Dee Saves the ProgramChapter 15
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Dee Saves The ProgramChapter 9 free porn video
As I pedaled home from my time coaching Judy for some reason I found myself thinking of how depressed I'd been after my accident. Maybe coaching Judy today reminded how unwillingly I had passed the torch. God how I'd loved diving.
Depressed? Me? You bet, and I never do things by halves. Face it, a broken neck had been a hell of a way to start to my Junior year. I'd cried. I'd cried buckets. I cried enough tears to fill our home swimming pool, a pool that I couldn't even use with my neck in that cervical collar. It was doctor's orders. I think he was afraid my head would fall off.
I'd imagined standing on the top step of the podium, at least one new gold medal for my collection, maybe as many as four, first junior to ever do that. I'd imagined Greg and me, side by side in our sexy swim suits, holding the team trophies high while the cameras flashed, dashing to the locker room to celebrate as only we could celebrate.
All of that was gone, along with the hopes and dreams of Coach and the team and the school, everyone, right down the drain.
After the accident the last thing in the world I wanted was to face all the people I'd let down. I wanted to run away, but I'd checked with Maria and joining a convent was not a viable option. She'd laughed for a week, and even I had to admit I'd have a problem with that whole celibacy thing. Even a vibrator was a venial sin, she said. I wondered if nuns kept their hair short to remove the temptation of the hairbrush handle.
But once my neck was stabilized, as the doctor put it, I had to go back to school, a week behind, and as I walked the halls wearing a cervical collar that made me feel like an arthritic giraffe I could sense everyone staring and whispering and pointing. I was untouchable. I wished I were invisible. It was worse than in middle school because I'd known I'd done it to myself.
And where, you ask, was my alter ego, The Stick, when I needed her most, she who'd hauled me out of my middle school funk by teaching me to bear insults with pride?
She was AWOL, the bitch. Even she was mad at me.
As I pedaled towards home I remembered how, after too many days of sulking in my room, my friends intervened.
God bless my friends. That was a good memory.
I'd been pretending to study German, reading the same passage from Thomas Mann for the third or fourth time, trying to make sense of it, when Mom knocked on my door, not once but three times, until I had to answer.
"I'm busy!"
"There are some people here to see you," Mom announced through the door.
I sighed a sigh from the depths of my soul. "Tell them to go away!"
Whispers and mumbles. What the hell was this? It was Saturday. No school! Yippee! I could lock myself away for the whole day, and fully intended to. I'd even laid in supplies of snacks and boxed juices so I could withstand a long siege, maybe even two days.
"I really think you should see them."
After enduring Mom fussing over me it had reached the point where I'd snapped at her, which made her feel bad and me feel worse. Elaine just avoided me, which didn't help. I knew I was being a total shit but couldn't seem to shake it. I was lower than dirt. I was pond scum, the guck that clogged the shower drain. I was...
Mom knocked again. "Please, Dee."
I wanted to tell whoever was with her to fuck off, but they didn't deserve that any more than Mom did.
So, summoning the ghosts of Charles Dickens and Jane Austen, I managed to answer super-politely. "Please tender them my regrets and inform them that I am not receiving today." I vented my displeasure in a way they couldn't see, with a backhanded finger in the direction of the door.
The doorknob rattled and I looked at my hand, amazed that my digit had such power. Then I remembered I'd locked the door and someone must have tested it. Good. Maybe now they'd leave me alone.
"Dee?"
Shit! Was that Missy, my childhood friend? My very, very, very first love? That wasn't fair! That was hitting below the belt. What was she doing invading my private pity-party?
"Missy?" I asked fearfully.
"It's me."
Oh, her voice, sweet and soft and caring.
I took a deep breath. Maybe if I just held my breath she'd go away.
Just about the time I was beginning to turn blue I heard her ask, "How do you eat an elephant?"
Old memories erupted -- a scene from long, long ago, only that time it had been me on the outside of her locked door, her crying in her bedroom. Whoosh! I gasped for air.
"How do you eat an elephant?" she repeated softly and patiently.
Damn! I was overwhelmed by a rush of feelings -- love and caring and I don't know what all.
"One bite at a time," I replied softly, sniffling.
"That's right Dee. Open the door, please."
The cervical collar made it awkward for me to roll over and sit up. Should I unlock it? Could I bear to face her?
Could I bear not to? That time before there'd been an elephant in the room, a misunderstanding between us, a momentary lapse.
"Do you remember how to carve an elephant?" she asked when I didn't respond.
This time the elephant wasn't in the room, it was in me and its name was Guilt. I remembered, from before, thinking that some elephants could be intractable, and how suitable I'd found that word, calling up as it did an image of a tractor butting heads with a pachyderm.
Already I could feel my mood yielding.
Snuffling up my tears I got up off my bed and dragged myself over to the door, feeling like my head was precariously balanced on my shoulders as I did.
"You get a big, big, big block of marble," I answered as I unlocked the door, "and chip away all the pieces that don't look like an elephant."
I practically fell into her arms, engulfing myself in her familiar, warm, comforting scent, tumbling into a maelstrom of memories, nights together under the covers giggling and tickling, long bike rides, sharing a swing set in the park, whispered secrets, and touches in the dark.
"What're you doing here?" I asked into her soft, sweet hair as she squeezed me and I squeezed myself against her caring softness, my tears soaking her head, swamped in my love for her. The feel of her against me fanned to life embers I'd thought long dead. I let the flames of lust warm me, but only briefly, knowing full well that had been over for a long time.
"There's a swimming meet today," she announced, releasing me, though I still clutched her like a lifeline.
Finally I managed to let go. "I know. I'm not going."
It was the first meet of the season and the main reason I'd been hiding out here. The thought of being there, unable to swim, watching the teammates that I'd let down made my stomach knot up.
"You're needed," Missy answered.
"Says who? What for? I can't swim with this choker on!" I clutched at the collar, wishing I could rip it off, not daring to, given the doctors' warnings.
"We do need you," a different voice announced. It was Gail Devers, lead-off backstroker on my -- our --medley relay team and daughter of Vice Principal Devers, my staunchest faculty supporter. She -- Gail that is -- was wearing her scarlet and gold warmup sweats, presumably over the racing suit that gave her the sleek contours of a barracuda. She supplied the power that ate up the opposition.
"The school needs you." That came from Fran, also coming into the room. She's the brass section of my lunch bunch, the girl with the biggest laugh and the biggest heart in school -- if not the universe -- and suddenly my room felt a lot smaller and warmer and friendlier and all three of them were smothering me.
"What is this?" I asked, muffled in their embrace, the last shreds of my gloom melting from their love.
"It's an Intervention," Fran announced in her best no-nonsense tone. "You're coming with us."
The love in her eye and dimples in her round, pink cheeks did nothing to soften her determination. When she was on a roll -- and believe me, there's a lot of her to roll -- there was no stopping her.
"But..."
"No buts," Fran insisted, moving me toward the door.
"I'm not dressed!" I pointed out. I hadn't bothered to put anything on that morning -- not that I usually did, of course.
"When has that ever stopped you?" Missy asked with a giggle as they pulled me out of my funk, my feet dragging as they physically hauled me out the door.
"Where's Greg? I'm surprised you didn't bring him, too. Or is he so mad at me he wouldn't come?"
"This is a girl thing," Fran answered. "What happens between you and him is your business and his, not ours. Besides, he's off at the boys' meet. Today it's just us girls. Now come on."
The boys and girls teams rarely have meets at the same time in the same pool. It's too much. Usually one team swam at home, the other away against the same school at the same time.
"Whose idea is this?" I asked as I was escorted down to the foyer wearing nothing more than that stupid collar. I hadn't done anything with my hair in I didn't know how long, so I didn't need a mirror to know I must look like a truffula tree with a goiter.
"Our own," Fran answered. "Now come on."
"Make sure she eats, and you guys eat, too. There's pain meds in there if she needs them." The smug look on Mom's face as she handed Gail our small picnic cooler made it obvious she was a co-conspirator. This also bore hints of the work of Ms. Andrews, my middle school counselor. Intervention was her favorite word.
"Have fun, dear." Mom gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek.
"Get her out of here, and don't bring her back until she's sane again," Elaine ordered, standing at Mom's shoulder.
Sane? I bash my brains out on a diving board and she expects me to be sane?
The next thing I know I'm squeezed between Fran and Missy in the back seat of a small car, my head brushing the roof, while Gail is behind the wheel. It's her mom's car, so Mrs. Devers was in on it, too, which meant I was seriously outnumbered.
"What can I do? I'm not supposed to swim, remember?"
"We don't need your swimming," Gail retorted over her shoulder. "Well, that's not true, we do, but we'll just have to paddle on without it. What we need right now is your mojo."
"My mojo? What makes you think I have any mojo?"
"Whether you realize it or not," Fran put in, "you are a mountain of mojo."
It was too much to hope that they'd sneak me in a back door, of course. I was marched in the front door and through the school, greeted by more of my friends lining the hall applauding me. The Dirty Dozen were there, having risen to high school by now, of course, both guys and girls. Judy Greene was there, and Judy Liu, who'd witnessed my catastrophe, Maria Sanchez in her soccer uniform, even Terrell Ford had left his keyboard, and A. J. Mansfield his computers. Liu gave me a nod, and the rest of my Lunch Bunch -- Cindy with her blonde curls, Inez and Peggy Hughes!
I remembered my own intervention with Peggy (she'd been raped) and I felt totally ashamed of falling into such a funk over what had happened to me. I tried to turn and flee, forgetting that I'd taught the lunch bunch stuff I'd learned from Maria about perp walks. With Missy and Gail flanking me, gripping my arms, and Fran bringing up the rear I didn't have a prayer.
Then corridor to the pool was lined by at least half the cheerleaders, including Mickey Kelly of the Marvelous Mammaries! Oh, and making me feel even more exposed than usual, they were in their cheerleader outfits, worn only on very special occasions and by special dispensation -- saddle shoes, short pleated skirts, tight sweaters, ribbons in their hair, all scarlet and gold, instead of being naked.
Even as former SACNISP chair how could I call 'em on a Program Violation when they were doing it all for me?
"Dee! Dee! She's our gal! If she can't do it nobody shall!" they burst out, waving their pom-poms. What they lacked in creativity they more than made up for in volume and enthusiasm, making the hallway ring. As I passed each pair they closed in behind, replacing the "Dee, Dee, she's our gal" chant with a low pitched "mojo, mojo, mojo, mojo" in time with our steps, rustling their pompoms. That became a rhythm picked up by everyone. Shit! Had they practiced for this? I didn't deserve it. We were trailed by the people who had greeted me at the front door. The only thing missing was the school band.
Quit feeling sorry for yourself! The Stick ordered sternly as I tried passive resistance.
Now you show up! I thought. A bit late, don'tcha think?
What, and miss all the fun? my alter ego retorted. Mope and you mope alone. Now stand tall. I thought I'd taught you better years ago.
So I held my head high -- not that the collar gave me any choice -- while inside I was a mess of mush. This was really uncalled for, but I kinda liked it. Step by marching step, I was being dragged out of the pit of despair I'd dug myself.
Like attendants at some fancy hotel the team manager and the team captain, a senior freestyler who could give me a run for my money, were waiting for us and swung wide the double doors to the pool.
The lush atmosphere, all chlorine and humidity, washed away the last of my reservations. I was home, and the whole team was there, applauding me.
Well shit! How do I handle this?
No problem. They closed around me, reaching for me, touching me, greeting me, wishing me well, and it was hard for me to acknowledge them all. I was vaguely aware of the chattering girls from South High streaming out of the boys' locker room, temporarily taken over by them, to head for their benches.
Of course. It had to be South High, our main rival in all things athletic. The season had to start against them, and they were strong this year!
While my friends -- a bigger audience than the meets usually drew -- headed for the stands, my team formed a circle around me. Gail had already shed her sweats, now she stripped off her suit. She was slender and fit, with nice B cup boobs and a lightly furred pussy -- a lot like her mom.
They were all waiting expectantly.
Ooookay. It was obviously time for me to summon the mojo they seemed to think I had, and to be effective the mojo bounce has to be done naked, which I already was. The whole team swiftly skinned off their suits and dropped them at their feet. The circle closed up so they could drape their arms over each other's shoulders, leaving me alone in the middle, standing tall as a totem pole, not about to risk my still healing neck with the bouncing.
I was in a circle of beautifully fit high school swimmers, surrounded by youthful boobs and pussies and serious faces, all looking to me for mojo.
Angelica
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