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Penny wasn't my daughter, I had to choose.

You can see where he inherited his brains."

Eliza made a muffled sound drawing the eyes of both teachers to her. She was determinedly not looking at them.

"Well," said Mrs Fotheringham as she rose out of her chair, "I have finished my discussion with Eliza and I have to see the Principal to discuss the matter of Junior and his exam. You may wish to stay and have a few words of your own with Eliza, seeing she has cost you a player."

Mrs Fotheringham left, leaving Coach Bryan to have his own little chat with Eliza.

"How old are you Eliza," he asked with a sigh.

"Eighteen," she mumbled, apparently having difficulty at talking and too embarrassed to look at him.

"Eighteen and already embarking on a life of crime. How much did you make with your little scam?"

"About a hundred and it wasn't a scam. Not really. I warned anyone who bought the answers that I couldn't guarantee that the exam wouldn't change. They took their chances. Everyone passed but Junior and no-one asked for their money back. Ah, your hand."

The last seemed to be voiced a little desperately, the coach thought. What did she mean by his hand? Looking down he gave a small start. His fingertips were gliding softly over her bottom, easing the sting of the paddling she'd received. How long had he been doing that, he wondered.

"Oh, sorry," he said. "An automatic reflex. Comes from massaging bumps and bruises on team members, reducing possible bruises and relaxing muscles from cramps. I saw the redness and naturally took steps to ease it. Would you have refunded any of the money if asked?"

"No. I gave them fair warning. If they'd have had the sense to study old exams themselves they'd have known the answers were for an old test. I helped them by giving them material to study that would aid them in the exams. Several of them have thanked me for helping them pass. Um, you're still touching me."

"Like I said, just reducing the redness of your bottom and easing the sting. Don't worry about it. What did Junior say about the answers?"

"Um, when he complained I just told him it wasn't my fault they gave out the wrong exam. That was the school's responsibility. Ah, that's not my bottom you're rubbing."

Coach Bryan considered the situation.

"You're right," he admitted, "but it certainly seems flushed and swollen. I think I'll just continue with the massage for a little longer."

Eliza swallowed nervously, shifting restlessly, trying to ease herself away from the coach's hand. Not that it was of any use, he knew precisely what he was doing. She gave a startled gasp when a couple of fingers slipped between her lips and into her, touching her in places she knew he shouldn't. Actually, he shouldn't have been touching her anywhere, let alone down there.

"I'll thank you to take your hand away from there," she said, trying to sound calm and firm.

"Mm? Are you sure? I'd have thought a slightly longer massage might help."

"I'm sure."

"OK. If that's what you want."

She felt his fingers retreating, leaving her, and tried not to show her relief. Then her eyes widened and her breath stopped. His fingers had pushed her lips apart and that wasn't a finger pushing its way between them. Her breathing started again with a gasp, although her eyes were still wide open.

"What are you doing?"

"What you asked me to do. Replacing my hand with something more appropriate."

"I just said take you hand away. I didn't say anything about anything else happening."

"Be reasonable, Eliza. I couldn't leave you all swollen and suffering and not do something to assuage your need. Consider it my good deed for the day."

Eliza could feel his erection pushing steadily into her, already stretching her passage as it made its way along.

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