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Head Games At school Chapter Three
By
stephen55

Head Games At school Chapter Three

Ken realizes just what head games are all about
I woke up with a headache. It was Friday and the team was going on the road. The bus left about noon for the four hour trip to our next game. it was down time and it actually felt good. I was emotionally wearing out. Sex I could handle but the head game with Trish was different. I wasn't even in her league. Kris had said good-bye at the arena where the bus was being loaded. A few of the guys looked at her and wondered. She was in plain mode. She gave me a quick kiss, more of a peck and walked away.

"You're dating her? You're slowing down, Ken. You must be getting old. What happened to the guy we knew before?" Chuckles and punches to my shoulder. It was typical guy stuff. A weekend of nothing but that and hockey sounded good. Four hours to chill, read a bit and snooze. Also, to be away from Trish and her head games.

The team we played that night really wasn't much of a challenge. They were always in the cellar and we coasted to an easy win. Back on the bus and off to a hotel for the night. A team meal and off to bed. We slept two to a room. It kept the costs down. My road trip roomie was a freshman. Coach liked to give the new guys a roomie that knew the ropes. It kept the shenanigans to a minimum. If you didn't win on the road because the team was partying, playoffs were a pipe dream. This was a serious hockey school. I liked it that way. It was bed time.

"So who was that girl? The guys seemed to think you're dating down."

"Fuck off, Twinkie." He knew enough to shut up when I called him Twinkie.

The next morning was a team breakfast and a pep talk. Last night's game was easy. Tonight would be very different. Four more hours on the road and we would meet one of the top teams in the league, a powerhouse school that boasted many alumni in the pros. Tonight, we were going to play hockey.

We got there in time for a late lunch, chill time and then over to the arena. The place was packed. This was a big time hockey school and we were one of their long time rivals. This was going to be an old fashioned hockey game. Last weekend, Coach had said he wanted me to be fit. This was why. My leg felt fine.

It took the whole first period for things to heat up. At first each team played a disciplined game. The ref was keeping it clean and it was clear that playing this type of game was not to our advantage. We were down one and it really should have been two. Only our goalie was keeping this from becoming a blow out. Their team was loaded with talent. Their coach preached a disciplined style of play that worked well with highly talented players. I knew what I had to do. It was the last few minutes of the first period and it was time to shake it up. It was time to go out there and hit someone. Not dirty, not to injure, just to shake things up.

The puck was in their end and I was back checking. One of their D men picked up the puck and started out. He should have passed it up. I faked a turn around, letting him think he had a few seconds. He was picking up speed and was coming out of his own zone with his head down. 'Trolley Tracks' it was called. I caught him the trolley tracks. Spinning back to face him I took two quick steps and let him have it, clean but as hard as I could. My shoulder went into his chest and he was down and out. The puck was right there. I tapped it over to my left wing and he fired a snap shot that their goalie barely got a pad on. I pounced on the rebound. and tapped it in, over the outstretched pad. Tie game.

The D Man was still down. He was helped off the ice and I could feel every player on their bench seething at me. I shook things up big time. The horn sounded, tied at one, end of the first. They all knew it was supposed to up two for them. Tough for them, I thought. The ref wisely held us back and let them get completely off the ice before letting us go. Brawls were frowned upon in university hockey. That didn't mean they never happened.

The second carried on where the first had finished. It was real hockey now. They were after me in particular, but I wasn't worried. I was big, fast and I was in my senior year. I knew all the tricks. Let them try to take me out. All that meant was that they weren't playing their game, the game which could win it for them. Their coach was livid. He was trying to get his team under control, but every time they seemed to be getting it together, one of our big guys hit someone and made it count. They still managed to put one in during the second and we went off after the second down only one. It was better than I was expecting. Coach was looking and talking good about things. The only way we were going to keep up with their skills was to take away their discipline. So far it was working.

In the dressing room, coach laid it out. He knew exactly what the other coach would be doing. "Keep hitting them, keep shaking things, and keep them off their game," he said. "Don't let up. Not for a second."

I could almost hear the other coach. "Keep to the game plan. Keep the plays working. Keep up the discipline, those guys can't out play you." And so on. Of course he was right. We weren't up to their standards in pure skill. But we were a little bigger, a little older, and we had nothing to lose in their barn. They certainly did.

The third was a real show. The crowd didn't stop cheering and the electricity in the building was crackling. It was skill against strength, agility against speed and discipline against power. I could almost see their coach kicking his bench every time one of his guys took a run at one of us. I took a lot of runs against them. Shots were coming from everywhere at both ends. Somehow, none went in. Last minute and we had to pull our goalie. With the extra attacker, we gave it to them. For fifty seconds all their goalie saw was frozen rubber. Then it happened. The puck was in their corner and we got it out. I saw the pass coming. I stepped in to reach it and it was poke checked by one of them past my skate. A quick flip by another of their guys and it was going down the ice and into our empty net.

Damn, and then damnation. The place erupted. Eight seconds left on the clock and down two. It was already over. The next line came out to kill down the clock. As we lined up to shake hands, they were smiling, all of our sins and hits forgiven. Generous of them, I thought. The D man I had cranked even gave me a shot to my shoulder as I went by. It was guy stuff, hockey stuff. In the dressing room we were quiet but not down. We had lost a good one and we had nothing to feel bad about. Coach just said, "Good job guys, You all did well." Too bloody right!

So it was shower, dress, banter and more guy stuff. We were all in a pretty good mood. Then it was back on the bus and off to yet another hotel. Another late team meal and since we didn't play on Sundays, we could relax, goof off a bit and bend the rules. We could stay up late with no curfew. It was an unwritten law that a few beers were allowed on a Saturday night. Just a few as long as there were no drunken shenanigans. That was part of the reason for the room assignments. At the age of twenty-one, I could buy a few cases with their money. I did and was walking back through the hotel lobby with the beer when I saw Trish sitting in a lounge chair.

None of the team was in the lobby and I thanked God for that. Sweet Mary, what was she doing here? How did she know where we were? This was too much. This was not only scary, it was looking sinister.

"Hello Ken. I was in the neighborhood and thought I would stop by."

As if that was true, I thought. "For the love of God, Trish, what are you doing? How the hell did you know how to find me?"

"I'm in room 604. Do you want to stop by?"

As if she was going to take no for an answer. I swallowed hard and said, "Give me a few minutes." She smiled at me as if I had just agreed to pay for the coffee and got up. I let her take the elevator up by herself and then headed for my room.

"Suds!" Twinkie was not alone. A few of the guys were there and word got out that beer was served. The room quickly filled with half the team and the banter was going strong.

"Okay Ken, tell us about her. Tell us all about Kris, Dishy Krissy." Good thing it wasn't Twinkie doing the asking. Chuckles lead to real laughter. Sweet Jesus, what do I do now? Play along, get them onto some other topic and get out. Room 604. Shit.

"Guys, don't you know by now not to judge a book by its cover?" Guffaws and shoulder taps. Guy stuff.

"Well I did hear she changed her cover a few days ago! Quite the dish I heard. Dishy Krissy." There was more laughter. It was working.

"Guys, it's like I always told you. Covers are for beds and we all know what they are for. Changing bed covers is good for you." I had never said anything remotely like that, but who cared. The room erupted in laughter and the discussion turned to other girlfriends. I waited for a few minutes and then walked out, not saying a word about where I was going. Nobody cared. The guys moved back and forth around the rooms every Saturday night on the road. I walked up to the sixth floor and knocked on 604.

Was it only two nights ago I had decided that Trish and I needed to talk? She was either psychic or psychotic. Perhaps it was both?

Trish opened the door and I walked in. She shut the door and moved that little gadget that keeps out everyone, even the hotel staff. She was dressed up a bit. She looked good in black skirt, stockings, heels and a pretty good looking light blue blouse. I had never seen her dressed that way. I was still in my team travel clothes consisting of my only jacket, a pair of decent slacks, my only white shirt and a tie. We looked good together, like we were traveling on business. As if, I thought.

The room was a little fancier than the ones the team got and of course it had one big bed. We got twins. There was better furniture and the carpet looked newer. There was a bottle of something on the table. It was open. I walked over and looked. It was scotch, the good stuff; a Speyside single malt. I pretended to know a little about the good stuff, only because I couldn't afford it. As I was pouring a measure, Trish said, "Help yourself."

"Thanks and you?" I asked absent mindedly. She had a glass going already. She was standing and coyly rocking her hips from side to side. This idle word playing was bullshit. It was time to shake things up a little.

"Trish, I'm here and you're here, so let's talk. I want to know what this has been all about. I want to hear your story. From the beginning and don't give me any crap about naive drunken girls at a party."

Trish smiled and finally sat down in one of the chairs. I pulled the other one close and sat in it. She looked at me with a slight smile. "Had you going, didn't I?"

I just raised my eyebrows and nodded. Yes she really had me going.

I shook my head slowly from side to side. "If you only knew how close you came to being strangled that first night. My god! ‘Well, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you.' I repeated it in a singsong voice. “That kind of crap can get you killed."

"You weren't going to hurt me. I like adventure but I don't take unnecessary risks. You did pretty much as I expected you would. Righteous male indignation, then anger, then accept and get it over with. What did please me was that you did keep trying to get me to talk. You didn't just write me off. Most guys would. You tried for several days, I recall. And then when I told how well I thought things had gone, you were livid! Passion! I liked that. You showed promise. Passion and power! It’s heady stuff."

"You were testing me. I want to call you names right now, but I won't"

"You don't want to call me names. Not bad ones, at least. Don't fib. It's beneath you."

I was tired. I was physically very tired, but I was alert and thinking. I sipped at the good stuff and thought about being tested, prodded, pushed and played with. It really wasn't all that bad, I thought. I had a few glorious sessions with her along the way. Got to force my first blow job and what a joy it was to fuck her in her ass. Then I realized. I hadn't forced anything. She had. It was her game from the beginning. I truly had been played like a violin. I hated violins.

Trish was right. I might use bad words but only in truth, even respect perhaps. She was here, a long way from campus. She obviously wanted something. I just didn't know what it was. I sighed. I wasn't anywhere near this woman's league. I wasn’t even on the same ice. We were the same age, but what had she been doing for the past several years?

All I could come up was, "Trish, you are a very bad girl." She giggled, just like Kris would do. Was Kris in on this?

"Spank me."

Why not? I had never spanked a girl, let alone a woman and certainly never as part of a sexual playtime. Was I supposed to do it hard or playful? Were panties to be on or down? I only knew that Trish would make sure I was off to a good start.

"Come here."

I sat up straight and put my knees together. Trish got up like a little schoolgirl and with a certain theatrical flair, laid herself across my knees. I lifted up her skirt and noticed real silk stockings and garter and the most erotic lace panties I had ever seen. She was wearing a perfume I had never smelled before. It was very enticing. She looked at me as if to say,' well' and I gave her a few minutes to wait. I was enjoying seeing her very well dressed ass so close and personal. I gave her a whack, a little harder than I thought necessary. She jumped a bit and I felt her body move on my swelling penis. Okay, now I got it. This isn't to punish Trish. This is to pleasure me. Fun time! Again, whack. "Ouch!" I think she meant it.

"Be quiet."

I had actually reddened her ass with just two smacks. I ran my hand over my handiwork. Those panties had to go. It was a shame to be hitting them. They were innocent. I slid the panties part way down. A few rubs and then smack!

Another slight jump followed. This really was some fun! I paused to sip the good stuff and then give her a few more rubs over her really beautiful ass. "You know Trish, you have been such a bad girl that I think you should tell me all about it."

Smack! Not any harder, just a little lower, down towards the top off her legs. Her panties still in the way and down they went around her knees.

"I've been ever so naughty. I don't know where to start. I wanted a new toy and I chose you. Please don't be too upset."

Smack and then again, not as hard and followed by some real sensuous ass rubbing.

"Oh. Oh my. That's my bum!" She pretended to squirm in indignity, giving my penis a special thrill.

"Tell me more you naughty, naughty girl!" A few more smacks, a lot of ass rubbing and a little spreading of her cheeks this time.

"Oh my, not that! Not there."

"You have been ever so naughty. Yes. There!" I pushed a finger tip to her asshole, and she squealed.

"Please. I'll be good. Please!" I let the pressure build and I felt my finger tip ease in a bit.

"Oh my, oh my. Not there. Anywhere but there!"

"Trish, my very naughty Trish, be still. I'm giving your backside the spanking it deserves."

I gave her about ten reasonable smacks and the movement of her on my penis was heaven. I then rubbed her ever reddening cheeks and she was starting to move on me on her own.

"What's that? I feel a bump. Under me I feel a bump." She was having as much fun as I was.

I went back to pressing her ass and in slipped a fingertip again. She really squirmed this time. "No. Not there. Anything but that!"

I pressed in a bit more and she was rocking over me. "Stop! Please stop. Not there. Oh my, please stop. I'll do anything, anything." She clearly was enjoying the game ever bit much as I was.

"Trish, if I stop, will you do what ever I ask?" She simply nodded her head, yes, emphatically.

"Okay, naughty Trish, I'll stop what I was doing and you can show me how sorry you are."

"Yes, I will. Thank you for stopping. That was just too, too naughty."

"Trish, my naughty, naughty Trish, I want you to see what you have done. Up you get." She got up.

"Look what you have done." I undid my zipper, and then thinking a bit I slipped off my pants entirely. Off came my shorts and Trish looked at me like she was a small child, with one finger in her mouth.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to my fully erect penis. She was playing her part wonderfully.

"It's my pee-pee and you have made it much too hard. Now you need to make it better."

"How do I do that?" We were pretending to be a couple of kids, playing the doctor game.

"Well, you could try to kiss it better."

"Okay." And Trish got down on her knees and started to plant little girl kisses on my penis.

"Is that helping your pee-pee?"

"Just keep kissing it better, naughty Trish. Do as you're told." What I really wanted her to do was get on and ride.

"Trish, take your panties off, all the way."

"Okay." She did.

"My pee-pee wants to say 'Hi' to your pee-pee."

"Okay." She straddled me and I put my penis into her wet vagina. She slowly eased herself down. As my penis entered her vagina, she kept looking at me with pretend childlike wonder in her eyes. "Is this how my pee-pee says hi to your pee-pee?"

"Yes, naughty girl, it is. Do you think you can do a little dance for me?" Her eyes lit up. She nodded yes.

"Dance for me Naughty Trish. Do your special dance for me." She did.

She danced for me and looked at me like she was a toy doll, her eyes wide open but not seeing anything. Her eyes were bright and she danced away, fucking me, occasionally putting a finger in her mouth to ponder. She was playing along like a trooper. Little girl innocence was the sexual theme right now and I thought I could never get off on that but I was. Trish was my little Lolita and I wanted to fuck this little girl so hard. I held her to me, stood up and got us to the bed without coming out of her vagina and I started to fuck that pretend little girl silly.

"Oh my! Oh my! Are you dancing for me? Thank you. Thank you so very much." She was talking baby talk and I was pounding into her like there was no tomorrow.

So this was the theme. I could almost see a young girl in pigtails instead of a young woman in stockings and garter. In my head she was a young girl. She was Lolita and I was fucking her. I didn't see Trish's gorgeous, full breasts under her blouse. I saw a flat chest on a girl with not much beyond nipples. God it was powerful. Gone were Trish's womanly hips, replaced by the thin, narrow childish hips of a girl whose vagina was still small and tight. Shit! Shit! I was lost in the fantasy. In my head, in the game, Trish was barely adolescent and I was fucking her. I was gone. I was somewhere other than the hotel room. I was lost. I loved it. It was awful. I hated it. I kept fucking. I couldn’t stop. I wanted to and I couldn’t. No, I didn’t want to stop at all. Stop kidding yourself, I thought, and just keep fucking.

"That's enough dancing," she cried out in an injured child's voice. "It hurts! You're hurting me so! Take your pee-pee away from me! Please, please stop. I want my mommy!" Trish said it but it was clear she wanted her mommy to stay the fuck away. She was really turned on by the game and it showed. She was fucking up to me as much as I was fucking into her.

In my head I could almost see a young girl under me, my adult penis impaled in her tiny vagina. Trish was looking up at me with pretend childlike eyes full of innocence and wonder. I wanted to hurt her all over again. Twelve or twenty; I wanted her to feel the sexual humiliation I had felt. I half wished she was actually twelve, having her virginity torn from her along with her innocence. What innocence, I thought. What fucking innocence?

I held her down with one hand to her seemingly tiny but actually full breasts, leaning on her hard enough to pin her securely. I saw the young girl put her hand to her mouth and bite, as if stifling a scream. It certainly wasn't a scream of fear or pain. It was a scream of pure sexual lust. For a moment I felt like monster, with visions of my penis tearing into her ass, fucking her tight, tight ass.

Sex was forgotten. This was something else. A wave of euphoria swept over me. Then it happened. I saw this for what it was. Trish was yet again playing with my head. She was exposing me. I began to feel sick. I also started to come.

I had started to come. God, it was happening again. One of those ones, a body melt orgasm and a brain melt orgasm. Trish knew it! She fucking well knew! She knew I was off in a sinister sex fantasy and she was feeding off it. She kept calling for her mother. I started to come in what she was pretending to be that young girl's vagina. But it was Trish's vagina. It was her fucking head game vagina.

By the look on my face, she knew I was sickened at my fantasy. I filled that pretend little vagina with my adult load of semen and in my head I could see it could see it spilling all over the young, thin legs. Trish was holding me to her, not letting me give that poor girl respite. I collapsed on Trish, heaving and sick. I almost vomited, I felt so sick at heart. Fuck you Trish! then I started to say it.

"Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you." Over and over I said it. "Fuck you..."

Trish was killing me. She was killing my very soul. I was killing my very soul. What was this bitch doing to me? What was I doing to me?

"Fuck you, Ken." Her voice was cold. "If you can't handle the game, get off the ice. Leave now. Get the fuck out of here. Just get the fucking hell out of here!" She was angry. Fuck but she was angry. What the fuck did she have to be angry about? I didn't understand but what else was new?

I left. Somehow I got up, got my clothes together and left. I walk around a bit, trying to get some composure and then headed back to the guys. Someone had gotten some more beer. I opened one and tried to join in the banter. It was going to take some effort. It was also going to be useless. I needed some air. I needed to get out. I needed to walk by myself so I did.

I was walking late at night in a strange city by myself. Christ, don't get lost. I walked along one street and didn't make any turns. That sounded safe.

"If you can't handle the game, get off the ice."

"If you can't handle the game, get off the ice." It was so simple! It was another epiphany.

It was so fucking simple! I mentally kicked my butt from here to Tuesday. I wasn't fucking a young girl. I was fucking Trish who was pretending to be a young girl! And she had been doing that for me. I thought I had tried to fuck Trish in her ass to punish her. She had made me angry because she wanted me in her ass! I hadn't forced Trish to blow me. She was hoping she could blow me! It was why she was on her knees. Fuck, but was I an idiot! Was was I so fucking stupid? Why hadn't I figured it out sooner?

You stupid, stupid, dumb fuck! I said to myself. You shit for brains moron! She came all this way, figured out how to find you, invited you to try a little harmless spanking fun, and you went with it and then what? Ken, you brain dead piece of shit. You complete idiot. You wouldn't know an opportunity for playing out your deepest, wildest, darkest, most evil and delicious fantasies if it jumped up and bit you on the ass!

She had been taking a bite of my ass and I didn't even know it. What had I been thinking? I turned and started to walked back. If I was lucky, she would still there. What I deserved was just an empty room and a partial bottle of scotch to drown my miserable sorrows.

I wondered if Trish would believe that I had figured it out. I wondered if she was still here. I went to my room and walked in. Only a few of the guys were left. There were more beer cans than Coach would care to see. It's what happened when the senior players don't do their job.

"Hey guys, party's over. Get rid of the evidence." There were a few grumbles but no real protest. It was late. The guys were tired and sleep really was a good idea. After they had left I said to my roomie, "If I don't come back for a while, don't worry. I met an old friend."

"How much did she cost?"

"Fuck off, Twinkie."

Room 604 and I knocked. It took a while, but the door opened. The lights were off. Except for a sliver of light from the bathroom, it was dark. Trish was in a nightgown. She looked only half awake. She looked at me in a curious way, her head tilted to the side and then let me in.

"Let's not talk," I said. "I'm tired and I've had a hell of a night. I'm back in the game and I'll tell you about it in the morning."

Trish just got back into bed. I undressed down to my shorts, and got in beside her. Thank God she was still here. She was already starting to breathe evenly, falling back to sleep. I cuddled up against her and was not long in following. There were no bad dreams and no skinny, bad smelling Boogie Men. It was more than I deserved.

I woke up early. Trish was still asleep. It was barely light, about six am. The bus left at eight. I lay there and for the one hundredth time, wondered if I was still on my usual planet. As gently as I could I got out of bed, cat walked to the bathroom, silently closing the door and did my morning necessity. As I stood in the bathroom, emptying my bladder, Trish, who was now behind me said, "Why is it that guys are so quiet getting out of bed and then make such a racket in the bathroom?"

She was smiling in a very straightforward way. So I said, "I'll work on that."

"You have to go, don't you?"

"I do. Team breakfast is in half an hour, then game analysis and then back on onto the bus." She gave me a quick kiss.

"Okay, I'm going back to bed." She was asleep before I was dressed.

I went back to my room to shower and pack my few things. My roomie just raised his eyebrows. "Not one word, Twinkie. Not one fucking word to anyone."

It was a six hour bus trip back home. I wasn't interested in the usual banter, snooze and read routine. I pretended to be studying a textbook so I could think about this incredible situation I was in. I was smart enough to understand that Trish had not put me into it; she had merely invited me into it. It was a good place to start. Where was I?

Psychology truly wasn't my strong point and this whole scenario just dripped of it. It was lies, deceptions, fear tactics and very, very disturbing sex. I paused.

Disturbing to who? What was so disturbing? She had given me oral sex. We had sex together which included anal sex. Then we had a quickie and finally a mild spanking and vaginal intercourse. Put that way, what was disturbing? The only thing disturbing was the head games going on at the time. Okay, at first I didn't know there was a head game going on. Back then I had been misled and it had led me to the most incredible orgasms of my life.

Yes, Ken, I thought, there is a connection. I had gotten outside of my 'decent guy' persona and without hurting anyone so far, I'd had three of the most mind melting climaxes in history. No problem so far, except for Kris, and I was letting her stay on the back burner for now. Only Trish and I were involved in this game and we both wanted to be. So, I was being pursued by a young woman who, for as yet unknown reasons wanted to involve me in a game of sexual fantasies. Or was that just was my best guess? I truly didn’t know.

Why me and why now? She had said something about power and passion, calling it heady stuff. Maybe she liked the way I played hockey, flat out and thought it might apply in other parts of my life. I was an English Literature major, so maybe she thought that I understood creativity. Or maybe she was just bent. She was obviously serious about pursuing me. She had made a lengthy trip to surprise me at the hotel. She had initiative and resources. She also had more money than me, but that applied to pretty much everyone.

She tossed me out after I gotten so cold to her after the child sex fantasy. Why did she do that? It was another easy one. I had blamed Trish for turning me into a wannabe child molester. Trish knew I had done that all by myself. I must have broken some kind of a rule as in, 'If you think your fantasy is sick, don't take it out on me'. This time Trish and I really needed to talk.God, but did we ned to talk.

Kris. She was onto the front burner now. I had talked to her and we agreed to be a couple. The question of 'committed' had not been raised, but that was hardly irrelevant. I had sex with Trish the very next night after I had sex with Kris. I had cheated on Kris. I had never cheated on a girlfriend before. I was a little surprised that I didn't feel all that sick at myself. Why? Maybe it was more like I was having sex with Trish first and then cheated on her with Kris. No. I couldn't talk myself into that one but because rules had changed, at least with Trish, it was confusing. I had cheated on someone. And as my dad would say, that really meant I had cheated myself. Not good. It wasn't going to happen again. I was going to talk to Kris tonight. Who was I kidding? It was going to happen again, one way or the other. I just didn't know with who or how, but it was bound to happen. Fuck!! What was I getting into? Then I realized I was in already, even if I didn't know what it was. My headache returned.

Back at the campus arena I got off with the guys and helped take care of the gear. I headed back to my dorm, just in time for dinner. Right after that I called Kris.

We walked through the campus grounds to a quiet spot, sat on a bench and I told her everything. It took a while. From beginning to end, I tried to include everything. I even told her about the knife attack. I finished at the end, telling her of my thoughts on the bus trip home. There was a long silence. She didn't cry but her eyes were misted. I was prepared to accept any reaction but I had a bit of trouble with the one she gave me.

"I don't want you to say anything more. I'm not going to say anything now. We can talk in a few days or so." And she walked away without looking back.

I sat there for about half an hour, thinking that no matter what the short term results were of anything, my life had changed. For better or worse, Trish had done something that was changing my life, at least on the inside. Stop. No. I had started a process. Trish was simply the one who opened the door. I was free to leave anytime. I hadn’t left. I now knew how Trish had felt. Wait, I thought. Trish had felt in control from the very beginning. She really was good at what she was doing. I was beginning to understand just what that was.

I looked up at the sound of someone approaching. Trish was walking towards me, looking very calm. She sat down.

"I'm not stalking you, Ken, even if it looks that way. I was across the field and saw you with Kris. After she left I waited until you looked like you had finished talking to yourself. Are you okay?"

Actually I was pretty muck okay and said so. "And you?" I added.

"I'm okay. I know we have a lot of things to talk over Ken, but this isn't the time. How about if we just leave each other alone for a while?"

I just nodded yes. She gave me a squeeze on my shoulder and walked away.

Three days later Kris called and said she was ready to talk. Could we go to the apartment on Thursday night? We could. After Thursday supper I picked her up and we drove over.

"Let's not get into it until we get there, okay?" she asked.

It was fine by me. We chatted aimlessly on the way over. If she was furious, she was hiding it well. One more block to go and Kris said, "I talked to Trish Simpson."

I wasn't surprised. I was surprised to see Trish standing outside the apartment. I glanced at Kris, who smiled and said, "I asked her to be here. This involves all of us. Besides, I like her. She says you're going to need a lot of work."And then she giggled.

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Continue reading Head Games At School Chapter Two

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Comments(2)

EpicFail
Posted 24 Feb 2013 21:10
I like the story line can't wait until the next chapter!
EroticElegance
Posted 24 Feb 2013 21:01
Crème de la crème! Need I say more? 5+++ And then some!
 

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