Dance of a Lifetime

by Frank Downey

  "Waitaminnit... did we just win an Olympic medal?" Warren asked.

  Kathy checked out the ordinals. "Yup. Actually, Yatserova and Vaglach can't catch you, so, you've won no worse than silver."

  "OHMYGOD!!!" Sophia shouted in realization. She tackled Warren, as the crowd roared, realizing that Sophia and Warren were in the medals. They practically bounced out of the kiss and cry, backstage, where they were congratulated by friends.

  "Highest finish in the Olympics by an American ice dance team in history, you know," Kathy said.

  "And you could still be the first American gold medallists," June pointed out.

  "Don't count on that," Sophia smiled.

  Yatserova and Vaglach were the second-to-last to skate. When their marks came up, Sophia and Warren heard, from down the hall backstage, the delighted whoops of Renee and Christian. They had defeated Yatserova and Vaglach, and thus would stay on the podium.

  Olga Bradochkina and Nikolai Zhargov, four-time World Champions, were the last to skate. They hadn't lost a competition in four years. Heck, they had never lost a phase of a competition until yesterday. They were shoo-ins, the gold would be theirs, no doubt. That was the assumption.

  Olga and Nikolai were skating a typically-intense program to typically-intense music. They were technically brilliant, They were demonstrative and overdone. They were... Bradochkina and Zhargov. It was the same stuff they had been doing for four years. It had always won.

  Olga and Nikolai left the ice, to the kiss and cry, happy with their performance. They waited for the marks. The technical marks were very high. The presentation marks were, however, lower than Sophia and Warren's. This was close. They waited for the ordinals, as Warren and Sophia did backstage.

  Kathy was figuring them out. "Olga and Nikolai got... first... first... second... second... first...

  Second... second... first... first." She sighed. "One judge."

  "Huh?" Warren asked.

  "Olga and Nikolai beat you by one judge. You lost the gold medal on a five-four split."

  "We DID?" Sophia asked in amazement. Before they had a chance to digest that, the TV people wanted an interview.

  As they suspected, that was the first thing they were asked about: "You lost the gold medal by one judge. Your thoughts?"

  "We're amazed," laughed Sophia. "We expected nine. Hey, we're the first ever American ice dancers to win a sliver medal at the Olympics. Does anyone expect us to be upset?"

  "We're thrilled," Warren reiterated. "We knew we had won at least a silver after we came off the ice. That was shock enough. We never figured on gold, never, ever, not for a second."

  "Plus, it gives us something to shoot for four years from now!" Sophia pointed out.

  "We're not going anywhere. Well, we're going to have a baby, but after that, we'll be back," Warren laughed.

  * * *

  They were genuinely happy for Olga and Nikolai. They were thrilled that Christian and Renee had made it to the podium. And they were ecstatic for themselves.

  The newly-engaged, parents-to-be, Olympic silver medallists stepped up on the podium, accepted their medals, and beamed with pride.

  "Does it get any better than this?" Warren asked.

  "Yes," said an eavesdropping Olga Bradochkina, "but you'll have to wait four years to find out!"

  "That's OK. This is heaven enough for now," Sophia told her.

  Chapter 102 - The Olympic Experience

  "One of the best things about being a dancer is that it's Tuesday, the Olympics don't end until Sunday, and we are done!" Sophia was saying.

  "Har-dee-har-har" replied Liz Cushman, who didn't start until the next day. "Besides which, you still have to do the exhibition on Saturday."

  "Yeah, but that's easy, the pressure's off," said Warren.

  "Thanks. Thanks a lot," Liz said.

  "Hey, you're going to be fine, you know," Sophia told Liz. "You've been skating like a house a fire all year. Just think of Rich, and attack, eh?"

  Liz giggled. "I generally do think of attacking when I think of Rich, yes."

  * * *

  Sophia and Warren spent the day just wandering from venue to venue. They started at the ski jumping, watched some bobsled, and then some speed skating. The next day was more of the same, starting on the mountain with some skiing.

  That evening, it was time for the ladies' short program.

  Christine Arsenault was the first of the main contenders to skate, and she was clean as a whistle. The current world champion, Olga Privolchina, was also clean. The German champion, Dagmar Schrade, and the young phenom from the Ukraine, Svetlana Tamaschenko, also skated well.

  Elizabeth Cushman was the last of the favorites to skate. The best artistic skater in the world, she was consistent and reliable in the short program. She started her program, began with a gorgeous spin, and then launched into her usual combination, the triple lutz-double toe. She had been using that as her combination for years.

  Not this time. "That was a triple toe!" Warren screamed to Sophia. "She did a triple-triple!" and it was clean. The triple flip and double axel were clean, as well, and the spins were solid. The spiral sequence was gorgeous, the choreography impeccable and perfectly delivered.

  Liz Cushman moved into first place on every judge's card.

  * * *

  "Where did that triple lutz-triple toe come from?" Warren asked Liz at breakfast the next morning.

  "Oh, I've been working on that for months," Liz told him.

  "Heck, Liz, you've been working on it for years. But I'm amazed Frank let you put it in a program!"

  "He didn't have a choice," Liz laughed. "I told him at the beginning of the year--we aren't going to beat Privolchina with just a puny triple toe-triple toe; and I knew Christine had better triple-triples than that, too. Because of my second mark, a dead heat goes to me, but I wasn't getting any dead heats. So, I told Frank, and my Dad, and my agent, and everybody--by the time we got to the Olympics, we were going to have more than that. All or nothing, that's my motto. I didn't come here to win another silver medal."

  "I'm impressed. Balls-to-the-wall aggressive isn't your usual deal, Liz."

  "Didn't used to be, you mean. Look, I love Frank, and Lori my choreographer, and my family, and my agent, and all--but sometimes I think that I'm surrounded by a support team that thinks that creating great art and making a statement is more important than winning. You're a skater, you know how convoluted the whole art/sport argument can get."

  "Yeah. Maybe even more for ice dancers. Romeo and Juliet was a chance, and a chance based on making an artistic statement--but our OD, while satisfying to us artistically, was designed to win, no doubt about it."

  "Right. And I can guarantee that, four years from now, you will only be concerned with winning. You've got your silver medal, right? Well, that's how I feel. Frank and Lori brought me their ideas for my programs last summer, and they were going on and on about how beautiful and inventive and this and that they were; and I said to them, 'I only have one question. Can I win with these?' I think they were shocked."

  "I bet. You never used to talk like that."

  "You're right, but coming in here with a silver medal from four years ago, plus two silver medals from the last two World Championships--I'm tired of it. We've been playing it safe, trying to do just enough technically and eke out wins based on the second mark. No more. I am the best female singles skater in the world. I aim to prove it."

  "I take it that means there are more surprises in the long program?"

  "Ah, Warren, my boy, you ain't seen nothin' yet! Especially since I skate first in the final group tomorrow night. I plan to lay down one hell of a gauntlet."

  * * *

  Later that day, Warren and Sophia were on the ski slopes, watching the ladies' slalom.

  "Shawna apologized to you?" Warren asked.

  "Yes, and she seemed sincere. I guess she's having some serious problems. She's decided to see a psychiatrist. She didn't elaborate, but she tol
d me she's been a mess. She did apologize, and was practically in tears when she did it." Sophia told him.

  "Good. Going to the newspapers like she did seemed so out of character."

  "I know. I just hope she can work out whatever she is having a problem with."

  "Me, too."

  "Hey, look," Sophia said, "it's Otto and Wilhelm and their friends. HEY OTTO!" They waved, and Otto beckoned them over. They happily went.

  "Guten Morgen," Otto said. "How are my two favorite American ice dancers?"

  "Great, how are you?" Warren said.

  "Fantastic. I must confess. We hadn't planned to, but Wilhelm and I and a few of the rest of us managed to get tickets for the finals of the Ice Dancing. It was wonderful. Congratulations."

  "Thank you," Sophia said. "You came because of us?" Otto nodded. "How sweet!"

  "It was quite enjoyable," Otto told them. "I don't understand how it's judged, but it certainly is fun to watch."

  "Most of us who do it don't understand how it's judged," Warren told him wryly. "We're glad you enjoyed it, in any case."

  "And you are engaged, I understand?" Otto said.

  "Yes," Sophia beamed, showing him the ring.

  "Congratulations again. You have been a couple for very long?"

  "Five years next month, and I'm pregnant, so it was time," Sophia giggled.

  "So, who are we cheering for today, Liesl Schraeder?" Warren asked him.

  "You got it!" Otto replied happily.

  * * *

  Warren and Sophia grabbed their seats for the ladies' final. They were sitting with Jack Garrison and his wife, Andrea and Brett, Sharon Nicholas and Steve Coleman, and a few others. Right in front of them were Rich, and Liz's parents. They all chatted happily, and watched the earlier groups.

  Then, it was time for the final group. Liz came out for the warmup, all business, ticking off jumps. She left early, as she was the first to skate in the final group.

  Her music started, and she did some breathtaking footwork to begin, and then launched into her customary first jump, the double axel. Except that she didn't do a double axel--she did a triple, and it was textbook.

  "Did she just do what I think she just did?" Mr. Cushman asked the air.

  "She sure did!" Sophia said.

  And Liz Cushman was not finished. She did the triple lutz-triple toe again, and threw in a triple salchow, triple loop. Eight triples, absolutely perfectly done, with her customary style and grace and artistry. The arena was on its feet a minute before she got done.

  "That is the single best ladies' figure skating performance of all time. No doubt. It was like Midori Ito and Kristi Yamaguchi all wrapped up together," Jack Garrison proclaimed.

  The marks were incredible. A bunch of sixes--with five skaters still left to skate. Liz Cushman was beatable, but it would take a superhuman effort to beat her.

  Olga Privolchina did not have a superhuman effort in her. She saw Liz's scores come up, took the ice, and completely fell apart, missing jump after jump.

  Svetlana Tamaschenko, not expected to do anything at this Olympics, didn't feel any pressure. The sixteen-year-old newcomer still needed artistic development, but was pleasant and engaging, and ticked off all the jumps in her list. She didn't beat Liz, but she unexpectedly blew by the world champion, Privolchina.

  Christine Arsenault was the last skater of the evening. In her mind, she conceded the gold to Liz, but thought to herself, fine. If I hit everything, I win a silver. That's exactly what she did. She hit everything, skated perfectly, and got her own standing ovation. She was right, it wasn't enough to beat Liz, but it was enough to win the silver.

  The exhibitions were the next day. Sophia and Warren, like all the gold and silver medal winners, had been asked to do two. They opened the show, then the 5th through 3rd place finishers skated, then the silver and gold medalists again. Liz would be the last to skate.

  Sophia and Warren were the third ones out there for their first skate. They did the number they had done at Nationals, "Come Dancing", and it went over well. They enjoyed the other skaters and then, a couple hours later, took the ice for their second exhibition.

  This was the special one they had prepared for the Olympics, they had never done this one before. They chose to skate to "Thunder Road" by Bruce Springsteen--but not the "regular" version. They chose the live version, the one on Springsteen's live Box Set, an acoustic version that just had Bruce's voice, a piano, and snatches of harmonica and glockenspiel. No drums, no bass, no rhythm guitar--all the rhythm of the piece was in the piano and vocal. It was there, but it took some imagination and skill to find it, and dance to it. Sophia and Warren had imagination, and they had skill, and this song and this version of it had long been one of their favorites. They keyed on every one of Roy Bittan's piano arpeggios, and they keyed on the passion and cadence in Bruce Springsteen's voice, and they danced. They broke every rule there was, and twisted the definition of ice dance into a pretzel--and they created magic. The applause, when they were done, was thunderous.

  Chapter 103 - Quiet Time

  "Oh, sweetie, it has been too long," Warren said as Sophia sank into his arms on his bed in the dorm room at Wisconsin.

  "Don't I know it," agreed Sophia. She snuggled into his arms. "Things have been so hectic."

  The Olympics had ended two weeks earlier. There had been parades in both their hometowns, Oceanview and Madison. Sophia had gone to the doctor for a full checkup. They had to catch up on their schoolwork. There was a meeting with their advisors about taking a sabbatical next year, which was easily approved. Plus, they had Worlds, which were now less than a month away. Quiet private time was hard to come by.

  But, now they had managed to grab some. They were lying in bed together, after supper on a Friday night. Warren was running his fingers gently over Sophia's breast.

  "Mmmmmmm..." Sophia purred. "Ah, those magic fingers, how I've missed them," she giggled.

  Warren just smiled at her, and dropped his hand. He brought it up under her shirt, and stopped at her stomach, running his hand across it.

  "You're not showing yet, Pookie, but I sure as heck can feel something going on here," Warren said.

  "Yeah, it's a little bigger. Definitely harder and firmer." Sophia swallowed hard and looked at Warren. "Warren, honey, when I get all big and fat and stuff, will you... I mean..."

  "Still want you?" Warren laughed. "Here's a secret for you--lots of guys find pregnant women incredibly sexy. Including me."

  "Really?"

  "Oh, yeah. Quite honestly, I can't wait." His hand had moved back up onto her breast. "Even these get bigger. That'll be fun."

  "Oh, yeah, like I need more up there!"

  "Don't get me wrong, I ain't complainin', but I ain't going to be looking any gift horses in the mouth, either."

  "Pig!"

  "You know it," Warren smiled at her. "You know what else happens to pregnant women?"

  "What?"

  "They get hornier."

  Sophia laughed. "Another rather unnecessary benefit, don't you think? You'd better conserve your strength, Snugglebear." She got serious, and sighed. "You know what? I just realized something--I know next to nothing about pregnancy. You know more than I do."

  "Well, future doctor, what can I say? However, there's books, you know. What to expect when you're pregnant, stuff like that."

  "Hmmm. Can we hit a bookstore tomorrow?"

  "Don't see why not. Not right now, though--I've got other things on my mind." He increased the pressure on her breast.

  "Yeah, you've got something other than a book in your hand, too. Mmmmmmm..."

  He withdrew his hand, ignoring her pout, and quickly discarded her shirt. He undid her bra, and lowered his mouth down to her nipple.

  "Oh... yeah... you'd better enjoy this while it lasts, Snugglebear, in about six months you have to loan those things out."

  He looked up at her. "Planning on breastfeeding?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Goo
d. The pediatrician in me wholeheartedly approves."

  "I knew he would."

  "Luckily, however, they're still mine right now." Sophia giggled as he lowered his mouth back down.

  "Oh, honey, they might not be much bigger yet, but they are definitely more sensitive," Sophia commented. Warren responded by rapidly drumming his tongue over her nipple. "Oh, shit, yeah, way more sensitive. Oh my God..." Warren reached up with his hand and massaged the nipple he wasn't nibbling on, as Sophia moaned and writhed beneath him.

  As her breathing came out in ragged gasps, Warren quickly reached under her skirt, and pulled her panties down. She moaned as his fingers traced her labia, as his mouth continued on her breast. He slipped a finger in, and, almost immediately, she stiffened and howled out her pleasure.

  "That was quick!" Warren said with amusement.

  "Oh, you had me walking the edge for a couple minutes with your attention to my boobs. I knew it wouldn't take much," she smiled. She reached up and pulled Warren's shirt off, then went for his belt buckle. He helped her get him naked, and then got her panties and skirt all the way off.

  "Lie down," she said suddenly, sitting up.

  "Hm?"

  "You heard me!" She pushed him gently down back onto the bed, and then leaned over his crotch. She ran her tongue up and down his still-flaccid cock, until it started to become increasingly less flaccid. "Lookie here, he's waking up!" Sophia giggled. She engulfed him in her mouth, feeling him swell up as she ran her tongue all around him.

  "Oh, yeah, he's awake," Warren smiled.

  "Good. Here, occupy yourself," Sophia said with a grin, and moved one of her legs over to the other side of him, and straddled him. Then, she lowered himself onto his face. She immediately felt his tongue run the length of her pussy, and she moaned around his cock. Warren's hands came up and gripped her hips, pulling her closer in, as his tongue-lashing on her pussy grew in intensity. Sophia moaned and squeaked, but didn't let up on his cock, deep-throating him and sliding up and down.