"Ed Howdershelt - Anne" - читать интересную книгу автора (Howdershelt Ed)

"I don't give a damn about the grammar," said Cyndi, "I want to read the
sexy stuff. In fact," she rose from the tub, "It's been a rough day. I want to
read some of it now."
Cyndi leaned over and kissed me as she toweled herself dry, then set a
course for the living room table with her beer. I heard her flop open the
cover on my manuscript folder. Vickie stretched gloriously in the extra
tubspace and asked for a beer. I opened one and held it out to her, but she
chose to slide over next to me and gave me a kiss as she took the beer.
"Cyndi's going to be reading a while," she said, "I don't suppose you have
an extra copy for me?"
 "Nope. No extra copies, Ma'am."
"Well, then," she said as her free hand trailed up my thigh, "I guess we
could kill some time in the bedroom, couldn't we?"
"Time with you is never wasted," I said, kissing her.
Cyndi waved off on joining us. "Later," she said, "I really did have a
long day." She sipped her beer, turned the cover page and read.

Chapter One
The phone rang at 7am. It was Jim, reminding me that we were supposed to
help Mrs. Anne Barnell move to her new home outside Mesquite, Texas. Although
my enthusiasm for anything before noon on a Saturday was then as it is now, I
told Jim to pick me up in an hour, then blearily dragged myself through
various preparations and breakfast and waited outside on the front porch.
It wasn't long before Jim Terry's old Ford pickup rattled into the
driveway. We had become friends after each of us had been solicited by the
coach for basketball and football. Jim had overheard me telling the coach that
I considered heavily organized sports to be a boring waste of time and energy.
Coach Keller hadn't accepted my decision not to participate in a gracious
manner.
"Get your ass in gear, sport. This is your only chance to save your grade.
Be suited up and out there in five minutes or you get an 'F' for the week."
"I'll take the 'F'. I told you I don't like football."
"What do you mean you don't like football? Everybody likes football. Now
get your butt out there." Coach Keller turned to go as if the conversation was
over. He was about half a dozen strides away when he realized he was marching
alone.
"What's the matter, sport? Are you scared? Is that it? Too delicate for
football?"
I was simply unmotivated before. Now I was getting pissed off.
"If you can't browbeat 'em, try poking them in the ego, right? That won't
work with me, coach."
"How would you like to be running laps for being a smart-ass? You want
laps every day for the rest of the semester? While everybody else watches
you?"
"There's no polite way to refuse, is there? No football. No running laps
around the sacred football field, either."
"That's it. Get suited up and spend the rest of PE class running or get
your butt over to the tryouts. One or the other, sport."
The activity was drawing a small crowd. I held my ground and waited in
glaring silence. Coach Keller finally realized that I wouldn't run or play, so