3 comments/ 17438 views/ 5 favorites The Lighthouse Ch. 01 By: JacobEmet Edited, and surely not for the last time. * * * * * * * Ethan stood, staring at the white marker board cluttered with the red X's and blue O's of the past hour's offensive scheming. His thoughts, however, had drifted some while ago, lost in a vast realm of uncertainty. It happened often anymore. He wasn't double-minded. Focus, determination, persistence, and ambition were among his chief attributes and for years they had drove him. He believed success was all he needed, and it showed, as many painted him its archetype. But where Ethan struggled to succeed was in answering a lingering question: Does it matter? He felt empty. The shelves of his office were filled with trophies, plaques and accolades of the past. A lifetime of achievements all on display. They once meant something to him, something he measured his worth by -- the scales of recognition and accomplishment. Now, he seen them as nothing more than relics: inflaming his bitterness and reminded him of just how fleeting life is. What have I really done with my life? His peers, colleagues and rivals envied him -- never having achieved half of what Ethan had -- but admired and respected him all the same. How could they have known the kind of fortitude required to steel a contender into a champion? The kind of fortitude that forged Ethan into who he was. And yet Ethan seen nothing of himself worthy of recognition or envy. Something in him had changed. Something in a place of himself that he never knew existed before. The place where he felt the tug of conflict raging inside himself. Why do I feel like something's missing? Why do I feel like I'm going to be staring at this damn board year after year trying to achieve . . . what? Another trophy? Another title? A legacy? His thoughts tore at him, chipping into the recesses of his mind. The tension inside him mounted up, spilling over onto the surface. He grit his teeth and clenched his fist around the whistle that dangled about his neck. Now what? Where do I go from here? A knock on the door quelled the riot in his mind. "It's open," he responded. His eyes exchanged glances from the white board in front of him to the form looming in his door frame as it swung open. It was Tiffany. "Hey Coach. Got a minute?" He let out a slow breath. Anxiety passing, he replied, "Yeah, sure. What's up?" "I wanted to check in with you. See how the guys are shaping up this year. Think you'll take home another one of those?" She nodded at the lowest shelf, lined with championship trophies. His reputation wasn't lost on her, though she was in her first year coaching the Ladies team. "We'll see." Was all he said. Though he wanted to add, "If they can keep their heads out of their asses" but thought better of it. "So," she took a few steps over to the chair in front of his desk and sat down, "I've noticed lately that you and I keep about the same hours." Ethan had watched her moved and turned around to face her. "I don't know about you, but it would help me out a lot if I could save a buck here or there. So I was wondering if perhaps you would like to carpool." She paused, fidgeting in the chair. "We could give it a test run first, if you want." Ethan's eye caught the shift in her gaze. Her hand reached for the whistle she had around her neck and pulled on it. The flaccid cord tightened. Ethan realized she had mirrored his posture and that she seemed almost worried or nervous about something. Perhaps she just didn't want to be rejected. Who does? "Uh, sure. I don't see why not." He shrugged. "At the very least if it doesn't work out, then we could always go back to driving ourselves." He rubbed the back of his neck as he gave it a little more thought, but answered quicker than his mind had time to process. Her face lit up. "Great! I'll pick you up in the morning and take the first week's shift then. How does seven sound?" She leaned forward and pulled the whistle back and forth like a swinging pendulum around her neck, noticeably displaying her cleavage down the tank top she had worn for practice. Ethan's breath left him a moment. Caught somewhere between the desire to stare and the will not to. He choked down whatever was in his throat and cleared it a couple times, gaining a brief moment of time and hoping she didn't notice. "Yep. Sounds good." Satisfied, she let go of the whistle and popped her hands on her thighs as she stood up. She smiled. Her eyes watching him as she left -- a small yet noticeable sway in her hips. Ethan, once again alone, returned to the white marker board and tried to pick up where he had left off, but the X's and O's seemed to make even less sense than before. * * * * * * * * * * * * * Julianne held her hand to her hip as she stirred the noodles in the big pot on the stove. With the kids grown and out of the house, it seemed quiet. Ethan had not yet made it home and she looked, once again, at the clock on the stove. It seemed that his days were growing later and later, minute by minute. She picked the pot up from off the heat of the burner and carried it over to the sink, containing a strainer in the middle of it, and strained the water from the noodles. Setting the pot down, she placed her hands on the counter in front of her and lowered her head, taking a deep breath. It didn't help. The knot she felt in her stomach was now growing into her throat. She didn't want to cry. "Don't cry," she told herself. She had spilled enough tears over the past several years, yet still the tears formed and slipped silently down her cheeks. She couldn't stop them from spilling out. The sob that had formed in her chest, was heaving out of her breath through the pain that was now growing in her throat. She looked at the clock through tear stained eyes. I have to pull myself together. No more crying. That's enough. That's enough for today. "Ha." She laughed softly to herself, wiping at her nose. "That's enough for a lifetime, really." She straightened herself up and squared her shoulders, pressing them back, then closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath. In through her nose and out through her mouth. After a couple more drawls she felt once again in control of herself, and pressed on. She rummaged around the kitchen drawer, finding a pair of tongs amidst the other utensils, and filled two plates full of noodles. After carrying the plates over to the dinner table and placing them down across from one another, she took another deep breath -- just to be certain she really was in control of her emotions -- before glancing out the window. He should be here any minute now. Her mind, especially in this cold silence, found deviant ways of occupying itself. None of which Julianne considered pleasant, so she focused on herself. She walked the few brief steps from the kitchen to the hall and checked her reflection in the hallway mirror. She looked a mess. "Seriously, Julianne." She huffed to herself as she dabbed the corners of her eyes and patted her cheeks, then fluffed her hair. Vaguely satisfied, she turned and went back into the kitchen and sat down at the table.. Waiting on Ethan had become a theme in her life lately and as she sat there, she couldn't help herself as she checked the time once more. Her stomach growled. It was insisting she eat, but she denied it. She rolled her head back onto her shoulders and glanced at the ceiling for a moment before closing her eyes and exhaling another long, slow breath. * * * * * * * * * * * * Ethan pulled up next to Julianne's car in the driveway. He didn't know why, but he felt fatigued. Perhaps it was the monotony of routine wearing him thin. He ran his hand along her car as he walked passed, sighed and went inside. He put his things down, took off his shoes and walked into the kitchen, taking a big whiff of air. "Mm-mm. Something smells good." His stomach growled. "What's for dinner?" Julianne had heard him at the door and had already gotten up, awaiting his arrival and his embrace. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissing his jaw. "Just a little Italian dish I whipped up. It's new. I hope you like it." He thought about what "new" might mean and cocked a brow. He hated the unexpected when he was like this -- moody -- and suddenly felt like he was on a game show. Waiting to be asked if he'd like to take what's behind curtain one or curtain two. Knowing that behind one of those curtains, was something very disappointing. He really didn't want to be disappointed tonight. "I bet it'll be great." He hoped. "Let's eat." He led the way to the table and sat down. Julianne took her seat across from him, slowly. There were moments when she didn't know how to respond to Ethan. Sometimes he was the easiest, most delightful person to get along with. Other times he was implacable and felt as if she could do nothing right in his eyes. Ethan took a bite as she waited. "Please like it. Please like it." She mumbled to herself as she watched. He looked up, nodding his head. "Not bad. I like it." Relief swept over her and she picked up her fork. She loved this part of the evening. The quiet dinner and conversation. "You'll never guess what happened today," she said. "Regina came in with two boys bleeding -- one with a cut above his eye, the other with a bloody nose -- and told me that they had gotten into a fight. Well, of course that was easy to assume from the looks of 'em, but you'll never guess what it was about." She waited a moment and when he didn't venture a guess, continued. "They got into it over a teacher. Apparently, both boys thought she looked like a supermodel and started talking about how hot she was and the fight broke out over which one of them would be most likely to get into her panties." Julianne laughed. The ridiculousness of it all. Men! They only have one head sometimes. Ethan smiled and kept eating, preoccupied in his own thoughts. Normally he would have said something or at the very least laughed -- after all, he was typically the one informing her about these kind of stunts, usually regarding his players -- but he made no acknowledgment other than a slight, slow nod of his head. She left it alone and ate her noodles. The list of complaints and issues she had dealt with, from both teachers and parents, could wait. As principal, it was a never ending cycle of verbal shit constantly being spewed onto her. That's what made this time so important to her. It was when she felt at ease enough to relax, to unburden her mind and heart from the day's toll; and Ethan was a great listener, most of the time. She looked up from her plate and seen that Ethan was nearly finished with his. Ethan was having trouble forming the words he wanted to say. He knew what he should say, but didn't know how to phrase it without sounding as if he had ulterior motives. He bounced from thought to thought, weighing them each in progression as he ate quietly. How do I tell her? How do I reassure her that Tiffany and I are just carpooling without it sounding like we've decided to start dating? It was innocent. It was. All she had asked was if he'd be interested in saving money. And who couldn't use a little more savings? The economy was rough, though it hadn't made a big impact on him. The end of his fork clanked against the porcelain dish. There was nothing left on his plate but the white peeking through the blotches of sauce he had added to his noodles. He looked up, feeling Julianne's eyes on him. She tilted her head and smiled. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. What was she thinking? What was she feeling, right now, at this moment? "Hey." He grasped for words. Hoping he could make it through without appearing to be a bumbling idiot. He had to just get it out there. "Tiffany came by my office today." Julianne arched her brow. She was interested, but having another coach come by his office was nothing new. He had many coaches -- both male and female -- come by his office over the years. She took another bite and waited to see where he was going with this. "She wanted to know if I'd be interested in carpooling. With her. Said she needed to save some money." Okay . . . now what? Do you have a point here? Just get it out there and on the table. He repressed a grin, thinking about what putting it, literally, on the table would look like. "I know the school isn't very far, but I told her I would . . . if that's alright?" It came out like a frail plea. Man up, dammit! "Just to help her out, you know?" He said. He pushed aside some of the sauce on his plate with his fork, drawing lines through it, and readjusted his posture. There, he said it . . . but she hadn't said anything back. "She's suppose to meet me here in the morning to pick me up. She said she'd take the first week's shift." He thought she was finally going to say something as she set her fork down and grabbed her wine glass, taking a long, slow sip. Make that three. Ethan waited. "Well," she finally said, "I can't say I know her all that well, but she seems nice. How well do you know her?" "What do you mean? I barely know her at all, but I doubt she's going to kill me, if that's what you're asking." She smiled, though she wasn't amused. "I mean, what do you know of her? What is she like? How is she with others? You know, is she someone you think you can put up with day in, day out?" Ethan understood. Julianne knew him and knew him well. He was a moody person, though most didn't see the darker, cynical side of him. He wore facades like villains wore masks but they rarely, if ever, fooled Julianne. "What I know, is that her players like her. They respond well to her coaching. The rest of the faculty seem to get along with her, from what I can tell. At least I've not heard any complaints or horror stories." He tilted his head and gave a little shrug. "Like I said, it's not like the school is an hour or even thirty minute drive. I can put up with anything for under thirty minutes." He gave her a light-hearted smile. "Besides, if she turns out to be a serial killer, I'll kill her first. Okay?" She loved Ethan. He had a way of taking life in strides that fascinated her. She knew he'd be okay and that he'd be more than able to take care of himself and that he could think and make decisions for himself, but she really wanted him to reject Tiffany's offer. She had no reason, other than maybe jealousy, that she could think of, but jealousy itself wasn't enough. She couldn't think of anything else but the two of them carpooling alone, so she asked, "Is anyone else in on this? Or is it just going to be the two of you?" His smile vanished as he seemed to think it over. "I'm not sure. She asked me, but she may have asked a few others too. I didn't ask." It was his turn to take a sip of wine. "It would make sense if she had, though." Julianne quietly cleared her voice. "I'm sure she has." She smiled, trying her best to appease Ethan and keep her private thoughts quietly hidden. She knew she wouldn't get far with an argument, so she let the conversation go. She didn't have anything more to say anyway. Ethan smiled back at her, though he knew Julianne was begrudgingly giving him his way. He was relieved to finally have the conversation -- or at least the bulk of it -- over. Before she could ask any more questions or make any other comments, he got up and took his plate over to the sink. He turned the faucet on and let the water rinse the plate clear of its splotchy mess. * * * * * * * * * * * Lying in bed, Ethan stared at the ceiling, watching the blades of the ceiling fan whirl around -- like his thoughts -- in a hypnotic cycle. Julianne, head rested on Ethan's shoulder and arm draped over his bare chest, couldn't sleep. The ceiling fan spun through its revolutions, a steady rhythmic noise in the room, but the nothingness surrounding that noise was creeping in. Whispers. Doubts. Echos from their dinner conversation. She shuddered, then decided to silence them. Snaking her arm down Ethan's stomach, she felt for the band around his briefs, knowing it was the only thing he had on. She tucked her fingers under the elastic and found his member. She grabbed it, squeezing it softly. Ethan moaned. A quiet rumble in his chest. A sign of acceptance, desire for her to continue. And gladly she did. Slowly, pulling his briefs down, she slipped under the sheets, removing the thin material from around his ankles and tossing them onto the floor. His shaft stood erect, directly in her vision, pulsating. She opened her mouth and exhaled a warm breath teasingly over the tip. Ethan wanted to grab her face and press his cock down her throat, but refrained. He had never done anything like that, though the thought had crossed his mind on more than one occasion. No, he was always gentle with her -- in every aspect of life. So, instead, he groaned again. His voice deep and low. Anticipating and hoping she would end his torture soon. She knew what he wanted. She slid her wet lips over his precipice with a grin, pressing down smoothly. She felt him respond: raising his hips ever so slightly, softly running a hand up her arm, exhaling long breaths. She licked up, along the underside of his erection, felt it jump as she reached the tip once again, then plunged back down his flesh with her lips, filling her mouth full. Relentlessly she availed her assault. Over, over again. Until his breath became short, ragged gasps, choked in the center of his throat. His back arched, higher off the bed. Jutting out his pelvis. But she kept him lodged in her mouth, not allowing him to slip from her confines, pursuing her own end. His end. Then the dam burst. A flood filled her mouth. With eyes closed, she purred as his essence was released into her longing mouth, being fed until his throbbing subsided. Delicately, she sucked the tip of his head clean, small kisses bathing it, smacking sounds in rhythmic harmony with the whooshing blades of the ceiling fan above. She felt warm. She felt tired. She crawled back up to her former position and laid back down in the crook of Ethan's arm, a content smile on her face. The Lighthouse Ch. 02 Thank you for your encouragement. This chapter contains no explicit sexual content. * * * * * * * * * * * Chapter 2 Ethan was up early, reclined in his favorite chair. Typically, he wasn't much of a morning person -- though he enjoyed them after the struggle of getting up and around -- but today, however, wasn't much of a battle. He seen a reflection of light, gleaming from off a windshield and through the window. A car pulled into the driveway and he looked out. Apparently his ride for the day. "Well, it's day one. Let's see how it goes." He left the house, making sure to lock the door on the way out, and approached the passenger side of the car. When he opened the door, he seen Tiffany. Wearing that same smile he was now beginning to grow accustomed to. "Good morning, Ethan. You ready to go?" "All set." He replied. He got in and buckled up; not helping to notice, but also not saying anything about, the smirk on Tiffany's face as she checked the rear-view mirror and backed out of the driveway. "Glad you remembered about our carpool today. I was hoping I wasn't gonna have to come drag you out of bed this morning." She said. "Nah, I remembered. Though, admittedly, I'm not the most pleasant person to be around in the morning -- and I apologize in advance -- but once I'm up, I'm up. I don't sleep late. I only use an alarm as a backup in case I do have a one off and over-sleep." "Oh. Not me. When I get a day to sleep in, I take it. I have two alarms set each night just to make sure that I get up. You'd be surprised how many times I sleep right through the first one." She laughed. "And don't worry about being grumpy in the mornings. I hate mornings. So I'm sure I'll have plenty of apologizing to do in the near future." Ethan relaxed, thankful they were able to come to an understanding of one another. Certain it would be the first of many. He gazed out the window in front of him, watching the streets come alive with morning activity. This won't be so bad after all. "So." Tiffany spoke up. Perhaps wanting to show herself good company. "I guess you keep up with the news?" The question almost passed Ethan's attention as he stared hypnotically out the window. "Not really. I watch sports news a lot. And during the winter I watch the local news for weather alerts and school closings." "So you haven't heard the latest about the Kidnap Killer? Or so they're calling him." He snapped out of his trance. "No. Why? What's going on?" "Well, last I heard, someone kidnapped a girl last night. She was home asleep, presumably, when this happened, and they found her dead this morning. Just outside of city limits. I don't remember the girl's name, but they're not releasing too many details. Guess they don't want people getting too worked up over the situation or maybe influencing a copy cat killer." She shrugged. "Who knows." Ethan slunk back in his seat. The possibilities reeling through his head. Something wasn't adding up, but there just weren't enough details to know what. "Anyway," she continued, "I thought I got away from this sort of thing when I moved here -- you know, being from a larger city and all before." A tinge of concern in her voice. "I hope they find this bastard soon." She pulled onto a black-top drive and drove up to the faculty parking area of the school's campus and parked near the front. "Here we are," she said and turned off the engine. "Sorry about the mood killer." Ethan opened his door, smiling, and shook his head. "Don't take this wrong, but you have an unusual sense of humor." She smiled back. An awareness in her eyes. "And thanks for this. It was -- fun. I have to admit, I didn't know if this was going to be weird or awkward or . . . who knows, but . . . you're pretty easy to get along with." Her face softened. Okay. Not too bad. We made it through round one. He thought. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself, Coach." There was that smile again. They got out and parted ways, content. * * * * * * * * * * Julianne woke up, moving her arm along Ethan's side of the bed. It was empty. Nothing but a warm spot and crinkled sheets. She rolled over and checked the clock on the night stand. It was still early. Then she remembered: Today was the first day of Ethan and Tiffany carpooling together. She felt as if her body was plastered to the mattress, but made herself get up and get dressed anyway and after putting on her clothes, she put on a pot of coffee. She stumbled around the house -- using the bathroom, putting clothes in the hamper, clothes in the washer, dishes in the sink -- while trying to make sense of her feelings. First, she didn't understand why this carpooling business bothered her so much. When thinking about it, there was nothing to be concerned about, but there was a lingering notion inside her that kept biting at her heart. She really wanted to understand it. Second, she missed Ethan. Ethan was usually the first face she seen, the first voice she heard, the first body she felt in the morning. She enjoyed the daily routine of each of those. She liked sharing a pot of coffee with him in the morning. And not drink it all by myself. Even though he wasn't much of a talker in the morning. Well, Ethan really isn't much of a talker, period. But what was most disconcerting was his new routine. She scowled in thought, thinking about Tiffany and her intentions. Maybe she really was that bad off and needed the extra money. Or perhaps she needed the camaraderie of someone in the same line of work, someone that understood the daily struggles and obstacles coaching a bunch of amateurs and getting them to work together to become something great, or at least efficient. The truth was, she just didn't know much about her. Especially the important things she would like to know, or now, should know. She picked up the pot of coffee from under the brew. Is she smart? Is she funny? Is she a flirt? Julianne squinted her eyes as if peering into Tiffany's mind. I bet that little hussy is a flirt. She's basically a woman in a man's world. Damn sports. She poured herself a cup of coffee and took a sip from the hot mug as her insecurities played on her. "I bet she does the same routine with every basketball coach. 'Oh! I could really use some extra money. Want me to suck your dick?'" She grinned. Making herself feel better. She took another hot sip and went into the living room, found the remote and turned on the television. 'In breaking news last night we reported on a girl that had been abducted from her home. We have just learned from authorities this morning that the body of the kidnapped girl had been found just outside city limits lying near the main highway. It appears, police are saying, that she was murdered some time late last night before the body was dumped. Police are urging anyone, with any information or having seen anything regarding this case, to please call.' Julianne stared at the screen, aghast. How could anyone do such a horrendous thing to such an innocent girl? What is this world coming to? Her problems faded as the enormity of something far more tragic settled on her mind. She should probably give Tiffany the benefit of the doubt, and quit thinking so harshly of her, anyway. She had no right to judge her so quickly. She didn't even know her. She sighed. "Why am I making such a big deal out of this? I trust Ethan." She took another sip of her coffee. "He's a good man." She left it alone and focused on other important matters she needed to take care -- like the disciplining of a bunch of little brats at school, so that they don't end up murdering little girls, for God knows why. And maybe she would teach their kids a few things too. She smiled and took another sip. * * * * * * * * * Ethan was reclined back in his chair, heels kicked up on the corner of his desk, as he held the local newspaper between his hands. Ever since hearing about a kidnap-killer being out on the loose, he couldn't focus on much of anything. Sure, there had been plenty of such stories he'd heard about taking place all over the nation at various times, but never had something so sinister been set this close to home. He had to find out everything he could and so far, that didn't add up to much, though he did learn that the police had some mysterious evidence they were withholding from the public's attention. Whatever it was they had, they were doing their best to keep it under wraps, citing, "Evidence in crime cases such as these usually aren't brought to the public's attention unless we feel as though it will lead to more evidence or to finding the perpetrator." His mind was stuck there, on that undisclosed evidence. He just knew there was something to that, something incriminating, but it had to be only a part of the solution, otherwise, they would have arrested somebody by now. He lowered the paper and folded it up, setting it in his desk drawer to look back over later in case he needed it for reference. He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back, again kicking his feet back up onto the desk. "Afternoon Coach." Spooked, Ethan sat upright, dropping his feet off the desk. He turned toward the direction of the voice. Not typically the easily-startled kind, he felt like an idiot for his reaction, but the places his mind had been lately . . . He laughed at himself. Ted, the school custodian, chuckled softly to himself as he picked up the trash bin in the corner of Ethan's office. He gave Ethan enough time to gather his wits as he carried the bin over to the big container on wheels he had rolled to a stop just outside Ethan's door and dumped its contents. "Oh, hey Ted. I didn't hear you come in. How's your day been?" Ethan was never exceptionally good at making small talk but there was something about Ted's diligence that he admired, so he tried his best when Ted came around. "Another day, another waste bin that needs dumped." Ted said smiling. "Think you'll take home the big trophy again this year, Coach?" Ted regularly attended the basketball games, even before his daughter had begun playing on the Ladies' varsity squad. It was if there was something he was drawn to. More than just the game itself. It was as if he were watching a dream yet unable to participate. Only allowed to observe. Ethan huffed and folded his arms across his chest. He didn't know how to respond, though he seemed to be getting asked that a lot lately. He leaned forward and set his folded arms on the desk in front of him as he looked Ted in the eye. "Well, I think we got a shot. A real shot. Last year we just didn't have the depth or maturity." Ted nodded as he listened intently. Perhaps imagining that he could glean something of the coach's success for himself. "With another year of experience in most of these guys, I think we can make a run for it." Ethan paused. His prevailing concern for his team surfacing. "They'll have to remain disciplined though." The year's theme for his team. He lowered his gaze onto the flat surface of the desk between his arms and contemplated whether or not his players would diligently focus on the task ahead of them. "Following Through," had been his sermons. "Follow through with your shot. Follow through to the rebound. Follow through with your effort the whole game." And while he preached it tirelessly every practice, it overwhelmed him how deaf or incoherent his players were. They just weren't getting it. They either weren't comprehending or didn't care, but that was it, wasn't it? They were a conglomeration of individuals placed together as a team, but without a captured vision for the group as a whole. They seem to have only dreams of grandeur for themselves. Truth be told, he never coached many naturally talented athletes and he never expected to. But if he had his choice, he would choose players with resolve over players with skill every time. From his experience, relentless resolve always bested undisciplined skill. Ted watched in fascination as the wheels in Ethan's mind ground away, lost in thought. His position as custodian of the school had tenured as long as Ethan's had for coaching, and throughout the years he had always kept an observant eye on the coach. Ethan never seemed to be anything or anyone less than exceptional in all that he did. He skimmed the walls of Ethan's office: the trophies on the shelves, the plaques on the walls, the news clippings framed and hung up -- displaying winning championship teams of the past. He shook his head in awe and unbelief and gathered up the last of the trash -- a small sack from beside Ethan's desk -- and slung it over his shoulder. "I have no doubt that if there is anyone that can make this team championship caliber, it's you. This office," he nodded at the wall behind Ethan, "is a testament to that." He gave him a reassuring smile. "Have a good night Ethan." Ethan looked back up. A sheepish yet proud smile on his face. He couldn't deny the tangible evidence all around him. His office was all the proof anyone needed. It inspired the ambitious and intimidated the competition. But Ethan never could take a compliment without feeling foolish. He felt as though compliments were double edged. On one side was the praise: meant as genuine courtesy and kindness and to be received with humility. On the other: an implicit comparison of status between the giver and receiver. He often felt as if he were being involuntarily elevated by the compliment. As if he held a loftier position of fortune and were better than they were. But Ethan seen things differently. He understood that no one person is completely alike another and that we all have our own strengths and our own weaknesses. He coached his players with the same philosophy. "Understand your strengths and play to them. Know your weaknesses and defend against them." Ethan noticed the door beginning to close as Ted's silhouette shrunk in the expanding distance. "Thanks Ted. Goodnight." * * * * * * * * The time had slipped by unnoticed between Ted's departure and Tiffany's arrival to pick Ethan up. He was still lost in thought when she had knocked on his door. "Hey Ethan, you ready?" She appeared to be in a peppy mood. For what reason, Ethan had no idea but suspected that maybe her team had a good practice. God knows my team needs one of those. "Yeah, let me grab my things." He picked up his bag and turned off the lights. The night air was growing cold. The changing of the seasons had begun. Ethan loved this time of year when the world became cool and crisp. "Do you mind if I stop by the store first before I drop you off? I need to pick up a few things, if that's okay." Tiffany asked, shattering Ethan's still, cool quiet. It then hit him why carpooling could be such a nuisance. Not only would he be arriving home later than he anticipated, but now he felt obligated to go on a shopping spree, since Tiffany was the one driving he felt like he couldn't say no. After all, she was doing him a favor, right? He opened the passenger side door and got in. It took him a moment, but he shrugged and put on the best facade he could muster. "Sure. I don't mind." But hoped that she wouldn't ask him to go in. "Thanks!" She grinned and put the car into gear. Leaving the now empty parking lot. * * * * * * * The table in front of Julianne had papers from work strewn all about it. She had a few neatly organized stacks that she had already gone through and several more chaotically aligned piles needing her attention, but she was beginning to feel a hammer in her head striking an anvil. She put her palms to her brow, her elbows on the table. Slowly, she ran her hands through her hair, pulling it back; trying in vain, to ease the pounding in her head. Having no luck, she backed her seat out from under the table and stood up. She felt like Quasimodo after leaning over these papers all day. She put her hands on her hips and tried to stretch the knots from out of her back. Bending, twisting and arching her torso. "Ah! Finally a little relief." She felt better. She left the table and its contents, opened the cabinet door and took down a glass. She filled it with water -- not much in the mood for anything with caffeine nor staying up all night -- then checked the time. It was late. "First day of carpooling, first late evening getting home. Great." She took a few gulps from her glass. The lateness of the hour was off-putting, but it wasn't as if this kind of thing never happened. There are always several times throughout the sport's year that Ethan will hole himself up in his office, scheming and strategizing, and lose track of time. It's what he loved to do. He loved the challenge and the fight. He loved to find solutions to problems. He loved to win. No, what nagged at her was that tonight, at this later than usual hour, she knew who he was with. Tiffany. She had her suspicions that she was a flirty-cheating-conniving bitch, but to be fair, she didn't know. What she did know, was that she was with her husband, presumably alone, and that was all she needed to know. Who does that? Asks a married man if he wants to carpool. She didn't ask me. She tapped her fingers on her glass. She's up to something . . . and probably wants to get up on something. The tempest thoughts tumbled about her head, rocking her metaphoric boat. Then again, why didn't I just ask Ethan not to carpool with her? He wouldn't have agreed to it if he knew it bothered me, right? Well, at least he would have taken my feelings into consideration and how it would affect me . . . not like I would be asking him to abandon his mother. She began to doubt herself. After all, why was she picking on him now after she had given him her blessing? Does it really matter who he's with if I trust him? . . . Shouldn't I trust him!? . . . After all we've been through together . . . She sat down her nearly empty glass of water on the coaster, resting on the end table, and laid down on the couch. Her suspicions and fears running rampant. She played back the years of her marriage. They both had their small indiscretions. Nothing devastatingly detrimental had yet happened -- and she hoped never would -- but there was enough that had placed seeds of doubt into her. Seeds, that over time, had grown into this thicket of confusion and uncertainty. With one exception: She loved Ethan. She would do anything for Ethan. She had made her share of mistakes and had tasted the bitterness of her own lies, but she knew that she lived to please and love no one else. Her desire was for him. Mind, heart and soul. If she thinks she can have him, she's got another thing coming. Julianne's resolve forged into steel. The Lighthouse Ch. 03 The Lighthouse Ch. 04 The shot missed. Ricocheting against the backboard, bouncing off the rim and thudding onto the court. Ethan shook his head. What else was there to expect after a night like tonight? Everything they attempted to execute failed. The entire night had gone one way: against them. Why would the last shot be any different? He waved his team over and led them into the guests' locker room. No one said anything. They sat in front of their lockers: elbows on knees, towels over their heads, faces between their hands or peering at the floor beneath them. Ethan had plenty to say, but could muster up the strength to repeat himself. He hated repeating himself. It was the same speech he'd gave since game one. Shots not falling, he could handle-though it would help if they got a few more in-but lack of effort he couldn't. It was driving him stupid in frustration. "Please, guys, please . . . Can I get just one of you to play a whole game with your whole effort? I know it's in you. But you're gonna have to be willing to struggle through a little pain and a little exhaustion to get there. Does anyone want a victory? Can any of you show me the kind of heart it takes to win? Hell, at this point, I'd settle for a loss that wasn't in the double-digits." A couple of groans filtered through the stuffy air in the room. A few could only muster a nod. Their fifth straight loss. Ethan was stumped. He tried processing what he could have possibly overlooked and had under-prepared his team for. Practices had been great. Their execution had gotten better. They seemed to be getting the flow of the offense. So what the hell happened out there tonight? What changed between then and now? Their performance was that of an inexperienced junior high team at best. Coming into tonight he expected better, he expected results. He expected the first win of the season. But instead, they got their asses handed to them by a team he knew wouldn't be in contention for a playoff appearance. They barely broke .500 last year and hadn't made the playoffs in the past fifteen years. How could they fall apart to a team they should be starting their second string against? He paced the floor, hoping an answer would come to him. Perhaps the dingy carpet held answers. His vision roamed the surface for divine advice. Was he over-coaching? Preparing inadequately? Did he have the right players in the right positions? He shook his head, returning focus onto the sweaty team sitting before him. He hated second-guessing himself. He'd been over this before. The problem wasn't stemming from his side of the equation. He was the only constant. He'd done this for years, the same way, and had gotten the same results, year after year. It had to be the team. But what? How? They had to be under a mental block. They've lost every game so far and that alone would take a psychological toll on the best of athletes. Finding the will to win when all you've known is defeat isn't easy for anybody. The cogs clicked into gear as he narrowed his strategy. Somehow he had to inspire them, re-ignite their desire to win, to play with belief. First, he needed to direct their vision and set their sights on a common, obtainable goal. He could coach them to it, but he couldn't give it to them. They had to take it for themselves. "Listen fellas. I've seen teams turn things around and go on to become contenders having a worse starting record than ours." He felt like he was attempting to encourage himself as much as he was the team. He got down on one knee, grabbing their attention. "We can do this! The shots will come, but in the mean time we're going to need more of them. That means more rebounds, on offense and defense. It also means we need to be picking up the trash, going after loose balls, hustling after every scrap left out on the court. We don't have any superstars on this team, but we don't need any either. We need each other. Not just one man doing all the work. We work together. Together we win, together we lose. Together we are the superstar. As a team; as a unit. No more dragging our feet onto the court, dejected, before the game even begins. Take pride in your work and determine right now, right now, you're going to fight. Right now, you're going to scrap for every point. Right now, you are one. One team. One unit. And when the game is done, even if we lose, we'll know that we laid it all out on the court. We brought our best. We gave our all." It wasn't his finest speech, but there was an audible exhale of encouragement being breathed into the air and the few smiles he got were better than the pitiful frowns of lost causes from moments before. Admittedly, he felt a little encouraged himself, in spite of the fact that they were rivaling the worst team he'd ever coached-his second year team. That team had nearly got him the boot. But just like then, he wasn't about to give up on them. He expected their best, he had to give them his. He stood up. "Come on guys, huddle up. Hands in." His best. Not the legacy, not the rumored legend, not a story-book hero. They just needed him to be his best. "Fight on three. One . . . two . . ." ************* Julianne frowned watching Ethan drive as he took the long road home, lost in his own head. The long road home was his deliberating wander. She enjoyed the few times a year he'd skip out on taking the bus home with the team, though she always felt a little selfish about it. However, this was about him, not her. She gazed out the window for a brief moment. The city lights drawing closer along with their approach. Whenever he drove, it gave her time to quietly think to herself, and the man next to her was her muse. She smiled, catching her face in the vague reflection of the glass. She remembered past years; then, catching a younger version in the glass. She could still see the girl she was in her eyes, yet now behind those same lenses hid tinged knowledge. A quiet longing of lost innocence whisked through her effete soul. She blinked twice, pulling herself from her dark well. Ethan was still wandering his own trails of thought as she put her hand on his leg. "Wanna tell me what's on your mind, Coach?" She waited, watching him come back to the present reality, not feeling the need to force anything from him if he chose to stay in his own world. She was fine just being in his presence, even if it was just the shell. She knew he'd do what he thought best and she would do the same-support him no matter what. He smiled, his eyes blinking after the passing of a pair of bright headlights. "I think they should write a book about me." She couldn't help herself and smirked. Where does he come up with this stuff? "Oh really?" He nodded, "Yeah. They could title it, 'Man of Adversity'." They laughed. The truth was, he was right-at least about the characterization of his life. He spent the bulk of his years over-coming one obstacle or hurdle after the next. Nothing came easy for him it seemed. She couldn't count the times someone would tell him how lucky he was. "You'd fall down a mine shaft and land on a gold vein, Ethan. I swear!" They'd say, but she knew better. She would look over to him, pat his shoulder, and grin. Let 'em wonder where the magic comes from, she'd think to herself. But she knew where it originated. She seen her husband take the leftovers and discarded pieces time and time again and find potential in them. That was his gift, that was his magic. He seen the extraordinary in the ordinary. She squeezed his thigh. "Ethan, after all these years you still amaze me." Admiration beaming from her face. He looked at her from the corner of his eye and gave her that sheepish smile she was accustomed to seeing when he felt proud and awkward all at once. "Thanks." She moved her hand higher onto his lap and grabbed him. ************* Ethan's legs trembled beneath him. Sweat trickling down his forehead. Julianne, bent over and arching her back, pressed into him. "Oh God, Ethan!" she praised. Ethan held her hips, pulling her hard. He didn't move, confining her upon her impalement. His arms shook, breath seethed between his teeth. The strenuous effort demanding every fiber of his strength. Slight tremors vibrated up the front of his legs along the back of hers. "Please, fuck me now." she implored. Slowly, he removed himself from her, leaving a vacant hollow. Then with a quick thrust of his hips, he rammed into the void, smacking his groin against her soft bottom which jiggled in response. A ripple-like wave washed up her flesh, stopping at the small of her back. He pulled and thrust again. Another ripple, then another. They built, one racing after the next until they were nearly on top of one another. Waves of persuasive pleasure pulsating throughout her center. Julianne turned her face towards him, mouth agape. "Oh my God! That's good. Don't you dare stop!" She spoke, inflaming his ardor. Step by step they climbed each rung of their blissful orgasmic ladder together. "Ethan! Oh, you glorious lover! Don't stop! Fuck me! Take me!" "Damn! I'm not gonna last much longer, Julianne." Appendage throbbing, strands of ejaculate poured from his core, flowing into her. His swollen organ throbbing beat upon beat, a crescendo in the ecstasy of her orgasm. "I'm cumming, baby! I'm cumming," she cooed. His thickened point deflated. The last vestige of his strength, riding her down gently, seesawing back and forth. Sticky, smacking noises entwined with both their labored breathing. The fragrance of sex permeating the room. He fell, exhausted, onto her sweaty back. His limp prick vacating her wet cradle. She fell with him under his weight, crashing onto the bed beneath and trapping his hands under her breasts. "Wow! It's been a long time since I've felt like this. Where did that come from!?" she inquired, amidst a small laugh. "Dunno. Maybe leftover frustration from the game." He chuckled. "Doesn't seem like much has been going my way lately, but I sure needed that. It felt good." He rolled over onto his pillow. "Though now I'm certainly feeling my age." She lifted her chin, smiling eyes beaming at his flushed face as she stroked her fingers across his brow. "Trust me, you still got it, Stud." She turned wrapped her arm across his chest and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll play on your team anytime." ************* "Okay, so what's with this goofy grin you've had all day?" Tiffany asked. She had waited all day until the drive home from school before finally making her inquiry. "I noticed it this morning, but didn't put a lot of thought into it. Then, it was still plastered on your face later when I saw you both times in the hall and in the gym during practice. And don't tell me it's nothing. I know you better than that by now, I think, and it's something." Ethan didn't say. He looked at her and just smiled. "Come on! What's going on? You know you lost your fifth straight game, right?" She reminded him. "Or were you not aware that most people don't smile like victors after a loss?" Her expression was all over the place. Changing from amused to curious to inquisitive to interrogative. Ethan couldn't help it. He laughed. The show she was performing as her skin crawled in mild irritation was amusing. "Tiff, seriously, it's nothing." She hit his arm. "I told you not to tell me that! It is too something." Now, she was grinning and he could tell that she was hating herself for it. Apparently it was becoming infectious. "Alright! Alright. Just . . . keep it between us. Yeah?" She nodded and folded her hands in her lap as she turned in her seat. She became still as she awaited an answer. "I had sex. Great sex. Last night. There. Okay?" He waved his hand out in front of him as if he'd thrown the words onto the dashboard of the car. "Oh please! Seriously? That's it?" She rolled her eyes. He shrugged. "Okay. I get that." She straightened herself forward once again. It wasn't the answer she expected apparently, but it got her to finally settle down. "God knows it's been forever since I've had any that made me grin like a goofball for a day, but I believe you." She didn't look at him as she spoke, but he could see her biting the inside of her mouth. "I guess I'm a little jealous." A dark grin spread across her face. "Of?" Ethan asked. She gave him an exasperated look. "You getting some good tail. And I . . ." She blushed. "I haven't had any, at all, in over a year." She folded her arms across her chest and set back in her seat like a disappointed child. Ethan frowned. The revelation sinking in. He couldn't warp his mind around that. How could anyone go that long without sex? He'd die! "A year? Over a year? How in the . . . What do you . . ." He cut himself off. His better reasoning winning out over his curiosity to understand such a ridiculous notion. Well, perhaps it was noble and he was just a peasant within its realm. Either way, he didn't have any business asking or knowing such intimate information. He tried pulling his foot from his mouth. "Umm . . . sorry." She hit him on the arm again and laughed. "Oh! Well, thanks!" "What am I suppose to say!? Congratulations?" He failed at hiding a smirk. "It's okay. I'm not the sleep-around or one-night-stand type of girl." She let out an anxious breath of air. "And so you know, I'm satisfied." She added, playfully winking. "Ah! Well, congratulations then." She tucked her arm into her torso and bent forward as if taking an informal bow of acceptance, playing along. Ethan shook his head. "Speaking of O-and-five and congratulations - congrats on your fourth win! Your girls are looking good. You just might make a deep dash into the playoffs this year if you keep it up," he said. "Thanks. I sure hope so but I have to admit, the talent is great so I can't take much credit. They've offset so many of my coaching blunders this year, it's embarrassing to admit. I can't tell you how many times they've saved my ass." "It's a funny thing how it works like that. Your team will coach you as much as you coach them. If you let 'em." "Definitely," she replied. Ethan pulled up to the curb of her house and put the car in park. She grabbed her gear and opened the door, stepping out. "I have to ask though," Ethan said. "How did you come up with that double-high pick screen?" He winked.