"I don't think so!" riposted Sean, hauling her like a gymnastics coach carrying his star gymnast, who had just injured her ankle.  "You're as light as a feather!"  Of course, that was an exaggeration--it's not like he could run a 200 meter dash carrying Beth, and he was not exactly a weightlifter like Mike--but he was no wimp either.   Taking Beth on the run wasn't just a display of pointless bravado, a peacock-like swaggering; he had made a daily routine of it, getting up every day at six (or six-thirty)  for a three-mile run and a set of push-ups.  It was important to take care of your body, he had always felt, and, besides, he liked the way the light of dawn looked on a slumbering world.<br/><br/>Of course, Sean being Sean, he wasn't content to carry her over the threshold of the house like a groom carrying his new bride; no, he had to, with a quick clean-and-jerk move, throw her over his shoulder.  No doubt she was caught off-guard by the violent move, but Sean did it for two reasons: first, it seemed like the coy and playful thing to do; and second, it allowed him an excuse to touch her ass.  He was already having serious second thoughts about his decision to fumble the ball in the boathouse, but it was too late now to reverse course.<br/><br/>"Hey, guys!" He called out, as he hauled her bodily through the door.  "Who ordered the stunning blonde? Anybody?   Anybody? "   He frowned, as the absence of Katy or Mike threw a wet towel over his joke.  "Katy?" he called.  "Mike?"<br/><br/>"Oh, well," he sighed, setting Beth down.  "Looks like you got off easy, little lady."