Gotta stay strong!

I blinked, and in the space of that eyeblink, the way I looked at Steve changed. I looked at him not with adoring eyes, but with the eyes of an adversary, an equal, a competitor. Through those eyes he looked less like someone to gush over, and more like someone I wouldn't mind hanging out with. It was weird. I started wondering how I could get him on a wrestling mat so I could whip his ass and then fuck him silly.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." I said, not even letting him answer my question. "In the gym." I was going to challenge him on his own turf and I was looking forward to it.

"OK," he said, hesitantly. He knew something had just happened, but he wasn't sure what it was. The tone of deference in my voice had gone and it was replaced by something he was more used to hearing from his guy friends.

I skipped off to the gym with a light heart and a firm set to my jaw. Steve and I were going to have fun. I thought maybe I was going to have more fun than Steve, but he didn't know it yet.

I also had a lot of fun during gym class that day. After we dressed-out, Coach Simpson took us for a jog down to the practice football field and put us through some calisthenics before running us around the field a couple of times.

What made it fun was that in a crowd of girls who were all focused on their own exercises, I was able to get a better workout than usual. Instead of the girl-style of push-ups, I raised my knees slightly off the ground to make it harder. Instead of two-legged squats, I cheated and only used one leg, or I pushed off with my arms.

I may have been too enthusiastic about it, because I saw Coach Simpson eyeing me a couple of times. I was afraid she was going to say something, and I was right. When she sent everyone out for the laps around the field, she called to me.

"Samantha! Can I have a word with you, please?"

I trotted over, unhappy to be singled-out like this. "Yes, Coach?" I said.

"Samantha, I understand you dropped out of cheerleading. Can you tell me why?"

As I opened my mouth, I realized that she wasn't going to accept the 'my breasts are too tender' BS I had handed the squad when I quit. She had just seen me bouncing around without a problem, doing some pretty energetic stuff.

"Coach. Can I level with you?" It was clear she wanted me to do exactly that.

She nodded, "Sure."

"Have you ever been in a situation where you felt helpless? Where you felt that things were out of your control?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Sam."

"I'm trading cheerleading for martial arts, Coach. I want to learn how to defend myself. Especially now that I'm more of a target for... people who might not take a firm "No!" and an upheld hand as meaning 'stop'. You know what I mean?"

"Yes, Sam. I think I do. And I want you to know that I think it's a great idea. A woman needs to know how to defend herself. To stand on her own feet and not depend on a man to protect her. Especially one as little and as... pretty as you."

Today seemed to be my day for compliments. First Steve and now Coach. I wasn't sure exactly how Coach had meant that comment, but I wasn't about to shrug it off. I stepped closer to her and said, "Thank you, Coach. What a nice thing to say! Do you really think I'm pretty?"

I watched her eyes to see which part of me she found the prettiest. The answer was obvious. She caught herself staring at my chest and she looked away quickly.

"You are beautiful, Sam. Don't ever let anyone tell you different." She sounded just like Mrs. Reynolds. For a second, I thought she was going to touch me, but she changed her mind. I'm sure she was thinking about the rules of conduct between students and teachers and how appearances must be maintained.

I was bound by no such rules. I stepped close and gave her a hug, mashing my breasts into her and laying my head briefly on her shoulder. She flinched, but did not push me away. To save her any embarrassment, I let go after a couple of heartbeats.

The look she gave me spoke volumes that would never be printed or said. I had a fleeting idea of trying to get her to shower with the rest of us, but I knew she would never relax enough to consider doing something like that.

She started jogging after the class as they headed off the field toward the gym. I turned the other way to start my two laps before going in myself.

"It's OK, Sam!" she called to me, "Just go on in!"

"Thanks, Coach!" I called back, "But I need the work. Gotta stay strong!"

As I rounded the far end of the field, I saw her go out the gate and out of sight. When I was sure no one was around to see me, I turned on the speed and practiced keeping my feet on the ground. My previous gait was too bouncy for decent speed. I tended to sail when I got going too fast. I could travel like a kangaroo, in long low hops, but that wasn't too controllable. I didn't want to be in mid-hop when a car came around a corner and smacked me like a bug.

When I had got into a low stride with plenty of leg-flex and no bounce, I started working on raw speed. I found I could get going pretty good on straight stretches, but turning was hard. At any good speed, I simply wasn't heavy enough to make sharp turns without sliding all over.