Description: Kate gets a taste of her own medicine when two of her rowers show her what it's like from their side of the boat, what it's like to be submissive. In the coxswain seat she is in control, off the water it's fair play.
(I found this recently, apparently I was quite the horny virgin at the ripe age of sixteen. It still cracks me up, especially when drinking and having Siri read it out loud while drinking with friends.)
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" 10-9-8- Come on guys! 7-6- Pull hard now 5-4 Give me everything you've got! 3-2- Finish strong, gentlemen-1. C'mon, guys, keep rowing. 200 meters left in the race and they're walking on us. Do you want this? I know I want this!"
Adrenaline pumped through my veins, my voice was going hoarse from yelling at my guys to keep going. I'm a coxswain, this is my job. I sit at the stern of the boat and use the rudders to steer. I also yell directions to the rowers over the microphone to keep them motivated during a race. Coxswain- boat cheerleader, motivator, captain, and the object of all testosterone related jokes.
It's a great life, and I can't say I don't love it. My coach is a smart man; "It's not fun unless you pass that finish line first." I don't think I could agree more. I used to be a rower, I know it's tough, but I tell them to suck it up. As long as they come in first they can still throw me, the coxswain, in the water after the race. It's the rower's rule. Like the Mandate of Heaven, if the rowers win, everyone is happy and the coxswain ends up freezing cold. If the rowers lose, the coxswain is blamed for not working the rowers hard enough and the victorious cycle is broken.
My boys have been winning every race so far this season, so they owe me a few tosses. The last race they weren't able to catch me, so luckily I got away. Well, you could say I did. My stroke and seven seat might tell you differently...
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Kim walked over to me after putting her boat down on the slings, smiling happily. "Hey, how did your race go?" She asked, hugging me since I saw her photo finish first place. Her girls four had beaten the other team's boat by a bow ball. "Congrats to you and the usual.." I reply in a lazy drawl, pushing my sunglasses up on my head. My eyes give me away; the twinkling in my gray-blue eyes makes it obvious that I'm happier than my tone lets on.
She hits my arm, shaking her head. "You're such a plonker. I'm so happy that you and your boys won again." I smile, what more can I do. "3-0 and no complaints here." What a lie that was. My life at crew was becoming routine by now. I get into the coxswain seat, yell at my boys with the coxswain box, which is connected to the speakers in the boat so everyone can hear me, and watch them win.
Yeah, it's fun like Coach Myers said it would be, but I want something more. Every race and every practice I make eye contact with my stroke, watching him move back and forth on his slide gingerly, keeping ratio for the rest of the guys in the boat to follow him. I should be thinking about watching if he washes out at the finish, but all I want to do is kiss him. Just a small kiss, I think.
Kim slips her arm between mine and we listen carefully as my coach explains his thoughts on the race today and how everyone did. We both wait anxiously, both anticipating our fates as soon as he is done talking. We both won, we're both going in. In a split second he stops talking and my mind races, which way to run. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kim run left, so instinctively I run right. Ducking under the shells that have already been put on the trailer, I run towards the other teams area, trying to outrun my rowers, but sadly it never usually works.
I stop in a clearing, my stroke is on my left and my seven seat is on my right. [I]God that spandex makes them look good in all the right places.[/I] I think to myself, now wishing I hadn't. While my eyes had been transfixed on their packages they had grabbed me, one had my legs and the other one had my arms pulled behind my head. This is how it always began, the journey to the dock...or so I thought.
I squirmed, trying to bite Jason's arm so he would let me go. Jason had gotten smarter after each race and knew I bite, so he moved his arm back before I could make contact. Sighing pitifully I awaited my fate where the rest of my rowers would split up, half to my arms and half to my legs, and throw me in the water. They never came.
Lifting my head up, I tried to figure out where we were going. "What, what the hell are you two doing?" I demand to know. Once a coxswain; always a coxswain. "Just shut up and enjoy yourself, damn." Taylor supplied.
It's funny how rowers fit the personality of their seat. The personality said to be for the stroke, Jason, is a hard ass, "Dammit lift your hands port side," in the boat but off the water he's quite meek with his, "I hope I wasn't too fast for you all." Seven seat on the other hand is your bitch niche seat. Seven is the one who always complains and always bitches at the other rowers for doing something wrong.
Taylor, seven seat, rolled his eyes. "Stop worrying, Kate. We got everything under control. You'll be getting wet, but not the way you're used to..."