"Hi Laney, would you like anything?" The mechanical and electronically filtered voice of Trisha came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time."Uh..... No thanks, I'm fine." Laney lay back on the feather filled sling cushion and idly traced the Aztec pattern of the weave with a fingertip. She carelessly tossed the toga like wrap to one side and un-self conscientiously exposed her thighs. The fabric was diaphanous in any case and wouldn't have hidden much."Not long now Hon." Trisha, although. Poor kid. I introduced him to William Ripley, the Head Football Coach. Ripley was a stocky red-haired, fifty-something Irishman from Boston. He left one of the major universities down there when they did away with their football program. I offered him a chance to be Head Coach at Mason College. He took it. He’s a good man. I asked him to let Tyrone try out. He agreed. We stood there, watching football practice. The young men we had this year were tough as nails. Lots of them were black or. More

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