9781618856357HavingItAllStorm

by Troy Storm

  “So-called, huh? I been thinking, too,” the young man interrupted, darkly.

  “Andy! Don’t do anything, don’t make any decisions without…We need to all be on the same team before we see the board day after tomorrow. We can do it, Andy. We’re smarter than they are. At least you are.” It was a cheap shot but, still, he was only seventeen.

  “That’s bull.” But there was a slight smirk in the young voice. “Okay. I won’t do nothing. But the girls are going over their text messaging units tonight. They are pissed at being treated like babies. Fucking bimbo babies. You’d thought the old ladies would have at least had a little respect for what they’re trying to do.”

  “Well, maybe I can talk to them tomorrow,” Stephen sighed. “In the meantime, about tonight. Can you tell me where the game is?”

  “Which game? There are four. Basketball tournament. Soccer. Football and Tiddly Winks.”

  “What?”

  “Chess. Buncha dorks,” he snorted. “They threw me out ’cause I beat ’em every time.”

  “I meant the game Coach Parks is coaching.”

  “Soccer. Middletown. It’s about forty miles. You going? Pretty late to get started.”

  “Forty miles. I thought, I dunno, I thought I might show up to support the coach.”

  Andy humphed…then snickered. “He doesn’t need supporting. Wears two. The team might, though.”

  “What? What was that about?” The kid obviously knew a hell of a lot more than they might be giving him credit for. Never mess with an annoyed seventeen-year-old. “About the team needing support?”

  “Nothing.” Andy shut down. “Just…nothing.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll just wish the team good luck over a beer here and watch ESPN.”

  “We don’t have cable.” He made it sound like another put-down.

  “Thanks for the info, Andy, and remember, don’t take any wooden flash drives.”

  Andy snickered. Stephen sighed. At least his feeble efforts were being tolerated.

  The beer didn’t do it. He dug out the local map and headed for Middletown.

  By the time he got there, Stephen was berating himself for being so foolish. He knew almost zilch about soccer. He just wanted to see Chad in action, he tried to convince himself. Yeah, and maybe nudge him home earlier. He erased the thought and the image of the naked young man spread-eagled on the bed…ready. For anything.

  For Stephen. And soon…for him and Syble.

  The young coach was howling up and down the line. The team was losing and he was giving the young players hell. This wasn’t what Stephen wanted to see. He stood to go. Chad looked up at that moment and caught sight of him in the stands. He stared. Stephen turned and left.

  Later, at the house, another beer down, Stephen was trying to figure why he was acting like a heart-sick teenager. Maybe another call to Andy would give him an insight into the overweight young man’s fractured brain. And his own. He really should have been more help that afternoon. Syble had gotten them all working together, the teenagers and the adults. He had once been able to get disparate employees working together at the office. They were both good at organizing. But now…

  What the hell had Syble done by dragging Chad into their happy bridal bed? A stud who could be a good buddy one minute and a bellowing harridan the next. Thank God he wasn’t one of Chad’s students. Seeing him in full foul action this evening had not been conducive to making Stephen more secure about now being in charge of the presentation.

  Not exactly what the school board would want to see. An unsure rabble-rouser.

  His cell phone rang.

  “Steve, it’s Chad. I’m really sorry, I’m gonna be later than I thought. Me and the guys are going for pizza.” There was an excitement in his voice that caused Stephen to sit up straight.

  “You won?” Damn! And he had left the game.

  Chad laughed. “Hell, no. Middletown is amazing, fantastic players, but our guys…You won’t believe what happened. Then again, maybe you would. Steve, I know this is a weird question, but you weren’t at the game tonight, were you? No, you couldn’t have been. Middletown is…Anyway, uh, maybe you could stay up? No, damn, I’ll really be late. I’ll have to drive some of the guys home. We’ll talk about it in the morning. Before I go to school. You won’t believe…!” His voice dropped. “Pop off one for me. Maybe in the shower in the morning we can…talk.”

  “Chad, whatever it is, you sound great! We’ll have plenty of time to talk, later, I promise. We’ve both got to knock ourselves out tomorrow for the presentation to the school board Thursday. We owe it to Syble.” There was no need to tell the excited young man how he had screwed up this afternoon. His presence, his renewed enthusiasm would make a hell of a difference tomorrow.

  “Yeah, we owe Syble a lot more than a high school sex lesson plan. See you in the morning.”

  Of course Stephen waited up.

  “Damn, you shouldn’t have!” But Chad was obviously elated he did. He stripped naked and jumped into bed, working on his boner, babbling excitedly as Stephen took off his robe and sat on the edge of the bouncing mattress.

  “Everything was going shit and then I thought I saw a guy who looked exactly like you in the stands and suddenly…You know what you said this afternoon about me just thinking about me?”

  “I don’t remember exactly, no.”

  “I turned around and suddenly I was one of them. You know what I mean? Like, sixteen, seventeen, whatever—it hasn’t been that long ago—inside their skins, being treated like dirt, by me, and then suddenly maybe being fawned over, not at all sure what the hell was going on, and…and I started treating them like I wished I had been treated when I was playing. You know? Like…like they were playing a hell of a game. The other guys were just better. But our guys were still making great plays. They knew what they were doing well and when they were doing crappy and suddenly here I was agreeing with them, pointing out the good stuff, helping them with the bad. Treating them like…like the really great kids they are.”

  He was lying in bed, eyes glittering with excitement—boner long forgotten—reliving the amazing transformation. Stephen watched, carefully, trying to remember. Seventeen was such a long way away. He put a hand on Chad and rubbed gently, hoping for a connection—to being…young…once.

  “Suddenly, they were having fun!” He grabbed Stephen’s hand and held on. “Oh, God, it feels so fucking good to be touched by you. I am so double beat.” He grabbed for Stephen’s dick with his other hand and hung on, completing a circuit, but his proud heart was still with the team.

  “Suddenly, I’m having fun! I mean, who the hell cares about winning? We’re not going to win, anyway. Practically every other team, man, in the area, they’re like pros! Deadly, man. But we can play good! Our guys, and our girls, too, can play fine ball. Nothing wrong with that, right?” He yawned. Squeezing Stephen’s hand. Squeezing his dick. His tense, excited, strong, young god-like body began to relax. He grinned. And yawned hugely.

  Stephen rubbed his thigh. “What if you lose your job because you can’t produce a winning team?”

  Chad automatically tugged on the older man’s turgid member in response.

  “So, what the fuck? Think of the memories they’ll have.” Another big yawn. “And me, too. They played a hell of a game, Steve. And,” he tried to rouse himself, but his limbs were too heavy and happy. “An’ who knows, maybe some of ’em will get better, but they’ll have good memories of great times, no matter what. That’s what the pizza…” He was almost asleep. “‘Remember this now,’ I told ’em. ‘Enjoy the moment. Even if you fall flat on your face. You did your bes’, and even if you didn’ well there’s always next time…Man, they were soooo fucking excited…”

  He was asleep.

  Stephen waited until the kids were cleared from the coach’s sleeping mind. Stroked him into a full-bore hard-on, sucked him off, got rewarded with a gutful of sleep-inducing protein and a half-roused, muttered, “Th’ li’l god th
anks th’ big ole big god…he owes him ’nuther,” and a clumsy hug that almost strangled Stephen before he could pry himself loose for a final benediction.

  “An’ I ain’ never…lettin’ th’ big god go.”

  They slept.

  Chad, like the blessed.

  Stephen, fitfully. He still had to break the bad news.

  * * * *

  The bad news the next afternoon was that the adults and the teenagers, even with Chad in attendance, were again butting heads; even the teens were beginning to mistrust each other. It was worse than ever, Stephen thought, and it was truly beginning to look as if never the twain would get back together in time for the presentation to the school board the next day.

  Eyes glazed, he rubbed his forehead, trying to subdue the splitting headache, watching the mayhem around him at the library, wondering how both Mrs. Abernathy and Mrs. Lopez, usually the epitome of civilized behavior, could both be brought to acting like alley cats under the right circumstances.

  And this was obviously one of those circumstances.

  Chad looked wild-eyed. He was used to battling recalcitrant teenagers, but shrieking grown-ups and grit-teethed, fangs-bared teenagers was another matter.

  Andy and the girls were having none of that crappy ‘protect our young people’ crap from the ladies. They were ready to declare war.

  And dump the whole idea.

  With just a few hours to go before they would meet with the school board.

  “My husband,” Mrs. Lopez shrieked yet again, her voice rattling the books of the locked stacks.

  “We know your old man is a tight-assed, hard-nosed bigot!” Mrs. Abernathy stopped her cold. “You’ve made that perfectly clear! But I’ll be damned if his trying to interfere with our presentation is going to stop our saving these kids!”

  “Gladys! You have gone too far.” Mrs. Lopez’s eyes blazed.

  “Maria! I have not gone nearly far enough! I, too, have influence in this town!”

  “Perhaps,” Stephen tried to get a word in edgewise. “Please, we’ve gotta get back to taking another look at the presentation. Andy, and girls, do you think we absolutely need to show a close-up of the sex act, in living color…”

  “And in motion?” the coach added, tentatively. “I mean, don’t we all know, uh, how that works?”

  “No,” Andy answered flatly. “I guess not. Some dumb ass stuck it in a girl’s butt last month because he was nervous and couldn’t find the right hole.”

  “And,” Francine piped up. “She took it because she was too dumb to know exactly what was going on down there, herself.”

  “And was out of school for three days,” Meredith piped up, primly. “And now hates guys totally. Not that I don’t totally agree with her, sometimes.” She glared at Andy.

  “We didn’t intend to get this deep into the subject,” Stephen pleaded. “Not right away. The point was responsibility, not how to do it or not do it. Although I agree completely that’s an important issue. But, jeez, c’mon, guys, work with us. Some people, like Mrs. Lopez’s husband, are going to be offended. That could bring the whole project to a dead halt.”

  “Oh, sure,” Andy rolled his eyes. “Pretend we’re not dumb. Pretend nobody tells us nothing. Pretend we don’t get all our information from porn on the Internet or our terrified don’t-touch-please-don’t-touch-God-in-Heaven-ifyoutoucheachotherwe’llstrikeyoudead priests and know-it-all pastors. And then pretend when some of us get knocked up and we don’t want to go through with it…” He rose to his feet, red-faced. “Everybody goes, ‘You’re going to do what we want you to do whether you want to or not!!’ Thanks, adults!”

  Everybody started screaming at once…again.

  “Stop it!” Mrs. Abernathy bellowed. “Syble wouldn’t put up with our yowling at each other for one minute. No offense, Mr. Thornton, but you don’t really run a tight ship here.” She turned to Andy, “I can understand your position to a certain extent, but if you won’t change your presentation,” she rose to meet him face to face. “Then I will have to agree with Mrs. Lopez that we will have to postpone our meeting until Syble gets back and maybe she can talk some sense into your head.”

  “It’s our presentation, too,” both Meredith and Francine yelped. “And a lot of other girls, too.” Francine huffed. “And we’ve got the texts to prove it.”

  “And they said we can use their names,” Meredith topped her.

  “They what?” Chad turned to the girls.

  “Uh, said we could use their names?” Meredith looked around, disconcerted.

  “Aren’t some of those girls daughters of some of the board members?” Chad asked, pointedly, and then turned to Stephen, beaming.

  A light dawned. “Andy,” Stephen asked, “could you change the presentation to start off with the names of the kids who want to be heard? As well as those of us here. And maybe tomorrow we can recruit some other adults,” he noted pointedly, “who are willing to stick their necks out to help our kids.”

  “My mom sure would,” Meredith spoke up, excitedly.

  “Both my parents!” Francine topped her.

  “Andy, can you get a G-rated version up on You Tube by tomorrow and see to it that the word gets out to the rest of the school’s blogs? And on Twitter?” Stephen’s look was devious. “You might infer that a much more ‘detailed’ version of our sex lesson is to be presented to the school board in hopes of giving our students more accurate information which we hope will lead to more responsible decisions about their actions. If we can cut ’em off at the pass, the board will have to at least listen to us.”

  Andy looked at his watch. “By nine o-clock tonight,” he stated coolly, “it’ll be up.” He turned to the girls, his voice harder. “I suppose you’ll want to help.”

  They looked at each other. “We trust you.”

  “What?” He blinked slowly, his stupefied look a perfect indication of the adolescent male’s lack of ability to ever understand the female gender.

  Stephen moved between Mrs. Abernathy and Mrs. Lopez and put an arm around each. “We men could accomplish nothing without the trust and support of our loyal womenfolk. Thank you, ladies. Syble would be proud.”

  “Right.” Mrs. Abernathy noted, her voice lightly sarcastic. “You men can be effective. After we’ve told you what to do,” she peered around Stephen to Mrs. Lopez. “And the least we can do is support their decisions. Right, Maria? Right, girls?”

  Maria smiled. The girls giggled.

  Andy frowned, and then, slowly, his face softened. “Well, if you have anything you wanna talk about,” he said to the two gigglers. “Text me.”

  Stephen and Chad released their pent-up breath, and crossed their fingers.

  Chapter Eight

  Thursday’s noon workout session at the high school was a revelation.

  Half a dozen guys and a couple of girls showed up with no prompting, delighting Chad. He set them—and Stephen—to work, and then spent the half-hour available attending each, giving encouragement, cracking jokes, keeping them focused. More than ever, Stephen thought the young coach would make an excellent personal trainer.

  The kids headed for the cafeteria whooping and hollering with excitement, Stephen envying their endless energy. He followed Chad out of the gym.

  “You’ve been friggin’ reborn, young man. Tell me it was my applying my mouth to your private parts last night and this morning that has infused you with humanity. Those kids would now follow you anywhere. Syble and I will have to swat them away to get at you.”

  Chad stepped into the shower, glowing with sweat, pleased, and just as surprised, with his new attitude. Pulling on his clothes and glancing into the showers, Stephen considered what it would be like to be transformed into warm caressing water sluicing over the reborn coach.

  “How could I have been so dumb not to figure how to treat them?” Chad called out. “Like, how I wanted so badly to be treated myself when I was one of them. Not condescending. Just decent.”

 
“Well,” Stephen noted, settling onto a bench, “looking like you do, you probably scared the shit out of your old high-school coach. How did your buddies act toward you back then?”

  Chad paused scrubbing himself and peered through the pouring water.

  Yep, Stephen mused, coming back as hot water could be a very good thing.

  “Are you crazy? I was an overweight nerd in high school. Working out like hell, trying to buddy up to the hunks. Man, I wanted to be one of them. They were getting all the good stuff. But they cut me dead, and the other nerds cut me dead because I was trying to suck up to the dumb jocks.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t mean that literally. College was my coming out party.”

  “Coming out?”

  “Yeah. Y’know, whatever was happening. Genes clicking in, hormones flushing into place, suddenly everything started shifting. I bulked up. I shaped out. I became…” He searched for the word to describe his transformation.

  “A young god.”

  Chad snorted. “Careful with the god stuff. I turned into a strutting shit. Smug. Sure. The gals couldn’t spread it wide enough for me and, man, I dove right in. There were days when I thought my dick would drop off I was getting so much.”

  Stephen shifted, not sure he needed to hear all the details of Chad’s awakening.

  “Then I came here. The kids cut me down to size and proceeded to chop my ego up in little pieces. The girls came on like gangbusters, knowing I couldn’t touch ’em with a ten-foot pole. The available dames were few and far between. The guys acted like I didn’t exist. I got very lonely. Both of us.” He soaped his privates.

  “And very angry.”

  “Yeah, but I still liked the kids. I mean they may be shits, but…when the girls got knocked up, I was just as sick as any of them. That’s when I got on the responsibility kick…and went to Syble for help. She was fantastic. Grown up. Beautiful. Concerned. And…”

  He stepped out of the shower, slowing drying himself, eyes down.