Maggie's heart twinged for the poor son of a bitch, trapped there, in a State that wouldn't let her pull the plug. The health coverage for the cops in...this town was so good, he'd still be going three years from now, and meantime, Maggie was trapped.She slipped her feet sideways to the floor and sat up, grabbing the towel and wiping her face and chest. She caught the skinny kid behind the towel rack ogling her. That was the thing that drove her nuts. She had the strangest collection of men hit. Coffee people.Back in Baltimore for three with the Red Sox, I made a beeline to Sandy's house and arrived there before her own flight back from New York had even landed.Fortunately, I had recently been awarded my own key to the front door.Something more than an hour later, Sandy arrived. I had made us coffee, although it was very late, and I should have been thinking about bed -- and sleeping.Sandy gave me a tender, much-needed hug, murmured something that sounded like "poor baby," and joined. I said that I wanted to hear more about that, and in more detail. She said ok, and I just started to play with her breasts. I told her to just talk to me, until she feels like she should become more active in our sex play.She said the first time that she was in a situation was with one of the guys from our group of people that we use to hang out with. She said that he had been flirting with her for awhile, and would occasionally grab a quick feel of her breasts or her butt. She said that she. .. just do! Keep your head out of harm’s way!”“Yes, Sir!” I stated as he waved me out into the gymnasium, and then to the practice field.After taking attendance, Mr. St. Georges instructed his male students in various soccer ball control and reception skills. He rightly hated the term, ‘trapping’ the ball as good players normally receive and redirect the ball to space or send it to another player or take a shot on goal with it. Seldom did soccer players trap the ball.“How’s the head, Mike?” Mr..