Chapter 4
WITH RITA, IT WASN'T LIKE IT WAS WITH either Cora or Elsie. Cora'd get as hot and violent as anyone he'd ever heard about and there were times when Ted worried for fear she'd hurt herself. But once she was good and hot, she wanted to come. She could care less about holding off in order to enjoy some of the more refined variations, but she didn't.
Elsie was a puzzle. She reminded Ted of a computer, cool and precise and direct. She was as fast as Cora, but in a different way. She'd let excitement build up as long as she could control every reaction. The moment it looked like she was going to lose control of herself, she'd precipitate her orgasm-and the guys. And she'd remain in control right through it. Ice, he kept thinking-hot ice.
But Rita! Rita was put together in a different mold using different clay! She was eager to build up. She did everything in her power to speed the process. And she'd reach the plateau that lay just below the summit of an orgasm with a minimum of effort. But once she was there, she counted on him to keep her there. She wanted to hover on the brink while she drank in all the subtle stimuli they'd discovered together and she counted on him to sense those moments when she was about to peak out and slack off long enough for her to slide back. She depended on him because she didn't want to worry about self-control. She didn't want to have self-control-or to think she was responsible for the things she did or said or that happened to her-when she was making love.
He liked to pride himself on the way he'd taught her, but he had to admit privately that she'd taught him, as well. It could be far too much for a man to sustain that kind of effort for two or three hours if he hadn't learned endurance. And she'd forced him to develop that.
He'd be as well pleased if they hadn't ever got ten mixed up in this damned wife-swapping. Sure, it grabbed him by the nuts to see someone else forking his woman, but it was a two-edged thing. It half suffocated him with jealousy, for one thing. And every time they swapped, it seemed like a wasted opportunity-one charge wasted for each of them because his partner didn't have what Rita had and because Rita's partner didn't have the stamina to keep her screaming hot for the two or three hours she was used to.
It was a bit easier tonight, perhaps because of the afternoon session in the van, which left him calmer than usual. But it was good, as it was always good and by twelve-thirty, they were both ready to accept the spasms that would release them from their tautness and passion. He went to sleep wondering if he could invent some excuse for missing the Rosses' get-together Saturday. Not that they'd be doing any swapping, of course, but if they went, he and Rita probably wouldn't feel there was time enough for a session when they got home.
But no good excuse suggested itself to him and the week rolled past too quickly. They drilled the team on defenses against multiple reverses and re viewed their assignments on line defense. But there were no bad weaknesses and Ted preferred to improve their overall timing and hitting, rather than try to devise anything new and spectacular. He did run them through their triple reverse, which used an end-around, several times. They'd avoided the play in regular games, so far. He wanted to save it for a time when they absolutely had to have it. And Saturday came and they traveled to East Fork.
Burwell wasn't officiating this game. It was a Len Milton, whom Ted hadn't met before and his crew. Milton called Ted and the Eagles' coach together before the game.
"Brown," he said. "I want to give you a fair warning. My crew and I are going to watch your men like hawks. The first time we see anything that looks like a deliberate attempt to rough up an Eagle player, we'll order the offending players out of the game."
Ted stiffened, but Milton silenced him and continued.
"Furthermore, well weigh in immediately before the toss. I want to see each of your boys sign a card so I can compare his signature with the one on the official roster. After the weigh-in, you're not to let a boy leave the bench-or the playing area -without one of my crew checking him out and back in."
Ted waited for a moment to be sure Milton had finished. Then, "What's the idea, Milton?"
The referee stared at him. "I don't think I ought to have to draw a picture, Brown, but the federation has strong evidence to support this kind of ruling."
"From what date and against what opponent?"
Milton scowled. "This isn't a trial. I don't have to go into that kind of detail."
Ted exhaled, then took a deep breath and forced himself to loosen up. He spoke softly. "Len, I'm not trying to finger anyone. I think there may be a case of mistaken identity and you can clear that up if there is. Are you aware of the fact that Oakdale has two teams of Junior Bantams?"
Milton raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
"Was the word you got about the Oakdale Raiders or just the Oakdale Junior Bantams?"
"They didn't bother with the team name. But the things we're concerned about happened at the Oakdale home field last Saturday. You played at home last week, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir. So did the other Oakdale Junior Ban tam team. Look, Mr. Milton. There wasn't an injury on the team I played last week."
The Eagles' coach cleared his throat. "If you know what team had injuries, we can prove that quickly enough," he told the official. "I have the league schedule right here. Brown's Raiders played against the El Gato Bucks."
"You're sure of that?" demanded Milton.
"Dead sure," insisted the other.
"That's right," agreed Ted.
"I owe you an apology, Brown. But I think I'll keep an especially close watch anyway. The disease might be catching." He didn't smile.
Ted turned to the other coach. "I guess introductions got missed in the excitement. I'm Ted Brown."
"Paul Mackey." Mackey held out his hand.
Ted gripped the hand and grinned. "My boys play by the rules, Paul. At least, they try to. But they're eager to win and I try to convince them that if they hit with anything less than all they've got they're dogging it."
Mackey reflected the grin. "Sounds standard. Good luck, coach."
"Good luck."
The game was a good one when Ted looked back on it. He ran sweeps at Mackey's ends often enough to keep them wide, but he expected to be stopped without a gain on those plays and he was. He used a sharp cutback, where the ball carrier on a sweep reversed himself to run against the defensive grain and the play went for substantial yard age. He pounded the interior line with power dives and he found that his boys could make three or four yards almost every time.
They scored with power plays three times after long sustained drives and once on a long pass. But they let the Eagles score on an intercepted pass and gave up two touchdowns when jump passes caught the line-backers out of position. And the game ended that way, with the score twenty-eight to twenty-one in favor of Ted's Raiders.
Paul Mackey congratulated Ted. "My boys figure they know how you beat us, Ted. Your kids just had one thing on their mind and that was winning. I wouldn't be able to name an outstanding player on your team; they played too smoothly together for that."
Ted was glad Elsie'd set up the party. He felt like celebrating. He could get worked up about having Milton stick him with Ron's tactics of last week if he cared to dwell on it, but today's victory meant he'd won five of his seven league games. There were only two left to play and he'd worried more about the East Fork Eagles' scoring capability than about anyone else in the league. Perhaps Bill wasn't just wishing. Perhaps the Raiders had a chance.
Ron and Nan Demming were the last to arrive at the Rosses' that night. Nan's hair radiated and an emerald green sheath dress set off its red brilliantly. She'd have needed no other ornament, but a great emerald pendant (synthetic, Ted was certain) hung centered on the skin bared by the low neckline and smaller teardrops of the same stone dangled from her ears. Her hair was piled high atop her head.
Ron bounced like a boy.
"Didja hear? Didja hear? We beat Ocean View eighty to zero!"
"EIGHTY!" Ted felt sick to his stomach. "How! That's the Jets?"
"Yeah, the Jets."
"They hadn't lost a game yet, had they?"
"Oh, sure!" exclaimed Bill. "They had a three and one record. The Warhawks had beaten them."
"Oh."
"They built their whole strategy around a kid named West," Ron said. "I figured if we covered West, they'd be dead."
"Both offense and defense?" asked Ted.
"Right. Their quarterback can't throw and West was too good a runner to put under the center, so they set up their plays around a pitch out to West. He could pass or run, depending on how it looked to him. And he played a sort of deep monster man spot on defense. He was so fast he showed up wherever the ball was."
"I didn't know you had any real fast kids."
"I don't. But they're mean."
"Still, holding a guy like that out of the play for a whole game ... !" Ted shook his head.
"They got a bad break," Ron said. "West got hurt on the kickoff return. He made a fancy lateral and my kids thought he still had the ball." Ron shrugged. "Breaks of the game."
"Was it a bad injury?" asked Rita.
"I don't know," Ron told her. "They hadn't got ten word back from the hospital when we left."
Ruthless, thought Ted. A ruthless man who was building ruthlessness into the kids on his team. Probably compensation for having to be a mild mannered yes-man on the job.
The spaghetti and wine mellowed them. And more wine as they sprawled on pillows afterward, listening to music-getting up from time to time to dance-mellowed them further. Congratulations seemed to be in order throughout the Oakdale contingent and they took the form of warm, intimate caresses from the women. It did not surprise Ted to find that Nan's contribution to him was the warmest. His belly knotted when Rita clung to Ron, then relaxed as Cora managed to displace her.
Someone-he thought it was Elsie-turned off all the lights except for those in the chandelier, which were controlled by a rheostat and then turned those down to their lowest intensity. Conversation lagged and finally died out and Ted could hear only heavy breathing and the occasion al rustling of clothes or clink of glasses. He lay propped up on pillows in a corner near the fire place and Nan was stretched out with her body pressed hard against his. She made soft, crooning sounds in her throat as their tongues thrust and parried.
He was strongly aware of the swell of her breasts against his chest and she held his leg between her knees. His hands rubbed and kneaded and she turned herself continuously to expose other areas to his caresses. He felt himself stiffen and Nan pushed her belly against the bulge of his penis and redoubled her tongue's effort. Ted glanced past her head at the others and saw patches of bare flesh. It was going to be one of those nights, even though Elsie hadn't said so. He drew his knee up between Nan's thighs, pushing her skirt ahead of it.
Nan's legs tightened momentarily, then relaxed, parting for his to move toward their juncture. He drove his thigh tightly against her crotch. Her warmth heated it and she clamped and released as if her thighs were winking.
He thought about undressing her. The dress would probably have to come off over her head; it zipped up the side and even with its low neckline, it would likely be a tight squeeze to get it down over her hips. Besides, it had been awhile since he'd pulled one off that way. He worked the zip per down a bit at a time, as if he were trying not to let her know. And he stroked her exposed thighs, inching the dress further up each time his hand reached her hip. The pretense of keeping her unaware was spoiled when he started to ease up the part of the skirt that had gathered under her hip. She raised herself without apparent effort to let him collect the material around her waist.
Nan was different. She had a generous bottom that Ted had thought of as muscled and hard. But the hardness and control was an authoritative girdle. He tested its fit with his fingers; it hugged her with a ferocious grip.
"Christ!" he whispered. "How do you get in and out of that thing?"
She tensed and he knew he'd offended her. He sought her mouth with his, ignoring the girdle while he worked her dress up over her bra. It seemed wise to unfasten the bra while she was in this position and the moment it was loose he slipped his hand under it to cradle a heavy breast. Nan warmed, seeming to forgive him for his poor choice of words and he pulled away from the kiss to whisper again.
"That breast! It feels like the kind a man dreams of!"
Nan smiled with her eyes half closed. "It's yours tonight, darling."
He pulled the bra back and peered at her.
"My God!" he sighed. "Magnificent!"
Nan rolled onto her back and raised her arms for him to pull off the dress and bra.
"Be careful of my hair," she murmured.
He reached back to lay the clothes on one of the chairs, then put his mouth to the nearer breast, sucking the nipple deep into his throat. It was nearly as large as his thumb, but it had the consistency that was unique to nipples and its surface crinkled in hard ridges.
Nan raised her bottom off the pillow and began to work at her girdle. Ted breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been afraid he'd have to concede defeat. As the taut sheath inched down over her abdomen, her flesh appeared to swell behind it, bulging out in slow recovery from its wrinkled confinement. He laid his hand on her belly and felt the wrinkles fill and disappear and he rubbed away the film of sweat. Her pubis came into view, the hair straggling erect as the bulge beneath it filled out. And then she turned her moist face toward him and smiled.
"You finish it so I don't have to sit up."
He changed position and worked the shrinking tube off over her legs, noting that she'd unfastened the garters from the tops of her legs. And he rolled down her stockings, knowing that he'd snag them. He leaned back, then, puffing and surveyed the great form stretched before him. His revulsion at the girdle slowly evaporated. Without it, Nan had a full set of hips. But they didn't appear out of proportion to him. They flared outward from her waist in a bold sweep that spoke of power and stamina and he ached to thrust himself in to the cradle they supported. Instead, he stroked the hair and again took a nipple into his mouth.
That goddamn girdle must be murder, he thought. Hot and binding. On impulse, he scratched Nan's abdomen lightly with his nails. She started, then stretched and squirmed. He smiled to himself around the mouthful of breast and continued to scratch, working his way into the creases at the tops of her thighs.
His fingers probed into the crevice between her legs and he parted folds until he located the harder mass of her clitoris. He'd expected it to be big, as she was big. But it was smaller than that of any one of the other women in the room. He manipulated it gently and Nan pushed her fists into the pillows beside her head.
"Good God, coach!" she exclaimed. "How do you do that?"
"Easy," he said. "Slow and easy."
"Oooh! It's just right! I like it this way!"
"There's plenty of time," Ted whispered, releasing her breast. "We'll work up easy."
"Yes ... I'm going to like that!"
He dipped his fingertips down into the folds of her vulva and covered them with her juice. He smeared it on her clitoris, repeating the process until the area around the little organ was slimy with a thick layer of fluid. He resumed his gentle massage, but with the lubrication his finger slid instead of dragging. Nan jerked her knees up and let them fall outward, spreading her thighs wide. She began to moan deep in her throat and her breath came in hard pants.
"Ted!" she whispered, then. "Get some fingers inside me! I need something to remind me where this is going to wind up!"
He chuckled and forced his fingers into the hold, working them around the rim until it stretched enough to take them. He found her clitoris with his thumb and started the easy massage and she forced her thighs further apart, he bore down with his thumb, until it was rolling the clitoris against the underlying bony structure.
"Oh, Jesus, Ted! Jesus Christ! Get aboard! I won't be able to wait for you!"
Disappointment dug at him. He was going to get cheated again. She was in a hurry! But he pushed off his pants and shorts and peeled away his shirt and rolled onto her.
"Mmmm!" she crooned. "Just lay on me this way for a few minutes. I won't cool down too much." She put her arms around him and held him on the cushion of her breasts.