Coach Miller Ch. 04

Thank you incredimeters for all you have done to help me edit my stories.

Chapter One Summary: Ashly Haze, captain of the cheer squad, has confessed to Coach Lacy Miller that she loves her and Ashley spends the night.

Chapter Two Summary: Ashly learns about savoring sex and how to have fun with toys and role-playing.

Chapter three summary: Ashley gets her naval pierced, a tattoo, and seduces the tattoo artist who used to be Coach Miller's girlfriend.

It has been nine months since I got my tattoo from Mo. We lost the cheerleading competition. Lacy and I think somebody got to the judges. We were disqualified for a stupid violation after we already performed and were standing on stage about to receive our awards. Lacy got so mad that she used some four-letter words that I had never heard. The school superintendent was in the crowd and suspended Lacy from coaching high school cheerleading, so she quit. Thankfully, one of the coaches at the colleges, where Mo teaches art classes, talked to Lacy after security threw her out. The Dean of athletics agreed with Lacy about the competition and offered her a new job, so Lacy and Mo are now co-workers.

I have stopped calling Coach, Coach. Except for when she, Mo, and I play a fun game where Mo and I are, you guessed it, cheerleaders, Mo was a cheerleader in high school and looks hot in the uniform, and Lacy is, well, our coach. I now refer to her only as Lacy. I can tell you after calling her Coach for so long it was hard. Then she came up with the policy of me having to put a dollar in a jar every time I forgot and called her Coach. That was a pretty expensive learning experience.

Lacy insisted Mo move in with her. Mo insisted Lacy see an ENT. I brokered the peace treaty between them. I can tell you nothing get parties more open to negotiations than the promise of sex afterward. Maybe the governments of the world should try it. Now I don't have to listen to Lacy's, "heavy breathing" (snoring) or go very far to see my two girlfriends.

I graduated from high school and Mo gave me a job at her office as a receptionist. Turns out good help really is hard to find. I am planning to go to college, probably the one Mo and Lacy work for, as they can get me a huge discount on tuition, but I am not sure what I want to major in. Both Lacy and Mo don't want me piling up student loan debt going in the wrong direction so I am just auditing a summer art class. I am hoping to be a teacher's pet before too long as Mo is the teacher.

But for real, Mo is a great teacher. She has the patience of a saint and she always seems to be able to get the best out of her students. Mo taught me more French in a few months than I learned in two years of high school and not just that stuff like, "Where's the bathroom," but real French. I'm not fluent, but Mo says I am getting more proficient every day. She hardly cringes or grinds her teeth anymore.

Lacy thinks Mo is trying to get me to become a tattoo artist like her, but Mo says that is just because Lacy is jealous of all the time we get to spend together. To that end, when I am not at work, I have been trying to spend more time doing things with Lacy. We have been going to concerts, working out and running. Having two girlfriends is a lot of hard work.

I got my tongue pierced and little by little Mo got my peacock tattoo done. Lacy says it's the best work she has ever seen Mo do. I have to admit it came out even better than I hoped. I am not a member of the pierced pussy club, yet. Mo insists on no sex until we can all enjoy it again together. I said she was being ridiculous. Mo pointed out, no sex was the rule when she pierced Lacy's pussy and that was still her rule. We fought a little but Lacy and I both admitted that it was a good rule and that there was no way we could go a couple of weeks without sex, much less a month if I developed an infection or something.

Physically, the three of us are all the same. Lacy is still a toned, blonde Valkyrie. She did cut her hair short and started to spike it. Mo and I blame the P!nk concert we all went to. Mo is still a Vietnamese goddess and I am still just a plain brown-haired bean pole. Now that I have you all caught up, on with the story.

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"Oh Ashley, I am so sorry I'm running late. I got lost in an interest cap review." My mom apologized as she rushed through the side door from the garage.

My mom, Catherine is 36. She got married to my dad Steven Haze, a year before I was born and my dad, a fireman, died in the line of duty when I was two. She is 5' 6," and 117 pounds. Unlike me, she has curves in all the right places. Her measurements are 38-24-34, similar to Marilyn Monroe but with brown hair she keeps in a school teacher's bun.

"Got it covered Mom," I said dumping fries out of the air frier basket and onto two plates. "Can you grab the ketchup?"

"Yes of course," my mom answered going to the refrigerator to grab the ketchup and two waters. "This looks great."

"Don't thank me. Thank the Vortex Grill 2000." I said in my best infomercial voice.

My mom chuckled at my joke. "What did I ever do to deserve a daughter like you?"

"What did I do now?" I asked taking her compliment incorrectly.

"Nothing sweetheart," she said with her mouth full. She finished her bite and swallowed. "You have been great the last few months. Doing all your chores, keeping your grades up."

Slightly depressed I answered, "With cheerleading done it wasn't that hard."

Mom took my hand. "I am so sorry that didn't go better. Lacy was right, that violation was crap."

"I didn't care about winning," I admitted.

"Really?" Mom asked.

"Really. I felt far worse for Keri and Sarah," I said eating another fry. "They really need the scholarships. And since we were disqualified, they were no longer eligible for any."

Mom got up and came around the table. "You are such a good person. Always thinking of others before yourself." She kissed me on the forehead. "I love you so much."

My phone rang and Mo's face appeared. "Sorry Mom, it's Mo."

My mom sat back down and motioned me to take the call. I didn't think she would eavesdrop but just in case I switched to French. "Je viens de te voir il y a une heure (I just saw you an hour ago)...en train de diner. OK je te verrai dans trente (Eating dinner. OK I'll see you in thirty)...toi aussi au revoir (You too goodbye)."

Mom looked at me surprised. "When did you learn French?"

I smiled at my mom. I thought, over the last six months while I was having sex with my boss. I said "Rosetta stone. Who knew the app really works?"              

"Well, if you need anyone to practice with..." my mom began.

My phone rang again. Lacy's face came up on my phone. I decided to not answer and just text her as my burger was getting cold and I didn't want to be any ruder to my mother.

Me: Yes?

Lacy: You need a ride?

Me: No.

Lacy: You taking a cab?

Me: Mo.

Lacy: KK LYHK (Love You. Hugs and Kisses)

Me: ditto

"Ashley, are you listening?" My mother brought me to reality.

"Yes. You have put away money for me in a 529 account and you have been working at the university since last semester so you may be able to get me a discount on tuition in the fall." Thank you, short-term memory, for giving me the ability to split my focus and still retain enough information to keep myself from getting grounded.

"Oh. Well, yes," my mom said astonished at my recall.

I had finished my burger as had mom. I collected the plates and put them in the dishwasher. I had used some tin foil and a slice of bread to soak up the grease from the burgers, just like the lady on the you-tube video, so clean up was a breeze. I threw our water bottles in the recycling box from across the kitchen and turned to my mom, "Dessert?"

"I'm stuffed," she said patting her stomach, "And I have to get ready for class too."

"Oh yeah." I was heading for the living room but then I turned back around. "Mo, says thanks again for signing up with her for another class she is hoping she can talk you into doing next semester too. She says that you're the only reliable model she has ever had. I'm sure your art experience helps."             

"She told you about me modeling for her class?" my mom asked, "and you're OK, with that?"

"Yes. I think it's great." I encouraged her, "You are so pretty, and now I'm not the only one that gets to see it," I answered.

My mom blushed. "Oh, honey I was so worried you wouldn't understand. I mean it is very different. Most daughters would be totally freaked out if they were about to spend two hours in a room full of people just staring at me..."

My phone beeped cutting her off. It was a text from Mo, "I'm out front."

"Sorry, Mom." I hugged her and could not help but notice she was not wearing a bra. "I got a go. See you later," I said, heading out the front door. Little did I know just how much of her I would be seeing later.

I got into Mo's dark green Jaguar Xj6. "To the university and don't spear the horses," I said as a Joke. Mo looked at me with real concern.

"What?" I asked Mo.

"Please tell me you have not been talking to me in French in front of your mother," Mo said.

"I may have, once or twice. Why?" I asked.

"Ta mere parle tres bien le francais (Your mother speaks French very well)." Mo answered.

"Merde. (Shit)," I cursed. "How do you know that?"

"How do you NOT know that?" Mo fired back emphasizing the not.

"I asked you first." I shot back. It was a little childish but always effective on the playground.

"When I interviewed her for the modeling job." Mo explained, "She asked about my accent and we got to talking," Mo answered

"Talking?" asked my words. Anything more than that? asked my eyes.

"Just talking." Mo professed her innocents but reddened a little. "Her grandmother, your great-grandmother was French Canadian and didn't speak English very well. Your mother spent several summers with your great-grandparents when she was a kid. It was easier for her to learn French than for her grandmother to learn English."

"I never met grand-mere. She died when I was three. But that makes sense," I said a little dazed. "I'm going to have to have a long talk with her later," I told Mo.

Mo patted my hand, "Do yourself a favor. Have that talk with her in French. You could use the practice."

"Hey," I protested, "you said I was getting better." I wined.

Mo changed the subject. "And you already talked about her modeling for the class?" Mo asked.

"Yes, we talked about that tonight at dinner. I am proud of her and I told her so." I said to Mo.

"That was so nice." The clouds that were surrounding Mo's mood vanished. "You're becoming such a mature young lady," Mo complimented me.

"Are models really that hard to find?" I asked.

"Yes. Most of them only want to pose for the photography class because they get to move around more and think it's more glamorous. That is why I have to pay more."

"I'm pretty sure Mom is doing it to help pay for my college," I said.

"Oh. I didn't know that." Mo thought for a moment. "I'll talk to the Dean of the Art department, maybe we can give her a raise."

"Thank you," I responded, "Now if you hurry, we will have at least a few minutes to make out in your office before class."

Mo backed out of my driveway and waited until the end of the block before punching the car into over-drive. NASCAR drivers would have been jealous of our quarter-mile time. Apparently, I mean way more to Mo than her insurance bonus for safe driving. Isn't that sweet?

There were five other students already setting up for class around a raised dais in the middle of the room. A man and four women. The man was Jason Swift, a fellow runner I knew from the park near my house. (To learn more about Jason please read the Just a Walk in the Park series) I thought about saying hello but didn't know if that would be professional. Jason had a huge easel and was setting out his chalk on a table.

One of the women was Asian but thanks to living with Mo, I knew was not Vietnamese. I was guessing Chinese and she looked familiar. She sat at a desk with paper and colored pencils ready. One woman was in her early forties and had chocolate skin and brown hair that she had mostly covered with a bandana. She had also laid out chalk but from the fact that her canvas was laying on the ground, I assumed she planned to draw from there. The last two women were plump in their fifties and very British. I mean, very British. Between them was a full tea set complete with scones and cucumber sandwiches. They both had set up easels like Jason's but they were using paints. I felt a little unprepared, all I had were pencils and ink pens.

On the dais was a Victorian chaise with burgundy cushions covered in a gold floral pattern. It looked like something out of a 19^th-century home. There was an overhead light that pointed down on the platform. There was a phony plant near the head of the couch. Several gold throw pillows littered the couch.

I sat at a small table. I pulled out my pens and started sharpening them. At exactly six thirty p.m. Mo clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Welcome everyone to Living Art. I am Mo Ling and I am the instructor for this class. I will have you introduce yourself to the rest of the class, then we will go over the ground rules."

We all looked at each other to see who wanted to go first. Finally, Jason raised his hand and said, "I guess I'll go first, I'm Jason Swift. Hey Ashley, good to see you."

I blushed a little but waved over at him. Lacy thought he was gay but maybe not. I went next. "Well, as Jason said, I am Ashley Haze."

Next was the Chinese woman in a surprisingly low voice so soft I am not sure how anyone heard her other than me, "I'm Ami Cooper."

Then came the African American woman, "I'm Linda Steward."

Which left only the two older women, "I'm Elizabeth Peirce and this is my sister Sarah Kent."

Sarah curtsied but said nothing.