A Team Player (closed for KatiePlaything)

BurningMonkey

TheMan In TheMirror
Joined
Jan 21, 2014
Posts
4,861
Dirk Chandler, age 50.
Athletic director at a major university.
6", 210 lbs, blue eyes, salt and pepper hair more salt than pepper.
 
"Relax, this is just a formality," I reminded my mother over the phone as I walked across the university's drill field. Eighteen and fresh out of school, I've been accepted to Empire University (Home of the Fighting Tigers!). Ever since dad passed away, and mom took the second job, the family hasn't seen much in the way of money, which made getting a college education not only difficult, but absolutely necessary. Thank goodness the athletic department was offering a full scholarship for Lacrosse! Everything was in order -- all I needed to do this afternoon was meet the athletic director so he can sign the paperwork.

This wasn't a job interview, just a final hoop to jump through, so I decided to dress for comfort and team pride in a grey Empire Athletics tee (Go Get 'Em, Tigers!) tucked into navy shorts. And a bit sporty with my long chestnut hair tied back in a ponytail.

"Yes, mom. This shouldn't take but, like, twenty minutes," I assured her as I glanced at my university map. "I'll be home for dinner. Okay, I'm here... gotta go. Love you too." With that I thumb the phone off and slip it into my pocket.

It took a couple turns and a jog up a flight of stairs to find the right office, but the door was open so I tap my knuckles against the door frame and smile, "Coach Chandler? I'm Katie Williams... freshmen lacrosse. You're supposed to sign this?" I asked and held up the scholarship form.
 
Dirk looked up from his desk at the sound of rapping. He wore his usual work uniform, even though this was a Saturday--grey Empire logo shirt (with a pocket; he always insisted that the promotional wear have pockets, even though suppliers for them were more difficult every year to find) and khaki slacks.

"Ah, Miss...Williams," he said, consulting a notepad. He looked up. "On time, I see. Good. Punctuality is important. Please, have a seat." He indicated one of the chairs placed before his desk. He didn't smile.

"Oh, and please close the door behind you. This is a confidential interview."

He returned his attention to whatever he was reading, then after a few moments placed it aside. Again looking up, he held out his hand expectantly. Katie placed the application forms in them.

"You understand," Dirk continued, looking over the application, "that these sorts of interviews are unusual. I've built a solid department here in the last fifteen years, and for the most part our incoming athletes are obviously qualified and simply waived through pro forma. I only hold these one-on-ones for those new freshmen about whom I have...questions."

He placed the forms on his desk and looked directly at Katie, steepling his fingers. His face was expressionless, giving no hint of his thoughts.
 
"Questions?" Katie parroted as she gently closed the door behind her and slipped into the seat indicated by the coach. "I wasn't aware this was going to be an, uh, interview..." she mused aloud in a tone that carried a hint of concern.

"Well, I was All-State two years in a row, captain of my team last year... we made it to state semi-finals. I graduated with honors; 3.8 GPA. And I was the Channel 11 Student Athlete of the Week." She paused, hands resting in her lap and lips twisting a nervous grin. "And I've been a Tigers fan since I was little."
 
He simply gazed at her impassively, unspeaking.

The silence had stretched to the point of being slightly uncomfortable He could see her begin to fidget in her seat nervously.

"Yes, I'm aware of all that," he said finally. "It's all in your application. Those aren't the sort of questions I had concerning you."

In fact he know more about Katie than that; he had researched her thoroughly, as he did all of his "special" students. He'd poured over her social media presence on the internet, looked into her family's situation and finances--facilitated by the FAFSA application that accompanied her scholarship forms--read and re-read her freshman admission essays, looked up her high school wins and losses, newspaper reports, outside activities, even her former boyfriends.

Oh, yes, he knew much, much more about her than was contained in her college application.

He rose from behind the desk and walked around it towards her. "I've spent many years building this department into a nationally-recognized program. In short, we win here at Empire, and I work hard to keep it that way."

Now he stood directly in front of the girl, who had to look up at him. He was a somewhat intimidating man, physically; not huge, but big, not muscular, but solid. There was a permanent crease etched between his eyebrows, a legacy of his younger days squinting into the sun as a competitive sailor. As a former athlete, he had never lost the instinct to use whatever advantage he could to win in any situation, and his size and its effect on others was one of those advantages.

"Stand," he said. She did so.

He walked around her slowly, looking her up and down thoroughly. He could tell she was nervous and uncertain by the way she unconsciously kept clenching and unclenching her fists. Finally he completed his circuit and stood in front of her again, looking her directly in the eyes.

"Take off your shirt," he said, casually, with no trace of inflection; he could have as easily been saying, "Hand me that cup of coffee."
 
"E~excuse me??" Katie blurted out in a surprised laugh, her hands crossed over her chest as she looked at the coach in wide-eyed disbelief. Surely she had misheard him, but the stern gaze he return made it abundantly clear she had heard him just fine.

He had directed her to take off her shirt.

Maybe it was some kind of fitness evaluation... or maybe some kind of weird test. Either way, she wasn't about to do that. "I don't think so..." she replied, her voice still tingling in disbelief as she glanced back towards the door. "I'm quite comfortable with my clothes on, thanks."
 
He looked at her for a moment, then unhurriedly returned to his chair. Picking up her application, he casually dropped it in the wastebasket next to the desk and returned to perusing the papers he had been reading when she entered.

"Good day, Miss Williams. I wish you every good fortune at whatever institution of higher learning you eventually attend."
 
"I'll be attending this one," Katie said in disbelief. This was ridiculous... she had already gone through all the real hurdles for this scholarship and was told it was hers. Getting the AD to sign off was supposed to be just a simple formality.

But the silence hung heavy in the room and the coach wasn't budging. "Look," she said with a barely audible sigh. "I just need you to sign the papers. So just sign them and we can pretend that this never happened."
 
He didn't look up from his reading. The silence stretched.

Finally he did look up, and seemed surprised. "You're still here? I'm sorry; was there something else you needed?"
 
Katie felt her cheeks flush. Partially from anger but mostly from the shame of knowing he was holding all the cards here. She needed the papers signed so she could have an education, and he had nothing to lose here.

"Fine," she said and untucked her shirt. It's not like this was the first horny guy who'd ever try to get a peek, but it was the first one who actually had something she needed. She pulled the simple tee off over her head and stood before his desk with hands on hips and an irritated look on her face. Her breasts were full, heavier than most expect from someone as athletic as she was, but safely hidden behind the confines of a white bra.

"You'll sign the papers now?"
 
Unspeaking, he got up from his desk, again unhurriedly like he was just going for a coffee. He walked towards her, his eyes assessing, moving up and down, and circled around to her back.

Without preamble he reached out and started running them up and down her ribs, palpating as they went as if assessing the running ability of a horse. They moved to her shoulders, not ungently squeezing there, but definitely not an erotic caress.

The hands moved down her arms, considered her biceps, then dropped to her ass cheeks, where they probed and pressed.

"Drop the shorts," he ordered quietly.
 
Katie stood in silence, choking back her revulsion at being evaluated like some kind of farm animal. He touched, pinched and squeezed at the muscles across her arms, shoulders and across her flanks before groping her firm bum through her shorts. It was equal parts humiliating and disgusting.

She knew what was bound to come next and wasn't surprised when he ordered her to undress, but that didn't make it any better. Her fingers trembled with a slight nervous energy when she plucks the button to her shorts and pulls them down off her short but well-toned runner's legs, and stands before the coach in nothing but her bra, panties and tennis shoes.
 
Dirk waited for the shorts to drop to the floor, then proceeded with his examination, running his hands down her buttocks, her upper thighs, continuing down to her knees, calves, and ankles.

Finally he was finished. He stood up and walked back to his desk, stopping to fish the papers out of his wastebasket. "You can get dressed," he said off-handedly over his shoulder, not looking at Katie.

Seating himself again, he picked up a pen from the desk and signed with a flourish, like a man who's used to signing his name a thousand times in a day and can't be bothered to form all the letters.

"Welcome to Empire University," he said, holding out the papers to the re-dressing Katie.

"Understand something," he continued, still in a neutral tone. "The Lacrosse program, as you may or may not know, is relatively new. We are still in the process of assessing whether or not we will retain it as a varsity sport.

"As a consequence, your scholarship is probational; it can be revoked at any time during this first year. So your continued attendance here is highly dependent, mostly on whether or not you win.

"As I've said, I have spent many years building a winning program, here, and I won't jeopardize that for the sake of a marginal sport. My reputation and standing is at stake.

'So for you, it is imperative that you do what I say, when I say, if you wish to continue here. And it is imperative that you win.

"Do you understand me clearly?"
 
"Yes, sir," Katie answered simply and clenched her jaw in disgust. At least this wasn't a sexual thing, she thought as she slipped her shirt back on. He wants to win... I can handle that.

But 'probational'? That left a lot of room open, and wasn't something she was comfortable with. At all. But at least the papers were signed. It was a start.

"Are we finished here... coach?" she asked and took the admission papers; desperate to be anywhere but here.
 
"Finished?" He considered the notion, as if it was a foreign body he had just discovered.

"Yes, for the moment," he finally answered. "But I will require you to meet with me in this office at least once a week. For now, it can be on the weekend, as today. Once you get your schedule of classes, we'll establish a time when it is mutually acceptable for you to come here.

"And remember: If I say you're "in", you're in. And if I say you're "out", you're out. There will be no discussion, and no appeal. The Regents have given me carte blanche so far as the athletic program is concerned. I exercise that authority to the betterment of the program, and I take that responsibility very seriously."

Looking down at the papers on his desk again, he dismissed her off hand. "Good day, Miss Williams. Welcome to Empire."
 
~~Four Days Later~~​

Katie breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of the coach's whistle. She had survived her third practice without incident, which she took as a good sign. Coach ran the team hard, demanding more from them than she was accustomed to, but not beyond her ability. And, frankly, the sweat and burn would feel good if not for the ever-present gaze of the school's Athletic Director from the sidelines. Thankfully, his eyes seemed to stay away from her ... it was almost insulting how she seemed beneath his notice. But he was there, always watching and making sure the team's Head Coach prepared them properly.

In fact, he wasn't the only spectator at practice, which was definitely a switch from her High School days. "Who're they?" Katie asked her fellow midfielder, a blonde junior named Jenna.

"Those two?" she peered at a guy and girl sitting in the stands with notebooks open in their laps. "Reporters from the school paper. They always do an article at the start of the season."

"And them?" Katie nodded towards a small gathering of men, all too old to be students.

"Donors," Jenna answered simply enough. "They're the ones paying the lion's share of our scholarships. So you'll see a few of them pop up at practices... they like to see where their money is going."

Right.

"And then you have the groupies," Jenna gestured with her stick towards the last bunch of spectators. "They're just students who like to watch practice."

Katie opened her mouth to ask another question when Coach's whistle pierced across a practice field that was empty save for the two midfielders. "Hill! Williams! Showers now!"

"Yes, coach!" they called back and jogged off the green.
 
Dirk watched from the sidelines as the girls dispersed from the field into the locker rooms.

One of the boosters wandered over to stand next to him. After a moment he nudged the athletic director and said with a grin, "Nice looking bunch, eh?"

Dirk glanced over at the man without saying anything. After a few moments, the man ducked his head and cleared his throat.

"All in good time, Davison," Dirk said finally. "All in good time. Let's not forget who's running this show."

With that he uncrossed his arms and walked to the exit of the women's locker rooms, waiting for Katie to appear.
 
Dirk sat in his office, finishing up some reports when the phone on his desk rang. "Chandler," he said into the receiver.

A few moments of listening, then he pulled a legal pad from his top desk drawer. "So you think she'll be a good one? Okay, give me the particulars."

"4'11, long dark hair, okay boobs, killer ass. Got it. And her name is Marcie? Okay."

A few more moments listening. "Well, I have a new Lacrosse player I think might serve, but she's going to need some 'seasoning'. We have six weeks before the booster reception. I'll either have her in hand by then or we'll cut her loose."

"Okay, Tom," he said in closing. "Good work. Let me know if you come up with anyone else."

Placing the phone back in the cradle, he looked over the short list on the pad. Two softball players, one swimmer, one volleyball, and now two from gymnastics. Tom was a good coach, and he was one of the best at "recruiting" other talent, too.

He sat back and pondered for a minute. Katie...Katie...yes, he'd have to work on that one. His instincts weren't always right, but they were more often than not.
 
Practice done, Katie showered and switched back into her day clothes, an orange (Go Tigers!) v-neck top slipped into a dark blue patterned skirt tied off with a bow nestled at the small of her back. Her hair was still slightly damp from the shower, but she paid that no mind as she'd be home soon anyway.

And the sooner, the better, she thought as she emerged from the building to find Coach Chandler, the university's Athletic Director, hovering at the exit. She averted her eyes and tried to casually walk past on her way to her car -- she hadn't mentioned her little 'encounter' with the man to any of her teammates and hoped it was a one-time episode. But the way he emphasized the importance of weekly reevaluations gave her a pang of worry...
 
Dirk saw how Katie was trying to avoid him. Good. That was as expected.

"Katie," he said when she had almost escaped. She turned, apprehension in her eyes, and walked back to him.

He looked at her impassively for a long moment, then finally said, "You looked good out there today. I'm beginning to think maybe I made the right decision by letting you come here."

He nodded once to her, then turned and walked across the grass. A few paces on he turned and said, "That's a nice outfit; wear it to our next appointment. And don't be late."

He turned back and continued on his way.
 
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"That's a nice outfit; wear it to our next appointment. And don't be late."

Well, Katie was half-successful in following the AD's directions... she arrived to his office on time, but left the skirt and v-neck at home, instead opting for a simpler school tee and blue jeans. What difference did it make anyway?

Let's get this over with... she thought with an inward sigh as she walked the hall to his office. The building looked empty, it was Saturday after all, and the sooner she jumps through his hoops and gets on with her weekend, the better.

"Mister Chandler?" she asked politely from the doorway to his office. "Ready for our appointment?"


((OOC: I'm not sure what you call an Athletic Director? Coach? Mister? I have no idea what's correct. LOL))
 
Dirk looked up from his desk. "Come in, Katie," he said. And smiled. It wasn't a big smile, but it wasn't unfriendly.

"You're a townie, aren't you?" he asked as she took a seat. "I imagine it feels a lot like high school to you, only bigger. Most of our students are resident; they come here from all over. Dorm life is a new experience for them; for many it's the first time living away from family and a 'normal' routine. There's nobody to answer to, no set meal schedule, no household chores, no normal bedtime--they can go where they want, when they want, more or less do what they want. They have full responsibility for their own time, and have to manage it and be responsible for getting where they need to be when they need to be there. And they have to be disciplined enough to do the work and get it in on time with no one to remind them or watch over their shoulder.

"For some, that...freedom, that lack of external structure, is a problem. They skip class, decide not to do the reading or write the paper in favor of hanging out with their friends, party a lot--in short, they slack off. And pay the consequences when exam time and grades come around.

"They regret their prodigal ways and if they stay they resolve to do better, and most do. But for some of them it's already too late. This is especially true of athletes on scholarship; as you are aware, we have a minimum grade-point average requirement, and if they fall below that number--well, they're gone. It's a hard lesson, and I like to think that they take it to heart and apply it well and go on to reap success at the next college.

"But in the meantime, we lose some very fine athletes. And that's a concern for me, and for the rest of the department. It's frustrating to find good people, and you build plans for the season with those components in mind, only to find that several holes have appeared in your player roster and you have to make do with lesser talent or re-think your team strategy because your best player at a given position is no longer there.

He leaned back in his chair. "I'd like you to be my eyes and ears on the Lacrosse team, Katie, especially among the freshman women. You'll be making new friends who don't have a home to go to every night as you do. I'm especially interested in those who seem to be 'party girls'; sometimes a quiet intervention by me or one of the coaches is all that's needed to keep them on the straight and narrow and help them through the academic hurdles they need to jump in order to stay in the program.

"With the men, it's easier; the coach can overhear things in the locker room that give him hints as to who is fine and who may be in trouble. But Coach Mumford can't be in the women's locker room, and isn't privy to the girl-talk that happens there. So I'm asking you to pay attention, keep your head on a swivel, and let me know who's having problems, or in your opinion may be in danger of having them. Do you think you could do that for me?"

(OOC: "Coach" is fine, and common.)
 
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Katie listened intently, not knowing where the coach was going with all this. Sure, some students were party animals and would have issues keeping their grades up while balancing school work and a social life, but so far she certainly had done anything to warrant such a lecture.

"I'd like you to be my eyes and ears on the Lacrosse team, Katie, especially among the freshman women."

Ahh, so there it is. He wants me to be some kind of Hall Monitor? she thought. Of course she had no intention of being the team snitch, but Chandler appeared to be in an uncommonly good mood, so she wasn't about to spoil that by saying no.

"Of course," she smiled and nodded her head. "If I see anyone doing anything that might get in the way of us winning, I'll let you know. Team first... I'm sure everyone would agree with that."


((OOC: Is "Coach Mumford" the Lacrosse coach? Wouldn't she be allowed in the locker room with the team? Or am I missing someone?
 
Dirk nodded. "Thank you. I know this feels like you becoming some kind of 'stool pigeon', but it's for the good of the program. If I can keep some good athletes from going down the wrong road and thereby help improve my department...well, that's a good thing, I think."

He stood and motioned Katie to stand as well. Wagging his finger up and down, he signaled that it was time for her to disrobe.
 
Katie's expression turned sour -- she had hoped they were behind this now that she had shown her value to the team. There shouldn't be a need to evaluate her muscle tone now that he had seen her in action. But still, she couldn't say no with him holding her scholarship in his hands.

She glanced back to make sure the door was closed then bent to untie her shoes. "Is this really necessary?" she complained and pulled one shoe off, then the other. "I don't look any different today than last week..." she continued, plucked open the button to her jeans and pushed them off her hips and down her legs. She stepped out and folded them to rest next to her shoes.

Next, inevitably, came her shirt. She removed it as well and stood before the AD in just her bra and panties. "See?" she did a quick turn. "I haven't put on any weight. No snack foods or sugar drinks. Promise."
 
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