By the time fall practice had gone into full swing at Georgia Southern, Coach Keith Carter was far too busy coaching the defensive line to think about when Jana was going to get into town and when or if she'd call him.
The year before, Keith was coaching high school while he bided his time waiting for another full-time college coaching job. Among other titles, he was assigned assistant softball coach, which was where he met, and coached Jana Lindell. A short, curvy girl with one hell of a competitive streak, he had made Jana into a solid catcher in just his one season there. After the season was over, they happened to meet alone after school one day, where one thing let to another very quickly, and ended with them climaxing together on a pile of laundry in the athletic supply room. For weeks, they both worried that he'd gotten her pregnant, but Jana finally called to let him know she wasn't, and (oh, by the way), she'd be attending college where he was now coaching.
She had promised to look him up when she moved in, which left him both excited and reluctant. Having sex with your student, even if they are of age and you're technically not teaching them, was flat out wrong, he told himself. Since then, he'd never completely lost the sick feeling he had inside from taking advantage of a young woman who respected him so much as a coach. Truthfully, he'd be better off never to see her again, and he knew it. On the other hand, she had unleashed something inside of him when they made love, and whatever it was wanted more of her short, voluptuous body. For an inexperienced teenager, she really knew how to work her body with his, and he longed to be with her again.
As the coach in charge of the Defensive Line, it was Keith's responsibility to sharpen the skills of the returning players, and teach the schemes and techniques to his Freshman players, a few of which were good enough to play right away. Easily the brightest star of his incoming players was Dexter Dean, a 6'6", 260 lb. defensive end who had the quickness of a linebacker and the mean streak of a junkyard dog. There was no question that as long as he passed the two correspondence courses that he was required to take prior to the fall semester, he would be a starter immediately.
Dexter had premier talent, but wasn't currently on a practice field at Florida State, Georgia, or any of the other schools salivating over his talents because his grades weren't good enough to get him in, and a few run-ins with the law had cooled many of the major programs on the prospect of taking a chance with him. Dexter saw Georgia Southern as a place where he would play right away against better competition (and more media) than junior colleges, and if all went well and he kept out of trouble, he could transfer to a major university after two years.
Coach Carter had instantly taken a liking to Dexter, and not just because he was so talented. He sensed that even though he'd had a hard childhood, he was eager to learn and wasn't a bad person, just misguided.
On the last day of fall practice before the school year began, Coach Carter gathered his linemen around, and reminded them that over the weekend there would be lots of parties and the bars would be crowded all over town. "It's okay to have a good time," he said. "But, remember who you're representing at all times, and don't let yourself walk into a situation where bad things can happen. Be smart!" he barked, before releasing them until Monday.
The Friday and Saturday before classes start the following Monday are always huge party nights, and this August was no exception. As sundown approached, Keith left the office he shared with two other coaches and walked across campus toward his small apartment amid a sea of student housing. Passing him on all sides were excited college kids, some dressed up, some slumming it in t-shirts and shorts, some already drinking, and other's looking forward to starting. He remembered when he was a student like these kids; when the next party was the very most important thing in the world at that moment. He walked into his dark apartment and hit the button on his answering machine as he stepped out of his coaching clothes and walked toward the shower.
"Hey Coach," said the young female voice, sending shivers up Keith's spine as he knew it was Jana. He froze, turning his head haltingly toward the machine as her message continued. "I know you're a busy guy, but it sure would be good to see you again. We had such a good time when we last saw each other, no? Well, anyway...I'm a college girl now, spreadin' those wings, having some fun before I've got to get all serious with schoolwork."
Keith smiled as he listened to her ramble, remembering how cute her face was, and how her eyes lit up when she talked to him. It was so wrong, but he wanted her more the longer he heard her voice.
"We didn't exactly, ahem, 'get together' under normal circumstances back at Westside, so why do it normally now? I hope you're up for a little adventure and an open mind. I hope you like to have as much fun as I do, but we'll soon find out....."
She paused, as if considering how to proceed. "Tell you what, Coach: be at 1434 Larkspur at about 11pm tonight. Go upstairs...2nd door on the left...just walk right in. If anyone gives you any trouble, tell 'em that you're cool with what's going on. I'll let 'em know you're coming, too. I don't know exactly what you'll find behind that door, and neither do I exactly, but by then I'm sure to have had a few drinks. I suggest you do the same...it is Friday night, you know. This is my cellphone, but don't call me tonight, unless you're telling me that you won't be making it."
"I'll see you tonight, Coach. Hope it's worth your while."
-click-
Keith was both excited and panicked by Jana's message. What the hell was she planning at that address? Or was it anything at all? She did say that she didn't know what would be behind that door either....and to keep an open mind? Sense of adventure?
If nothing else, he was just too curious not to show up, and after a shower and a couple of strong drinks to calm his nerves, he would head over to the address she gave, which wasn't even a half-mile from his apartment.