The Coach

Issue #45

By Vivienne Arkell

Vivi generally preferred artists and young intellectuals. But on occasion, a note from a jock would land in her dating inbox for perusal. Very few made it to her doorstep, but this gorgeous hunk with the bluest of eyes might be lucky enough to be one of them. It had been a while and Vivi really needed a holiday diversion.

George teetered dangerously on the cusp of Vivi’s age limit. Under a certain age it was certain that the date would be a quick drink or two, at best. And most likely it would be a disaster if seduction, confidence, and pillow talk were to enter the picture – since these skills are rarely learned without years of experience. Though his age was a tad unsettling, it was really cold out and Vivi wanted some company. Plus, he did profess to be a film director. I’ll let her take over now and spill the details.

Our conversation flowed easily over wine, and a mischievous grin came over my face when George divulged, he was also a champion wrestler during college. Of course, now days he loved to film direct and be in charge, but to me he seemed proudest expounding about his wins. Explaining the finesse of real wrestling versus the sensationalized stuff that’s on TV now, I was mesmerized, enchanted by both his eyes and the spirit of the games. The rules and scoring were exacting with extra points given for hits, breaking your opponent, over/under, riding time, backdoor, and roll arounds.

At first, I was oblivious as to why he was so intent on teaching me the details of the sport. But soon I would understand what was at play here: why a takedown, with no escapes or reversals, would be inevitable. He had inspired the rival nature inside both of us.

George guided me onto the playing field with bravado. Coaches and directors can both be provocateurs, looking for weakness so they can draw out the best in you. Yet through confidence, George moved with clarity and intent, taking top position. He led my body fluidly through all the moves, gently pinning me down and putting the squeeze on.

I followed my coach as we were paired perfectly for the match. For this round, he wrestled me to the top, subtly demanding the highest standards of excellence from both of us. Inspiring and pushing me to my limits, going beyond even my personal best. The takedowns were beautifully executed in perfect form and technique.

After showering, we came back to snuggle and review the final score silently in our minds. Spent, smiling, and confident in our team work and the glowing outcome, we kissed passionately knowing these were only the first in many romps to be enjoyed together.

But wait, which two had been in the ring together? Who was the director, the coach, and the opponent? Was he truly coaching me or did the mirror have a lot to do with this sexy takedown? ; )


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