by M. B. Gerard
She wanted to start the sentence she had prepared so carefully, but the words got stuck in her throat. Still her parents were waiting patiently. There was no right moment, she remembered Amanda saying. There was only the one moment you chose to do it.
“I wanted to tell you,” Elise began again, “that I’m with Amanda.” There, she had said it.
She looked up timidly to catch her parent’s reaction. They looked at each other but didn’t seem to understand.
“I mean, I’m in a relationship with Amanda,” Elise clarified with a raspy voice. In all the long nights she had been thinking about this moment, she had imagined a whole range of reactions from her parents but what happened next she hadn’t foreseen. With a sudden movement her father pushed back his chair and stood up, leaning heavily on the table. The swift motion gave Elise a terrible fright. Would he abandon her right here and now? Would he deny it or tell her how disappointed he was? Her father sighed. But instead of turning away he sat down next to her on the bench and laid his arm around her.
“Elise,” her father said tenderly, shaking his head with a chuckle. “We might be old but we are not stupid.”
“No,” her mother confirmed reaching out her hand and patting Elise’s arm. “You see, we’ve known about Amanda since Wimbledon.”
Elise couldn’t believe it. All the secrecy and lies in vain. She stared at her parents in amazement.
“And did you really think I didn’t see Amanda’s pants hanging from the television?” Her mother started laughing at the thought, and her father joined in.
Now Elise was mortified. Her parents were having a ball while she was coming out to them. How could they laugh at her predicament? She felt indignation rising inside. But then she realized that her parents were simply relieved that the pretending was over. They really had waited patiently for her until she had been ready to rise to the challenge. Elise had to grin, too. This was probably not as good as Amanda’s head-between-her-legs story but it would hold up pretty well she thought.
***
Rolling on her back but remaining nonetheless in Rafael’s arms Lulu focused on the ceiling of her hotel room. Things seemed easier when looking at the blank white.
“Cariño, how about doing something special tomorrow? I mean the three of us? You, Gaga and me. It’s been a while since the three of us did something together.”
Rafael mumbled something incomprehensible, whether it was in Spanish or his funny English Luella couldn’t tell. He rolled onto his stomach and pulled the blanket over his head.
“Can’t you listen to me once, Rafael?” she cried out in frustration. “I’m telling you that I’m worried! I don’t pay you for hiding under the sheets.”
“Let’s just call it employment benefits,” he mumbled.
Luella clenched her fists and took a deep breath before jumping out of the bed. “Get out! Get out of my bed now,” she yelled, pointing to the door.
Rafael stuck his head out and looked at her, flabbergasted. He really was a bit slow, Luella had to admit, not only now as he was taking his time crawling out of bed. Even though she would miss his horizontal training exercises she only waved when he sneaked out of the room.
“I need comfort!” she shouted after him. “You are useless!”
Lying back down on the bed and plunging her face into her pillow, the young American closed her eyes to prevent the tears from falling but it didn’t work. The salty drops began to stream out, soaking the bed. Since she had ‘won’ a Grand Slam, all eyes were on her, staring with a cruel avidity, and it was hard to handle. Today’s lost match wasn’t a defeat but a choke. Another one that constituted Luella’s dark series of lost matches over the summer. Moreover, Gabriella was slipping away from her. They never laughed together anymore. Never bickered over other players like they used to. Small wonder she kept on losing like that. With every lost match the critics grew louder which only made the pressure built even more.
The vibrating sound of her cell phone made her start and in tears, she reached out for it on the bedside table. It was a message from her sister. Her heart sped up in anticipation, and Lulu touched the little envelope that appeared on the screen.
Dinner with Morgana tonight. Sorry, can’t make it. Have fun! Gabriella
It hit her like a ton of bricks. Her sister was using her full name – not Gaga, the nickname Lulu had given her. Another sign that her twin didn’t care for her anymore. Gabriella had given her a hug in the locker room but then she had said good-bye to a teary Lulu and went to prepare for her own match – which she had won in straight sets. Lulu had lost on Arthur Ashe. She had had to face the journalists in the press room. Alone. All of a sudden she had turned into an untouchable.
One reason for this was her Grand Slam. All the other players saw her differently now. She wasn’t just one of the girls anymore. She was above them. And even though she liked the thought of it, the result was that they avoided her. Not openly though. She just wasn’t invited to room parties anymore. The other players no longer encouraged her to do her imitations or her karaoke shows. They didn’t want to hear her stories. They didn’t want to know who she really was. She had stopped being interesting for them.
With a shock Lulu realized that they treated her like a grown up. She had entered a new level, one they couldn’t reach. Jealous, Luella thought sobbing. They were all jealous. But that revelation didn’t help to change the situation.
What was even worse was that Gabriella had begun to make new friends with Morgana and Elise, and Luella had found herself without anyone by her side except for her fitness trainer who was slowly but surely getting on her nerves. His biggest flaw was that he wasn’t Gaga. He couldn’t replace her sister. She decided to not let go of Gabriella so easily and began typing a reply.
Tomorrow then? At the good Italian midtown, near Times Square. Love you & miss you, Lu.
She waited several minutes, but no message arrived. Obviously, her sister had already left with her friends and once more Lulu would spend the evening alone at the hotel. Ignoring her own sister was outrageous behavior for Gaga. Lulu slammed her fist onto the mattress. It was still warm from Rafael’s body. Was it all her fault for engaging in a relationship with Rafael? Could it be that Gaga was jealous?
A thought dawned on her. Yes, Gaga was jealous. But not over Rafael. Gaga was too uptight to even think of guys let alone lust after Rafael. Deep inside Luella knew better. It was the Wimbledon title with her name on it that had caused the rift between the sisters.
She would have shared everything with Gabriella, Luella thought. But now that Gabriella had abandoned her, her sister had no right to be mad about the Wimbledon title. She had left the pact. Luella was still clenching her fist, thinking about her ungrateful sister. The bed had grown cold.
***
“I can’t move. I’m dead,” Amanda whispered. Covered by the sheet, she lay in the middle of the bed with her arms and her legs spread out. Her eyes were closed.
“You don’t have to move,” Elise whispered back, climbing into bed. When she had come back from her dinner with her parents, she wanted nothing more but tell Amanda about her victorious mission. But then she saw her exhausted lover and decided to wait until the next morning. Amanda had won her match. This was her moment now.
Elise slipped under the blanket and began caressing Amanda’s stomach. Her other hand had gotten lost in Amanda’s hair, twirling the red strands while she watched over her.
“I can still hear the crowd,” Amanda said into the darkness of the room. “The roar.”
With a mixture of pride and adoration Elise observed her lover’s quiescent face and when she felt Amanda’s breath had become deep and steady, Elise began kissing Amanda’s forehead, working her way over the Australian’s eyebrows, eyelashes and her cheek to reach her lips. Her hand slid down from Amanda’s stomach and grabbed her hips pulling Amanda closer. Amanda sighed. Opening her mouth to Elise’s soft kisses, she let Elise embrace her exhausted body.
With their mouths and tongues entangled in a slow dance Elise eventually let go of her own tautness. Her hands moved tenderly over Amanda’s body while her kisses grew more intense and demanding. She pushed up Amanda’s shirt, and while stroking Amanda’s breast with her strong hand she abandoned Amanda’s lips to go down her neck, kissing it lightly. As she reached the soft skin behind her ear, Amanda held her breath and Elise slipped her right leg between the Australian’s thighs.
“Elise,” Amanda protested meekly. But finally she moved her arms and touched Elise’s shoulders tearing at her shirt to pull it over Elise’s head. With her hands free again she went down Elise’s back to caress her buttocks and push her closer to her own body.
“You move pretty well for a dead person,” Elise grinned, then propped herself up on her elbows.
With closed eyes she dove down onto Amanda’s warm body. Her tongue drew circles around the sleepy girl’s breasts. Feeling that Amanda’s small nipples had grown hard Elise smiled. She loved to command Amanda’s body and her moans and breathing. Over the last months she had become quite adept in doing so. As slowly as possible, the German moved her tongue down to Amanda’s lower stomach, with the tip of her tongue barely brushing the thin skin.
“You’ve got to stop,” Amanda whispered breathlessly.
She had arched her back and wriggled under Elise’s caresses while Elise held her down to the mattress. Again Amanda muttered a weak protest but when Elise moved even further down, she let her thighs fall to each side and plunged her hands into Elise’s blonde hair.
Amanda tasted of sweet wine and iron, Elise thought, when she capped the humid skin with her mouth. Today she also tasted of shower foam, New York’s chlorinated water and the sweat she had been oozing on the court. She tasted of a hard-earned victory.
When Amanda’s sighs grew louder Elise lifted her head and glided up again, while her right hand stayed between Amanda’s legs. She wanted to control the moment when Amanda’s body and face writhed, as if she was in pain, while it was in fact the opposite sensation. Watching it was magical. There was nothing quite like it. Not even a win over a feared opponent came close. It amazed Elise ever since she had done it the first time. Even more so, it amazed her that she was the one who would make it happen again and again.
Smiling in anticipation she put a bit of slice on her forehand.
New York City, United States
“We need to hurry,” Ted yelled over his shoulder and waved to Amanda to come. She shook her head but followed the British player.
“I don’t even understand why you need me?” Amanda growled. But Ted didn’t answer. He was busy looking for a certain room. Judging from the greyish walls it was a cheap hotel. One of those accommodations Ted himself had had to stay at during the early years of his career. However, it was not far from Flushing Meadows which was the reason several lower ranked players had chosen it. But a day before the women’s final most of them had left already. Amanda and Ted didn’t need to worry about being seen. Ted stopped in front of a door and took out a key.
“How did you get the key for his room?” Amanda looked shocked. But Ted shook his head.
“It’s not his,” he said when he stepped inside the dark room. “That’s why I need you.”
He crossed the room and opened the window.
“His room is right under here. I waited all week for the room next door to become available but it didn’t work out. He always leaves the window open, you see?” Amanda stared at him while he climbed onto the window sill.
“In New York?” She shook her head over the silly British guys she had to deal with, still not understanding what she was doing here.
“You have to let me down to his window,” Ted explained in a last attempt to motivate her but Amanda gasped.
“I wholeheartedly disagree with this idea, Ted,” she said, shaking her head. But Ted wasn’t listening.
“You can thank me later, when you see all the evidence.”
Carefully, he slipped down over the sill while facing Amanda. While he was hanging there only holding on to the sill, she took his hands and slowly helped him down inch by inch until he touched the window sill on the lower floor.
“You have to go downstairs and warn me if he comes back,” Ted said without lifting his head. Before Amanda could protest, he had slipped inside Tom’s room.
***
Tom’s bags were tidily heaped in one corner of the room. On the left nightstand was one of his cameras and its battery chargers. But Ted headed straight to the other side of the bed. He sat down and grabbed Tom’s notebook. Ted was sure Tom would keep all the information in here. When the computer asked for a password he frowned. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Frantically he typed several words but to no avail. After trying every possible combination of 30 Love he was just about to give up but gave it one last try: Teddybear.
He felt a bit foolish typing out the nickname Tom had given him. But as soon as he hit RETURN the window magically opened. Ted was astonished by the fact that even after two months Tom still seemed to care for him. Why else would he still use this password? But there was no time to wonder about Tom’s feelings now. Ted pulled out a memory stick from his pants and plugged it into the notebook. After a little search he found the file which contained Tom’s mischievous doings. They were all filed under the players’ names and Ted was surprised to see how much evidence Tom had gathered since they had broken up. He had been busy taking photos of several high profile couples in the WTA and even the ATP. Waiting for the files to be moved he was startled by the buzz of his cell phone. Amanda was calling.
“Yes?” Ted answered the phone.
“He just exited the elevator,” Amanda said, pressed. “You need to leave the room now.”
Ted hung up. The computer showed that it would still need twenty-three seconds to move the last files. He jumped up and raced to the door. Opening it slowly he peeped outside and his heart almost leaped out of his chest. Tom was coming around the corner. Ted hurried back to the computer, decided he could do without the remaining files, pulled out the memory stick and shut the notebook. After placing it exactly how he had found it, he sprinted to the window. While standing outside he looked up but Amanda was not there. Why was she taking so long to get back from the other floor? In that moment the answer dawned on him. He could feel the door key in the pocket of his pants. He had forgotten to give it to Amanda and she was so locked out of the room upstairs.
Then he could hear Tom’s key in the door. Looking around he realized there was only one way out – and that was down.
***
“Have you checked the net, lately?” Jaro looked across the table with a worried look on his face, and Sasha stopped her movement halfway, her fork full of lasagna hovering dangerously in the air over her white shirt.
“I stopped doing that when I was nineteen.”
Jaro rolled his eyes. He had showed up in New York early in the morning and had requested to see her as soon as possible. “Well, I do,” he said impatiently, “and I’m afraid our sponsors do, too!”
Sasha raised an eyebrow, while biting into the piece of lasagna. Was there trouble in their little paradise? Jaro had better not have met someone and fallen madly in love with him to the point of leaving her. Sasha gulped down her lasagna and leaned back in her chair. Jaro’s sudden grumpy mood surprised her.
“What is it? Have they published a compromising picture of you?” she teased him. “Don’t worry, you haven’t put on that much weight.”
Jaro gasped. “You think I’ve put on weight? Where? It’s my stomach, right?”
“Jaro, please!” Sasha moaned. “What did you find?”
Still a bit offended by Sasha’s remark, Jaro looked at her but then became serious again.
“Rumors. About me. They are discussed on several football forums if not all of them. They don’t seem to believe our stuff and there’s also this nightclub incident in Madrid, but it’s not my fault! The guys dragged me there and there are a
few pictures. Nothing serious, I’m not kissing anybody. But some guys around me are. So –” Jaro studied the table cloth. Then he looked up at Sasha again.
“Anyway. I think we should get married.”
Sasha choked on her lasagna, restraining herself in a last-second gesture from spilling it all back onto her plate or worse, all over the neat table.
“What?”
As she looked at her fake boyfriend again, she faced a very serious Jaro. He also looked scared. Oh, dear, she thought. This can’t be happening. Sasha cast a glance out of the windows and observed the busy streets of Manhattan. Her heart rate seemed to have slowed down and her mouth was dry. Perhaps she should have seen it coming, when she had agreed to work with Jaro. It was the best arrangement for both of them. It was business. But during the past weeks, she had forgotten about Jaro’s existence as a fake lover. He had become a friend. But since she was thriving on the court again reporters had begun to focus more on her tennis and questions about her private life had been reduced to a minimum. For her there was no need to marry right now. She sighed.
“A wedding,” he continued as if Sasha hadn’t understood. “This will make the rumors stop. Nothing big, just a small ceremony. The intimate kind, parents and close friends. We can still get a divorce in three years. But it’ll give time for the gossip to slow down and hopefully vanish once and for all. What do you think?”
What did she think? She looked back at Jaro.
