Page 11 of More, Daddy (Bluebell Bruisers #3)
CHAPTER
SEVEN
“And on behalf of the Warriorville County School District and the Department of Education, advocating for all six high schools in said district, athletic director and Bluebell High School’s athletic trainer, Mr. West Dupont.”
Fucking Leah.
A meeting , she said. Where all I'd have to do is what I’ve already done—talk about why continual improvement of youth sports is invaluable to a child’s development.
That much I could do. My life has been about youth sports—playing them, coaching them, training the athletes, watching, all of it.
I had no doubts about being able to deliver the message.
Speaking on that very topic in a room full of legislators the moment before they’re about to vote on funding? Not the same fucking thing.
I didn’t even rehearse the cards I used for the last meeting. I thought I’d limp in and wing it from passion, wing it from the heart, because I do believe in my cause.
But standing in front of a room full of men in suits with actual fucking cufflinks, and women who wear nylons on the daily? It’s a lot different than a room of your overworked, underpaid peers.
I climb the stairs to the stage where a small, wooden podium is situated. I swapped my leather cowboy boots for some slide on leather Chelsea boots, and instead of my nice jeans, I opted for black dress slacks.
Thank fuck.
Everyone here is dressed nicely, and with my pressed polo and cowboy hat up top, I’ve got just enough touches of refinement that I don’t stand out. Still, as I peer into the audience of full seats, everyone wearing suits and ironed blouses, I’m glad I changed.
After an obligatory few seconds where I move the mic around and make sure it’s on, I clear my throat, and lift my eyes back to the room.
Most of these people are parents, and I have no doubt they’re racing around from practice to game, trying to fit in all of their kids’ after school dreams. Most parents do.
I look down to my hand, where I’m palming a stack of cards, cards with a speech that speaks to people like me—teachers, teachers who are sick and tired of losing funding to bureaucratic bullshit who will now fight to the death on principle—and decide to go off the cuff .
Parents are what teachers loathe most. But for me, they’re the easiest to handle because you know just what’s important to them.
Raising their child the best they can. Giving them the most. Teaching them all the valuable lessons. Preparing them for the world. Then sending them off, and hoping that they launch and add value and depth to everyone and everything around them.
Complex in action, but simple to understand.
“Good morning folks. First I’d like to say a gracious thank you for the opportunity to speak on behalf of the young athletes in our schools and communities.
As an athletic director and athletic trainer for both the Warriorville County District and Bluebell High School, I want to talk about what I witness daily.
” I take a pause, searching eyes, sweeping faces, seeing where it’s all landing so far.
I get eye contact. Head nods. Shoulders lifted, spines straight. I still have them. So I continue.
“Sports have the transformative power of shaping children into healthy, resilient young adults. I urge you to prioritize funding for youth sports programs, as they are more than extracurricular activities—they are crucial investments in our children’s physical, mental, and social development.
” Another pause, another pulse check on the room around me.
Still engaged, still listening. Briefly I run down what I’d normally say next.
I’d typically speak to the physical health statistics, leaning into childhood obesity and the diseases that come with it.
But these are tired parents who may not always have time to make a green salad or steam some broccoli.
The last thing they need is subtle or subliminal shaming.
Instead, I decide to speak to the positive habits sports creates rather than focusing on the negative things sports are used to combat .
“Sports provide structured opportunities for exercise, teaching lifelong habits of physical activity. In my role as an athletic trainer at Bluebell High—” I glance up, and thrust a closed fist in the air, gently cheering— “Go Bruisers!” which earns me a quiet uproar of chuckles.
“I see students of all ages and abilities build strength, coordination, and cardiovascular health through sports, setting them on a path to healthier adulthoods. Beyond physical benefits, sports cultivate mental and emotional resilience. Participation in athletics teaches discipline, goal-setting, and perseverance. When a student faces a tough loss, pushes through a grueling practice, works through a painful injury, they learn to overcome adversity—a skill that translates to academic and personal challenges.”
A few people shift in their seats, and I lock eyes with a man in the front row, sweat shiny on his forehead as he nods along.
There’s interest in how I’m going to bridge the gap between sports and a better student, but because it’s the truth, the answer is easy.
I scan the folks one more time, and go for it.
“Research shows that student-athletes are less likely to experience anxiety and depression, as sports provide a positive outlet for stress and build self-esteem through teamwork and achievement. In the age of apps and social media, combating potential mental health hurdles is more important than ever.”
Now is where a slide show depicting happy kids playing sports on a sunny day could curry some favor, because for some people, a slide show is effort and effort is a vote.
But I didn’t bring any of that shit because I didn’t know I was coming here.
I curse Leah as I launch into the second and final leg of my speech.
“Sports also develop social skills and community. Student athletes learn about collaboration, leadership, and respect for others. These experiences forge bonds that combat social isolation and build a sense of belonging, which go a long way in the fight against teenage depression.” Another glance to check the pulse, and to my surprise, everyone is listening.
Intently. I skate a hand up the back of my head, and tug at the ends of my hair before taking a quick breath and pressing on.
“However, access to these benefits is not universal. Underfunded programs mean fewer opportunities, outdated equipment, and limited access. Without adequate funding, we risk excluding the very students who need sports the most. Your support can ensure access to quality facilities, trained coaches, and safe environments for all children to thrive. This is not just about games; it’s about building healthier, stronger, and more connected young adults who will lead our communities forward.
Investing in youth sports is investing in our future.
I respectfully ask you to vote in favor of funding the youth sports programs. Thank you for your time. ”
After I move through the aisles to find my seat, I think about what I’m going to tell Leah.
A big part of me wants to tell her I did awful, and let her sweat it out as punishment for not telling me exactly where I was going today.
But another part of me is just glad it went well, and happy it’s over, and to celebrate, instead of bashing Leah in my mind, I go to a place that makes me happy. After all, I deserve it, right?
DaddysGirl .
After we acknowledged the kink in the room with us, we’d casually began using nicknames of daddy and sweet girl.
Just thinking about it, while a speech about healthy food options in the school cafeteria fills the space around me, has my body brimming with excitement.
My blood runs hot and fast, burning up against my flesh, reminding me that I’m storing a hot secret inside me.
A secret thing with a beautiful, equally kinky woman .
It’s funny how my thing feels almost depraved when it’s just me, but when I share it with someone else, like DaddysGirl , it transforms into something else entirely.
Something alluring and complex, a desire that heightens emotional eroticism and makes sex about more than orgasms. It’s layered and filthy and kinky because now I’m sharing it. With her.
Except now that we’ve barely begun to dabble in the dynamic, just a whiff of it really, I see that anonymity has a life expectancy.
I can’t keep falling for a faceless, nameless person.
I need more.
After the meeting, I shake hands with a bunch of people I’ll never see again, taking business cards and accepting accolades that I don’t deserve.
Standing up for youth sports and advocating for more money for those sports isn’t something that deserves praise, but because allotting money is about winning people over, I shake those hands wearing a thousand dollar smile.
I opt to not go back to the office today, instead heading home from Oakcreek straight to my house.
I send Leah a text telling her it went well but that she owes me far more than lunch from Goode’s.
Then I get online.
It’s ten after three. If DaddysGirl has a normal office job, or interfaces with the public, the likelihood that she’s home from work already is slim to none.
We mostly chat after six in the evening, but when I open my laptop and find her name highlighted in green, it’s one more thing that feels like kismet.
Suede0989
I was hoping you’d be online
I had a meeting today and didn’t go back to my office after
We usually chat later. What hours do you work?
DaddysGirl
Hello!
Slow work day for me, so I popped on to see if you were on and here you are
It’s like the universe wanted us to chat
What hours do I work? Hmm
Suede0989
I don’t know if the universe wanted us to chat. Maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe you and I were just thinking about each other and wanted to talk so badly, we both got online?