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Samantha walked back into her classroom and tossed her phone into her purse. She wasn’t going to be one of those women that stared at the phone waiting for a man to call on her. She’d wait until three thirty to check her phone next to see if Gabe had called. If he hadn’t, well then she would find something to occupy her time. **** A grumble rippling through his stomach broke the heavy concentration that stole Gabe’s attention. Rubbing his stomach, he looked away from the previous day’s practice as it played on a small screen next to the bookshelf in his office. Punching the button on the remote, the screen of the television turned to darkness. He hadn’t had much more than coffee and peanuts all day. Glancing down at his watch he noticed the dials read six forty five. Shit He was going to call Samantha and completely forgot. One of the people from the front office had brought him reels of game film, and for the past six hours he’d holed himself up in the screening room taking in each. "Tomorrow night? Do you think we need to practice every night?" I think it would be a good idea," I said. "We want to perform our best, don't we?" Of course we do," Mom breathed.I snuggled up to Mom and noticed that her dress, which had been smoothed under her bottom and legs, was bunched up behind her. She was no longer sitting on it. As Mom played, I gathered the dress in my hands carefully so she wouldn't feel me doing it. After a quick glance toward the living room, I cautiously raised the dress. I could see the waistband of Mom's panties, just barely, running across the pillow. They must have been small ones because that's as far up as they came. Mom's crack was barely visible, squished between the pulpy flesh of her upper cheeks.I leaned forward to lay my head on Mom's back again. Could I get my hands under her dress? Of course. Could I get away with it? Of course. Why else would she have pulled it out from underneath herself? I was hard again. Mom must be able to feel me. She.
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