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Award

By: oshaw



I walked up to the entrance of Sue's Hamburger Stand and noticed a ruckus going on. Middle age couples were walking by showing their disgust at the fracas.

What was going on was a gang of high school students harassing a young boy about 11 or 12 years old. A girl about 13 years old was screaming at them to stop. She couldn't do much more since she was being restrained from intervening by another high school student.

I knew the boys were high school students because they went to my high school. More specifically, they were my teammates on my football team. I didn't hesitate as I stepped up and asked what was going on. I was gratified to see most had stopped their harassment as soon as they saw me.

That didn't stop Ricky Wilson, our second string quarterback from hauling off and cuffing the kid one last time with an opened hand slap. As Rick reached back to slap the crying kid again, I stepped in front of him and grabbed his arm to prevent him from hitting the kid.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I yelled at him while I glared right into his eyes. "Don't you know any better than to hurt a little kid?"

The jovial atmosphere that the group had exhibited before I arrived morphed into an uncomfortable silence as I continued to dress them down.

Ricky started mumbling something that I couldn't make out. "What were you saying, dumbass?" I hollered.

Finally, he looked at me and told me that the kid had disrespected them and pointed to the kid's torn T-shirt. Imprinted on the shirt was the logo of the Harrisburg Lions, a rival from 80 miles away. "Let me get this right. You beat up on a little kid because he was wearing a T-shirt? It took eight of you to gather up the courage to mistreat a young boy and girl?" I looked back and saw the young kids huddled together kneeling on the sidewalk crying. "Well, I hope all of you are proud of yourselves! Y'all certainly proved yourselves to be worthy of being the Mooreville Eagles! " I lashed into the group. I chewed them out a little bit longer and then told them to get lost. They all slunked off and left me standing by the two kids who had stopped crying and were sniffing away the tears.

"Hey, are y'all okay?" I gently asked as I studied the boy's injuries. He had a few bruises and abrasions, and one open cut with a small trail of blood going down his cheek. I was trying to figure out how to treat it when an avenging banshee arrived.

As I heard the scream, I instinctively stood up when an explosion of pain against my temple caused me to see white. Immediately I was shoved and another blow struck my head as I tried to identify my tormentor.

I had enough time to see an auburn haired girl with blazing green eyes launch herself at me for another attack. I was able to deflect the series of blows that followed as I retreated away from her. I tried to protest and explain what had happened, but, the vocal stream of obscenities erupting from this beautiful avenger would have shamed a Marine.

At a certain point, she started crying and told me to get the hell away from them. As she walked back to the kids, I debated going back toward them, but, I was afraid of upsetting her again. I decided I had to try.

I walked to the three as they were getting up and the girl started to get up to attack me again. I stopped about 10 feet away and began to apologize for what had happened. She looked at me with such disgust and contempt that I felt like shrinking. She told me what I could do with my damn apology and led the kids away from me as the kids began trying to explain to her what had happened.

It isn't a good thing to have anyone upset with you; it is magnified when it is a beautiful girl that you never saw before. Maybe, when the team traveled to Harrisburg, I could go and try to apologize again. She shouldn't be hard to find, any girl that pretty had to be a cheerleader.

As I drove home, I shifted my thoughts away from her and tried to focus on whether to tell Coach Chambers about what had happened. As I weighed the pros and cons, my mind kept drifting back to those green eyes. Funny, how I could recall them so vividly even if I just saw them for an instance. I finally decided it would be best not to involve Coach Chambers.

My name is Jim Andrews; I am a senior at Mooreville High School. I am the quarterback for the Mooreville Eagles. I had always been physically adept even as a young child, something which had not gone unnoticed by the coaching staff. My sophomore year, I was the starting quarterback and we went 8 and 3. My junior year, I was All-State, we went 11 and 1, losing in the state's championship game, 36-35.

Now on the cusp of my senior year, the general statewide prediction was we would go undefeated and win the state championship. I was being recruited by practically every school in the country to come play for them. It was a heady time for me and the team. Lucky for me, my position coach, Coach Porter had a knack to keep my head on straight and focused.

It was a good thing for me that I was going to get a football scholarship; otherwise, it would be unlikely I would be able to afford to go to school. 

I certainly wasn't going to get a scholarship based on my B minus average. My parents would have moved heaven and earth to send me, but, I was the baby of the family and after sending both my sisters to college, there just wasn't that much left in the cupboard.

I got home and quickly did my chores; it would soon be time to go to the school gym for one of our "unofficial" weight training session. This was something Coach Chambers initiated even though it was a violation of the state's rules on high school football.

Coach Chambers was always looking for an edge and he and Coach Porter had several arguments about this and other rule violations. Coach Chambers ended every argument by telling Coach Porter if he didn't like it, he could get another job.

When I came to Coach Chambers' attention in the 8th grade, he came to me with a bottle of what he called "vitamin supplements." He told me to take them as directed and not to let anyone know I was one of his "favorite" players. What he didn't know is that my sister's boyfriend had warned me about Coach Chambers passing out steroids. If you didn't take them, you didn't play for Coach Chambers.

My sister's boyfriend warned me of the studies that showed the long term damage caused by steroids. I decided that the only way I could play was to pretend to take them. I stored away the sealed bottle and did the same with each bottle that arrived each month.

I thought if he didn't know I wasn't taking them it wouldn't hurt anything. I hated having to keep a secret from my parents and Coach Porter, but, I thought this way nobody would get hurt. And in any event, I could always give the entire allotment back to Coach Chambers if need be.

As I began bench pressing a repetition set, I noticed several of the instigators mingling around different weight stations. As I moved to each station, one would come up and we would have a private conversation.

I would let them know I wouldn't report it and it would be a private matter that we would work through. I let each person know that we were better than picking on a defenseless kid and we needed to focus on the upcoming season. I thought that was required due to my leadership role.

All seem to be good with everyone except Ricky Wilson who avoided me during the entire session. The last hour was "unofficially" walking through formations and plays led by Coach Chambers and the coaching staff, except for Coach Porter's absence, since he refused to violate the rules.

I got home, dragging as usual, and said hello to my parents who had gotten home from work; mom works as an RN at the hospital, and dad is a foreman at the paper mill. They asked me how my day went and I glossed over everything. Just as I was getting ready to sit down for supper, they surprised me and told me we were invited to eat with our new neighbors. Since this was our first meeting, nothing would do but to get up and go meet them.

As we arrived at the neighbor's house, I knew if they had kids, it would be up to me tonight to entertain them. I wasn't really looking forward to doing that, I figured I could excuse myself after a decent amount of time and meet up with my girlfriend, Katie and enjoy the rest of the evening.

I rang the doorbell and waited for it to open. When it did, I heard, "It's you!" as I was clinched in a hug by the 13-year old girl that I helped that afternoon. "Daddy, Momma, this is the boy that rescued us today!" she gestured to the couple walking to the door. I was immediately hugged by the father and his wife, to the befuddlement of my parents.

While this was all going on, I caught movement from the second floor and my first impression of someone in a dress retreated from my view and I heard a door slam shut.

Somehow through the chaos, introductions were made and the incident was revealed to everyone. The thirteen years old, Carol, made me out to be some sort of superhero who saved them. Jimmy, the eleven-year old, sheepishly grinned as his exploits of taking on eight football players was being described.

Mrs. Smith told Carol to go get her sister to come downstairs. Carol came back alone and whispered something to her mother. Mrs. Smith excused herself and after a few minutes came back downstairs, accompanied by her 18-year-old daughter and for the first time I was able to study the vivacious beautiful Vicky Smith.

It was hard to keep from ogling her as she came down the staircase. Her body was swaying all the right ways that teenage boys liked to see. I heard a giggle behind me and saw Carol had noticed me gawking at her sister. She smiled as though to say she wasn't going to tell on me and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I went over and introduced myself. Vicky wouldn't look at me. By this time, my parents wanted to know why I hadn't mention it and who was involved.

I took a deep breath and told the Smiths' the culprits were teammates of mine. That I was upset and embarrassed by their conduct and for that I apologized.

I told them how I had already talked to all involved and how I had expressed my disappointment with the guilty parties. That while I certainly understood if they thought otherwise; it was my desire not to involve the authorities. I would see to it that all involved would come and offer a personal apology to Jimmy, Carol, and the Smiths' family.

Tom Smith studied me and asked how I could assure their attendance. I told him they listened to me and if I told them to do something, then it would get done. I asked when would be a convenient time for them to come over. He discussed it with his wife, Martha and they decided tomorrow noon would suit them. I excused myself and began calling up the guys that would have to come over to apologize. As I continued through the calls, I noticed Vicky Smith had come outside and watched as I ordered the guys. The only one to balk was Ricky. I told him, he would either apologize or be the subject of a criminal investigation. He finally sullenly agreed to come over and apologize.

I was relieved to get through all the calls and reluctant to be the subject of those green eyes again. I steeled myself and faced Vicky. Before Vicky could speak, I blurted out an apology for upsetting her. She stared at me and once again I felt discomfort. She didn't speak for a few minutes and I was getting more nervous than facing a blitz.

"You could have ratted me out for beating you and cussing you. Why didn't you?" Her voice was soft and lyrical, so unlike, earlier today.

"You were defending your family. Nobody should blame you for what happened" I explained, "I just wished I could have made everything clear this afternoon."

"I hope you understand all I could see was my little brother and sister were hurt and you were the only one around. I made a wrongful assumption; I should've given you an opportunity to explain. All I could think to do was to get my brother and sister looked at and get out of there." Vicky continued to look down at her shoes; she didn't want to face me.

She continued on, "When I got them in the car and settled down; they began to explain what happened and how you showed up and stopped that gang from hurting them. I turned around and went back to apologize, but, you were already gone."

"When we got home, Mom and Dad got so upset. We came here from Harrisburg because Dad got a promotion. He was almost about to call his boss and tell him that he wanted his old job back. I think he may still feel that way; but, he knew he had to get through this dinner our Moms scheduled. So, he's a lot calmer now."

I responded, "I'm glad I was able to help y'all decide to stay."

She finally looked at me with a sad face, "I have to confess, I would've been happy had he decided to go back. My whole life; my friends; my boyfriend.... They're all up in Harrisburg. I never wanted to come here and I tried to convince my parents to let me finish my senior year up there. They told me they wouldn't be able to be a family without me, so I had to make the grand gesture and pretend I'm okay with it."

That startled me, I hadn't ever had to deal with starting over and learn a whole new group of strangers and hope I could make friends. I started to understand how Vicky was feeling, but, I couldn't think of any way to help alleviate her concerns. So we just stood in the night with nothing but the crickets chirping away.

Finally, just to break the tension I tried to draw her out with a number of things to talk about, but every topic just died out. We both stood there uncomfortable in silence until we were called in to eat.

Vicky sat opposite me, while Carol and Jimmy sat on either side of me. I focused on telling them about Mooreville, where the best places were and the places they should avoid. Carol wanted to know about the junior high school and what the teachers were like. I spent most of the time discussing things with her, while trying to not stab myself with a fork, since I kept being distracted by Vicky's presence.

As we left, Carol and her parents walked us outside. I had hoped I would have another opportunity to try to talk to Vicky, but she stayed in the house.

I told Carol that I thought her sister didn't think too highly of me. Carol asked me if I knew Will Akers. Of course, I knew Will Akers. He was Harrisburg's quarterback and my rival as the most sought after high school prospect in the state. Carol sadly informed me that Will was Vicky's boyfriend.

It was too late to call my girlfriend, Katie when I got home, so I went on to bed. Tomorrow, I would sufficiently grovel before my girlfriend for not calling and find out what our weekend plans were. 

When I woke up, I went out for a 5-mile run and I found myself comparing Katie and Vicky during my jog.

Katie became my girlfriend in the 9th grade. She was the captain of the cheerleading squad and involved in every club and activity offered at school. I guess I should qualify that statement. She was involved with every club the "cool" kids belonged; otherwise, forget it. I suppose being the quarterback, qualified me as cool, it certainly wasn't my absence at the country club that enticed her.

We had been together ever since the ninth grade, except for a few breakups when I caught her going out with other guys. Then, she would come around, crying from those big brown eyes and my heart would melt and we would reconcile.

She kept insisting that I was the only one that had her heart, so what did it matter if she wanted to spend time with someone else. Didn't I know that we were soul mates, she would ask me. I told her that one day she would go too far and I would walk away. But, I never wanted that day to happen.

It didn't hurt that she was gorgeous. She was a petite brunette with long straight hair, with pert breasts and shapely legs, a pearl white smile, and a cheerful disposition; at least, most of the time.

God forbid, if anybody that she consider not worthy tried to engage her into conversation. A quick barb and her victim would go away upset as Katie and her clique laughed. I kept trying to change her attitude, but, Katie was locked in on who mattered and who didn't.

Katie kept me in a state of sexual anticipation and frustration. She would occasionally allow me to get to third base. While I thoroughly enjoyed the petting sessions, it was driving me crazy leaving each date with blueballs and a vague promise of taking her virginity in the future. I got very intimate with my right hand every night. Katie had our future mapped out, we would go to the University together, graduate together, I would get drafted by the NFL and we would get married and live happily ever after. I didn't question her ambitions. All I thought was I wanted to possess her forever and her goals certainly seemed reasonable to me.

Vicky, on the other hand was a tall auburn haired beauty, her hair was full of waves and curls which perfectly framed her face. She had an alabaster complexion which caused her sea green eyes to stand out that much more. She was better endowed than Katie and her legs were long and muscular. I knew she had at least two speaking styles: longshoreman and enticing siren.

Apart from knowing that she was dating my big rival, she was a complete enigma and it was a distraction.

I made it back home and tried to call Katie three times, each time the call went to voice mail. This was a signal she was royally pissed. There was nothing I could do until she decided to call me. I showered and rested for a while. Katie had still not called back. At any rate, it was time for me to leave.

At noon I was outside the Smiths' residence, waiting for my eight teammates; when they all arrived, I led them to the door and rang the doorbell.

Tom Smith opened the door with a stern look on his face and ushered us all inside. The Smiths' were seated in the livingroom, and one by one they made their apologies to all concerned.

Twice I had to direct my teammates to make a specific apology to Carol and Jimmy. All my teammates caught on and at least they all offered a heartfelt apology, until Ricky spoke.

Ricky decided on his own to infer that Jimmy wearing his shirt was the reason the incident occurred. I thought Tom Smith was about to get up and throw us all out when I took over.

I jumped up and braced Ricky for what he did and finally that idiot stumbled his way to apologize.

Then it was the Smiths' time to talk. They told everyone how disappointed they were to have something like that to happen to them when they had just moved here.

Carol with a quiet dignity looked everyone in the eye and told them how scared and upset she was seeing her little brother being beaten and she was helpless to stop it.

Jimmy didn't say anything; he just glared at Ricky the entire time. Vicky described how she felt when she arrived and saw Jimmy beat up and how she took out her anger on me. She then looked me in the eye and apologized to me. All I could do was nod ok.

Tom Smith got up and told everyone that once this had happened he had called the police and made a report. He was determined that the culprits would be found and prosecuted, at that point all eight began hyperventilating.

He said he remained convinced to that course of action until he spoke to me last night. He explained that upon reflection, I had reminded him of his Christian obligations last night and therefore they were all forgiven. He would call the chief of police and the prosecuting attorney and ask they drop the investigation.

All he asked by way of penance was to ask them if they ever saw anyone being abused in the future that they step in and protect the weak. With that we were dismissed.

I went outside and spoke to everyone, they all began speaking and thanking me for getting them out of trouble. As I noticed Ricky walking to his car, I told the remaining seven that it was now in the past and now we could move forward. A voice called my name. Martha Smith asked me to come back inside.


Award



I went into Tom Smith' study and sat down. Tom Smith was quietly studying me. "Jim, you left out some interesting details last night. Why didn't you tell me about what Vicky did to you?"

I explained that it had no bearing on the injury his family had suffered and that Vicky had only reacted like any older sister would have. I thought about the beatdown, my sisters would have inflicted on anybody that beat up their baby brother.

"You know Vicky is mortified at what she did, she came to us late last night and confessed what she did. I told her we would call you to come over this evening and square this away. I was surprised to see you here today. Why did you come over?"

I told him that I felt it was my responsibility to be here and help everybody find a way to get through this.

He said, "Well, in the short time we've met you have really impressed me, Jim. I can't say the same of the last boy that apologized. I don't think his heart was really into it, but, for the sake of the other seven I decided it was necessary to forgive him, as well.

At the very least, you've given me a reason to give this city a second chance. I hope we get to see a lot of you around here in the future." I thanked him and handed him an envelope I collected donations to pay for Jimmy's shirt. He walked me outside; I was disappointed not to see Vicky as I left.

I arrived at the gym and walked into a buzzsaw named Coach Chambers. I got reamed and steamed as he chewed me out for setting up the meeting with the Smiths' without his knowledge or permission.

Ricky stood smiling as I got cussed out. The rest of the team stood open-mouthed as he continued to heap abuse on me. He finally asked me what I had to say for myself.

I asked him if he was ready to start the season without his center, star running back, wide receiver, defensive tackle, all state linebacker, and cornerback. Because if I hadn't stepped in when I did, they would all be looking at criminal charges.

Because I stepped in, I had diverted the focus away and now we could put that behind us and work on getting the championship. But next time I assured him, I would make sure to keep out of the way and let him clean up the mess.

When I got through there was dead silence in the gym. No one had ever stood up to Coach Chambers like that and everyone waited to see how he would react. He stared at me and repeated next time let him handle it and walked away. I took a deep breath as my awed teammates came over and talked how bad ass I was to stand up to him. I told them to shut up and get to work.

I got home and Katie had still not called so I was faced with having a Friday night without a date. My parents suggested that I call Vicky Smith and ask her out. I thought about it and decided to at least offer to show her around. I called her up and told her if she wasn't doing anything that I would like to show her the town. There was a long moment of silence, and then Vicky told me that her boyfriend was going to drive down and she was sorry. I mumbled something about maybe next time and hung up.

Saturday morning I was scheduled to run with my position coach, Coach Porter. I ran over to his house and had two miles in by the time I arrived. He had finished stretching and warming up so we immediately began our run. The miles passed by smoothly and we finally reached the park, our designated spot for a break.

"What a great day for a run" Coach Porter gasped.

"Yeah, Coach, I got energy to burn away."

He smiled and asked how Katie was doing. I didn't have any secret from Coach Porter except for Coach Chambers trying to give me steroids.

Over the past few years, he went from being a coach to being a mentor and we talked openly about every avenue of my life. I must have shown my displeasure and he asked what was wrong. I told him Katie had stood me up and I was getting tired of such a high maintenance girlfriend. We discussed how to proceed with that problem until we arrived to the inevitable conclusion that guys will never understand how to figure out girls.

Then he dropped the bomb on me. "Jim, I got some news for you. I've been fired." I was stunned by the announcement. I was surprised how calm he was about losing his job.

I started firing questions at him. He calmly explained that he apparently had one too many arguments with Coach Chambers and he had fired him.

I asked him what was going to happen to the team. He told me he suspected Coach Chambers would take over his responsibilities and take credit for my success. He assured me that as talented as I was that I could overcome any interference Coach Chambers threw my way. This just heightened my suspicions that Coach Chambers was trying to parlay this season into a collegiate head coaching job.

I asked what was going to happen to him. He told me that he had already lucked into the offensive coordinator position at the University. He had received a huge raise, plush benefits, and the opportunity to pursue a dream. The only thing he regretted was not being there for me during this year.

He looked at me, "Jim, I found out that Coach Chambers may be distributing steroids to the players. When, I asked him he blew up, that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Jim, I just got to know, did you ever take steroids?" I could see the pain he was in by asking the question. I looked him in the eye and told him how Coach Chambers had tried to get me to take "vitamin supplements" and how I had stored away every bottle. He was relieved by my explanation and told me how proud he was of me and he would look forward to seeing me play on the college level.

He was already packed and ready to jump into his new job, so this would serve as our goodbye. We hugged and I told him I would miss him. He told me not to worry; you never know when our paths might cross again. I watched as he jogged away and I already felt alone.

I got a text from Katie telling me that we would be going to the lake that afternoon. The lake trips were the only times we drove my truck since I had a trailer hitch that could haul Katie's family speedboat. I had just enough time to take a shower and then leave.

When I got there, I couldn't get anyone to the door, so I tried to call Katie. Then I went and backed my truck up to the boat trailer and began hitching the trailer to my truck. Much to my surprise as I hooked up the boat at Katie's house, I got another text that Katie would meet me at the boat launch. I was pissed that now I wasn't even worth riding with as I performed free labor for her.

When I got there my anger evaporated as she ran up and kissed me. Just as I thought, she had invited all her friends, so that meant I would have to launch the boat, drive my truck and the boat trailer to a distant parking lot, swim out to the drifting boat, start it up, take the first boatload to the island where there was a beach, unload everything, and then go back and get another boatload.

I would keep relaying people until everyone was there on the island at which point I would have to pilot everyone that wanted to waterski or wakeboard or go rafting. Funny, how I never got to participate in the fun, but, Katie explained that I was the only one her father trusted with the boat.

The few glimpses I caught of Katie as she skied were breathtaking as her toned body skillfully swerved in the boat's wake. Her hair whipping in the wind as she maneuvered from side to side until she finally had enough and released the tow bar.

As I carefully moved toward her, I killed the engine and the boat drifted alongside her. I got out of the captain's chair and went to the ladder and reached down for her hand. She grasped my hand and I carefully helped her up the ladder. All my trouble was worth one peck on the cheek.

Her BFF of the month, Lisa decided she would be next to ski and jumped in the water. I looked at Lisa and told her to put on a life jacket. Lisa told me that she didn't need one. I repeated to her to put on a life jacket. She told me all I had to do was to drive the boat as she skied and that she wasn't going to put on any damn lifejacket.

I stood there for a few seconds and looked at Katie. She wasn't even paying attention as she talked to her other friends on the boat. I went back and sat down in the captain chair and waited.

A few minutes passed and Lisa started shouting she was ready. I ignored her and continued to wait. That got me several more shouts and a few profanities thrown my way. Katie came and sat beside me in the chair across from me.

"Jim, Lisa is ready, start up the boat!"

I said, "Katie, I told Lisa to put on a lifejacket and she refused to listen to me. If I'm going to be responsible for this boat then she and everybody else on this boat will listen to me."

Katie angrily replied, "For God Sakes, Jim, just start the damn boat, Lisa will be okay!"

I stared back at her and said, "No, if she doesn't listen to me and put on the lifejacket, then this boat is going nowhere."

She snapped back, "Fine, goddammit, I'll pilot the fucking boat!"

By that time I had worked up my anger, "Okay, tell Lisa to get back in the boat. Then you can take me back to the marina and I'll unhook the trailer and get in my truck and leave and you can go have fun and then worry about getting the boat back to your house."

My outburst shocked Katie because I seldom disagreed with her, but, she came to understand in our relationship when she crossed a certain line that I would dig in and would not budge. But I had never displayed that over such a minor dispute.

I continued, "Yeah Katie, that means that you get to grill this evening, you will pack up everything, you will be responsible for getting everyone back to the marina and then figure out how you're going to haul the boat with your convertible."

We continued to engage in a staring contest. I was aware of her friends' muttering various things about me. I couldn't care less what they were thinking; unless I was with Katie, none of them were inclined to be friendly to me. I might as well give them a reason to dislike me.

It took a while, but, Katie finally reasoned that I was negotiating from a position of strength and conceded the argument. Well, she didn't really concede so much as she threw a lifejacket to Lisa and told her to put it on if she wanted to ski.

Katie went to the back of the boat and acted as the spotter. We got a lifejacketed-clad Lisa up on her first try and she skied to her heart's content. When we finally got back to the island to begin grilling, I helped Lisa off. I was rewarded by her muttering, "motherfucker" to me.

As I prepared the grill, I heard the approach of another boat nearing the island. That wasn't unusual; the country club set had a number of boats at their disposal. So people would ferry on and off the island all day. What it meant for me was that I would have to engage in mental gymnastics to make sure everyone was accounted for before we left the island. I had never stranded anyone and I didn't want to start now.

The deep rumble of the powerful boat brought several squeals of delight as Rick Wilson landed his boat besides Katie's. All the girls ran up to him and begged him to take them out on the lake. I was getting things out of the cooler when I saw the girls, including Katie, load up in the boat and take off down the lake.

I did notice that the can Ricky discarded on the beach was a beer can. So I wasn't pleased that my girlfriend took off without telling me to ride around with an underage jackass that was drinking.

As the coals got to the right temperature, I started laying out the burgers and chicken wings. I had the picnic table set up with the condiments, chips, and cookies, and the coolers icing down the cokes.

While I was setting things up, Ricky's boat came close to the island. I could see from my peripheral vision that Lisa was skiing without a lifejacket on. She made it a point to come closer and shouted, "Fuck you, asshole!" Her voice faded off in the distance. As I sat there, I began questioning whether it was worth putting up with all this crap for Katie.

I know she saw us as a long term relationship; but, I began to wonder if we had enough going for us. I knew one of my faults was I was over-competitive. I did not like to fail at anything and if I gave up on us; I would take it as a sign that I wasn't committed enough to Katie. I knew I was in lust with her; I just didn't know if I was in love with her. I continued my reflections as the meat continued cooking. Ricky's boat arrived just in time.

I pretended not to notice the hug she gave Ricky as he helped her off the boat. She ran up to me with a big smile and asked if everything was ready. She grabbed a burger and went and sat down with her friends. I continued to grill until everyone was stuffed and then I got to eat a cold hamburger. As I reached for the dregs left in the potato chip bag, I watched as Katie oohed and ahhed over Ricky. I was pissed.

The entire entourage paid little attention to me as I lit a campfire to ward off the late summer night chill. Slowly, they began to pull up chairs and begin conversations around the fire. I had Katie's and my chair close to the fire. She sat down and patted my arm, and began answering a conversation Lisa was having. I continued to watch uninterrupted all the crowd laughing and joking.

As the fire began to die out, I got up to get more firewood. When I got back, Ricky was occupying my chair and Katie didn't seem disposed to make him get up.

Disgusted, I went away from the fire and sat back at the picnic table. I looked up to see all the stars lighting up the sky. It made me wish I had studied astronomy.

I continued to sit there mesmerized by the Milky Way and I missed hearing Katie approaching me. "Jim, are you okay?" she asked.

I studied the question and replied, "Why, wouldn't I be okay?"

"Well, you just left me and I didn't know if something was wrong."

I continued to look skyward, "Well Katie, you were having such a good time with Ricky, I didn't want to interrupt."

She could sense this wasn't a good time for this conversation so she drifted back to her group. I got tired of the crick in my neck, so I laid in top of the picnic table and started finding the few star formations I knew; the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper and I zoned out.

We stayed out till midnight and then left the island. As I piloted the boat back to the launch, Katie remained in the back with her friends.

I pulled up to the pier and everybody unloaded and left as I tied off the boat. I backed my truck down the launch where I would get the boat trailered and back to Katie's house. I walked her to her car in the marina's parking lot. I asked her if I would see her at her house after I dropped off the boat. She wouldn't look me in the eyes and told me she was spending the night over at Lisa's house. As I leaned in to kiss her, she got in her car and left. I watched as the taillights disappeared.

When I finally got home, I saw a sports car parked at the Smiths' house. I stood looking around the peaceful quiet neighborhood. I climbed on the hood of my truck and leaned back against the windshield to look at the stars. I fell asleep.

I was roused out of my sleep by my Dad wondering what the hell possessed me to fall asleep outside. After I assured him I wasn't on drugs and I did have enough brain cells to figure out where my bedroom was I stumbled off to take a shower.

Sunday morning was church, regardless, how late I stayed out Saturday. I got settled in our pew when I spotted Vicky Smith across the aisle accompanied by a boy that looked vaguely familiar, and then I realized I was seeing Will Akers for the first time not wearing a football uniform. The sight of them sharing a hymn book pissed me off. They whispered and looked at one another during the sermon with their little smiles and held hands during the closing prayer. I wasn't a happy camper.

I stepped out by way of a side door and avoided the receiving line. I thought I saw Vicky craning her neck looking through the congregation. I got to my truck, avoiding a faint shout my way and drove home. I shed my suit and put on casual clothes and spent the entire day watching the river flow.

When I got home, my parents were upset with me since I missed an invitation to join them for supper with the Smiths. They wanted to know why I didn't answer the phone. I told them I just needed to be alone today and asked them for once just leave me alone. They were surprised by my attitude and they did leave me alone for the rest of the night.

I had one week left before official football practice started. We would practice in the early morning and midafternoon. This was known as two some days. The guys had another name for it, Hell. The whole premise was to build up our endurance, get us in shape, practice formations and plays, improve our timing and techniques, and determine each person on the players' chart. I would go in as number 1; I didn't expect to get beaten out by Ricky Wilson.

Coach Chambers pulled me aside and said that he would be in charge of the quarterbacks this year. I didn't say anything or ask any questions. As the days passed before the start of two a days, my stress level rose. This was nothing new for me, because I approached each season as life or death. My parents continued to cut me slack, because they knew I would have to excel in order to get a scholarship.

I started weaning myself away from Katie, but, she was used to me doing this until we started playing games, when, for some reason my stress would fade away. Sunday, instead of going to church, I went back out to the river and spent the day and much of the night there, sorting things out.When I got home, nothing was said.

Monday morning arrived and I was prepared mentally and physically to do everything I needed to do to make my senior year a success.

Less than two hours later my season and probably my career would be over.

It didn't seem like that big a deal at first. We were practicing a new formation and the linesmen got confused with the blocking assignment. Our running back got hit at the line and fumbled. Coach Porter had taught me to move away from a fumble unless I had a clear path to recover the ball. I was moving away when my leg was rolled up under me. I screamed from the pain and grabbed my knee. The trainer ran up and tried to move the knee. Each movement brought on a fresh jolt of pain. An ambulance was called and I was carried to the hospital.

I didn't think about the EMTs' knowing my mother, but, she was standing there as I was carried on the litter into the emergency room. She followed me in and held my hand as the x-rays were taken. The verdict came in; I had torn my anterior cruciate ligament.

Even with surgery, I would be out for six to nine months. My world was collapsing; I didn't see how my parents could afford the surgery, much less the physical therapy. I would have to limp through life wondering what might have been.

I was brought home and put in bed on the sofa downstairs. Mom gave me a pain pill and I drifted off to sleep. I woke that evening and heard my parents discussing me in the kitchen. They were trying to figure out how to pay for my surgery. They finally decided that they would have to take out a second mortgage. I hollered at them and told them I was awake. They came into the den to see how I was doing.

As they fussed over me, I told them I wanted to have a say in any decision that affected me. They agreed to include me in. Mom told me while I was out that many of my teammates called or came over. The Smiths came over and I got an image of Vicky standing over me as I slept. I asked if they heard from Katie, they shook their heads no.

I spent an uncomfortable night trying to sleep as I tried to rationalize away what had happened to me. I had to believe that somehow Katie hadn't heard about me or otherwise she should have been with me. I fell asleep somehow with the image of Vicky brushing my hair off my face as I lay sleeping.




Award



For the rest of the week I languished in the house, I got calls from my football buddies, telling me what was going on and to hang in there. There were a few texts from Katie about how upset she was and how she would take care of me. I heard nothing from Coach Chambers or the coaching staff. My main source of comfort was Carol Smith. She visited every day and I kept finding out more information about her sister.

Saturday evening, my family was surprised by a visit from my former coach, Coach Porter. He looked serious as he sat down. He asked my parents when my surgery was scheduled. They told him they were in the process of taking out a second mortgage to pay for the surgery. He asked them if Coach Chambers had been in contact with them. They told him we hadn't received any word from him.

This angered Coach Porter and he explained why he had felt it necessary to come down for a visit. He revealed the school took out insurance on all athletes, just in case of injuries like I suffered.

It was the responsibility of the head coach to submit the claim. Coach Porter had gotten word that something fishy was going on with my situation.

When he checked into it, he found out Coach Chambers had not submitted a claim. He pulled out a sheaf of documents which were the school's and state's protocols on insurance claims. A photocopy of my insurance policy which was still in effect, and the information for a surgeon that specialized in sport related injuries that Coach Porter recommended.

My mother burst in tears when she heard what Coach Chambers had tried to do. Coach Porter had to convince my dad not to go and beat the hell out of him. We stayed up into the night plotting a course of action in confronting Coach Chambers. Mom went and hugged and kissed Coach Porter and my dad didn't seem to mind as he hugged him, as well.

He asked for a private moment with me. When they left the room, he handed me a CD disk. He told me that he didn't dare play it in front of my parents for fear of what they would do. He trusted me to think and use my discretion on how to handle it. With that, he made his farewells and took off for the long drive back to the University.

After my parents went to bed, I pulled out my laptop and plugged in the CD. It was a portion of Monday's practice film. Coach Chambers was in the habit of filming each practice and scrimmage so he could find any mistakes that needed correcting. It was like an out of body experience as I watched the play that I got hurt on unfolded and the body slam rolled into my knee, and I gasped.

The player that injured me was none other than my backup, Ricky Wilson. Ricky Wilson, who was not even in on that play, saw an opportunity for a cheapshot and took advantage of the situation. I started crying as I thought how my own teammate had betrayed me. But it wasn't just him, Coach Chambers would have seen that and instead of disciplining him, Ricky was now the starting quarterback for the Mooreville Eagles. After all I had done for the team for the past two years; Coach Chambers had discarded me as he would rubbish.

Coach Chambers was surprised when before Monday's practice, my mom, dad, and I walked; ok I hobbled on crutches, into his office. Before, he had a chance to say anything; my dad asked what was the status of filing the insurance claim. Coach Chambers played dumb and pretended he didn't know what dad was talking about. My dad looked at him again and repeated his question, Coach Chambers didn't say anything.

Dad said, "Three things are going to happen if you don't pick up that phone and start the process before we leave this office. One, we will go to our attorney and tell him to file a lawsuit. Two, we will call for a press conference. Three, I will come back here and kick your ass." The quiet resolve in dad's voice left no doubt he would carry out all three promises.

Coach Chambers flushed red, but, he knew better than not to obey my dad. Coach Chambers called the agent and dad insisted he put it on speaker phone. The agent asked for the information regarding the claim. Dad asked him to send a copy of all information the agent received, including any correspondence by Coach Chambers or the coaching staff. The agent assured dad that it would not be a problem.

When we left, I knew we had crossed a line that Coach Chambers would never forgive me or my family. That afternoon, I heard a small radio interview Coach Chambers gave stating that Ricky Wilson was twice the quarterback I was and what a divisive and petty person I was before I got hurt. The insults didn't bother me from him; it was when callers called in and agreed with him that irked me. I started getting accused of doing things that never happened. I thought about calling and setting the record straight, but, I decided not to do that.

Thursday, the agent called and said the claim was approved and we could schedule an appointment with the surgeon. Due to mother being a RN, we were able to sneak in an appointment, Friday afternoon. After a review of the records and a thorough examination, the surgeon scheduled the operation for the following Tuesday. I knew the early date was Coach Porter calling in a favor.

The only bad collateral matter was that everybody from the team stopped calling or coming by. I could only assume that Coach Chambers had banned them from contacting me. I got confirmation from the team manager who called and told me I would not be allowed to be on the sidelines during games, or access to the fieldhouse. I would not be allowed on team trips. I would not be allowed to wear a game jersey. I would not be able to associate with any of the players. I would not be allowed to attend afternoon's PE classes. Billy sounded really sad that he was the bearer of bad news. I told him I knew it wasn't coming from him and wished him luck during the season.

I should explain about the afternoon PE classes. Coach Chambers had created a system where the athletes took all their core classes; English, History, Math, and Science in the mornings. The athletes' optional courses were all PE courses, which were taught by the coaching staff in the afternoon. So those designated courses were closed to all other students and used as extended football practice. Another rule bent by Coach Chambers.

I would have to go to the registrar and select new optional courses before school started. I felt adrift after having school structured for me all in my past and now finally, I would be responsible for a portion of my education. After looking at the available courses, I decided to take guitar, art appreciation, and computers.

While I had practiced the guitar for several years and was proficient in it, art appreciation and computers were out of the blue selections.

It would be a brave new world for me. Tuesday, the operation was performed with flying colors. The surgeon told us we would barely be able to see the scar when it healed.

He cautioned me to only do the permissible physical therapy, if I tried to overdo it I would wind up injuring my knee again. I promised to listen and obey the physical therapists. I received no notes, get well cards, or calls from my teammates after my operation. I didn't hear from Katie either.

I had two weeks to recuperate before school started. I began physical therapy at the hospital and once again my mother's influence came to fruition.

Rather than the barebone physical therapy allowed by the insurance, my mom saw to it I got the best of physical therapy off the books by calling in some favors. She also saw to it I was included on her health plan which allowed me access to the state of the art hospital's gym, since I was banned from the fieldhouse.

I was told my rate of improvement was impressive and I would only have to be on crutches for one month. I wasn't looking forward to navigating on crutches in a busy school hallway. But, it is what it is.

Several things happened on the first day at school. I fell and busted my ass and I found out Katie had a new boyfriend.

I was slowly making my way to my class when somebody behind me gave a hard push; rather than try to regain my balance, I chose to protect my knee and hit on my side. It still jolted the knee, but, I couldn't tell if any damage was done.

I heard people laughing as I was on the floor trying to recover. I looked up and there was the cocksucker, Ricky, guffawing at his little prank. He had his arm around a laughing Katie. I realized I had already been replaced by one of the country club set. Ricky's and Katie's clique of hyenas and jackals joined in the mirth.

It hurt me as I watched people I grew up with, passing by, not wanting to get involved as I laid prone on the hallway floor. I knew they didn't want to get involved, but, I thought at least one person would stop to help.

Since I couldn't get assistance I remained on the floor since I didn't trust Ricky by getting in a defenseless position. I grabbed the crutches and resolved that if Ricky wandered into range, I would take him out.

Suddenly, one of the crutches was snatched from me and I looked up and saw Vicky Smith brandishing the crutch, daring Ricky to try something.

"Come on shithead! I've been looking for an excuse to kick your sorry motherfucking ass!" It amazed me that someone who looked like an angel could talk like that. With Vicky protecting me, I got up and took the crutch away from her and got situated. I told her, "Come on Vicky, he won't attack anyone unless their back is turned."

She accompanied me down the hallway and asked me where I was headed, I told her and she escorted me to the classroom. I thanked her, but, she wouldn't look me in the eyes, she mumbled goodbye and walked down the hallway. I was enthralled by the sway of her hips as she disappeared from my sight.

The next morning, I was called out of my English class and told to report to the principal's office. When I reported, I saw Vicky and she was upset. Ricky Wilson, his parents, and Coach Chambers were also in attendance. The principal told me he had a report that Vicky and I had threatened some students with my crutch. The complaint was corroborated by a number of students that allegedly witnessed the incident. I wanted to slap the smarmy smile right off Ricky's face. His parents were insisting that me and Vicky be suspended from school.

I did the unexpected, I told the principal to call the police so they could review the security footage from yesterday. If they saw a crime being committed on it then they could arrest the guilty party.

Ricky paled at my suggestion. After a hasty consultation, Vicky and I were told it was decided that it wasn't necessary to involve the police, but, for us not to cause any more problems. I looked at our accusers and warned them not to involve Vicky in my situation.

Vicky and I left, she wanted to find out what was going on. I told her, we didn't have the time, so we made plans to have lunch together. At lunch, I clued Vicky in on what was going on.

I told her everything, for some reason it was important that I didn't hold back anything from her. I sat transfixed wondering how she could make eating a tuna fish sandwich look so good. I told her it probably wouldn't be good for her to hang around me. She looked at me and said she would decide who to hang around with and nobody would stop her.

I was transfixed by the resolve in her beautiful eyes; all I wanted to do was look into them all day long. I must have stared too long, because apparently she had asked me a question, which startled me back into reality. I fumbled around and asked her to repeat what she said.

She asked me if I was doing anything later this Friday evening. I knew after the reception I had received at school I would not be welcomed at the football game. Suddenly, I felt that I had been cast adrift alone against the world. My entire validation as a human being had been taken from me and I didn't know how to get it back.

Vicky sensed something was wrong and lightly patted my forearm in a comradely fashion. She asked me to come over to her house and we would hang out. Somehow, I stammered out that I would. That earned me a wonderful smile and she said she was looking forward to it.

That evening I went over to the Smiths' where I was warmly greeted. Jimmy was wearing his new Harrisburg Lions T shirt. I just smiled at him and told him that next time I would beat him up. That earned a big grin from him as I maneuvered to sit down at their table.

The table was set up with a Monopoly board ready for play. I found out that I had been preselected the thimble icon to my protest and general derision of the Smiths.

Vicky had a radio onto the Harrisburg game, so for the first time since the third grade I was not going to hear, watch, or play in a Mooreville's game.

It was kind of a culture shock for me hearing up close cheers and applause for one of my former rivals. It was a pang to the heart to watch Vicky jump up and down every time Will Akers did something. And it seemed he did something every time they had the ball.

Harrisburg had no problem with their opponent and to fill the airspace, the Harrisburg radio announcers spent the entire game praising Will Akers and how he was the odds on favorite to be All State. When that got boring, they would start speculating on what records he would set in college. Vicky ate up all the accolades for Will Akers and I had to just sit there taking it in.

Lucky (or maybe unluckily) I busted out of the game in a couple of hours. One of the other things I discovered about the Smith family was that Carol had the heart and soul of a robber baron as she gleefully collected all my remaining money and deeds after I landed on her Boardwalk property complete with hotel.

I was told that I could have a rematch next Friday. Carol laughed when I said that I didn't think my ego would recover by then.

While, everyone was laughing, Vicky got a call on her cellphone. From her expression, it was obvious it was Will and she left the table for privacy. I decided it was time for me to go, so I said goodnight and I hobbled home and went to my bedroom and turned on my radio.

As I expected, Mooreville didn't have any trouble in their game either as I listened to the post game broadcast. Ricky Wilson was being touted as the leading player of the team and fawning callers was bragging about his accomplishments and making derogatory comments about me. I guess I should have expected that since Ricky's family was rich and important in the community, whereas, mine was definitely blue-collar. I turned off the radio, and the lights and laid awake on my bed staring at the ceiling.

The rest of the weekend I focused on doing my homework and remaining isolated. Sunday, I attended church on the back pew, so I could get in and out easy with my crutches.

Monday came and I started another school week. I watched from afar as Ricky and Katie basked in their glory. I thought maybe that would mean they were over pulling pranks on me. Still, I could tell from the sneers and scorn I got as I slowly went through the hall that my trials and tribulations were still ongoing.

I couldn't understand it. For the past years I always treated my friends and classmates with respect and enjoyed socializing with them, but, now I was an outcast, that wasn't acceptable to the other outcasts. I was my own little clique, and it wasn't a lot of fun.

Lunchtime came and I sat alone at a table, glumly watching the other students. I heard a voice behind me.

"Mind if I join you?"

Vicky sat down opposite me and my day got a lot brighter.

"Well, lucky for you that we had that chair available for you" I said sardonically.

"Yeah, this is definitely the A table" she replied wistfully.

That woke me up to a few things I hadn't considered. As bad as it was for me, it was just as bad for Vicky. She had gone from being one of the most popular girls at Harrisburg to a nobody thanks to her confrontations with Ricky. All she had for friends were long distance calls, texts, and Skyping. I was the closest thing to being a friend in person.

We started talking about different topics and now it was easier for us to engage in conversation, Before I knew it the bell rang for the afternoon class to begin. So we got up and said our goodbyes. Our own little two person clique.

We continued to meet for lunch through the week, just the two of us. We would sit at our table quietly talking, getting to know one another. I quickly came to the realization that one hour a day wasn't enough time to spend with her, but, I made the best of it.

Once again, I was invited to come over Friday evening to Vicky's house and once again I accepted.

I groaned as I saw the Monopoly board set out again. I glared at Carol and asked if she didn't know any other game. She giggled and handed me the thimble token again. Carol and Jimmy, both had a friend over, so it was evident they were acclimating to Mooreville, even if Vicky wasn't.

Harrisburg had a bye week, so they weren't playing tonight. Vicky kept looking at the clock as we played. I could tell she was hoping for a call.

Carol set a record by bankrupting me within an hour to howls of delights. Vicky was leading the laughter when the phone rang and she excused herself. I must've showed my feelings because Carol just looked at me and patted my arm. I left to go home and listen to the end of the Mooreville game. Ricky Wilson was once again being hailed as the hero of the game. I heard a post game interview from Coach Chambers saying that Ricky was the best player he ever had at Mooreville. From all the suck ups that called in afterward, you'd thought he was right.

Sunday, I was sitting on the back pew in church when I saw Carol looking back at me. She motioned me to come forward to their pew. I held up my crutches and shook my head no. She acknowledged my reason by nodding her head and whispered something to her mother. Her mom looked back and then whispered something back to Carol. When service was over Carol made a beeline to me.

"Vicky is mad at you."

"Why is she mad at me?" I asked.

"Because, you left when she was on the phone."

I started to get upset and told her, "Well tell your sister that I got mad when she decided to talk on the phone, rather than pay attention to her guest." I stormed away as well as you can storm away on crutches.

The next week at school I didn't see Vicky, so once again I was in exile. I didn't get an invitation to come over Friday, so I spent the evening listening to the Mooreville game. It was another easy victory and they got an interview with Ricky on the radio. To listen to him, you wouldn't know there were ten other players on the field helping him. I started trying to count all the "I" and "me's" interspersed in the interview, but, I lost track. 

Saturday, was a wasted day and Sunday, I was once again on the back row when I felt the presence of someone sitting next to me. I looked, and there was Vicky staring straight ahead. She said, "I'm sorry" right before the sermon commenced and I whispered back, "I'm sorry too" as I stared ahead as well. I did see a hint of a grin appear on her face.

After the service, she turned and looked at me and said, "So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

I shook my head and said, "No, not tomorrow."

She started frowning as I continued, "I'm getting fitted for a knee brace tomorrow."

She smiled and said, "That's great, Jim! I know you won't miss these crutches."

"I don't know Vicky. They might come in handy knocking the crap out of Ricky Wilson."

She laughed and said, "So, I'll see you Tuesday?"

"You can count on it." I told her.

She grinned and rose from the pew and as she walked away, she turned back and said, "I missed you." Then she continued to walk away.

I continued to sit as I ran all the possible permutations of her statement through my head. One thing for sure, I couldn't wait for Tuesday to arrive.




Award



Tuesday eventually got there and she complimented me on my improved mobility as I got to the table. We continued as though we never had a riff, and talked through lunch hour. As we got up, I told her, "Vicky, I missed you, too." That earned me a big smile.

I got another Friday invitation, but, when I arrived I was surprised to see only Vicky at the house. Carol and Jimmy were both at the Mooreville game with their new friends. I marveled at the way they transitioned to their new surrounding. Yet, Vicky was still stuck in a Twilight Zone of languishing her senior year of school with me as her only friend.

We just sat and talked as the radio once again played in the background. Vicky refrained herself from breaking the conversation when Will Akers was mentioned on the air and I diplomatically left right after the game, so she could talk with Will when he called.

Sunday, she sat by me in church again, and we talked at length in the parking lot. I could tell she was a little nervous, but, she never said what was bothering her. I couldn't help but wonder what was going on. I figured she would tell me in due time. Monday, I got the same vibe from her. Tuesday, I asked her what was going on that was bothering her.

She told me a favorite band of hers was playing in Mooreville this Friday night and did I want to go. I asked her what was the name of the band and she told me it was Angelfire. I must have shown some surprise on my face, but, she reassured me that even though it was an all girl band that I would enjoy it. I told her I was sure I would. I made a note to make a special call that night.

Friday came and I drove my truck over and picked her up. We got to the small venue and got a table on the front row. Vicky was perplexed. She explained she could only get standing room audience tickets, not a reserved table. I told her not to question our good fortune.

It wasn't all peaches and cream. The table next to us had four of the biggest, ugliest lumberjack lesbians I had ever seen and they let me know in no uncertain terms that I wasn't welcomed there. I kept ignoring them and eventually the house light dimmed and the band came out to thunderous applause.

They did a three hour set of hard rock, with a few acoustic ballads interspersed throughout the set. The lead guitarist and singer paid a lot of attention to our table, looking and smiling at us. Once during a song break she addressed us with the question of how we were enjoying the show. That even got the lesbians attention of why we warranted such notice.

When the band came back out for their encore, the singer went to her mic and said, "We want to bring up a helluva guitarist for this song, so come on up here Shoe!"

The stunned look on Vicky's face quickly gave way to delight and cheers from her as I stood up and went to the stage. They already had a Gibson Les Paul tuned and plugged in for me. Once more, the singer turned to me and said, "Think you can keep up with this one?" with a grin, as the drummer counted it down.

Then, the bass player began the opening riff to "Whipping Post" and then I began the rhythm guitar intro, and we were off to the races, as the singer whipped her audience into a frenzy all the way through the song. As I concentrated on the crescendo guitar lead mixing with the piercing lead guitar slide, I chanced a glimpse of Vicky staring enthralled at me. Then came the final climatic pleading wail of the singer being tied to the whipping post and the fade of the notes signaling the end.

For a few brief microsecond, there was dead silence; then an explosion of sound filled the building as the roar of applause and cheers echoed everywhere. The guitarist came over to me as I unstrapped the Gibson and gave me a big hug and kiss, which gave rise to another round of applause, as she shouted into her mic, "Shoe Andrews!"

As I passed the stunned lumberjack lesbians, I thought, Take that, you bitches! Vicky was hopping up and down as I approached and said, "OH MY GOD! You were fantastic!!!" as she hugged me in a tight embrace.

I grabbed her hand and said, "Come on, we have to go backstage!" and I led her pass the now envious lesbians. As we got backstage, the singer spotted me again and shouted out, "Shoe!" and ran to me and gave me another hug and kiss. "Did you enjoy that, little brother?"

That last comment must have explained a lot of questions Vicky had as the realization kicked in. I introduced Vicky, to my sister, Mary and then to the rest of the band. Vicky gushed as she told them they were her favorite band.

Mary told her, "Yeah, Shoe told us that, so that's why we wanted to make this a special time for you." as she sipped on her honey laced hot tea to soothe her throat.

"I have to ask, why do you call him Shoe?"

Mary smiled with a gleam of mischief, "When Jim was a baby and was teething, he somehow got ahold of our mother's favorite dress shoes and chewed one of them so bad that she had to throw them away. So from that point on, we always called him Shoe!"

The band, their entourage, and Vicky all cracked up laughing with Mary's explanation. Then Mary, in an act of sheer devilment offered to tell Vicky more embarrassing tales about me. To forestall the utter destruction of my reputation I told Vicky we had to go. As we retreated from backstage, Mary told Vicky to call her and she would tell her everything. I groaned at this unforseen consequence.

All the way home Vicky raved about the evening and I was happy that for at least tonight I saw Vicky totally happy. Another side benefit was the specter of Will Akers did not appear. For once, I had Vicky all to myself.

When we got to her house, I walked her to her door. I leaned down to kiss her and she stopped me. "Jim, I can't cheat on Will."

The euphoria I had felt before deflated and I bumbled through an apology and left. Saturday, I tried to call her and I got her voice mail. Sunday, she sat with her family at church.

Come Monday, she was sitting at our table. As I sat down, she looked away from me. When she gathered the courage to look at me, she found me staring in her beautiful green eyes.

Before she said anything, I spoke.

"Vicky, Friday night I made a big mistake. My mistake wasn't trying to kiss you. It was apologizing for wanting to kiss you. You are an incredible and beautiful girl. The only happiness I have in my life is when I'm around you. Every hour I'm with you makes me want to have another hour with you."

"With that said, I understand how you feel about your boyfriend, Will. I wish he wasn't in your life, but, I have to accept that he is. I won't try to take advantage of you, but understand this, if you ever need me, I'll be there for you. Because I care deeply for you and that feeling is growing every day I see you."

I got up and limped down toward class. Approaching me was Ricky and Katie in all their glory, riding high on an undefeated season. I heard some derogatory remarks from their entourage and laughter erupting as Ricky made a comment. It made me wonder, did the same thing happen for me when I was riding high? Did people actually hang on every word I said? Had I been that big a jackass?

That evening, I got a call from my sister, Mary. She asked me what I was doing Saturday evening. I told her I didn't have any plans. She asked if I wanted to sit in with Angelfire for an entire show. I enthusiastically agreed to do that. She asked me if Vicky would be with me and I told her I would ask her. 

When I saw Vicky at lunch the next day I asked if she had plans for Saturday night. She reddened and mumbled about having a prior commitment. I understood that meant that she and Will had something planned. I quickly changed topics and we bumbled through the rest of the lunch period. We continued our uneasy alliance the rest of the week.

Saturday, I found myself on Angelfire's tour bus as Mary went through the repertoire of songs we would be playing tonight. Even with the impromptu rehearsal, I apparently met the band's satisfaction as we wheeled onto Carden, the city we would be playing at. Between practicing the songs, Mary launched into an unending interrogation about Vicky and I continued to deflect her enquiries.

Soon we were set up on the stage and ran through a sound check. As we waited backstage for the show to begin, the owner came back pleased to announce a standing room only crowd of 2,500 awaited us.

"Nervous, little brother?" my sister asked. I smiled and reminded her that I was used to playing football to crowds more than 10,000. But the truth was, I was petrified doing something out of my comfort zone, but, I didn't want to let Mary down.

After we were announced, we entered from offstage and the first thing that caught my eye was the same four ugly lesbians sitting in the front row. I think they were just as shocked as I gave Mary a rueful grin as I plugged into my amp.

We cranked through the first set and I apparently played well enough to satisfy even the lesbians as they began to cheer my playing. I began to really enjoying myself as we finished the last song of the set and we moved offstage for a short break.

"Jim, Jim Andrews!" a voice shouted from the crowd. I peered in the crowd and quickly made out Vicky and her boyfriend, Will Akers. Will was holding Vicky's hand as he negotiated his way to the stage. I could tell Vicky was uncomfortable and reluctant as he led her toward us.

"Hey man, great to see you here!" he exclaimed as he held Vicky close to him. I knew Mary was watching us trying to figure out what was going on. As far as that went, so was I. It wasn't as though Will and I were friends.

"Vicky has been telling me that you've been taking care of her for me!" he said with a shit eating grin. Too bad about your knee, I was looking forward to beating you this year. I guess I'll have to settle to being All-State and Champion without your help. Maybe, you can come watch me play when I start playing college ball!" Will continued to taunt me. "At least, you've got something to fall back on now that you can't play ball." he sneered.

I just looked at him and then a mortified Vicky as I excused myself and went backstage. An incensed Mary demanded, "Who was that motherfucker?" I looked my sister in the eyes and told her that was Vicky's boyfriend. She thought a few minutes and told the band there was a change in plans for the closing set.

When we came back out, I spotted where Vicky and a smug Will Akers were sitting. What the audience didn't know was I was going to be showcased the entire set as I blazed through one song after another whipping the crowd into a frenzy. When we ended the set, the entire band was drenched in sweat from the energy and the crowd insisted on encore after encore.

Finally, just Mary and I took the stage carrying Martin acoustic guitars. As the crowd settled, we both began playing the opening chords of Shake Russell's, "You Got A Lover"

"The clubs are all closed and there's nowhere to go and the sun won't show for hours. The streets have all emptied and lovers lay sleeping and dreaming of each other."

I sang the ballad with the heartache I felt.

I looked at Vicky as I addressed the next lines to her.

"You've got a lover but it's not me. He can't love you like I can. There will be others, yes I understand. Will they love me like you can?"

Mary took the next lines and her piercing voice gave reply to my anguish.

"There's acres and acres of heartbroken lovers, I know we're not the first ones. But sometimes it seems, that it's just like a dream that you try hard to remember."

We harmonized on the chorus consoling one another and then I sang the final stanza.

"The clubs are all closing, you know, I was hoping that time would hold me over. I pull up my collar, walk into the night, I'll be looking for an answer."

Once again, we sang the chorus, and when Mary's mournful voice soared on the line, "It's not me" opened the floodgate to everyone in the audience. It seemed like every female was weeping as we finished. The audience surged forward as the rest of the band came out to accept the final accolades.

While they signed autographs and had pictures taken, I found myself being hugged by the four charter members of the Shoe Andrews Fan Club. I thanked them for their compliments and reminded them that Angelfire's CD's were being sold out front. They promised they would all buy a complete set as they left. Vicky and Will did not come by.

Finally, we stumbled backstage and began recovering from all the effort. I got hugs and kisses from the band as they complimented my playing and told me that I was welcome to play anytime with them. Mary had me sign a release, so they could market tonight's performance. She assured me that I had increased the bankroll of everyone in the band. I fell asleep all the way back home. 

Mary spent a rare night home and joined us for church in the morning. She gave a non committal stare at Vicky as she and Will went to sit with her family. After the service, I noticed that Mary had taken Vicky off for a private talk for a few minutes. I asked her what was going on as Mary drove me home. She just smiled andsaid she had just exchanged phone numbers with Vicky.

The next day at school signaled several changes. The big news at school was the upset loss the Eagles had suffered to a weak Parlington team. Coach Chambers had chewed out Ricky Wilson during the game on the sidelines. Ricky, in turn, threw a temper tantrum, blaming the defense for the loss. The upshot was the quest for an undefeated season was over and Ricky's star had a little tarnish on it.

I couldn't have cared less. Vicky had greeted me at lunch with a big smile and our discomfort from the past week was over. She told me how much she enjoyed my playing without ever mentioning Will. I accepted the compliment and decided not to bring down the conversation by mentioning his comments to me.

Then she gave me the surprising news that I would be hosting her dad and brother at deer camp this weekend. That was a shock because my dad and I hunted with a close-knit group of friends. Outsiders were rarely invited to hunt on the grounds and to be allowed to camp was almost unheard of.

It made me understand how close our families had become over the past couple of months. For Dad to invite Mr. Smith and Jimmy to our camp was the final approval of acceptance. I asked Vicky how often her dad and Jimmy had hunted in the past. She told me this would be their first time. She noticed right away my frown.

"Is there something wrong, Jim?"

I recovered and smiled and said, "Nothing that can't be fixed, Vicky."

Before I got to class, I made a quick call to the Smiths' household. When I got home, Jimmy and Mr. Smith were waiting for me as I loaded up the truck. I took them out to a shooting range and began instructing them on gun safety. I continued to stress over and over the need for care handling weapons.

Then, I went over and got my rifle, a Winchester Model 70, 30-06. I began to explain the features to my wide-eyed students. Then I let them handle the weapon and made them both recite back to me the things I had told them. 

Then, I explained the power of the 30-06. This was a rifle that had a lot of knock down power, but, it translated back into having a hard recoil. I gave them both a pad to stuff in their shirt to lessen the recoil.

We moved up to the firing line and they watched as I carefully loaded the weapon. All the time I was explaining how to sight the weapon and to squeeze, rather than jerk the trigger. I took aim and fired at the target 100 yards away. They flinched at the explosion of the round as I moved the bolt and ejected the round. I quickly brought the rifle back up and fired again. Another cartridge ejected and another round fired. When the rifle was empty of cartridges, I had them look through the scope at the grouping of shots in the bull's-eye.

Mr. Smith was quietly determined as I reloaded and handed him the weapon. As he began to fire, I gave out pointers and soon he was hitting the target consistently. I did the same for Jimmy, but, I told him, if he didn't like shooting, to tell me. I didn't want to force him to do this. He was determined to follow the example me and his father had set. 

When he fired the first time, I thought he was going to be knocked to the ground. He was game, however and insisted on being allowed to shoot. When we finished for the day, I drove them home and they asked if I could continue to give them afternoon lessons.

For the rest of the week, they target practiced on targets consisting of deer images and the vital points to aim for. I kept stressing safety to them and slowly introduced hunting etiquette and the various traditions of our deer camp.

Mr. Smith had done some homework and decided he would purchase a Remington 700, 243 caliber for the hunt and practiced extensively to get used to it. Jimmy was disappointed to learn that for this first year, he would not have a rifle. I continued to try to cheer him up as we prepared to go to camp.

Friday came and my dad introduced Mr. Smith and Jimmy to everyone and they fitted right in from the first moment. We were given our hunting areas and I told Jimmy he could come with me and his eyes lit up. Dad would accompany Mr. Smith so we would both be responsible for a novice hunter.

We soon got to bed, since we would need to be in our blinds before dawn. I woke up around 4am and went to build a fire in the old wood burning stove and put on the coffee pots that would fuel the hunters. One by one, they awoke and we silently did the chores to get ready for the hunt. I studied Jimmy's gear and made sure he had his hunting license as we went out into the forest of the cold October night.

We got to our blind and waited for the dawn to break. We were awarded with a gorgeous sunrise as we continued to wait in silence for the world to awaken. Soon, we were alerted to faint intermittent gunshots echoing through the woods. Still, we saw nothing.

After about an hour I felt a hard tug on my jacket. I looked and realized Jimmy had spotted a deer. Not just a deer, but, a trophy deer as I studied the large 14 point white tail. This was the type deer every hunter lusted for and now it was in my grasp. I sneaked a peek at Jimmy and the look of yearning as he stared focused on the deer was unmistakable.

I nudged him and his eyes widen in surprise as I offered him my rifle. I nodded at him to accept it and slowly, not to spook the deer he took it. As he took aim, I prayed he would make a clean kill, so we wouldn't have to track down a wounded animal. He fired and the deer went instantly down and did not get back up.

"Oh my God, Jim!" he yelled excitedly as he safety the rifle. I took the weapon from him and carefully prodded the deer to make sure he was dead. I didn't have to bother, Jimmy's shot had hit him dead center in the heart. All the practice at the shooting range had paid off.

"What do we do now?" he asked as he was still jumping up and down. I grinned at him and told him to take one of his tags off his license and attach it to the antlers. He did so and then asked the next step.

"Now" I said as I hoisted the front legs of the deer on my shoulders, "we go back to camp!" I started dragging the deer behind me. I continued to grin as Jimmy floated on air beside me carrying my rifle. I was pleased to see that he kept it pointed away from us at all time.

As I struggled to carry the big buck through the woods, it dawned on me that my knee was giving me no trouble. Perhaps, just perhaps, I might hope to recover fully I thought. When we finally came to the clearing at the deer camp, I gasped to Jimmy, "Next year, you're dragging your own damn deer!" His grin told me, he could've probably done it.

I told him, that the next part may be unsettling to him as I explained the need to dress the deer. 




Award



"We eat what we kill, Jimmy. This is no different than you eating a hamburger. The same process is done to a cow. It is bloody and it is messy, but, if you want to hunt, you have to come to grips with it," I warned.

He nodded solemnly as I handed him my hunting knife and I raised the deer up and carefully explained to him how to skin the deer. He cautiously followed my instructions and didn't flinch as he removed the organs and intestines. I then carried the carcass to my dad's freezer as Jimmy buried the offal.

After he finished, he came to me and we sat waiting on the return of all the hunters. Slowly they drifted in, and for those fortunate to bag a deer, Jimmy would volunteer to dress it to continue gaining his experience.

Among the last to arrive in camp were my dad and Mr. Smith. We watched as Mr. Smith dragged in a deer. "Look at what I got, Jimmy!" he shouted. We casually wandered over as dad and Mr. Smith prepared to dress the deer. "Way to go, Dad!" Jimmy said as he began to dress out his father's deer. Mr. Smith looked on in amazement as Jimmy expertly cleaned the deer and I carried it to our now full freezer.

That night, Mr. Smith and Jimmy experienced their first taste of venison as they devoured the steaks I had prepared. I could tell that it wouldn't be the last time they ate it as they continued to enjoy the fellowship of the camp.

Then Dad got up to make a little speech. "Today, has been a great day hunting and enjoying one another's company as we have done so now for three generations. I'm pleased to announce that the members of the camp have voted unanimously to invite the Smiths' to join our camp. So what do you say, Tom?"

The look of pleasure on Tom Smith's face couldn't be disguised as he accepted to a round of applause. "Now, Tom, we have a tradition that when you kill your first deer, you undergo a rite." Tom nodded as this was one of the things I had told him at the shooting range. Dad, went over and smeared Tom's cheek with deer blood and cut off his shirttail. 

Tom said that this had been one of the best days in his life and he couldn't wait to have his deer head mounted in his study as he looked at the three point spike he had killed that afternoon.

"You might want to rethink about mounting that head." I interrupted, "Besides, we aren't through with the ceremony yet!"

I was pleased by the buzz from the camp as they tried to figure out what I meant. 

"Jimmy, why don't you show them what you brought home today."

The clamor from the camp erupted as Jimmy brought in the 14 point buck head.

"Son, did you really kill that?" Tom asked.

"Yes, Dad, Jim gave me his rifle after I pointed out the deer. He told me since I had spotted it first, I deserved the chance at it!"

"Well, boy, I guess we'll have to go back and buy you a rifle when we get home!"

Jimmy continued to grin.

"At least, it won't cost you that much, Mr. Smith. The club has a yearly contest to see who kills the biggest buck. Jimmy's deer won it this year!" I announced as everyone crowded Jimmy offering handshakes and congratulations. Jimmy insisted that I do the honor as I applied deer blood on his cheek and cut off his shirttail.

Then photographs were taken of father and son capturing the moment in posterity as the men in the Smiths' family jointly celebrated this rite of passage. When we got home late Sunday, we had agreed that the deer meat would go in my dad's freezer and a meal would be planned soon for the entire Smith family to enjoy at our house, so Mrs. Smith would learn how to marinate and prepare the meat.

I told Mr. Smith that I would drop off Jimmy's deer head to the taxidermist first thing in the morning so he could mount it. He gripped my hand tightly in a handshake and thanked me for all the help I had given him and Jimmy. Jimmy was undecided between giving me a hug and shaking my hand, so we did both as I wished him a goodnight.

Monday at lunch I was treated to a beaming Vicky as she announced I had achieved hero status with Jimmy. I told her, he had done all the hard work; I was just there, along for the ride. She then explained that her Dad wasn't far behind Jimmy in thinking I hung the moon. She said Carol was upset that I helped Jimmy kill a poor deer. But, then Jimmy explained to her that hunting kept the deer population under control; otherwise, they would all be starving. Also, that it wasn't any different from eating a hamburger. Vicky said she knew immediately where he picked up that rationale.

I just grinned and asked how her weekend went. We talked about how Mooreville barely squeeked by its last opponent, no thanks to Ricky Wilson. Rumors were floating around that the offense was ready to mutiny against him, until Coach Chambers talked to everyone. There must have been some validity to it, because guys on the team started talking to me once again. I was careful not to say anything derogatory about anyone.

I could tell Katie was unhappy that I was coming out of Siberia. This week was Homecoming at our school. Katie barely managed to get elected on the Homecoming Court and her BFF, Lisa earned her eternal animosity by being elected Queen. Katie and Ricky had a shouting match during one of their class when Katie blamed her demotion to Ricky's lackluster play.

The callers on the radio show turned against him as well. Call after call came in complaining about how inept Ricky was and how they wished I hadn't have gotten hurt. Even Coach Chambers wasn't able to convince anyone about Ricky anymore.

That Friday evening, I was with Vicky once again at her house. She turned on the Mooreville game, briefly and we heard how Mooreville was getting beaten down in the third quarter. She smiled, thinking I would be pleased by the news. Instead she saw me react with sadness. I told her, how it had been my goal to lead my team to a State championship this year, and now, it was a failed dream.

We sat in silence and then she took my hand and said we were going for a drive. She drove us to the football stadium and we argued until she got out of the car and said that I could wait till she came back after the game. I grumbled as I got out to accompany her.

When we reached the stands, we saw Carol and Jimmy waving to us, motioning for us to come sit by them. As we walked toward them, we heard a few people start clapping in the stands. The applause grew, even though there was nothing going on in the game that warranted applause. Still people began to stand up and cheer, I still couldn't figure it out. Then Vicky, whispered to me they were cheering for me. She stepped back and began applauding, as well.

I stopped, stunned by the adulation as the crowd roared to me and gave me a standing ovation. I saw the offense on the field stop the play and began applauding me, as well as the rest of the team on the sideline. I began to tear up and I raised my hand thanking everyone and that caused another round of applause, as Vicky and I continued toward Carol and Jimmy.

I sat quiet for several minutes, not trusting myself not to breakdown if I tried to speak. Vicky, Carol, and Jimmy pretended not to notice how emotional I was as Mooreville continued to lose its Homecoming game. When the game was over, I asked Vicky to take me to the river. When I got out, I walked away toward the bank and cried by myself, until Vicky came over and held me until I could recover. I asked her to take me home.

As she drove, she said she wanted to ask a favor of me. Next Friday, it would be Harrisburg's Homecoming game against, you guessed it, Mooreville. Her closest friend, Susan was Homecoming Queen and she wanted to go to the game and surprise her and Will. She had already talked with her parents and they said she could go if I went on the trip with her.

As much as it would hurt me to see her and Will together I told her I would do it. The gloom of the school matched my own, except for the times I put on my game face for Vicky. I arrived at Vicky's house Friday afternoon to find out that Carol and Jimmy were going along as well. As Tom Smith handed me the keys to the family's BMW sedan, I commented at least I wouldn't lose at Monopoly tonight. That earned a round of guffaws as I told everyone to buckle up.

The two hour trip passed quickly as we all engaged in conversation. Vicky had let it slip that she had talked several times to my sister, Mary. I could only imagine what those conversations were about. Carol and Jimmy insisted on knowing what they discussed. That was when Vicky revealed to them my nickname, Shoe. For the remainder of the trip to Harrisburg I was bombarded with shoe comments.

Due to Harrisburg undefeated season, the stadium was jam packed. Somehow, Vicky found seats on the Mooreville side, which was flooded with the spillover Harrisburg fans. She said, she would meet with Susan, Will, and the rest of her friends after the game. I watched as Vicky's friend, Susan was crowned Queen. She was an attractive brunette, but, there was no doubt in my mind, that under different circumstances, Vicky, would be wearing that tiara.

Vicky was thinking that as well as I saw the sad look on her face. I took her hand and held it, just to show my support for her. She smiled at my effort and continued to look wistfully on what she had missed out on.

You couldn't really call it a game. Will Akers came out blazing and he didn't let up for the entire game. When the score got to 56-0, Coach Chambers gave up the ghost after the fifth interception and replaced Ricky with a junior quarterback to give him some experience. Ricky sat forlornly on the bench and no one came over to him to cheer him up.

When the clock went to zero, Vicky jumped up and ran out on the field. Will Akers had been hoisted on the shoulders of his teammates as they led him over to the Homecoming Court. They deposited him in front of Susan where the two kissed at midfield to the delight of the Harrisburg crowd.

"You Sonuvabitch!" I yelled loud enough for him to hear me. Vicky was still walking toward them in shock from the betrayal. I was moving as fast as I could to get to Vicky. I caught her right before she collapsed in front of her Harrisburg friends. Susan continued to possessively hold Will in her grasp and he made no effort to go to Vicky. I led Vicky away from the scene as she broke down in my arms.

Out of nowhere, Carol and Jimmy appeared and we all helped get Vicky to the car. I put Vicky in the back seat and told Carol to take care of her. Jimmy got in the front seat and we began the arduous journey back to Mooreville.

It was breaking my heart to hear her sobs as I stole glances in the rear view mirror of Carol consoling her sister. I gave Jimmy my cell phone and quietly told him to text his mother about what happened. 

When we got home, her parents were waiting outside as I shut off the motor. When she saw her mother, Vicky sought her arms and they stood there as Mrs. Smith comforted her daughter. I told Carol to let me know if I could do anything. She nodded her agreement and followed her mother and sister inside.

As I stood outside with Jimmy and Tom Smith, I asked him if he would mind if I kept his car for a little while longer. He asked me why. I told him I was going back to Harrisburg to kick the everloving shit out of Will Akers. He said, "Son, as much as I would like for you to do it, I can't let you." He told me to come inside and be there for Vicky.

When I went into the den, Vicky got up and came over to me and hugged me as she continued to cry. I watched as the rest of the family slipped off as I led Vicky back to the couch.

"Its going to be okay, baby. I'm not going to let anybody hurt you." I softly whispered to her and she reacted by hugging me tighter. I continued to hold her throughout the night, consoling her. When I woke up the early morning sun was in my eyes. Sometime during the night, somebody had gotten up and threw a blanket over us as we slept.

When Vicky opened her eyes moment later, I stared at her unmade face; her eyes red from crying all night and knew I would never find anyone as beautiful as her ever again. I told her I would make her breakfast. We went into the kitchen and I made us omelets. As she picked at her food, I told her she was going to eat. I began feeding her one bite at a time until she finished both hers and mine off.

Then I took her by the hand and led her outside to my truck. We got in and I drove her back to the river. I got a blanket out and we huddled together and just sat and watched the river.

Hours passed and suddenly she spoke, "What now, Jim?"

I knew she was looking for answers, "Now we settle back for the next seventy or eighty years of me loving you with every fiber of my body. I don't want you to think this is a rebound, Vicky. I fell for you the first time you kicked my ass!"

That got a laugh from her and I told her how beautiful she was when she laughed and how I intended to keep her smiling the rest of her life.

"Well, what are you going to do if I'm not smiling?"

"Then, I'll brace myself for the worst cussing out that I'll ever deserve for failing you."

Another smile.

"You really love me, don't you?"

There was only one way to answer that question as I leaned forward to kiss her.

As we broke the embrace of the kiss, she looked at me and said, "I'm such a dumbass, I should've let you kiss me when we met Mary!" Then she grinned as I closed in for another kiss.

We kept busy like that until both our cellphones started going off.

"I better return you before they send out a posse."

As I dropped her off she asked if I would be coming to see her in the evening. I could sense her vulnerability as I told her, this evening and every evening after, and I kissed her in front of her parents.

So many things happened after that.

Mooreville lost the final game of the season as Ricky rode the bench for the entire game. Katie broke up with him an hour after the season ended. The next Monday she tried making goo goo eyes at me until Vicky threatened to beat her sorry ass. I reminded my darling that she didn't have to worry about me as I kissed her in the hallway. Yeah, I got detention for public display of affection. But, any kiss from Vicky was worth that.

Will Akers did make All-State and became State Champion. He got a scholarship from the University, but he didn't factor in that I totally rehabbed my knee and walked on at the University. From the first day of practice it was evident I was better than Will and I started as a freshman. All Will ever got to play was garbage time after I had led the team to victory. Coach Porter soon became the interim head coach as the head coach passed away from a heart attack. He immediately offered me a scholarship. The interim was removed as I led our team to their first Bowl victory in twenty years.

The next three years we went undefeated and claimed three consecutive National Championships as we beat the odds and went in the history books as a dynasty. I won the Heisman Award as a junior and a senior. At the NFL Draft Day, I was selected the Number One draft as the Dallas Cowboys traded up to get me. The world got to see me get up from the table and kiss my bride, Vicky, my sister Carol, my mother-in-law, my mom, my two sisters before I went on stage to pose holding a Cowboys jersey

I signed for an unbelievable amount of money and me and Vicky were set for life. But Vicky was successful in her own right as the author of a series of children's books. A good thing as she gave birth to triplets. All girls, all healthy, all able to get me to do anything for them.

After my tenth year in the NFL, I was ready to move on before I wound up broken physically and unable to enjoy life. I left with four Super Bowl Rings, two MVP's awards, and ten trips to the Pro Bowl. I was a lock for the Hall of Fame as soon as I was eligible.

As for Coach Chambers, right after high school graduation, a press report came out about steroid abuse at Mooreville High. No, I didn't nark on him. Remember, Billy the team manager? Well, Billy got fed up with him and reported everything to the authorities and they subpoenaed everything from Coach Chambers, which included the footage of Ricky tearing up my knee.

In an effort to drag down everybody with him, Coach Chambers reported that I had been taking Performance Enhancing Drugs since I was in the 8th grade. I called for a press conference where I handed over to the authorities every sealed unopen bottle that Coach Chambers had given me. I explained how he told me that the pills were "vitamin supplements". I chose not to take them and kept them in the event it was necessary to prove my innocence.

The last team Coach Chambers had was the prison football team.

Ricky Wilson had to sneak out of town when the computer footage of him tearing up my knee came out. He started drinking and doing drugs and pissed away every dime his family had. The last I heard he was driving a cab in Vegas.

Will Akers married his Homecoming Queen, Susan and they spent their marriage trying to out-cheat each other.

As for Katie, she tried one last time to contact me at college and Vicky fulfilled her promise to beat her down. The last I heard about her, she was working at the cosmetic counter of some department store.

Vicky and I were in constant demand to be interviewed as one of America's most glamorous couple. I could always count at some point in the interview to be asked what was the most prestigious award I won in my career. 

I would always smile and pull my wife to her feet and reply, "The love of my life." and kiss my darling Vicky.



Awards Banquet by TXAce and AudioD



This audio includes cheating spouses - if this offends you, then please do not listen to it.

The Awards Banquet by TexasAce and AudioDiva

* * * * *

Click Here to listen. (14 min/mp3)

* * * * *

The awards banquet at the club is always fun. It's often the only time you ever see people in anything but tennis outfits. But that night everyone was dressed up and ready for a great meal, more than a few drinks, and dancing under the stars. 

The junior tennis players operated the valet parking, and the whole event was really well planned and staged, and showed the promise of being a wonderful fun filled evening. 

When my husband, Ted and I arrived, I saw that my mixed doubles partner, Ace and his wife Evie, were already there. As we greeted and hugged each other and exchanged air or cheek kisses... Ace and I exchanged a sly smile. I could tell that he was in one of his super dangerous and rare moods. It's true... we had a secret. Knowing that we were to receive the trophy for the Mixed Doubles, we had already talked on the phone earlier in the day.

We discussed and laughed about it during one of our 2 or 3 time a week super hot phone sex sessions. We both love our mates, and wouldn't leave them for anything, but we have a libido that is way outta' wack with our spouses'. My husband Ted is a super nice guy, and his wife Evie is a lovely young lady, but they don't have a clue about exploring the sexual limits and dealing with a super high sex drive. They are both perfectly content with once or twice a week, pretty vanilla sex. And, it seems they aren't really interested in trying anything more, or becoming more active. Ace and I have marveled about how many couples we know who fall into this same category. One of the couple has a high sex drive, and the other can take it or leave it. 

On the other hand, I get hot when I hear Ace's name or just thinking about him. He has told me that he sometimes goes into the men's room to stroke his cock after a short phone call, even when we don't talk about sex at all. He says that just the sound of my voice is enough to get him hard and ready. 

Our table was in the front with the other award winners. It so happened that I was seated next to Ace while our spouses sat on either side of us and we were all facing the award podium and the stage. I mentioned that Ace was in a rare and playful mood, and it wasn't 2 minutes after we were seated that Ace reached over and slid his hand under my dress and rubbed my pussy lightly. It wasn't a real shocker, because he liked to surprise me, and he knows how much I love it ... especially when other people are around, and we risk the embarrassment of getting caught. I did look sexy in my mini skirt and a thong with garter belt and thigh highs. 

Occasionally Ace will call when he knows that Ted is out of the house, and attempt to disguise his voice. And when I answered the phone he will say something like - "someone at this number just ordered a rough reverse cowgirl FUCK... and our SPECIALITY... a long slow pussy eating session. If this is your order, and you are ready for a hot suck and a rough hard fuck now, press one and get neked".  Yep... Ace is not only a fine tennis player but he is also the hottest and most creative pussy sucking, ass fucking, cum licking, hunks that I have ever met or heard of. All of our opponents say that I look like I get my tennis outfits from Victoria's Secret, and that that is one of the reasons that Ace's package is so fuckin big. 

I don't think I mentioned, but I am a flight attendant with a major airline and often when I'm on an overnight flight I call Ace. We have a code to identify if the coast is clear to talk or not. When it is clear we have our scorching hot explicate phone sex. Ace says that I have the dirtiest and the most erotically creative talk that he has ever heard. He tells me that I can almost make him cum and shoot his load just by listening to me talk... and he knows I fuckin luv to talk dirty and to hear his dirty sexy talk. I didn't start out so uninhibited, but the longer we have been carrying on, the more comfortable I have gotten. At this point I can say incredibly nasty things without a thought and relish the reaction I get. We can go on for hours, creating scenarios and setting up scenes where we are able to do anything and everything to one another. Listening to each other get more and more excited as the night wears on, building up to fucking amazing orgasms. He especially loves to hear me play with my pussy as he strokes his cock, imagining that his hand is my cunt wrapped around him. I talk about how wet I am and how hard his dick feels as my body responds just as if he is there inside me as we cum together.

I am not sure everyone will understand this... but Ace and I share a love every bit as strong as our love for our spouses. But, it is a totally different love. Ours is a dangerous, forbidden, exciting, and expressive love... especially compared to the traditional home life and the love we have for our spouses and families. They are different... but both are totally wonderful. Some people can deal with only the home and family, spousal-type of love that comes from years of familiarity and holds a level of comfort. However, there are those who need the combination of the two varieties for a totally fulfilling and exciting sex life. Ace and I fall into that category. We both have an insatiable need for sex, but also cherish our spouses.

The quiet conversations around the table were interrupted with the MC's announcement: "And, for the second year in a row the winners of the Mixed Doubles tournament is... Dawn Johnson, and Ace Martin." 

I think we were the 10th award announced, and by this time everyone was saying "enough already" lets start the dancing. The makeshift podium was a box about 4 ft wide on top of a banquet table and draped with a table cloth. There was a wall just behind us as we took our place at the podium. We approached the table and microphone to give our thanks for the award, and as is custom, to give a little story about how and why we won. 

Ace looked at me and said... "Ladies first". As I thanked the members for their support of the tournament, and for the award, my face must have gone beet red when Ace reached under my mini skirt and grabbed my bare ass and started to squeeze it. But being unshakeable, I didn't miss a word, and returned to total control of the situation. I coughed as I composed myself, and then even spread my legs a little to allow Ace to get to my now wet slit. It was like... OK big boy... ya' wanna play rough do ya!!! You fuckin don't scare me even a little!!

With about 200 club members watching, Ace fingered my pussy while I talked about how we came back from a 2 set deficit to win the finals. Oh, oh... now it's Ace's turn to talk, and after a big shit-eating grin, I handed the mic to Ace so he could add his 2 cents. I figured it was pay back time for the teasing he was doing at the table by rubbing my thigh and pussy. Looking straight ahead, I slipped my hand behind Ace, and cupped and squeezed his ass cheeks. Then...not to be outdone, shielded from the audience by the podium, I grazed my hand over his fly and stroked his hardening cock through his slacks. As he talked about overcoming a ferocious serve and a great net game...I was stroking and squeezing his cock. He wasn't quite as composed as I was, because he new that when he finished talking we would have to return to our table... WTF was he going to do with this raging hard 8 inch cock. 

I realized the problem that I had created, and as I always do... I came up with a solution. Not the normal sticky hot milky white solution that I normally cum up with... but a good one anyway. I took a drink of ice water, and pretended to have the glass slip from my hand as it poured down on his throbbing cock.  "Oh my gosh, I am sooooo sorry Ace... here let me wipe it up." As I brushed the water off with my hand. With the front of his pants wet, and his cock going into hiding, he adjusted himself ... and we returned to our table. Everyone was either laughing or saying, "Oh poor Ace... he will have wet pants all night now. It's a shame that DAWN is so cute, but so fuckin' clumsy". 

The music started... and the band played a tribute to the '80's. I was so convincing with my apologies, that now everyone, including Evie and Ted were feeling sorry for me. I said, "I can't let my doubles partner walk around in wet pants all night... come with me to the locker room, Ace. I'll put your pants in the dryer for you and you can wear one of the club robes while you are waiting. I feel like such a clumsy klutz, it's the least I can do." 

Evie said, "You don't have to do that" and I said... "I caused the problem, so I have to try and fix it". Evie thought that I was talking about the problem of the wet pants. Little did she know that I was talking about the problem of a gigantic fat cock that had just been drenched with ice water and now needed to be in a warm and friendly place. It didn't matter if it was a warm wet pussy cunt, or a warm and wet mouth. I had entertained this cock and drained his balls with both of them many times before, and not to mention what may be my favorite... when he fucks and shoots his cum in my ass!! 

I think that is when I am most vocal... Like Ace always says... I have a nasty fuckin' mouth... and he LUVS it!! Ted is only too happy to see me and Ace gone for a while, because he has a thing about Evie, and I wouldn't be surprised if they ended up fuckin each others brains out one of these days. Ted and Evie left for the dance floor while Ace and I left for the locker room. We didn't say a word during the walk there. As soon as we got into the laundry area I turned to him and began undoing his buckle, pulling down his zipper and peeling off his pants. I bent down so my face was even with his crotch, looking up at him as I commented. "Even you underwear are soaked, I guess we'll have to dry those too" and hooked my fingers in the elastic and pulled them down as well, revealing his swelling cock. I flicked my tongue across the tip and pulled back, making him step out of his pants and underwear. I picked them up off the floor and went to the dryer, bending down to put them inside and start the machine. I felt him come up behind me but wasn't prepared for what happened next. I was still bent at the waist when I felt his hands as he pushed me forward on the dryer.

"You really are a brazen little slut aren't you?" his hands slid up under my short skirt as he lifted it, revealing my panties. "I can see exactly how excited you are, those panties have a nice delicious wet spot already." As he said it he slid one finger along the edge of the lace and slipped it underneath. A moan escaped as he rubbed my wet slit before pushing his finger inside. "Tell me what you want"

"Oh Ace! I want you! I want your cock NOW! Fuck me you bastard" I push back against his finger, trying to get it deeper into my hungry cunt. He roughly pulled his finger out and then yanked my panties down, my garter belt and thigh highs framing my ass as he plunged his rock hard cock into my dripping pussy. It happened so quickly I barely had a second to gasp -- "God YES! Fuck!" As he began to pound into my cunt I goaded him "You can do better, come on and fuck me hard! Ram my cunt!" 

My juice was coating his cock as he asked "Is this what you want? Come on baby I know what you really want" he pulled out of my gaping pussy and before I could protest he shoved his cock straight into my ass. It slid in easily after being in my sopping pussy. He pulled on my hips, pushing your cock in to the hilt. His balls slapping against my cunt, the heat and vibration of the dryer adding to the sensory overload as I held onto it as he fucked me. 

"Oh yeah that's what I want! Cumon Ace... fuck my little rosebud pucker hole... pound it hard, you son-of-a-bitch... ram it all the fuckin way in, you cunt licking bastard... rub my clit while you ram that fuck pole that you call a cock in my ass...make me cum, you pussy sucker." 

I could feel him ramping up, thrusting harder -- we were both too worked up to hold out long

"That's it -- YES! I am coming with your dick in my ass! FUCK! Come on Ace - Fill my ass with your cum you mother fucker! Ugh!" I could hear him groan harshly as he thrust, pushing me hard into the vibrating dryer, my ass milking his cock as it convulsed around him "That's it give it all to me". I could feel his cum spurting deep into my ass as he thrust one final time. It was dripping down my thighs as he pulled his softening dick out of me a few moments later. My own juices joined his spunk as it ran down towards my knee.

My legs were shaky as I stood and reached over to pick up one of the towels folded nearby. 

"Sorry about the wet pants"

"I'm not" he replied. 



Awards Night



In October, last year, I was invited, by my company to attend an awards ceremony in Manchester. I travelled with Martin, one of our salesmen, who was going to receive a long service award.

As we were checking into the hotel, a voice boomed out, "Marty! Long time, no see!" A young man, dressed in shorts and vest, shouted. 

Martin's face lit up, "Ian, how are you?" He instantly recognised the young man, as a fellow salesman, from an office in the South -West. They shook hands, and Martin introduced me, "This is Victoria, from our London office".

"Aha, the Ice-maiden!" The young man laughed, as he took my outstretched hand, and gently kissed it.

"I'm sorry?" I quizzed him.

"That is what they call you, isn't it?" He laughed again.

At work, I had a reputation for not mixing with the other staff. I like to keep my personnel life private.

"A drink beckons," Ian ushered us into the bar. As we sat down, I offered my cigarettes around, with no takers. I lit my mine, sucked in and exhaled a plume of smoke. 

"You look like you needed that"; Ian quipped, as he made himself comfortable, stretching his muscular legs along the sofa.

"I did, Martin wouldn't let me smoke in his car," I pretended to whine, inhaling even more nicotine.

I watched Ian, intently, as he chatted to Martin. He had just been in the hotel gym, and his well toned- body was still glowing with sweat. He oozed confidence; in the way he sat, talked and surveyed the room.

As I finished my drink, we arranged to meet in the bar at 7.15.

I had a long soak in the bath, slowly got dressed and put my make-up on. These functions were, normally, as boring as Hell, so I didn't make too much effort. My dress was quite fitted, and showed a little bit of cleavage, but could hardly be described as sexy.

When I arrived in the bar, Martin and Ian were already there. Martin looked very smart, in his Tuxedo, but Ian looked very suave, and incredibly sexy.

Ian bought the drinks, and guided us into Ballroom. At our table, Ian manoeuvred himself into the seat, next to mine.

During the evening, he kept everyone entertained, with some very dirty jokes and stories. I hadn't laughed so much, for a long time. He kept my glass topped up and every time I picked up a cigarette he lit it, for me. At one stage his lips brushed against my ear. He whispered, "I love watching women smoke, it almost looks like they're preparing for oral sex." 

I didn't know how to reply, and was very self-conscious, as I continued puffing away.

Not only, did Martin receive his award, but he was also promoted to Regional Manager. 

At 11.30, the lights came on, and the evening appeared to be coming to an end. Ian picked up two bottles of wine from our table, telling Martin to grab our glasses, "Let's help Martin celebrate his new found success," he announced as he made his way to the lift, as everyone else drifted into the bar.

"Let's go to my room," he said, as he pressed the button for the 8th floor. Inside, Ian ran his finger along my thigh, "You can even settle a couple of bets that we've had." 

" I'm sorry?" I replied. Ian laughed, but Martin hid his eyes and blushed.

Inside the room, Ian opened a bottle and poured it into the three glasses. I sat against the edge of the dressing table, Martin sank into an armchair and Martin lay on the bed.

"So what was this bet?" I asked.

"Well it's three bets, actually," he chuckled. I sipped my wine, and lit another cigarette, blowing smoke in Ian's direction. 

"Number one," he looked at Martin, who was grinning like a five-year-old, "stockings or tights? Now I knew what they were upto. "How much is at stake?" I asked, "£10"

"£10, that's all you think I'm worth".

"Come on, stockings or tights?"

I love the effect that stockings have on men, so I slowly raised the hem of my dress, stopping at the top of the nylon, then whipped it up and down again. "Stockings! I win," shouted Martin. 

"I don't know, I didn't get a good look", Ian said, shaking his head with disappointment. Again I raised the hem, this time above the lace, and held it there, showing them my stocking clad legs. 

"Hold ups, that's not fair," Ian laughed, as he threw a £10 note to Martin. 

So that was why he had stroked my thigh, in the lift.

" Number two, G-string or knickers?" Ian grinned, as he looked me in the eyes.

I was now getting turned on, and decided to join in the fun.

I finished my cigarette, sipped my wine, turned around, and slightly bent forward. With my large breasts pressing against the dressing table, I spread my legs and lifted the dress up and over my bottom. I wiggled my arse, as I left it on my hips.

"I win again, I knew it would be a G-string! I just knew." Martin dived across the room to grab Ian's £10 note. I remained in this position, for a few more seconds, watching them, in the mirror, staring at my arse. 

"What's the third bet?" I asked as I straightened my dress. I was really enjoying myself now, and could feel that tingle between my legs. 

"Double or quits?" Ian asked Martin, who was sitting next to him. "I suppose so," he replied, gleefully rubbing his hands. I wasn't prepared for what came next.

" Okay then, do you spit? Or do you swallow?" 

I was shocked, "That's a bit personal," I stuttered. 

"Marty's fascinated, he's 52 years old, married for 27, and he's never had a blow job." Ian told me in a matter of fact manner, "He's fancied you for years, and wants to know, do you spit or do you swallow?" He then got a fit of the giggles, at his own audacity.

"How would you know if I was telling the truth?" I asked, trying to take control of the situation.

Ian regained his composure, "There is only one way to find out," he said as he started to unbutton his trousers. 

"I don't think so," I stopped him, "you!" I pointed at Martin. I had known him for 6 or 7 years, and he had always been a perfect gentleman, but he probably thought that I was a lady!

As he pulled his trousers off, I unzipped my dress, and let it fall to the floor; I quickly unclipped my bra, releasing my 38DD tits for them to view. 

Both Men raised their eyebrows and grinned at each other. "Shit, Victoria!" Martin gasped, "I didn't know that they were that big."

"Mighty fine, mighty fine!" Ian laughed as I stroked my stiffening, brown nipples. 

I lay in front of Martin, who was hiding his cock, with his hands. I removed his fingers. It was rock hard, as it stood out from his greying pubic hair. I ran my nails up and down, gently scratching it. At first I knelt over him, slapping his throbbing dick with my big tits.

After a minute or two, I squeezed the shaft, then popped the head into my mouth, pushing the fore skin back with my tongue. I kept sucking his knob, as I speeded up with my hand. Martin ran his fingers through my auburn hair, and moaned like a baby. Within a minute, his hips jerked and his spunk shot into my mouth. His cock went soft very quickly; leaving me a little bit frustrated. He started to apologise, but I put my finger to his lips and stopped him.

I turned my head, to see Ian sitting upright, stroking his huge cock with his hand. 

Ian's cock wasn't as hard as Martin's. Large one's never are, but it looked like the, proverbial, 'baby's arm squeezing a blood orange'.

I did my favourite trick, of opening my mouth as wide as possible, showing Ian the white 'man juice' on my tongue. I then closed my lips, tipped my head back and dramatically swallowed every last drop.

" I win, she always looked like a spunk junkie," he told Martin, as he arrogantly, pulled my head towards his cock. I did as he wanted, grabbing his weapon with both hands, forcing his cock into my, lipstick covered, mouth. As I sucked, I felt Martin's hands stroking my legs and bum. He seemed as fascinated with the material of my nylons and G-string, as he was with my flesh.

"Fuck me," Ian told me as he pulled my head off his cock. I smiled as I slid my G-string down my legs. Ian 'wolf whistled' as he saw my freshly trimmed ginger pubes.

He lay flat on his back, with his cock pointing proudly in the air. I straddled his legs, and rubbed his cock and balls. I lifted my legs, positioning myself, over the knob, gently rubbing my crack over it, preparing for action. With one quick thrust, he rammed himself inside. I screamed, as he knocked the breath out of me. When I had recovered, I slapped his arm, "Bastard! I'm in charge, you just lie there, this is my reward for your cheeky bet." I hissed.

My fanny had not felt this full for a long time, I slid up and down the shaft, changing my speed every couple of minutes, making my 38DD's bounce like beachballs. When I sat on his cock, it felt like it was going up into my belly. Falling forward, onto him, I rubbed my heaving tits against his hairy chest, making my nipples very hard. Only using my hips, I managed to rub my clit against his groin, gradually; this became frenzy, as I neared my orgasm. When I came, I wanted to scream like a banshee, but resisted. I held onto him, feeling like I'd been through a hurricane. 

As I relaxed, gasping for breath, he pushed his face between my breasts and speeded up his banging into my pussy. His cock was ramming into me so hard, I thought I might fly off. He dug his fingers into my soft arse cheeks as he filled my fanny and belly with his red- hot spunk.

We lay, together for a few minutes, with Martin kissing my neck and back, as Ian stroked my sweaty tits.

I looked at the clock, it was 2.30 a.m. "I must go," I whispered.

"No, stay here, with me." Ian whispered back. Martin got dressed and left; satisfied that he had finally had a blowjob. Ian and I fell asleep in each- others arms. 

At day -break I felt Ian's cock nudging at my bum, I turned onto my back, arched my leg, and he slid in, from the side, for a 'lazy fuck'. We kissed, and he played with my clit, as he slowly fucked me with his lovely big cock. As he came, I had a slow burning orgasm.

Over breakfast, I made them both promise never to tell anyone about what we had done. Of course they promised, but within a week, I was the subject of all the office gossips. The guys, in our showroom, started flirting with me, and even the young girls, looked at me in a new light. 

I met up with Ian once more, but it wasn't as exciting as that night in Manchester. 

Love

Victoria



Awards Night



Authors note

I hope all the other authors mentioned here understand and appreciate the extremely tongue in cheek nature of what I've written here. I love you guys and you are my inspiration, but I just couldn't resist this. All descriptions are purely fictional, since I've never met anyone from Literotica. It's just how I imagine people.

Thank you immensely to PennLady. All mistakes are hers. I'm a perfect writer, obviously.

*

It was time. We were there. It had arrived. The Literotica Awards night was finally here. We'd driven out from our home in Prescott, Arizona, to Vegas for the night. I remembered getting the gilt-edged invitation and not being sure how I felt. I mean, I love what Literotica is. I love what it represents -- everyone can have a go at writing and putting some emotion down, regardless of what they are into. It's a massive equalizer.

However it's also not something I can tell many people about. With what I do, I'm sometimes thrust in the limelight a bit. I'm known in my industry, so this is my way of letting some creativity out in a way I don't have in my day job.

My wife, of course, isn't really that interested. She knows I write. She knows I've published books myself on the Kindle and Nook -- she also knows I have a nice stack of rejection slips from agents, but she's just proud I've completed anything in that area at all, in a very abstract way. But she's never read my books or stories. She thinks my main genre is silly and she's just not interested. Oh don't get me wrong, Katie loves me, I know that; No question there. She just has bits of her life that are hers and I have bits that are mine, and we take a polite interest in those edge case respective interest areas and leave it at that.

But to be invited to an awards ceremony, well, that's different. And what's more, to be nominated, that's even better. Ok, so it's only in the "best newcomers" category -- mind you, this is the Literotica Awards, that should probably be spelt 'best newcummer' -- but still. To be nominated in anything is a huge honor and ego boost.

I should probably give some background. I'm Jezzaz. I write smutty fiction for a hobby. I live in AZ with my wife of 20 plus years, Katie and two kids who came to us late in life and who should be at university now, instead of in sixth grade. But, love them I do and grateful for our lives I most definitely am.

When the email came from the Literotica guys asking for a physical address, I almost marked the email as spam. I mean, an awards ceremony? Seriously? I mean, who's going to televise it? C-Span? The Playboy Channel? I'm prepared to believe that the Literotica website makes some bank, but it's gotta get spent in servers and so on -- who would fund an awards ceremony?

On further research, I found that yes, it was funded by an eccentric millionaire, who just wanted to meet all his favorite authors. Apparently it had been happening for the past seven years, and now, here I was, getting an invite.

So I'd explained about the stories to Katie, she'd called Mom and Dad and got them to come stay for the weekend -- without explaining exactly what we were driving to Las Vegas for - and then she'd gone to buy a new dress, new heels, new makeup and, from what I could see, new everything.

We'd grabbed my car -- no, it's not a bloody Mustang -, since she drives a van and headed for Las Vegas, Nevada, where Literotica had taken over one of the smaller hotels on the outskirts of the strip -- I won't mention which one because, well, the invite says not to. Don't want to piss off Laurel or Manu!

On the drive out to Vegas, Katie finally showed some interest and asked me about my stories -- why was I getting nominated? Where they any good? How come I hadn't told her about what I had written? I did my best to answer -- I was nominated for the MetaMorph series I'd written.

I thought they were ok, but I still had a lot to learn about characters. I hadn't mentioned them because I already knew she thought my fiction stories were dumb and stupid, and I didn't really want more judgment than I already had. Plus she'd think I was a sex manic. Or more to the point, more of a sex maniac than she already thought I was.

She accepted the answers and sat there, watching the world go by, asking questions about the hotel, who we'd meet, what we'd do and see and so on.

I explained about some of the other authors I wanted to meet, what they'd written about, what Literotica represents and everything else.

The time passed pretty fast in fact, and then we were over the Hoover Damn and into Vegas, baby!

We arrived mid-afternoon and checked in, after first calling home on our cell phones and checking that the kids were doing fine. They did not want to speak to us -- apparently being chucked around in the pool by granddad was more important than speaking to their parents. There is no respect these days.

The hotel was nice. Very new and had two different pools. Apparently one of them was open to all the strippers in town. I raised my eyebrows when I heard that at the desk, and got an elbow in the ribs for that.

So yeah, we should do the physical description thing. I'm 6ft, 210 -- but dropping. Been in a health kick recently and was working out a lot and running and not drinking beer and far more miserable because of it. But I looked better, that's for sure. I'm 45 years old and I feel like if I didn't know what age I was, I'd think I was 19.

The wife is Katie. She's 5'4", 120 -- same size she was when I married her years ago. She's also 47, but looks 30. I used to believe she had a painting of herself in the attic getting old for her, until I realized she doesn't bother with that. She just leeches her age onto me directly. She's definitely some kind of age vampire because she looks exactly the same as she did when I met her, back in Chicago twenty plus years ago, and I look like someone is practicing old man makeup on me.

She's firm, she's trim and she looks great and looks even better in a halter-top dress, courtesy of the supplemented 34C boobs she wanted for our 15 year anniversary. What's more, - and this really pisses off other women -- is that she does absolutely nothing for this killer petite body. She does some water aqua thing, where large ladies waddle around in a pool like a lot of mini Krakens, but other than that, she does nothing. And she looks like this. No cellulite, no dimples, and all soft and lovely to the touch. I have no idea how she does it, although I have taken a keen interest in reports of devil worshipping and animal sacrifices in the area. I've just never been able to catch her at it.

Anyway, she's got green eyes, brown, shoulder length hair, a sardonic smile and can raise a single eyebrow like Mr. Spock when mad at you. For 5'4", she somehow manages to look down at you and makes to make you feel about three feet tall, even when you've got almost a foot of height on her.

She has a wicked sense of humor and is also utterly blind to when she's being flirted with or hit on. It's not like someone else is going to get there because she's naive about it; it just doesn't cross her mind that someone actually is flirting with her, so she just entirely passes her by. It's quite lovely to see in practice -- some guy hitting on her and her not responding at all because she isn't really cognizant of what he's doing.

I used to get upset or worried about it. Now I just worry that some asshole will think she's a huge challenge and up his game to the point where I have to be involved. I've done it twice in our marriage, where words have had to be had in order to warn someone off, but that's ok. I know for a fact they wouldn't have got anywhere, but it was just embarrassing for everyone, and when the wife had finally realized what they were doing, she'd have gone ballistic on them. Better for everyone that they back off and everyone save face. Particularly me. Anything for a quiet life.

Anyway, I knew she'd had history with a fair number of guys before me, so I knew she was a woman of the world, so to speak. I was too, in my own way. When I got the states I had no idea the British accent worked as well as it does. For a while there, I was like a dog with two dicks.

I'm a Brit out of Water. Brought up back home, where people talk properly, spell properly and no one is frantic to own a gun. Where bacon is proper bacon, TV comedy is proper TV Comedy and drunken piss artists are proper drunken piss artists. I've been in the states for twenty-five years now and love it here. I will never go back to the UK to live; I just want to bring all my family out here.

Ok, getting away from the point a bit. Back to the story.

So hotel. Very nice. A suite no less! I'd learned a useful lesson a few years back, when I'd taken my bride to a swanky hotel in San Francisco, when we'd lived in the bay area, before we had kids. It was lovely, and we were on the 17th floor. I remember pulling back the curtains on the floor to ceiling panel windows and discovered a used condom on the floor behind where the curtains would normally be. A phone call later to a very embarrassed hotel manager and we'd been upgraded to a suite on the 21st floor.

In this case, it was more than sufficient. The view was gorgeous and the bottle of champagne (spelt correctly, you will notice) was an unexpected treat. Katie was excited and ran round the room, and then insisted we take a stroll on the Strip.

We've been to Vegas before, but it's usually years between trips, so we have a tradition of taking a stroll to see what is new. Hotels go up so fast in Vegas that there can be three more hotels in the space of a mile than there was last time we were there.

We did the local color thing, and then it was time to get back to the hotel for getting dressed and all that jazz. Or Jezzaz, as the case may be.

I climbed into my Ralph Lauren Monkey suit -- I did the 'Bond, James Bond' thing in front of the mirror, like every other man my age would do. Don't deny it. You put on a tux, you do it too, don't lie. Katie slipped into her backless electric blue shimmering halter-top dress, with the equally enthusiastic front plunge.

Katie loves to dress up. She's constantly teasing me for not having the kind of work that involves lots of evening soirées, where men dress up in tuxes and women swan around in cocktail dresses. I keep pointing out that, not being Chuck, Jason Bourne or 007, my evenings are not spent at embassy do's or south of France casinos, but are instead spent around a hot computer or, for preference, a grill with a filet mignon on it. Hell, I'd love to be a secret agent -- I even studied Russian in school in preparation -- but then she'd have to compete with all the femme fatales I'd no doubt be encountering, all hot for my body. When I mention that, she arches that damn eyebrow and says "In your dreams."

She looked fucking stunning. What's more, I was aware she had no underwear on, which for her was extremely out of character but I wasn't about to say boo to it. As we exited the hotel room, she looked at me, gave me a dazzling smile -- you know the kind; the one every husband wants to get from his wife, when he knows she is truly happy. She murmured, "I cannot wait to come back and fuck a winner!" which was great and troubling at the same time, because if I didn't win, then what? But then I smiled. She was with me. I was already a winner!

Then we were downstairs and everyone was there, looking great. Everyone was dressed to the nines -- there was so much product in people's hair, you could have made a paper maché White House out of it. There were drinks flowing, lots of lively discussion and more than a bit of flirting going on.

What was interesting is thatI noticed that no one there used their real names. Everyone was identified by their username on Literotica. In the case of spouses or partners, they were Mrs. Jezzaz, or Mr. PennLady. It was very strange and more like a meeting of Linux nerds, who all insist on juvenile user names than a bunch of authors at an awards ceremony.

But like I said, they were all there. Matt Moreau was standing, talking to several extremely attractive and apparently unescorted women. He was introduced to me in passing, and he nodded and took a keen interest in Katie and kissed her hand, saying something about being enchanted. But then everyone was, so that wasn't anything new.

I got to meet Darkniciad. What an interesting fellow he was, holding a drink and gesturing with it, and slurping champagne over the room every time he had something bellicose to say. I think he went through four glasses of champagne without drinking any of it in the telling of one story. Funny dude though.

While I was talking to him, Slirpuff was behind us, talking animatedly with Just Plain Bob, making some point about women who talk too much during sex.

Someone mentioned that The Wanderer had arrived fresh off the plane from Blighty, and was escorting no less than three women at once, all of which whom were married to someone else, and were actively telling people that. My Katie rolled her eyes at that, and then went off to take a look at this amazing specimen of authorship who could command such adulation.

While she did, I was introduced to PennLady,- who spent twenty minutes going on about how this whole thing was preposterous and completely unbelievable, and then bubbling about just being here and how nice everyone is in person-, and English Bob. I wish I'd known he was coming, because I'd have gotten him to bring some British Chocolate for me.

My kids love that Cadbury's stuff and stock up every time we hit the old country. They think Hershey's is strictly for the birds, and having eaten some myself, I have am forced to agree. The only reason anal sex is often called 'Riding the Hershey Highway' is because the chocolate tastes about the same as a shitty ass. I love the US of A, but chocolate is just not one of the things it does well. Pizza? Best in the world. Awesome theme parks? No one can touch it. Chocolate? Um, no.

I heard that DanielQSteele was in the building and so I went to find him since he was one of my all-time writing heroes. I found him in the corner of the lobby, with a gin and tonic in his hand that magically never went down in amount, despite him swigging from it often. He had a crowd around him and I had to wait twenty minutes just to say hello.

It would have been nice if he'd had a clue who I was or had heard of me, but he evidently hadn't and that was ok too. Next year.

One of the crowd was Rehnquist. That was interesting. I'd always believed they -- DanielQSteele and Rehnquist - were the same person since their writing style is so similar, but obviously not. I introduced myself and said hi, and he nodded and said hi back and then completely ignored me. It wasn't upset. I'd have ignored me too.

While I was waiting, there was a hell of noise from outside the hotel. I wandered out to see what was up and there, arriving, was StangStar06. Yes, he was in a Mustang. But not just one. No, he had four of them. He showed up in a bright yellow one, and accompanying him were three others, a red, blue and green one.

Each was a different year and design, and each of the others was driven by a gorgeous woman. They got out of the car wearing driving overalls, then unzipped themselves in the most vivacious manner possible, revealing a very brief cocktail dress underneath, and giving every man in the vicinity an involuntary erection.

StangStar himself got out of his car and walked around it, checking it, then patting the hood and saying something along the lines of "Don't worry Chrissie, I'll be back soon." Or something. I dunno. It was entirely too weird for me. Talking to cars is the start of a serious psychosis if you ask me.

I wandered back into the main hall as the ceremony was about to start, wondering where my wife was. I found her at the table we'd been assigned to, talking animatedly with a woman I discovered was SharedHousewife. I caught small patches of the conversation, which appeared to revolve around the best way to keep your cheating from your husband, and I met the weary eyes of the man she was with. Mr. SharedHousewife, I presumed. He raised his drink in resigned empathy, man to henpecked man.

Katie looked up at me as I found my chair and raised her cheek for a kiss, which I duly gave. That was interesting. She wasn't into PDA's. This was new. I fondly imagined it was some way of her showing her ownership of me. Either way, I was cool with it. Loving up an obvious Yummy Mummy like her just made me look good, and feel even better.

As everyone settled, I found The Wanderer himself sitting to my left. If there was ever someone who was a British Cowboy, this dude was it. He was like The Stranger in The Big Lebowski, as played by Sam Elliot. You just couldn't imagine him getting out of his tree, no matter how much he drank.

The lights went down, and we all stopped talking in anticipation. Out came Laurel and Manu to start the festivities. They introduced TxTallTales as the first guest presenter and off we went.

To be honest, it was a bit dull. Some of the categories were a stretch, to say the least. I mean, honestly, 'Best Sex Scene' I can see. Breaking it down into gender, and then further into specific genre is a bit much. By the time we got to 'Best sex scene between Father and Daughter', I was looking for the waitress to get another drink, because it looked like the night was going to drag on. Everyone who won something had what appeared to be a phone book's worth of comments prepared and all their in-jokes were totally lost on most us, but we all tittered dutifully, like you do at squirmingly embarrassing situations like this.

I also had difficulty really believing there was a category for "Best Body Swap Dialog" or "Best inconsequential details" or—my personal favorite—"Most Incongruous swearing." Weird.

Then it was time for Best Newcomer. I sat a bit straighter in the chair and my wife took my hand, smiling at me bravely. I did my best to be impartial and look regal, as they do in awards ceremonies. There was even a camera on me while they did the 'detailing the competitors' thing on stage. I sat there, smiling stupidly and applauding wildly for my competitors, whom I internally dearly hoped would die alone in flames.

And then it was announced. The winner was...not me. Fuck. Some woman from the sci-incest group won it. Apparently her first story was about adult Pokemon land, where all the Pokemon had huge cocks and were summoned not to fight, but to screw the opposition. In her diseased brain, Cockemon didn't fight each other, each was let loose on the others owner, to make them cum. The one who came the harder won. It was all quite sick and made me feel even worse since my daughter had spent three years desperately into Pokemon and as a result, I knew what all the Pokemon were called and could really get the in jokes peppered all over this story.

What was even more insulting was that for years this kind of story was kept out of Literotica, and only this year had Laurel and Manu relented and allowed them in.

But I did what all losers do. I smiled bravely, clapped, said things like, "She deserves it" for the lip readers and kept myself tightly under control. Katie dropped let go of my hand, gave me a sympathetic smile and bit her lip and looked away.

As soon as the camera went off me, I sagged down in the chair. I hadn't known I was that caught up in winning or not, but apparently I was. The Wanderer leaned across, put his hand on my arm and said simply, "Life goes on." I've never wanted to thump someone as much in all my life as I did at that precise moment.

So the rest of the evening dragged on, and I got plastered. It didn't really matter. StangStar06 won several awards -- one probably 'best deep description of mustang modifications in a story' or something like that; I wasn't paying much attention. I just remember hearing his name for yet another bloody award and being deep in the disappointed bitterness stakes at the time, murmuring "mother-fucker!" in what I thought was a sotto voice, but which obviously was not, since it was picked up by the whole table, who all smiled sympathetically, if a little strained. I remember hearing him launching into an attack on the new model Mustang in one of his acceptance speeches -- he said something like "I've never met a Mustang I didn't like, until now." And then there was a hushed stunned silence when he said this.




Awards Night



Matt Moreau won for 'best developed characters', DanielQSteele won something because he's DanielQSteele and just being DanielQSteele means he has to win something. TXTallTales won something, even The Wanderer got to take one of those little statuettes off the stage. That was terrific, let me tell you, sitting at his table, looking at that all night. That made me feel even better about myself. Awesome.

I continued drinking after the evening's ceremonies concluded. During the party afterwards, I got a lot of sympathetic murmurs, "Sorry you didn't win", "There's always next year" (which, for best newcomer, there certainly is not), "You got robbed" and possibly the best -- and certainly most ironic - of the evening, "Jezzaz, I choose YOU." I think that was PennLady.

At some point I realized the wife wasn't with me any more. I'd gone to get a drink at the bar and when I returned to the people we were talking to—English Bob I think it was—she was gone. I wasn't too worried. She'd be making the rounds, being sociable and probably telling stories that I wouldn't look great in, as she is wont to do. I don't really mind, since most of them are pretty funny. The Chicago Radio DJ story still made me laugh, but there was times when I just wished she'd shut up because while the stories were funny, most of the time I looked like an idiot in them.

Anyway, about an hour later the party was winding down. I was now aware that the party atmosphere had turned. It was no longer post awards, and was now almost sex club. People were pairing off, and not with the people they'd come with, - even I, drunk as I was, could see that, - and vanishing off to hotel rooms.

I was less thrilled with this behavior -- not because I'm a prude, but because I hadn't known this was coming and I didn't know where Katie was. She wouldn't have taken any of that crap from someone coming on to her and eventually someone would get a knee in the balls and there would be screaming and pain and blood and she'd have creased her dress or something and be upset because it would be my fault, somehow.

I did another wander, looking for her and not finding her. I decided she'd probably gone up to the room, so off I went. Plus there was a minibar there and I wasn't done drinking yet, not by half.

As I let myself into our suite, I could hear voices and I realized that Katie was indeed in the room, probably with the TV on or something.

Well, it was definitely "or something". The TV was on all right. On some porn channel that I winced at, because this was Vegas and it was probably costing me $20 a minute. I realized that there were clothes all over the place. And not mine. And not Katie's, unless she'd taken to wearing tuxes.

The door to the other suite opened and Matt Moreau walked about, stark naked, recently used knob swinging around. He saw me, nodded and went to the mini bar and took out a beer and went back into the bedroom. I don't know what annoyed me more - that he was naked in my suite or that he'd taken a drink from the mini bar that I was going to have to pay for, probably with the blood from my first born child. Drinks in those mini bars are Fucking Expensive.

Anyway, I did a great impression of a flycatcher and suddenly came to myself and surged forward, into the bedroom.

They were all in there. StangStar06, TheWanderer, Matt Moreau, English Bob, Just Plain Bob, all of them. Everyone who had won an award was in the room, in various stages of undress. On the bed, squeezed in between Slirpuff (who, it has to be said, is a very well equipped man, I couldn't help noticing), with his cock in her mouth and Just Plain Bob, who was nut deep in her from behind, was my darling wife. She hadn't even taken off her dress, it was just rucked up from behind.

Katie looked over at me and made eye contact and said something like "werg eyedeed see..." before pulling the large piece of wedding tackle out of her mouth and saying, "Hi, honey! I started without you. I did say I was really looking forward to fucking winner and well, you didn't win..." She smiled and just took that huge horse cock back in her mouth as I stood there, doing my best David-Tennant-as-the-Doctor impression and saying, "What? What? WHAT?"

All the guys started chanting my name. "Jezz, Jezz, Jezz, JEZZ!" getting louder in volume. I closed my eyes, wanting the world to end.

I sat bolt upright, eyes wide, disturbing Katie's hand on my shoulder. She was sitting up in bed, looking at me concernedly. "Are you ok, honey? You've been tossing and turning all night. Who is 'StangStar'?"

I looked wildly around our darkened bedroom, my heart rate slowly returning to normal. Katie had been shaking me and calling my name for the past four or five minutes because I was obviously having a nightmare.

I REALLY need to stop writing for that damn website, particularly late at night. When these Ingrams stories were done, I'd definitely stop...