played at centre. The Angels team had changed quite a bit over the past year, Gemma, Tamsin and me were the only ones left.

The other team, The Hornsey Hornets, in their unimaginative black and yellow strip, were positioned on the court. I scanned their faces; several ugly mugs registered right away. Tracy, Michaela, Corrinne and ultra bitch herself, Belinda Watkins. She scowled at me with the look of a predator about to pounce.

As far as I could remember, all the girls in the Hornets had been straight, but there were a few new faces on the court, and on the subs bench.

The ref. blew her whistle and we were quickly in to the first quarter. The Hornets had possession and moved the ball rapidly down the court to our net where bitch Belinda narrowly missed their first goal. I couldn't help but smile, which was a mistake, because she saw it, and she made a beeline for me. As she swept past, she hissed, 'watch your back bitch.'

I did indeed have to watch my back, because every time I had the ball, looking for Gemma, Belinda was close by, just itching to get a sneaky foul in.

It didn't take long. I had just got a long ball from Denise when I felt a hard, sharp dig in my ribs. Jeez, it hurt; I went down like a sack of spuds. The ref. blew the whistle, but she just had a word with Belinda and didn't send her off. So much for my theatrical dive. The ref. kindly helped me to my feet, and it was then that I noticed the bands on her outstretched wrist. She held my hand for just a fraction longer than was necessary; it was just random or she knew who, or what, I was.

I glanced over to Maggie, who was looking a little concerned, and then I saw Ruth Sanderson sitting next to her. She was smiling broadly; of course she was. Fourteen, scantily clad, fit young women, bouncing around and showing their knickers; she was in seventh heaven, just like Maggie. Just then, Ruth shouted, 'Come on the Angels' and started clapping. This encouraged a large section of the small crowd to start clapping and cheering us on; we were after all, the home side.