Book introduction: MY COACH, MY STALKER
Blurb: My diving trainer, Everett, has coached me all the way to the Olympics. Now I’m competing on a world stage for a gold medal. But when we arrive in Tokyo, my technique is off. I’m restless, aching-and I can’t pinpoint why. But Everett knows exactly what I need to get my concentration back. Now he’s coaching me in a whole new way, revealing an obsession with me that has been simmering under the surface for years, preparing to boil…
Chapter 1
Everett
I stand at the side of the Olympic training pool, waiting for my pupil to reach the high dive. It’s after hours. We are the only team left in the facility, all of the other athletes and coaches having returned to Olympic Village. I push Margot because I know she can win. I push her as hard as she pushes herself because her potential is limitless. And I should know because I’ve been training her since she was sixteen. We’ve been together, coach and diver, for two years but I swear I’ve known her a lifetime. I swear she’s been mine for a lifetime.
As always, when Margot is out of my sight, my scalp begins to prickle. I don’t like it. I have to resist the urge to stand beneath the ladder in case she falls. But I have to hide my anxiousness carefully. I have to keep my features impassive, because her parents are standing right beside me, all decked out in their American flag shirts and Tokyo souvenir glasses. Supportive to the point of desperation. If they had an inkling of what I’d like to do to their daughter, they would faint dead away into a tangle of red, white and blue.
What I’d like to do…it can’t happen.
That’s what I keep telling myself every time I get the urge to touch. I’ve built up the trust of Margot and her family. Taking my obsession to the next level would be unethical. And sick. At thirty-six, I’m only five years younger than her father. I was there the day Margot got her driver’s license, for god sakes. Never mind that she has matured significantly since then.
I sense movement above me and watch hungrily as Margot’s toes wiggle over the edge of the diving board. There’s no way to stop the thickening of my cock. Not when I can see her from this angle-and since I see her from this vantage point a hundred times a day, I’m hard as nails non-stop. The bright lights of the Olympic facility highlight every contour of her regulation black bathing suit. A suit that is wet and clingy after hours of practice.
My eyes trace the mound of her pussy, the jut of her tits.
I clear the lust from my throat and she adjusts her swim cap, looking down at me expectantly. Awaiting my instructions. “Commence the tuck sooner this time, Margot. Clean lines. When you’re ready.”
She nods. Poises herself. Executes almost flawlessly.
Only a coach or a judge would notice the slight bend in her left leg.
Her parents chuff proudly, exchanging a hug. They’re full of hope for the beginning of the competition in two days. As am I. But for the last few weeks, there has been something tugging at my subconscious. Every time I’m around Margot-and that’s near constantly-I notice a new tension in her beautiful shoulders. She can’t seem to sit still or concentrate, squirming around on the training bench during my lectures.
She tosses and turns in her sleep, kicking off the covers onto the floor and angling her hips in all manner of enticing positions, stretching her little cotton panties over her cunt. Making me sweat in the shadows of her designated room in Olympic Village, to which I have the key. I have a key to her home back in Austin, Texas, as well. Watching Margot sleep isn’t exactly a new undertaking for me. Out of necessity, I’ve learned to ejaculate without shouting. I’ve developed a routine of coming into a pair of panties from her drawer, bringing them home afterward and replacing them the following night. Unless I keep them.
I tend to keep them a lot.
What I do isn’t right. It’s a violation of her privacy. Her trust, as well as the trust of her parents. But I tell myself that it’s more forgivable than peeling those tight panties down and tunneling my way through her virginity. Whether it’s right or wrong, I think about it, though. I think about making love to sweet little Margot every goddamn minute of the day. Sometimes I can’t fit a single other thought around those desperate, depraved ones.
She surfaces at my feet and I reach down, helping her out of the pool.
“How was that?” she asks, breathlessly. Searching my eyes. Making my heart sprint at a dizzying speed inside of my chest. God, I would do anything to pull her into my arms. “Better?”
“Better,” I say briskly. “Just not where it needs to be yet.”
I hate the way her shoulders fall in disappointment. She’s incredible. A phenom. But it’s my job as her coach to keep pushing until she’s good enough to win the gold. Her parents have entrusted me with this mission. I don’t want to fail them and I refuse to fail Margot.
As my pupil has been wont to do lately, she fusses with the strap of her bathing suit, restless energy rolling off her in waves. “Well, then…” She blows out a breath. “We’ll just stay until we get it right.”
“Oh, but honey,” chimes in her mother. “Didn’t you say you wanted to go out dancing tonight with some of the other divers?” She splits an anxious glance between me and Margot. “It’s great to work hard, but shouldn’t you have a little downtime? You’re in Tokyo!”
Margot’s father is already shaking his head. “We’re here for diving. Not to party.”
I haven’t said anything because my teeth are clenched too tightly to speak.
Dancing?
Margot out dancing with men in a foreign city?
This is the first I’m hearing about it. Everything is supposed to be run past me. Everything from what she ate for breakfast to her menstrual cycle. I live, sleep and breathe this girl-and she knows it. Her cheeks are flushed at being outed by her mother, her gaze ticking to mine and dancing away nervously. “It was just a possibility. I wasn’t going dancing for sure.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to deny her the night out.
But I’ve been a little too possessive lately with Margot’s time. I’ve been getting away with it because we were preparing for the Olympics, but soon we’ll be back in Austin and I’ll need to draw back on the monumental amount of time I’ve been spending with her. It’s going to kill me. I love picking her up and driving her to the pool first thing in the morning. I love being the last voice she hears at night when she calls me to confirm she’s going to sleep.
Little does she know, I’m usually parked down the block, listening to her move around in bed via the microphone I taped beneath her nightstand.
Jesus, this obsession has gone so far.
Do I really have a hope in hell of reining it in?
Realizing Margot and her parents are watching me expectantly, I cough into a fist. “She needs to get rubbed down by one of the trainers. We practiced a lot today and I don’t want her muscles stiff in the morning. I’ll walk her back to the village afterward.” I force the next part out even though it makes me see red. “If Margot wants to go dancing after that, it’s up to her.”
She breaks into a smile, hopping around and clapping.
Excited to have a night of freedom.
Blissfully unaware that I’ll be watching her every move.
Margot~
I walk barefoot down the concrete tunnel leading to the physical therapy area.
Coach Everett is right behind me. Following silently.
More and more frequently I’ve been getting this hot, anxious feeling. Like I have an itch that I can’t find or scratch and it never goes away. It’s always at its worst in moments like this, when I’m about to be alone with my coach.
Because we both know the physical therapist already left for the day. Hours ago.
I don’t know why we both insist on keeping up this pretense, as if we both aren’t very aware that he’s about to massage my sore muscles in the deserted therapy room.
It’s my favorite and least favorite part of the day.
Favorite because I love Everett’s hands on me. I crave them there, kneading the knots out of my calves and shoulders and thighs. He’s the only one who can do it right, sensing exactly where my aches are most significant.
Least favorite because I feel achy and disjointed afterwards. I don’t know what to do with myself. My body won’t calm down. Which is why I had the idea to go dancing with some of my fellow divers. Maybe if I exhaust myself, I’ll finally be able to get some decent rest. Sleep that I need if I want to win gold.
We turn the corner into the therapy room and it’s empty. There’s no sound, except for the slow drip of the sink faucet. The low buzz of the overhead light.
“He must have gone home for the day,” Everett says casually, his breath ghosting over my shoulders, which are still wet from the pool. “I’ll have to rub you down.” His voice has turned deep. So deep. He never uses this tone around my parents. Only when we’re alone. It lifts every hair on my body, makes my nerve endings quiver. “Lie on the table, Margot. Face down.”
This is the part of the day where I tell myself this is innocent.
He’s my coach.
He’s the best coach. Sought after by every competitive diver in my state.
Maybe all he wants is to unknot my muscles.
After all, it never goes any further than a massage. No matter how bad I’d like it to.
No matter how close he comes to my private places, he never touches them. Never crosses the line into…fondling. Or sex. It’s just a massage. Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing. It’s just a functional part of his job. Priming the athlete.
If only I could see it that way.
If only he wasn’t so commanding and attractive and magnetic.