Team Mates

"They're not taking you seriously. They're underestimating you. They don't know how good you can be. And neither do you. So how about we give them a nice big shit-burger to eat, and send them home losers?"

Wide-eyed, the girls giggled at his foul language. He grinned and stuck his hand into the huddle. Fourteen hands piled on top of it. "One, two, three..."

"TEAM!"

*****

As the visitors, Ames West had the honor of the first serve. The ball sped over the net and was fielded by Claudia Schumaker, who passed it to Tabitha. Tabitha's set was perfect, and Jasmine hammered the spike home, the ball glancing off of a desperately diving Ames West player and out of bounds. On the scoreboard, one point went up for Roosevelt.

"Yeah!!" Alan shouted, jumping to his feet. Too late, he noticed the girls on the bench staring at him.

"Or was that too much?" he asked sheepishly.

"Coach," Lindsey grinned, "if you get that worked up over every point, you're going to lose your voice by the second set. Calm down."

"Yes, ma'am," he said contritely, enjoying her laughter.

Ames West had a.500 record in conference play, which meant they should have handled Roosevelt easily. However, the Roosevelt girls were playing inspired ball, and took the first set, 25-19.

At the break, Alan grinned at their sweaty faces. "Hey, this is fun, isn't it?" He looked at tiny Consuela Barton, her black hair matted to her head with sweat, panting happily. "Connie, you've got more floor burns than Carter's got little pills." He grimaced at her blank look. "Never mind. Fist bump," he said, holding his out, smiling as she clenched her fist and knocked it against his. He looked around the huddle. "Anyone tired? Anyone need a couple of plays off? Jasmine?"

The dark-skinned girl considered, mopping her face with a towel. "Connie and Tabby aren't used to playing this much, Coach. You might want to sub them out for a little bit."

"Right." He looked at the huddle. "Rachel, go in for Connie. Lillian, sub in for Tabby. Jazz, let me know when those two should come back in. And don't forget to take a break yourself. I can see you're starting to run out of gas."

"I've won seven matches in two and a half years, Coach," Jasmine replied. "I'll let you know when I'm tired."

The second set went much the same as the first. Tabby was a machine, setting up spikes for Jasmine, Stacie, and Rachel with clockwork efficiency. Looking at the opposite bench, Alan could see the other team growing more and more frustrated. It didn't do any good, and Roosevelt won the second set 25-16.

However, led by their increasingly irate coach, Ames West fought back and won the third set 25-21.

"Hey," said Alan, as the exhausted team huddled between sets. "Chins up, girls. If it was easy, anyone could do it, right?" A few weary chuckles reached his ears. "Listen, they just gave you their best shot, and they barely won that set. Let's close this out and go home. Is anyone else ready for the weekend?"

"Fuck yeah," came a tired sigh. Alan chose to ignore the profanity.

"So go out there and kick their butts!"

Alan watched the ball go back and forth over the net, his heart in his throat. A week ago, he would never have imagined a pointless volleyball match between two second-rate teams could mean so much. His fists clenched as Ames West took a slim lead, and he loosened his tie and pulled off his jacket as Roosevelt rallied.

The game went on and on, neither team able to gain the two-point edge which would end it. Trying to get fresh legs onto the floor, Alan substituted Rachel Adams back into the game, pulling out an exhausted Candice Scott.

With Roosevelt ahead 28-27, Rachel served for the win. Her sagging, fluttering serve barely cleared the net, and was easily fielded by Ames West. A tall blond tried to spike it down, but her effort was ruined as Jasmine and Stacie blocked it at the net. Connie dove to the floor, lifting it just high enough for Tabby to pass it to Stacie, who dinked the ball over the straining reach of the opponent's front line, to land harmlessly, just inbounds.

For a splintered instant, the girls on the Roosevelt bench sat motionless, disbelieving. Then, with a mighty cheer, they flew off the bench to join their teammates on the floor, celebrating their victory.

Alan sagged back on the bench, completely spent. As the Ames West coach approached him, he heaved himself to his feet and shook her hand.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Coach Glassman," said the woman, an attractive brunette near his own age, "but I hope you don't stay in charge of this team long. If you can do that with this bunch inside a week, I don't want to see what you can do after a month or two. We'll see you at our place in a couple of weeks."

"Thanks, Coach Monroe," he replied, stunned at the compliment. On the court, the teams were shaking hands. After a few minutes, he followed them into the locker room.

He clapped his hands. "Well girls," he said sadly, shaking his head. "I'm afraid it's all downhill from here. Right now you're undefeated with me as your coach. We all know that's not going to last." A few tired chuckles greeted his lame joke. "But for now, congratulations!" he shouted, and grinned at the answering cheer. "Practice at four o'clock on Monday, game at Hoover Tuesday night! Have a great weekend."

*****

"Congratulations, Coach."

"Lavender! Come in!" Alan greeted the principal cheerfully, but his belly knotted. He was sure he knew what the conversation was going to be about. Outside the door, the girls of the team, having showered and changed, straggled by in ones and twos. Several called cheerful greetings to Alan and Lavender as they walked past, and Alan raised his hand and waved.

"I just had an interesting conversation with Mel Clark," the principal said softly. She raised her eyebrows. "You don't do things by halves, do you?"

"Better to be hanged for a sheep than a lamb," Alan replied. "Heather insulted a teammate in front of the whole squad, using language I can't condone. If she makes a sincere apology, she can come back to the team. Until then, she's suspended."

"Yes, so I heard," Lavender agreed. "You were very diplomatic with the sports reporter from the Register. 'Suspended for a violation of team policy'. Doesn't say anything at all, really."

Alan shrugged. "I didn't want to broadcast to half the state that one of our players is a bigot," he said. "Let everyone think she cut class or skipped practice. I don't want to ruin her life."

"Mel Clark wants to ruin yours," The tall, gray-haired woman warned. "He wants you fired and replaced by Monday. No, let me finish," she said, raising her hand, cutting off Alan's next words.

She leaned against the wall, eyes pensive. "I grew up in the seventies, Alan, in a town in Nebraska so small no one I meet has ever heard of it. I was the first person in my family to go to college, and I was so sheltered and innocent I didn't even know what a lesbian or gay man really was until I arrived in Lincoln.

"So I learned a few things. Then I learned a few more. Over the last thirty years I have watched gays and lesbians win toleration, then acceptance, and finally the freedom to marry.

"For people the age of myself or Mel, that's a lot of change to handle. Some of us can do it. Some can't. The problem, Alan, is that if you don't moderate your tone, you're going to find yourself butting heads with a lot of important people in the community. Business leaders. Religious leaders. School board members. People who haven't learned what you have. People who won't be shy about asking for your head on a plate. People who think their way is the only way.

"So what I'm asking is, are you willing to cool it a bit? Your willingness to stand up for Tabby is admirable, but is it worth it? Because you're going to bring down a whole load of trouble for us if you keep up this crusade of yours."

Alan considered for a long moment, then shook his head. "No, I'm not. I have a duty, Lavender, as a teacher. These children are put in our care. How can I let one of them be hurt, simply because it would make my life, or yours, easier?" he said, shooting the principal a keen glance. "I've seen bullies at work. I won't tolerate them in my class or on my team. If that's called a crusade, so be it."

"Your team?"

"My team, until you take it away from me," he said steadily. His voice was calm but his eyes were blazing. "Plus, we're teachers. We're supposed to teach. Not every lesson comes in the classroom. Some happen right here." His knuckles rapped gently on the desk. "Tonight fourteen girls saw me demonstrate a lesson in moral courage, if I can toot my own horn a bit. Maybe they'll be more willing to stand up against bigotry in the future. Or at least learn that morality doesn't come down from on high, inscribed on clay tablets."

"That's your final word?"

"It is."

"Good, because if you hadn't stood up for Tabby, your ass would have been out of here. I would never consider letting a spineless, gutless worm stay in my school," she said, grinning fiercely. "You did exactly right, and the administration will back you to the hilt.

"So go home and enjoy your weekend. Don't worry about Melvin Clark. I put him on notice that if he tried to take any action against you, he could read about what his darling daughter was doing in the papers." She caught his surprised expression. "Get used to it, kid. Half of any big organization is politics. Now go home."

*****

Alan knocked on the door to the locker room, then opened it. "Anyone here?" he called.

Silence was his only answer. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned off the lights, then turned off the lights in his office and locked it. In the gym, only the exit signs were glowing, sending a muted gleam across the burnished hardwood floor. His dress shoes woke faint echoes from the distant walls, and he smiled as he walked down the deserted corridors towards the doors which led towards the parking lot. The school always seemed friendlier at night. Stripped of the stressed-out teachers and the hurrying students, it had an air that seemed almost holy, as if it were a deserted church.

Pushing open the side door, he stopped for a moment and savored the cool fall air. October in Des Moines was usually a beautiful time, and this year was no exception. The last light of the day threw back golden highlights as dozens of maple leaves slowly spun earthward.

With a faint click, he unlocked the door of his car and tossed in his shoulder bag. Starting the engine, he turned on the radio and pulled out of the parking lot, already planning his evening.

*****

"Is he gone?" Stacie whispered.

Tabby nodded, watching Mr. Glassman's shadow disappear around the corner as he exited the gym. "He's gone. But stay quiet." In a few minutes, they could hear the distant thump as one of the outside doors closed. Tabby sighed.

"Okay. We're safe."

Instantly Stacie caught her girlfriend in her arms, spinning her around. Their shoes made faint squeaks on the gym floor in the darkness.

"Man, that was awesome! The way he smacked her down! And you played great, baby! Twenty-two assists? That's ridiculous for your first game as a starter."

Tabitha smiled and ducked her head as they walked back into the locker room. "I had a lot of help. You played great, too."

"Thanks, baby." Stacie's hands changed their purpose, sliding over her lover's skin sensuously. "So, where do you want to do it?"

Tabitha knew waiting for Saturday wasn't an option, not tonight. Not after the emotional roller-coaster they had both been on. As they showered after the game, she had felt Stacie's hot eyes on her, seen the hard buds of her nipples as she lathered under the falling spray of hot water.

It had only taken a whisper and a hint to convince Stacie to dawdle while getting dressed, so they were the last ones in the locker room. All the other girls were busy with plans of their own, and after Mr. Glassman had made a cursory check, they had the whole school to themselves.

"We could go to the library," Tabby said. She clasped Stacie's buns tight in her grasp and drew her close.

"What about Mr. Glassman's office?" the brunette suggested wickedly.

"You horny little tramp," Tabby said, and Stacie giggled. "That would just tickle your button, wouldn't it? To know your crush is sitting at the same desk where we did the nasty. Sorry," she continued. "He locked the door. I already checked."

"Damn," Stacie said mildly. She looked around the damp, slightly mildewy locker room. "Well, what about here? We can put some towels down..."

"Right," Tabby said sarcastically. "If we lay down here we're going to get up with athlete's crotch." Suddenly, her eyes gleamed. "I got it," she said. "Come with me."

Holding her lover by the hand, she drew her down the hallways of the school until they were in the social studies section.

"In Mr. Glassman's classroom?" Stacie asked eagerly.

Tabby snorted. "God, no. I don't feel like getting rug-burns on my ass." Walking past their coach's classroom, she led her two doors down. Stacie gasped.

"Is it unlocked?"

"Only one way to find out," Tabby said. The doorknob turned easily in her hand. With a grand gesture she bowed her lover into the teacher's lounge.

Stacie turned on the lights. "What a dump," she exclaimed.

Tabitha couldn't fault her choice of words. In the harsh florescent lights, the room had no redeeming qualities at all. Shabby, mismatched furniture that looked like it had been scavenged from Goodwill ran around the room on three sides. In the middle of the room sat several rickety tables, surrounded by hard metal chairs. Grimacing, Tabby turned off the overhead lights and switched on a lamp by a couch set along the far wall, trying to minimize the stark ugliness of their surroundings.

Stacie poked her nose into the refrigerator. Containers of yogurt and plastic bags full of bagels sat sadly on the grubby plastic shelves. A quick peek into the freezer showed her piles of frozen dinners with the owner's names scribbled on them.

"This is just...sad," she said.

Tabitha nodded. "Teachers don't get paid much. Never have. But this kind of puts things in perspective, doesn't it? You would think the school could afford decent furniture for the lounge. Good grief," she said, setting her hand on the back of a wobbly chair. "No wonder most of my teachers eat at their desks. I'm depressed just looking at this."

"Well," said Stacie in a sultry voice, "maybe you should look at something else."

Tabitha turned around, already knowing what she would see. Stacie had slipped out of her t-shirt and bra, and stood waiting for her, nude from the waist up.

Tabby's mouth grew dry with desire. She smiled, blessing her good fortune that her best friend, the girl she had lusted after since they both hit puberty, was also her lover. Walking over to her she laid her hands on Stacie's slim hips, still covered by her blue jeans. At the same time Stacie's arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight so Tabby's large, cloth-covered breasts brushed against the curving fan of Stacie's ribs.

"Oh, baby," Tabby sighed. "I love you so much." She raised her hands to Stacie's shoulders and pulled her down for a kiss, her mouth already opening, welcoming the pleasant invasion of her lover's tongue. As their mouths eagerly mingled, she dropped her hands to Stacie's small, beautiful breasts, fingers and thumbs playing with her rock-hard nipples. Groaning, Stacie let her head fall back, then gasped, her knees buckling, as Tabby bent down and took one of Stacie's nipples into her hot, ravenous mouth.

"I love you too," Stacie replied, her voice high and panting. Grasping Tabby's hand, she pulled her over to the couch. She popped the button on her jeans and skinned out of them quickly, pulling down her panties at the same time. "I'm naked first," she said with a happy smile. "I win."

"Oh, I think I'm the winner here," Tabby said, looking over her lover with an appreciative eye. Every time they made love, she was more and more astounded that this wonderful person was hers. "You beautiful, lovely woman," she said fondly, "I thought I was the perverted lesbian around here."

"Stop that," Stacie said firmly. She laid strong hands on her lover's shoulders, her face intent. "Don't talk about yourself that way. You're not a lesbo, or a dyke, or any other stupid, ignorant thing anyone calls you. You're you. If you decided tomorrow you weren't bi anymore, I would still love you. You're my best friend and my heart's joy, and I will always love you, do you understand?"

Tabitha sniffled and laid her head against the slim brunette's chest, overcome by the power of the affection in Stacie's voice. "Have I ever told you," she said unsteadily, "how much I love you?"

"Yes," Stacie said. "But that doesn't mean I get tired of hearing it. Come on," she continued, tugging at Tabby's shirt. "We need to get you naked."

In a few seconds, the smaller redhead was stripped as well. Tabby sighed as Stacie lifted her breasts in her hands, her head bending down so she could lick her nipples. As her loving lips closed around them, she sighed, and slowly moved back, drawing Stacie with her, until the backs of her knees hit the couch.

"How do you want to...." She trailed off.

Stacie looked around the grungy room. "There's no good place to lie down. And the couch is too small to sixty-nine." She sighed. "I want to get you off, baby. You deserve it after all the craziness this week, and the bullshit you had to put up with tonight before the game. But I'm not going to eat your hoo-ha kneeling on a linoleum floor."

"How about this?" Tabby suggested. She sat on the back of the high-backed couch, bracing herself on her hands, her knees spread wide. "You can kneel on the cushions, and I'll sit up here, and you can eat me out. And after I get off, I can eat you. But don't worry, baby," she said, cupping Stacie's cheek as she knelt down and drew close. "Tomorrow, we'll have time to really enjoy ourselves. In a real bed. In my bedroom."

"Mmmm," Stacie agreed, already losing herself in Tabitha's scent. She remembered the first time they were together, the night of her eighteenth birthday, and how Tabby had crawled into her sleeping bag. How she had kissed her awake, and how scared her eyes had been, how afraid of rejection.

Silly girl, she thought fondly, leaning in, the musky smell of Tabby's pussy strong in her nose. We've been best friends forever. I love her. She rubbed her cheek on the smooth, firm flesh of Tabby's thigh, enjoying the quiver as her muscles trembled. Turning her head, she kissed her leg, then ran her tongue up towards her crotch in a long, bold sweep. As Stacie approached her lover's inner sheath, she tasted Tabby's dew, the moisture running in thick rivulets over the delicate folds of her pussy. The taste strong on her tongue, she backed up so she could take in the beauty of the fiery redhead's sex.

It's the most beautiful thing, she thought. The only thing better is a good strong man with a good thick cock, like Mr. Glassman.

Well, he's not here, and Tabby is, so why don't you get to work?

She smiled and bent to her task once more. With clever fingers that were long acquainted with her lover's body, she eased Tabby's folds apart, opening the path for her questing mouth. With the skill of long practice, she ran her tongue up the soaking-wet slit of Tabitha's sex, her lips curling in a satisfied grin as the lovely girl in her arms trembled and bucked under her touch.

"Oh, Stacie, you do it so good," Tabby moaned.