Victory Tour (Part 245)

Saturday, Nov. 10

Marie woke me up about 7:15. An indication of how out of it I was after taking Josephine around the world last night should be that I never noticed either of my pets exiting the bed we'd shared.

"You go shower in my bathroom, Daddy," my original pet said. "I laid out clothes for you with all your stuff. Breakfast will be ready in the apartment by the time you're done. You'd better hurry if you're going to make your appointment."

"Where's Josephine?" I grunted as I got my feet on solid ground.

"She's bathing in the apartment," Marie said. "She wasn't very happy we wouldn't let her shower with you, but there's not enough time for you two to start up again."

I resisted the urge to tell the little waif it wasn't my idea to start up in the first place and went to follow my orders. I had too much on my plate today to waste time.

The realization that I'd now showered in three of the main house's four bathrooms hit me as I soaped up. The one connected to Jed's lovenest was the only one missing. I was in no hurry to complete the circuit.

It didn't help matters that Marie's bathroom was stocked with flowery-scented women's products. Better not get too close to my teammates or coaches until I worked up a good sweat. Which wasn't likely today. Temps were in the upper 30s at the moment with a high of 52 in late afternoon.

I took enough time to scrub thoroughly and shampoo, but no more. I was still damp when I pulled on fresh boxers.

Marie had supplied me with jeans and a rugby shirt I'd never seen before as well as my old running shoes. Just about right for a day of moving furniture. There was also the sling, which I figured I ought to wear until Doc looked me over. I could grab a fleece in the apartment.

Hurrying through the chilly morning, I stepped into the apartment a little after 7:30 to find Arlene and Josephine, dressed in her jeans and one of my T-shirts, at the little table with Marie and Lupita busy in the kitchen. I was trying to take a quick count of just how much clothing I'd lost to women when my redheaded goddess rose to greet me with a hug and a peck.

I immediately noticed a difference. Arlene's blouse looked baggier than normal and the dents she put in my torso didn't feel as big. It finally hit me. She'd had her breast implants removed. Her baby bump now jutted out almost as far as her tits. And she still looked fabulous. Must be the freckles.

"Arlene, I am so sorry I wasn't there for you," I said once she released me.

"Don't worry about it, Hon," she snickered. "I understand you've had a busy week. Raped by Karen on Wednesday, Elise on Thursday, playing quarterback most of the game last night and saving another damsel on top of that. I don't see how you have time for it all."

Neither do I, I thought.

"Still, I should have at least called to check on you," I said. "So, you're aware of the deal with Josephine?"

"Sure am," Arlene smiled. "From the way Marie described it too me, I would've been right there demanding you do something — maybe not exactly what you wound up doing, but something — if I'd been at the game. I stayed home to rest after the procedure. My tits weren't this sore when I got them done in the first place."

"Kiss ’em better?" I grinned.

"Maybe later," my goddess cooed. "Sounds like you've got a busy day ahead of you and need to get started on it. Take a seat. Breakfast is ready."

"Sit here, Master," Josephine insisted, hopping up from her seat as Marie delivered my pineapple juice.

Before I could protest, my blonde pet pushed me into the chair and crawled into my lap. Arlene and Marie just smiled knowingly while Lupita frowned in the background.

"Uh, about this 'Master' business," I started as my new pet got comfortable atop me, "I'd really prefer you not call me that, at least when other people are around. 'Gary' will be fine."

"But I can still call you Master in private, right?" she pleaded with big eyes.

"If you must," I sighed, wondering how I kept finding myself in such situations.

"Thank you, Master," she beamed, pushing her unfettered boobs into me as she hugged my neck.

"On the same topic, what do I call you?" I asked. "Do you prefer Josephine or something else?"

"Most of my colleagues at work call me Jo," she said a little wistfully. "Mistress ... that woman calls me Little Cunt. My Grampy Joe — that's who I was named after — called me Phiney when I was little."

"Jo will do," I decided.

No way in hell was I calling her Little Cunt. On top of what the other females in my life, especially Mom and Grandma, would do to me for so much as thinking the C-word, I didn't want to do anything that evoked memories of Lois Westmoreland. And Phiney just reminded me of the big brother taunting the neighbor on that old TV show about Topanga's tits. "Boy Meets Tits" was how I always thought of it.

Lupita was less than happy with me as she set plates on the table. Why couldn't she be the one cuddled in my lap? She'd been waiting a whole week already!

"Thank you, Lupita," I smiled as warmly as I could, causing the girl to blush.

Breakfast was some kind of beef chunks and gravy poured over scrambled eggs with a couple of tortillas and salsa. It smelled delicious. Before I could make a move, Jo was scooping forkfuls onto a tortilla and rolling it into a little burrito.

"Here you go, Master," she said holding the concoction for me to take a bite.

I was about to protest that I could feed myself when the flavors hit my tastebuds. Oh, my God, this was heavenly!

"This is very good, Lupita," I praised after swallowing the bite. "What is it?"

"Carne guisada con huevos," the girl smiled shyly as her blush reddened. "Es la receta de mi abuela."

The mention of her grandmother, who'd been confirmed dead by the Tri-Star folks in Matamoros, brought more than a tear to her eye. I'm afraid I basically dumped Jo in the floor as I went to comfort my foundling.

"Don't cry, baby," I said, thinking the phrase was about to surpass "What's wrong?" as words I was saying way too often to women as I wrapped the sobbing girl in a tight hug. "We'll take care of you."

"He's right," Arlene said softly, joining the hug. "We're here for you."

Eventually, Jo and Marie joined in as we got things somewhat under control. Or at least spread the tears around. Lupita continued to cling to me as I returned to my seat, replacing Jo in my lap and taking over the task of feeding me.

If I was the suspicious type, I might think the whole episode had just been a ruse to enable the girl to do precisely that. The occasional sniffle and wipe of an eye eased my concerns. Better be careful about letting her spend too much time around my other girlfriends, though. They were devious enough.

"I'd better get going," I said after swallowing the last bite of savory goodness.

"May I go with you, Master?" Jo asked shyly.

"Me, too," Lupita insisted, surprising me by saying an entire sentence in English, even if it was just two words.

"Ladies, I won't even be gone an hour," I said. "The athletic trainer just wants to check my shoulder. That's why I'm wearing the sling. Besides, my car only seats two. If both of you go, there's no room for me."

"How about they ride with me?" Arlene suggested. "I've got an errand on that side of town, anyway. Do it now and we can be back before the rest of your girlfriends get here to help with the cleaning."

"I'd better move my car so you can get out, then," I grinned, reaching for a fleece on the clothes bar.

Ya know, I coulda sworn I had more outerwear here. Even just yesterday. Between my girlfriends and the offensive line, I was going to wind up naked and starving. And I was supposed to be a frickin' billionaire!

Settling for a windbreaker, which was probably a better choice for the conditions, anyway, I made sure I had wallet, phone, keys and told my breakfast companions I'd see them soon as I stepped out the door. The phone was in need of charging after spending the night in Marie's room. At least the jacket didn't clash with the shirt. Too much. Arlene never would've let me out if it had.

I arrived at the fieldhouse at 8:07, according to the dashboard clock. I don't remember just how far ahead Sherry had set the thing for me, but I wasn't too awful late. I just might not've been as early as Coach Tucker would prefer.

He'd just have to get over it.

Still, my tardiness put me behind a few players — almost all scout teamers, though Reggie was there, which worried me — receiving treatment. That meant it was approaching 8:30 before Doc could get to me.

And that gave Coach Tucker an opportunity to get on my case. Just not about my punctuality.

"Do you have any idea why Lois Westmoreland's wife is in the lobby of my fieldhouse?" he demanded, somehow managing not to shout.

"Is she with Mrs. Jenson?" I asked.

"Yes," he snapped, "as well as your little friend, Miss Benson, and another young lady with whom I am not familiar. Care to enlighten me?"

"Sure," I said. "Miss Kerns was placed on administrative leave yesterday when Coach Westmoreland was arrested and doesn't think she'll get her job back. At best, she'll be reassigned for the rest of the school year and her contract won't be renewed. She said she couldn't go back to their house after what Coach Westmoreland did. Miss Benson offered her a place to stay last night with Mrs. Jenson's approval."

"That doesn't explain why they're here or what your role is in all this," Coach said.

"I think I'm a pack mule," I said, getting a snort in response. "Mrs. Jenson said she has an errand to run on this side of town and decided to take care of it now. She's hosting some friends for lunch. The others came along for emotional support, more than anything else. I don't think they wanted Miss Kerns to feel abandoned right now."

"And the other young lady?" he asked as Doc came over to check me out.

"You should probably ask Coach Johnson or his wife," I said.

"What's that supposed to mean?' Coach demanded.

"It's a Tri-Star Security matter," I said. "Her name is Lupita Garcia. From what I understand, she was caught up in an unfortunate situation down on the border. The Tri-Star folks found her on some property my family recently purchased and stashed her in Mrs. Jenson's apartment with her approval. She also has contracted with the firm."

"And is this young lady also 'under your protection?'" he glared at me.

"Not in the same way Marie is," I said. "It is my understanding she's still a virgin and I'm in no hurry to find out what Mrs. Johnson would do to me if that were to change. She's kinda taken the girl under her wing."

"Yeah, I'll let you deal with Mrs. Johnson on your own," he snorted. "If you're foolish enough to get crossways with her, there's nothing I can do for ya. And what's the deal with Mrs. Jenson? She's looking different from the last time I dealt with her."

"She had her breast implants removed this week," I said. "She's concerned they'll be a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Coach asked, a question I really didn't want to answer.

"She's about three months pregnant," I said so quietly he had to lean close to hear. "She doesn't want implants being an issue when she starts nursing next spring. And before you ask, it isn't mine. She underwent in vitro using an ovum fertilized a few years ago by her estranged husband. They've tried before. Part of their divorce settlement was she could try again before the divorce becomes final."

"Why does that not surprise me?" he grunted. "Doc, let's find out if he'll be able to go this week."

The trainer helped me out of my shirt, giving me a curious look when he saw my back. I was just glad he didn't say anything to coach before he started poking and prodding my shoulder. It was still achy, but nothing like last night. Marie's massage while I ate had done me a world of good.

I even managed to hold the arm above my head long enough to satisfy him.

"I think Trapper was right about it being a pinched nerve," Doc said. "There's still some inflammation, but it's not near as loose as last time. I'd advise holding him out of contact a couple of days just to be safe, but he should be able to perform his regular duties on Friday."

"Will he be available to run the scout offense in practice?" Coach asked.

"As long as he doesn't get hit on it again," Doc said.

"Taylor's not gonna like that," Coach snarked before heading off to tend to other business.

"So, what happened to your back?" Doc asked quietly once Coach was out of earshot. "Trapper didn't say anything about it last night."

"Fell into a briar patch on the way home," I said, pulling my shirt over my head to obscure my face.

"Stay with the sling through the weekend," the trainer advised with an expression that indicated he wasn't buying my explanation. "I'll check you again Monday before we lift. And try to avoid any more briar patches, especially ones that smell like lady's soap."

"Yes, sir," I said, thinking at least Morgan hadn't clawed me in the heat of passion. "Thanks."

I finished dressing, grabbed the windbreaker and was heading for the exit when my little Billie Walsh flagged me down. Coach Sullivan and Coach Fuller wanted a word with me.

I found the coordinators diagramming formations on a white board in the staff room.

"Tell us what you were seeing from their defense last night when you got in the Wing-T," Coach Sullivan said.

"A lot of confusion," I snorted. "It was like they'd never even seen it before."

"They probably hadn't," Coach Fuller said. "This was only their third varsity season and they've been in our district the whole time. Tell me what ya think of this."

The defensive coordinator drew up the set we'd used against the Bearcats, that hybrid 3-4/5-2 look with the ends flexed off the line.

"I guess the first thing is how you're going to approach it," I said after giving it some thought. "Are you going zone or man?"

"What do ya mean?" the offensive coordinator asked.

"Are guys responsible for specific players or areas," I said. "In man, make sure to knock your guy down just in case he has the ball. In zone, try to outnumber them at the point of attack. Maybe bring the safeties up for run support."

"Until they hit ya with one of those seam routes," Coach Fuller pointed out. "Offense better score enough we can afford one or two of those."

"What if we do this?" Coach Sullivan asked, drawing up what looked what our one-back power set with wings instead of slots.

"That ought to give you plenty of options presnap," I said. "You could run the option out of that, shift into a base set with slots or drop a wing to halfback in a Wing-T based on the look they give you. Have a list of plays ready for whatever they do and signal the play or let Reggie decide."

"Shouldn't be too hard," the offensive coordinator mused. "We've done similar stuff to draw defenses off or make them burn a TO. How would you feel about switching spots with Reggie if we choose option or Wing-T? Take those snaps under center while he goes to receiver?"

I just stared at him in disbelief. It was one thing to put me out there with the scout offense against the Badgers, but to have me take snaps at quarterback in a playoff game? The man could not be serious!

"We'd better be three or four touchdowns ahead," I heard myself say. "And we should probably stay away from the toss sweep. Both ways. I've already got one sore shoulder."

"Don't worry, Robinson," Coach Fuller laughed. "Saturdays are when we spitball our crazy ideas. Then Coach Tucker threatens to fire us on Sundays if we don't come up with something workable."

That made me feel a little better. But only a little.

Morgan flagged me down again before I could escape.

"Don't forget about lunch," she reminded me, as if Arlene and Marie would allow that to happen. "I'm still thinking about what I want to do tonight, but we can decide later.

"We still have about an hour of work here, but I should get to Arlene's close to 10. Benny will give me a ride if we can ever make the computer accept your yardage on the last play. If we credit you to the goal line, the program automatically gives you a touchdown. Wil's trying to rewrite some of the code."

Everything after when she expected to reach Arlene's went right over my head. I'd leave it to the computer geeks to figure out.

"I'll see you at lunch, then," I said, grabbing a quick smooch. "You can find me at Mrs. Osborne's house."

I stepped outside a little before 9 and whipped out my phone as my other four ladies in attendance waved me over to where Arlene's Jag was parked. Punching Jed's number, I headed thataway as the call tried to connect.

My buddy picked up before I got halfway.

"Yo, dude," he greeted me. "Just got off the phone with our landlady. She said Mr. Osborne expects to be there by 10. I was fixin' to text the guys to be there as close to 9:30 as possible just in case."

"Sounds good," I said, approaching the group. "I've got to help Arlene with an errand real quick, but should be there about then myself. Better let ya get to it. She's waitin' on me."

"Yes, she is," Arlene said loud enough for Jed to hear if he hadn't disconnected. "So, what's the prognosis?"

"The trainer recommended holding me out of contact for a day or two, but I should play Friday. Coach Tucker wants me to run scout team quarterback because the team we're supposed to play operates from under center."

"Why can't the regular scout team quarterback do that?" she asked, unlocking the Jag for the other ladies.

"Because Coach McEntire doesn't want to get too close to the action," I smirked. "He normally does that for teams that use the shotgun. They put me out there for the first game because the quarterback was supposed to get hit."

"Well, rank does have its privileges," she said airily. "Follow me. This shouldn't take long."

At least the trip didn't. I just wasn't prepared for what the errand entailed.

I followed Arlene out to the street in front of campus and a couple blocks west before entering the shopping strip that contained Cookshack right at 9 a.m. Since I was planning on stopping by there, anyway, it seemed to work in my favor.

Then my grandmother pulled in behind us.