Matt Williams was supposed to be paying careful attention to the basketball game taking place on the court in front of him. That was, after all, why he was there. He was the school photographer at Jamestown High School and he needed to take photos of the game for the yearbook.
But, instead of watching the game, he was watching Mary Forrester, his best friend's mother. Her son Ricky, the Jamestown High School hoop squad's top scorer, was so good he had several college basketball coaches offering him scholarships.
Matt, who wasn't in the least athletically inclined, watched the object of his attention jump up and down, cheering for her son, whose team was on its way to another easy victory as he stood near the end of the gym, his camera in hand. "She's so gorgeous!" he thought as he gazed at his friend's attractive mother.
Although Matt's athletic ability was minimal, he made up for that lack with remarkable proficiency as a photographer. He had taken all the pictures for the school yearbook ever since his freshman year and, in addition, he earned extra money by selling some of his pictures to the local newspaper.
His ultimate fantasy, one he was sure he'd never get to live out, was to do a nude study of Mrs. Forrester. She would be an excellent subject. She was tall and full-bodied, and had a wild mass of shoulder-length black hair. Although she was strikingly beautiful, she acted as if she were totally unaware of how really attractive she was. Her modesty made her that much more appealing to Matt.
Tonight she had on a loose white sweater and snug jeans, an outfit that accentuated her finely curved body. While she continued to jump up and down and cheer, the smitten young man continued to find it hard to concentrate on the game. It happened every time he shot basketball pictures. In fact, anyone scrutinizing his photos would have found that Mary Forrester appeared in quite a few of them.
The final buzzer sounded and the crowd's delirious roar signaled their approval of the victorious end of another game. People began flowing down from the bleachers and out the doors.
Matt moved out onto the court, taking pictures of the celebrating team and excited cheerleaders as he did. He also managed to get a few shots of Mary Forrester's lovely face, which was flushed with joy and excitement.
Mary hugged and kissed her son, then she started for the doors at the end of the gym. She saw Matt, smiled, and waved. The young man's breath caught in his throat. If only her smile meant more than acknowledgment of the fact that he was her son's best friend.
The gym was almost empty, so Matt began to move toward the exit. Just as he reached the door, Ricky came out of the locker room, still in his basketball uniform. "Hey, Den!" he yelled, and walked in Matt's direction. "You need a ride home? Mom's waiting out front. You can ride home with us if you want."
"Ah...yeah," Matt replied. "Thanks. Hey, Rick, you played a great game!"
Ricky flashed him a "number one" sign and disappeared back into the locker room.
Matt's heart pounded as he walked out the front door of the school and looked for Forrester's car. He saw it and moved toward it. Mrs. Forrester saw him coming and again smiled and waved. Matt opened the car door and leaned inside.
"Rick said I could ride home with you," he told the comely woman.
"Of course you can, Matt," Mrs. Forrester said, her voice low and silken.
Matt felt a surge in his groin and quickly slid into the car and closed the door. He didn't want Mrs. Forrester to see his growing hard-on. Soft classical music came from the car's stereo.
"That was quite a game, wasn't it?" Mary Forrester said.
"Yeah...it sure was," Matt replied. "Rick was incredible." He held up his camera. "I...I got some terrific shots of him scoring." His throat was tight and his voice sounded raspy to him.
"You'll have to let me see them when you get them developed," Mary said. "I keep a scrapbook of all of Ricky's games. I have ever since he started playing basketball."
"Ah..." Matt swallowed hard. "I...I'll bring them over sometime. You...you can pick the ones you want."
"Great!" Mrs. Forrester said. "Ricky tells me you take wonderful pictures."
"I guess so," Matt said. He felt his face getting hot. "I...I, you know, just point the camera and push the button."
"I have an idea there's more to good photography than that, Matt," Mary said. "You seem to have the same kind of talent with a camera that Ricky does with a basketball."
