This time he let their lips linger together a little longer. He was the one surprised as he felt her offering the tip of her tongue to his lips. "Late...," he thought as he let their mouths part.The heat was obvious in her face and eyes. Not quite lust, but nymphet heat. Not quite total desire, but it was there, glowing at himHe stepped back a ways directing her to keep her face toward the lens, firing away a bevy of shots. She was a natural he thought to himself. Every shot or position he moved. "This is not your decision to make. Mr. Porter is our starting defenseman. End of discussion."I stood up. "You know what, Coach? Maybe it would be a fair test for me." I walked over to the next row of lockers, where Weasel was sitting. He was, for all intents and purposes, sitting by himself. The nearest player was four or five lockers down from him, another bench player. Nobody else wanted to be near him, even just to change clothes. "Okay, Weasel, I challenge you for the position. If you can. More

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