The mood was somber at the school following the death of Nash Kensington. At a rally that Friday, designed to motivate students and players for the upcoming conference football playoff, Mr. and Mrs. Kensington spoke briefly about their son Nash, and there was hardly a dry eye in the new gym.

The twelfth of December, the day of the Virgin of Guadalupe, Jason always gave a PowerPoint presentation on the subject in his Spanish classes. The Virgin of Guadalupe was a religious subject, but she was a revered image in Mexico, and an essential part of Mexican culture. Jason was always moved by the story of how Mary, the mother of Jesus, appeared to a Mexican peasant. The catch is that Mary, instead of looking Anglo, as many might think of her and depict her, looked like a Mexican Indian, and spoke Aztec. Up until that point, Catholicism in Mexico had never achieved any popularity, but following the appearance of the Virgin of Guadalupe, Christianity spread like wildfire.

Jason always worried that some parent would complain that he was teaching religion, but Jason was very clear that he was not suggesting that anybody should believe anything; he was just informing students of the story as it was told, and what the Virgin of Guadalupe image meant, which was seen so commonly on cars, banners, clothing, and tattoos. So far, no parent complained.

The day of the Virgin of Guadalupe served as the unofficial start of the Christmas season in Mexico, and later in the week Jason showed a PowerPoint on Las Posadas, a series of Christmas parties in which participants march in a procession from house to house, often led by two persons playing the roles of Mary and Joseph. The celebration is a ritual or symbolic reenactment of the story of Joseph and a pregnant Mary looking for a place to stay, but continually getting rejected. At the last house, “Mary,” “Joseph,” and those in the procession are invited in, and a party ensues.

For Mexicans, Christmas always means tamales, even though Jason had sworn them off because he was in training. It was just as difficult in the faculty lounge the closer one got to Christmas, because there were always cookies, cakes, and a variety of other treats, and students were bringing goodies into class from other classes’ Christmas parties.

Jason stayed strong and stuck with his diet. He had a workout after school, and a boxing match in the game coming up in a matter of days. Today went smoothly, maybe because students knew that Christmas vacation was close, and the frequent parties and goodies kept everyone in a good mood. He didn’t sent anyone to the office today, or kick anyone out of class, so he reflected it was a good day as he got into his car and drove to his grandfather’s house for his workout.

For today’s training, his grandfather added a rope that ran diagonally across the garage at shoulder height. After the focus mitts workout, jumping rope, and ten rounds on the heavy bag, Gramps showed Jason what the line was for.

“You crouch down low, hands up.” His grandpa demonstrated, crouching on one side of the rope, which touched his left shoulder. “Now you’re going to bob. Remember, you’re not ducking, where you bend forward at the waist or neck. You drop at the knees, while your head and body remain upright.”

His grandfather threw a punch, then squatted at the knees, passed under the line, and popped up on the other side. “This cord represents the punches coming at you. You’re going to quickly, fluidly dip under the line, and come back up firing on the other side.”

His grandfather illustrated, moving down the line, bobbing under it, and shooting up on the other side while launching a flurry of punches. He then dropped down beneath the rope and hopped forward, then bounded up on the opposite side, where he let loose another salvo of punches. Gramps moved all the way to the end of the line until he reached the corner of the garage near the garage door, then whirled around and returned, performing the same bobbing and punching drill.

Now it was Jason’s turn, and although he was a little clumsy at first because he had to think about what he was doing, he soon got the hang of it. Jason moved smoothly down the line, bobbing under and popping up on the other side, dropping down and shooting back up in an instant to evade an opponent’s punches. Even though he was in good shape, his thighs and calves burned from the deep squatting.

They went into the house, where Jason did his abs, followed by the stick. When Jason dropped down onto the yoga match to do his stretches, his grandfather went into the kitchen. “Can I get you a beer?” the old man shouted.

“Nah, water is fine,” Jason replied, sinking into the hurdler’s stretch.

Grandpa came back to the living room, and the tinkling of the ice in his glass told Jason that he’d made himself a rum and soda.

“Thanks,” Jason said, and set the bottle of water next to him. “What kind of video game persuades a guy not to drink?”

“Or to work his ass off for an imaginary boxing match.” Gramps chuckled, but then turned serious. “How was your visit with your dad?”

“Instead of getting his back fixed, he’s self-medicating with handfuls of pills washed down with cheap liquor. He’s still fuming over mom leaving him and marrying her new husband.” Jason sighed. “He’s stuck, going nowhere, and he’s so bitter. Told me all women are bitches. I don’t see how he ever gets out of that hole.”

“The hardest part of growing old, and I haven’t seen the worst of it yet, I’m sure, is regret.” Gramps rubbed his forehead and temples. “Now I see all the mistakes I made, see how I suffered for too long, see the life I could have lived, but it’s too late. The cake has already been baked.”

“It’s never too late,” Jason protested, switching legs in his stretch.

“Thanks, that’s a nice sentiment. But what I can do is try to keep you from making the same mistakes I did, making a mess of your life.” Gramps looked at Jason until the young man met his eyes. “You could turn out just like your father. You know I love my son, but I don’t want to see you like that. That’s why I invented the Midas Game. It’s my way of trying to make things right, even if it’s for someone else.”

Jason took several gulps of his water. “The funny thing is, I can see it now, see things I couldn’t see before. I love my mom, but dad got married and sank everything into one woman, never saved or invested anything. Made his house his nest egg, and never imagined that he’d lose it.”

“Let me guess, he’s angry because Gary makes more money.” Grandpa rattled the ice in his glass and took a drink.

“Yeah, but now I understand, that’s the way it’s going to be. Here’s what I don’t get, though, I’m supposed to get my finances in order to attract women, but the guy in the game, the grandmaster, said I don’t need money to get women. Which one is it?”

“I think both,” Gramps replied. “We know that women are attracted to wealthy, high status men. It’s hard for you to imagine it, because when you’re at the bottom economically and socially, as a broke teacher, you’re not going to get anything from women. You’re going to get rejected, have first dates that don’t lead to second dates, find that women don’t respond sexually, but if you’re a wealthy, high status man, women are lined up for you. Women are always eager to go out with you, excited to have sex with you, and are willing to overlook a hundred sins like flings with other women, things that as a beta male would get you beaten with a baseball bat.”

“But the pick-up artist stuff?” Jason protested. “Isn’t that just phony, fake bullshit?”

Gramps shook his head no. “There are a lot of people who want you to think that. Women want you to be ignorant and unsuccessful, so you’ll settle for what you can get and agree to pay bills for a lifetime. Other beta males are mired in anger, and want to blame women, instead of accepting responsibility for their own failure. If men can learn to succeed with women, then the fault is no longer women, but their own lack of action.”

“Sounds like Dad.” Jason moved into a hurdler’s stretch. “He knows nothing about wealth, never achieved any wealth, but he’s certain you’re wrong. He blames women, or ‘bitches’ for his loneliness.”

“We know that some men are naturals, that for whatever reason, they just have something that enables them to click with women, without regard to money, status, or looks. But it’s documented—there are just too many examples of guys going from zero to hero with women—that being successful with women is a learnable skill.” Gramps kicked up his feet in his recliner. “I never really excelled at the seduction methods, but I found a work around.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Jason was curious.

“Leverage.”

* * *

Jason knocked at the door at the end of the hall in Dr. Steinman’s office. He thought he heard a woman’s voice speak softly on the other side. He quietly opened the door and entered the room, where a woman sat on a bed. It was a windowless room, done up as a simple bedroom, with a coatrack and an upholstered chair, paintings on the walls, a small bathroom, and a lampstand with a bulb that barely illuminated the room, casting it in a romantic glow like candlelight.

The woman sitting on the side of the bed was in her mid-twenties, neither skinny nor fat, dressed nicely in a skirt and matching jacket. She wore nylons as well as a stylish hat with two inches of netting extending below the brim. Her satin gloved hands lay folded in her lap, while her pearl necklace made her look classy. She was a brunette with brown eyes, a slender nose, and subtle lipstick like the rest of her minimal makeup, that flattered her natural attractiveness.

Jason felt that the two of them were playing house. He sat on the bed beside her and threw an arm around her, resting it on her far shoulder.

“I’m new at this,” she confessed while looking down at her lap.

“Me, too.” Jason saw that she looked up at him in surprise. He leaned over and kissed her, not certain if that was the correct thing to do, or if he should just keep things professional. What if she was only here for a baby, and just wanted the bare minimum necessary to accomplish that result?

His hunch was right, though, because she met his kiss, and opened wide to accept his tongue. His other hand came down to her lap and lay atop her gloved hand. As their kiss deepened, his hand dropped down to her skirt, and slipped up her thigh, moving to the heat between her legs. Jason helped her stand from the bed, and his erection already tented his slacks. He slid off her blazer and hung it up on the coat rack, admiring her breasts poking the front of her white blouse. He slipped off his shoes and kicked them under the bed as he unbuttoned her blouse, and she helped him unbutton his shirt. He stripped the blouse off of her soft pale shoulders and hung it up on the coat rack, too, so that she stood in just her bra.

Jason wrapped his arms around her in an embrace, then unfastened her bra at the back. At the same time her hands undid his belt buckle and unzipped his pants, which she pushed down to the floor, leaving him standing in just his misshapen briefs with his pants around his ankles. Jason tossed her bra onto the foot of the bed and sucked in her nipple, which was small and pink, but firm like a pencil eraser. She moaned and ran her fingers through his hair.

When he kissed her again, she fished his stiff pole out of the slit in his briefs, then looked down in surprise at the fat staff in her gloved hands. Her white gloves slid up and down his length as he reached behind her to unzip her skirt and slide it down off of her hips. She stepped out of the skirt with one leg and kicked the skirt up with the other heel. Jason removed the skirt and folded it neatly over the foot of the bed.

She ran her white gloved hands up and down his beet-red erection, which was engorged with blood and covered in swollen veins. The erotic sight, coupled with the delicious sensation of her smooth satin gloves stroking him, threatened to provoke a crisis.

Jason held one of her hands back. “Easy, or I’m going to blow too soon.”

“You’re excited?” she asked incredulously. Apparently, she wasn’t used to any kind of sexual response from her husband.

“Yes, very much so.” Jason lay her back on the bed, then rolled off her nylons from her smooth legs. He then moved to pull off her panties, which were blue silk, unleashing a moan from deep within her. Kneeling at the side of the bed, Jason spread open her smooth plump thighs and nibbled on them. In time he began to lick her slit, probing until he found her clit, eliciting another deep groan.

She was losing control, throwing her hips up into his mouth, and grinding her muff over his face. Her hands clawed at his head and seized his hair, drawing his face into her warm, wet gash. Jason calculated that having sex with her and impregnating her was going to be easier after she orgasmed. He licked her little bud, and flicked the tip of his tongue over it, while she moaned and sighed. Eventually her hips trembled, and her plump thighs quivered like firm Jell-O as she climaxed, releasing a flood of juices onto the edge of the bed.

He stood up beside the bed and stripped off his pants, briefs and shirt, leaving him in just his socks. Jason moved her to the bed, and pulled down a pillow to prop it under her butt so that her pelvis would be at the right angle as he plundered her.

As he crawled between her upraised knees, she grabbed his erection and wrung it between her hands, which were still encased in her white satin gloves. She guided him into her, and he was surprised by how slowly he sank into her, despite her wetness. She certainly was no virgin, but nevertheless, she was incredibly tight, so he was forced to work his way into her. At last he was plowing deeply into her, and the sensation was heavenly. How long had it been since he’d had intercourse, had actually penetrated a woman?

It had been too long, and because he had already made her climax, he didn’t have to worry about prematurely shooting his load. His rod and his balls were damp from her wetness, and he felt his balls began to crawl upward at the approach of his inevitable ejaculation.

“No!” she gasped. “You can’t get me pregnant!”