Made sure the piss had stopped dripping from the tip of his wanger.

Quickly stuffed the prick back into his pants. Washed his fingers lightly.

Wiped his palms off on his warmup pants.

Walked into the next room and took a seat his large hardwood desk.

Farted once.

Loudly.

Buzz of the intercom.

"Jacoby here."

"Meester Jacoby."

"Yes, Chiquita."

"Your appointment has arrived."

"Uh. Which?"

"She was originally scheduled for seven o'clock. Called and said she'd be a little late. Personal matters. Remember?"

"Ah, yes. Ask her to come in."

Jacoby steeled himself for the occasion. Doublechecked to see that the required paraphernalia was in the desk drawer.

Yes, Chiquita had done her preparatory work well. Everything was in order.

By the time the door began to swing open, Jacoby had-what he thought would be a convincing-enough smile on his face.

Chiquita gave Jacoby a sidelong glance with her almond-shaped peepers as she ushered the petite gymnast into the coach's office.

"Won't you please have a seat, Jacquette?"

"I probably won't be staying that long. That right, coach?"Jacoby bit into his lower lip. Strained his neck defensively. Well, she knew-or suspected.

There was bad business at hand.

That was part of a coach's job.

Came with the territory.

"You know, Jacquette. It's never very easy. As a matter of fact, it's one of the hardest things a coach or anyone else has to do-"

"No it isn't," Jacquette snapped. "I tell people to luck off every day!"

He smiled.

Uncomfortably.

"Especially you, Jacquette." He spoke-tried to speak-as if he had not heard one syllable she had spoken. "You have long been a competitive mainstay of the squad. A true team performer."