At the sound of the bell, Leah Olson stormed out of English and flowed into the stream of kids. At 3 pm they turned from budding students into a school of fish, only drawn to the light outside the large double doors.
Senioritis pushed Leah out the door and into one of the last bright, warm days, before fall turned the world cold and gray. She beat a path to the only place she disliked more than her English classroom; the school gym.
Built in the 80s the gym was sunk into the ground to serve as a fallout shelter when the Reds went crazy. Poor ventilation and small windows held the wet boy smell in for what seemed like years.
Sure, it smelled bad. But, the reason she tried to avoid it was Coach Green, the most successful football coach in the school's history. And, the only black man to ever teach in the backwater town.
Leah heard stories. Green, had anger issues. Green, humiliated some players to keep them in line. Green, seduced a cheerleader from the senior class each school year. Billy thought he would take Kelly Peterson, a tall, pretty blond with big breasts. She was in Leah's math class. Billy was full of shit though, Leah thought. They were stories. Just kids talking about the people who ruled their small lives. But, Green made her uncomfortable just the same.
"Hey Lee. Looking good." The blond haired boy said.
"Shut up Eric." Leah smiled. "Where's my boyfriend?"
"Getting his ass chewed out in Coach Green's office." He said. "Maybe you should just stay out here."
Leah shook her head and pushed past him.
"Well, can't say I didn't warn you." He turned to watch her butt sway through the gym doors.
Leah listened through closed doors as coach Green dressed-down her boyfriend. She couldn't make words out of his booming voice, but she heard Billy whimpering, on the verge of tears.
Coach Green threw open the door, spotting Leah he asked what the hell she was doing in his office after school.
"I'm hum." She said, pointing to where Billy sat hunched.
"You numbnuts girlfriend?" Green laughed.
"Didn't know you had a girl." He said to Billy.
"What you going out with him for?" He stepped up to Leah and looked down at her.
"I don't know.... Leah started, off balance by the question.
"Hmm, hmm, hmm." He shook his large head, "hear that boy."
Green moved behind Leah, placing her between himself and the crying boy.
"You better get your shit together." He said. He pressed his hand around Leah's waist just below her small breasts.
Her muscles tingled and contracted under his fingers. Her stomach rose and fell against his hand. She felt a large, semi-flaccid cock press above her ass.
"Now, you two need to get the hell out of here, visiting hours are over." He threw Leah and Billy out the door and slammed it shut.
That night, Billy pulled Leah's panties down, pushed her skirt up, and banged her for five minutes in the cab of his truck calling it a "birthday present."
He dropped her home an hour later, and she went to sleep, dreaming of her first, fugitive, sex act. But, instead of Billy's hand up her sweater in the front seat, they're naked in the bed of his truck, kissing. Coach Green appears, pushing skinny Billy to the ground. Hulking, large and dark over her, Leah is afraid, but spreads for him; and he mounts her. Her thin arms encircle his neck pulling his head to hers; her long, lean legs wrap behind his ebony ass. Her skin in the moonlight, glowed like fine porcelain. Billy's Ford bounces on its springs as the middle-aged black man takes her nubile body.
She awoke gasping and wet.
Leah dated Billy for another six months, but refused sex, leaving him frustrated and horny. She thought of him as Billy Blueballs.
* * *
"Why is this out of state?" Under the door-light, in a black t-shirt labeled "club security," the bald man frowned at Leah's license. He flipped it over in his hands, then looked at her.
"Spring break." She said. "I'm researching area colleges, and thought I would check out the night life before I have to drive home tomorrow."
Everything she said was true, but it sounded like bullshit even to Leah. A different doorman checked her I.D. each night. Her explanation had become a rehearsed script. In the end, they had all let her in.
It was an awful idea all week long, but near sleepless nights and a bad case of the butterflies made Leah dress up again and drive to this club she passed everyday on her errands. She called her parents earlier telling them she would get some sleep and be home tomorrow. It was, she thought, almost true.
Brow furrowed, he smirked at the driver's license. His gaze drifted down Leah's body, lingering on her legs. He bent and inspected her ass. He waved her in, handing back the I.D.
"You can't drink." He said.
Inside the converted warehouse, base, and drum rumbled; smoke, alcohol and cologne, mixed to scent the air; and neon lighted the cavernous space in pools of red and blue. Glass encased candles flickered yellow on small, crowded tables, and on empty booths that lined the far wall. Strobes flash like lightening, animating dancers on high catwalks and on a large mirrored dance floor.
She circled the large, round bar in the center of the room, searching. If she got this pointless ritual done, she thought, she could go back to her hotel and sleep. But, against reason, she found him.
He wasn't terribly attractive, and carried a beer gut. But, he was built large, and Leah thought, powerful. He was dark black and looked 50 or 55 waring white shorts and a dark t-shirt.
Leah circled past were he sat smoking and drinking, and watching the dancers. She circled again. Though sober, Leah felt buzzed, floating disconnected from the legs that carried her back to him. Stopping a few feet away, she pretended to watch the dancers while glimpsing the mature, black man from behind. She walked up to him, standing near, within arms reach. Then, started another circle.
Stopping at a mirror, she fluffs her shoulder-length hair, and adjusts the tight, strappy tank top; her small, bra-less breasts clearly defined thru pink cotton. Tan shorts strike her mid-thigh, but look shorter on her long, pale legs. She adjusts the pink choker, placing a small yellow flower a little off-center. Smoothing the top, she placed one hand atop the other below her breasts. She pushed in, recalling a large penis pressing against her lower back. Its shaft nestled between her high ass cheeks. She stood there caught between memory and fantasy, and thought that, since she was here, she might as well at least try to talk to him.
But he was gone. His table empty, his cigarette smoldering in the ashtray.
Leah checks the exit doors; nothing. She scans the crowd, searching; nothing. Then, sees him leaning against a wall by the dance floor watching two white, 20-somethings bounce and grind.
Lightheaded and disconnected, for Leah the next few minutes past like a movie. Some people turn, and smile at the camera as it tracks forward through the crowd; pan down to pair of legs walking; note pink toe nails visible through strappy sandals; pan up to a dark man filling the frame. Movement from off camera, a pale hand reaches in and touches the black arm. The soundtrack is too loud, all drums and rhythm. The girl has to stand on her toes and yell for him to hear her.
Will he help her out, she asks. She's too young to be served here, but if he agrees to get the drinks, she'll pay for the both of them. She pulls a twenty from her shorts pocket, and places it in his hand, brushing his fingers with hers.
"Sure enough, baby girl."
She finds a dark booth along the far wall, and slides in leaving enough room for him to sit beside her. Leaning forward, Leah blew out the flickering candle.
They sat together in an empty corner of the club, silent. He watched girls dance with their boyfriends on the catwalk, while she sipped a long island ice-tea through a straw, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She placed her hand between them on the leather seat while feeling her heart beat.
