Sixth period phys. ed. was not a particularly fun class, especially for the coed girls of Jim Bridger High. After calisthenics the boys retreated to the football field for a pick up game of touch while most of the girls walked around the track in their cliques talking about who was going to prom with whom, Jimmy Davidson's new Mustang, and of course, Coach Hood.
Coach Hood had started teaching at the beginning of that school year, Bridger being his alma mater, after his four year stint at college. At 22 he was the object of desire for nearly every girl in the school, freshman through senior. He taught English I and II but was also one of several coaches for the varsity football team, and track and field for the spring semester.
He was the subject of a particular conversation going on among a group of girls slowly making their way around the curve of the track that surrounded the football field. The herd of eighteen year old seniors giggled as they walked.
"He is so fucking hot, I just want to fuck his brains out," Kayla sighed heavily.
"Jesus, honey, you got to calm down before you blow a gasket," Makenzi said, tying her black hair back in a pony tail and letting the sun warm her back. This was the first time they'd had a chance to come outside this spring and the weather felt great.
"I can't help it, I swear I get so wet in my English class I'm going to have to start bringing an extra pair of underwear with me."
"Well, you better get it while you can," Jaime said behind them, tying her own red locks back, "come May we're all out of this hell and off to college."
"I know." Kayla said, "But hey, if all college boys look like Coach Hood, I would jump in head first, no problem."
"Head first my ass, you'd jump in buck naked with your ankles behind your ears," Makenzi laughed, starting to jog.
"Kenzi, you bitch, I'm not a slut, goddamn it." she said, taking off after her.
"I don't know why every girl in this place drools over him," Makenzi said, "It's not like anyone of us could every bag the son of bitch anyway, and even if we tried he's a teacher, he's not going to risk his job over it."
"Yeah, no kidding," Jaime said, catching up with her friends. She didn't say much after that. She had to admit that Makenzi was right, but like all the other girls, she had secretly fawned over Coach Hood as well and even though Makenzi was right, she couldn't help but wonder what it was like to lay down next to him, to feel his strong, warm arms on her, touch his rippling, hairy chest, to feel his taut legs wrap around her own. She closed her eyes and sighed. God knew that just thinking about it was better than laying down next to Adam Lister, her last, and now ex, boyfriend. That boy couldn't find a clitoris with a map and a flash flight, not like he ever took the time to look anyway. She had to laugh the first time they had tried sex, he'd begged for weeks and when she finally conceded he couldn't get it up. He had cried.
Aw, juniors she thought, proof enough that she should probably never date a guy younger than her again.
She was aware of shouting coming from the football field, and had only registered it as a warning shout when she felt a sharp blow pierce her back right between her shoulder blades.
White hot pain shot down her spine as she was driven to her knees, the wind knocked out of her lungs.
She was coughing for breath when the group of guys from the field made it over to her, helping her up.
"Nice shot Tommy, you hit her right in the fucking back." One of them said.
"I told you he sucked at quarterback."
"What are you talking about, that was a perfect spiral, man."
"Keep it on the field next time you fucking mook."
"Guys, back off," Makenzi fought her way through the crowd of guys, "Jaime, are you okay?"
"What the hell was that?" She gasped.
"Some asshole hit you with a football."
They heard a shrill whistle blow and looked up to see Coach Howell, the ladies gym teacher. Five foot nothing, the little ball of female fury strode up to the group of guys.
"Snider!" She shouted, "Detention, next time keep your balls on the field!"
The group of boys gave a wave of chuckles to Tommy who looked at his shoes. Howell came up to her student.
"Parsons?" she said to Jaime.
"Yes coach?"
"You okay?"
"I think so. That really hurt though."
"I bet," Howell reached around and rubbed Jaime's back.
"There's a lump forming. Go up to the gym and get the coach on desk duty to get you some liniment for that welt before it bruises."
"Yes ma'am," she said. Jaime flexed her shoulders and was startled by the jagged tear of pain that shot across he back. She started up the stairs to the gymnasium, turning to her friends.
"I'll see you guys inside."
"Alright, take care, Jaime," Makenzi gave her a wave and galloped off down the track.
Jaime made her way to he gym, rotating her shoulders to work the pain away. By the time she got there it had mostly faded. She stepped inside and looked at the desk. She felt her breath taken away from her for the second time that day.
Coach Hood, in all his glory, was sitting at the duty desks grading papers for one of his classes. He was wearing a white tee shirt that clung to his chest and toned biceps and contrasted his golden skin, tanned from the days out on the field. He looked up with his bright blues eyes when he noticed her standing before him.
"Miss Parsons?" he asked in his deep voice. She felt her legs melt.
"Coach Hood." she said and then a few seconds passed before she realized she did in fact have a reason to be there, "Um, I got hit with a football outside, Coach Howell told me I needed to get something for it before it bruises."
He nodded, his short, spiky blonde hair bounced along with his head. He stacked his papers and stood.
"We got some stuff downstairs in the office, come with me," he stood and started heading down the stairs to the boys locker room. Jaime started down after him, gazing at his firm, muscular legs and tight ass in the dark blue gym shorts.
They entered the locker room and she was immediately disgusted, it smelled like sweat and dirty socks, and the showers looked as though a science experiment was growing on the tiles. She stuck close to the coach of her dreams as the entered the office, a glassed in room with several desks, chairs, an equipment locker, closet and bathroom. He leaned past her to close the door, and she caught a whiff of his aftershave and felt his forearm brush against her hip. She closed her eyes as she breathed it in, feeling a familiar wet begin to spread between her legs. A heat started to form deep inside her loins.
"I think it's back her in the closet," he said as he opened to the door and snapped on the dim light.
Jaime suddenly felt a rush of calm strike her and she took a deep breath. Her heart was racing and for some reason she felt the tips of her fingers go ice cold, but she suddenly felt euphoric and had but one thought go through her head. It was her senior year, and she might not ever get a chance like this for the rest of her life.
She felt her mouth open and speak, but it seemed like she was not in control of what was being said.
"It's in a spot I can't reach, you're going to have to help me," she said, her voice had taken on a deeper quality, she thought.
"Okay," he said, finding a tube of something, "Is it on your back or something?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
When he turned he nearly dropped the lineament. She had her back to him, the back of her white gym shirt was pulled up and over her head, revealing her entire, naked back. Her pale flesh was flawless and taut across her young body. A small red lump had formed between her shoulder blades.
"Miss Parsons?" he asked.
"Call me Jaime. I can't reach the spot, you'll have to rub it on for me," she said.
"I don't know if I..." he started.
"Coach Hood, it really hurts," she whined. She thought it sounded realistic.
