McNeil's Match

by Gwynne Forster

  When Caesar swung his tail, whimpered and rubbed against her leg, Lynne patted his head and told Thelma, “Caesar has to go out, so we’ll continue this another time. Want to see a movie this evening?”

  “Love it, but you’d better check with Sloan. He has some rights, you know.”

  She returned home, checked her home phone and cellular phone and found that she had three messages from Sloan. “I was over at Thelma’s house,” she told him, “and I forgot to take along my cell phone. Gary says I have two weeks off from practice, but what’ll I do with myself?”

  “I hope to take up a lot of your time. I’m working from seven until three, and after that, you may do with me as you like.”

  She didn’t dare share with him the thoughts that crossed her mind. “You may get tired of my company.”

  “Really? Which man do you think you’re talking to?”

  “I was joking. I wouldn’t mind seeing you right now, since you offered me the possibility of doing with you as I wish.”

  His silence reminded her again that he didn’t joke about their relationship. “What do you want to do with me?” he growled.

  But she refused to let the tenor of his voice intimidate her. “Nothing that I haven’t already done.”

  “Watch what you’re saying. I can take a long lunch hour if I want to.”

  “And I can take the rest of the day, if I want to. Why did you call me?”

  “Ben has two tickets to the accordion festival tonight, and he can’t use them. I was going to ask if you’d like to go, but what you’re offering is far more attractive. What do you say I collect some supper someplace and we eat it together at your house around six o’clock?”

  She recalled one of Thelma’s bits of wisdom: “Not even a prostitute offers what she can’t or won’t give. Never come on to a man unless you mean what you’re suggesting.”

  “Maybe we can walk through the park over to the waterfall. I love it late in the day.”

  “I’ve never seen the waterfall, Lynne, and I’d like it. I have a call. See you around six.”

  She donned a pair of garden gloves, and set about cleaning out the weeds and overgrown bushes from her garden. She had neglected the garden all summer, and it felt good to work at something other than tennis. She trimmed hedges, clipped low-hanging limbs from a pine tree and stacked the refuse in a corner to be burned later. When she looked at her watch, a gasp escaped her; three o’clock, and she hadn’t eaten lunch. She washed her hands, made a salad of lettuce, tomatoes and shredded cold chicken breast, and ate it.

  After a leisurely shower, she laid across the bed to rest for a few minutes. Hours later, Caesar’s bark awakened her. Still half asleep, she slipped on a cornflower-blue silk kimono and ran down the stairs to find out why the dog barked with such furor.

  “Oh m’gosh,” she said when she saw Sloan standing at the back door with two shopping bags at his feet. “I was asleep. How long have you been here?”

  “A good half hour.” He patted Caesar, who wagged his tail and accepted Sloan’s gratitude.

  “I’m sorry. I worked out here in the garden for hours, took a shower and thought I’d rest for a few minutes. You know the rest. Come on in.” She hugged Caesar. “You’re a smart dog.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said to Sloan.

  “Oh, don’t go to any trouble on my account. You’re perfect as you are,” he threw over his shoulder as he headed toward the kitchen with their food.

  “I’ll bet,” she said and started up the stairs, but he caught her before she reached the third step and, standing behind her, fastened one hand to her belly and slipped his other one through the opening of the robe and clamped it on her naked breast.

  As if suddenly aware of his treasure, he untied the robe, pressed his hand to her bare belly and then slid it down until he fastened it between her legs. No longer able to pretend that she was unmoved by his bold caresses, she gripped the hand that massaged her breast, telling him without words that she wanted and needed more. But he ignored her whimpers and the tightening of her thighs against his hands, and she knew she’d have to tell him what she wanted.

  “Take me to bed,” she whispered.

  “You’re going to stop playing with me,” he said, then turned her around and sucked her nipple into his mouth. He lifted her and carried her up the stairs. “You knew when you teased me this morning that I was on fire for you, didn’t you? What you didn’t know was that I’m no longer wearing that cast. Nothing that you haven’t already done to me, eh? Isn’t that what you said?”

  She didn’t care whether he was angry, annoyed or pretending. He was doing what she wanted him to do. “I don’t remember what I said, but if it makes you act as you’re doing now, I wish I’d written it down.”

  He laid her on the bed, and she opened her robe wide and raised her arms to him in a gesture as old as womankind.

  The fire that blazed in his eyes sent hot arrows of anticipation shooting through her. Anticipation of what she knew was to come. “You told me that I’m yours,” she said, “and I want you to know that you belong to me.”

  As if her words heated his blood, he threw off his clothes and covered her body with his own. “Kiss me,” he said. “Wrap me in your arms and kiss me. You don’t know how I need you.” She could feel the tremors that passed through his body and the shudders that shook him.

  This isn’t about me. He needs me, and I want to show him that I’m here for him. She released her hold on him, placed a hand on his shoulder and urged him to his back. The question in his eyes made her heart skip beats. This man loved her.

  She kissed his eyes, his lips, cheeks and neck and, with nothing to guide her, set out to explore his body. When the twirling of her tongue around one of his pectorals brought a moan from him, she sucked it into her mouth and toyed with it until he nearly rolled off the bed. Emboldened now, she kissed his belly, moved down and licked the insides of his thighs. And when his hips began to shift from side to side, she stroked his penis, admiring its firmness and its stunning size. A smile broke out on her face when it dawned on her that that lovely organ belonged to her, and she sucked it into her mouth. His scream of joy shocked her, but only momentarily. She gripped his thigh with one hand, held his penis with the other and loved him until he yelled.

  “Stop. Stop. For God’s sake, stop!”

  She released him, and he pulled her up, eased her onto her back and slipped inside of her.

  * * *

  It had never been like that. She had no will of her own, but submitted to him and took what he gave her. She didn’t drive for her orgasm but enjoyed the feeling of him inside her, stroking and loving. She asked for nothing, but gave all that was in her. A fire slowly began its wild journey through her veins, singeing every ounce of her flesh. Oh, the sweet hell of it as the heat started at the bottom of her feet, and the tip of his penis anointed the mouth of her uterus. She threw herself up to him to give him better access to her body, and as if she had injected him with a potion, he began to stroke wildly, moaning her name. Her thighs began a quivering, jerking motion and when she thought she could no longer stand the sinking feeling, the pumping and squeezing began. Her entire vaginal canal clutched him so tightly that his eyes widened, and they screamed simultaneously in release. He collapsed in her arms.

  She hadn’t the energy to speak. He kissed her shoulder, but said nothing. As she held him, she knew that by thinking only of him and not of herself and what he would give her, she had gained more than she’d ever thought possible. On the two previous times when he’d made love with her, he had given her her woman’s birthright. Now, she wondered if any new pleasure remained, for what she had just experienced with him far surpassed anything she had ever known or imagined.

  “Are you awake?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh. Are you okay?”

&
nbsp; He raised himself up and braced on his elbows. “I think so. What happened to you? What you gave me...I never...” He eased up and sat with his back against the headboard of the bed. “I never had such an experience in my entire life. You gave without thought of your own needs.”

  “You did that each time. For the first time in my life, my needs were not important, Sloan, and what you gave me as a result I will cherish every minute that I live.”

  He reached over and pulled her into his arms. “Does that mean I should stop worrying about what you’ll do with two houses?”

  She cut him a side glance. “Some people have half a dozen.”

  “And some people live in caves, too. Will you ever give me a straight answer?”

  She looped her arms around his neck. “When you ask me a straight question. I don’t want to shack up with you, Sloan. In my opinion, that’s not commitment, that’s trying to have your cake and eat it. Is it enough to know that no one on this earth is as important to me as you are?”

  His arm tightened around her. “No, Lynne. It isn’t, and before long, you will realize it, too.”

  * * *

  He served their dinner of deviled shrimp, yellow saffron rice, steamed zucchini and a salad that consisted of spinach, mushrooms, tomatoes and pitted green olives. He’d brought apple pie and vanilla ice cream for dessert.

  “I thought this ice cream was going to become vanilla soup while Caesar and I were trying to wake you up. I was becoming alarmed.”

  “Caesar knew I was at home,” she said in a high-handed tone.

  “I don’t doubt that, but Caesar’s a dog, and he can’t talk.”

  With her chin in the air, she said, “Then we’ll have to teach him how. My, this pie is delicious.”

  She kept her gaze diverted from his, got up, went around to her chair and kissed his mouth. “You devil. Woman, you could drive a man mad if you put yourself to it.”

  She looked at him then, her face shrouded in innocence. “What did I do? Where did you get this food? I’d like a charge account with them.”

  He couldn’t help laughing. Their similarities often stunned him, and they always pleased him. “You may use mine. I just call them for what I want, and they send me a bill.”

  Later, he stood at her front door with his arms wrapped tight around her. “I’d rather not leave just now, but I told Thelma I’d check the air-conditioning vent in her bedroom. From what she said, I suspect it gets clogged with ice. She probably needs a good filter. Ever been to SeaWorld?” She shook her head. “It’s great entertainment. Want to go tomorrow afternoon around four-thirty?”

  “I’d love it.”

  “All right. I’ll be here at four, and you be dressed.”

  Her throaty laugh sent the blood straight to his loins. “Behave yourself, woman.” He had to get away from there before he made a nuisance of himself, and that was not his style. He kissed her nose and left her.

  The next morning, Ben walked over to him wearing a quizzical expression. “Look, man, you’re not in any trouble, are you?”

  “Not that I know of. Why?”

  “Well, this guy was sniffing around here after you left yesterday asking all kinds of questions about you, and a few minutes ago the builder in Castle Hills said somebody was over there following him around and asking questions about you. He pinned the man against a wall and wouldn’t release him until the guy told him who was paying him. From the description he gave me, I’d say it’s the same man who was over here yesterday. He works for...I hate to tell you this, but he said he was working for Thurston.”

  “What? He said what?”

  Ben didn’t repeat it. “That’s what he said, Sloan.”

  He whirled around, stormed into his office and dialed Lynne’s cell phone number. “Hello?” Her voice, soft, sweet and loving, came to him like a wave washing over his head and sucking him beneath the surface of the water. He hung up. Maybe his number showed on her caller ID screen, and maybe it didn’t. He couldn’t help it. How could she do that to him? He would give his life for her, and she could... He closed his eyes and fought the pain. For the next hour, he pondered Ben’s words. Then he got into his car, drove to Castle Hills and confronted the builder.

  “What did that man ask you about me?”

  The man recited a list of questions. “He said he was in the pay of someone named Thurston. I didn’t get the person’s first name.”

  “Thanks.”

  As much as he longed to confront her, he resisted doing it because he didn’t want to be sucked into the quicksand of her mesmerizing allure. Instead he phoned her at six o’clock that evening. “This is Sloan. I’m canceling our date for this evening, and I think it best that we don’t see each other again. I wish you the best.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” she screamed.

  “You’ll figure it out. Goodbye.” He hung up, went into the bathroom and put a cold wet washcloth on the back of his neck. An hour later, he lost his supper.

  * * *

  Sitting in the big overstuffed chair that dominated a corner of her living room with Caesar lying at her feet, Lynne did what she swore she would never do. She let the tears gush down her face and pool in her lap. No explanation, no opportunity to clear up whatever misunderstanding caused him to sever relations with her. Darkness fell, and Caesar demanded to eat. Later, sensing her sadness, the dog didn’t want to leave her alone, and she spent the night sitting in the chair with the faithful German shepherd lying at her feet.

  “You’re pretty lethargic today,” Clive, her physical trainer, told her. “You don’t want to go to Seoul with your body as weak as a wet rag.”

  “I’m doing the best I can,” she told him.

  “Did that big guy do something to upset you? If that’s the case, you need to show him that you’re not going to fold up. You’re made of sturdy stuff, Lynne. Don’t let anybody kill your dream.”

  She looked steadily at Clive, who had never shown her any affection, who maintained a strict employee-employer relationship with her and never showed an interest in any aspect of her well-being other than her fitness.

  “You’re right, Clive. I’ve had worse setbacks. I’m going to Seoul, and then I’m going to Tashkent. I’m a tennis player, and I intend to act like it.”

  “Pretty soon, you’ll be bringing home the prizes,” Gary told her a week later, “and I’m going to drink a whole bottle of champagne.”

  She laughed. For the first time in a week, she laughed and enjoyed the feeling. “You’ll drink half of it,” she said, “because I’ll drink the other half. See you at the Omni day after tomorrow.”

  Chapter 9

  Lynne strolled along Seoul’s “American Avenue,” so nicknamed because the United States dollar was once the only currency that the legion of shops would accept. Smart shopkeepers had begun trading in the euro and the Swiss franc as well. She couldn’t help laughing when she walked into the store that carried only top French and Italian designer leather goods, and at prices so low that she examined them to verify their authenticity.

  “We make here in Seoul. Big factory,” the saleswoman told her. She bought billfolds for Clive and for her brother, Brad, an eyeglass case for Debra and a lined leather “shopping” bag for Thelma. Unable to resist it, she bought an elegant soft leather travel kit for a man’s personal items.

  I may keep it forever, she said to herself, but if we’re ever friends again, I’ll give it to him for old times’ sake. No matter what happens, he’ll always be special, and I’ll be forever in his debt, for it was he who taught me what it means to be a happy woman.

  “All set?” Gary asked her by telephone that Monday morning before she left her hotel room for the tournament stadium.

  “I’m as ready as I can be.”

  “You shouldn’t have an
y trouble with Lewis. Get your mind on winning, on your game, and keep it there. If you concentrate, you can’t miss.”

  But Lynne was unable to concentrate. Her powerful serve didn’t work, and she lost the first set one game to six for her opponent. In the short rest period between sets, she told herself to shape up.

  “No one hundred and twenty-fifth ranked player is going to beat me,” she told herself, and won the next set six games to none for Lewis. But she struggled through the third and last sets, finally winning it with two aces down the middle.”

  “I’ve never played worse,” she told Gary. “Even when I lost, I did a lot better than I played today.”

  “Get McNeil out of your mind,” he said. “You’ve worked too hard to throw this away. This is not a big-time tournament. Half of the top players are over in Germany. This is your chance.”

  She knew it, and she also knew that she couldn’t brush aside the fact that Sloan had removed himself from her life. “Damned if I’ll let it throw me.”

  She won the next match and the next and, once more she faced the number one player in the quarter finals. The crowd’s boisterous welcome when she entered center court for the first game buoyed her spirits, but she wanted to kick herself when thoughts of Sloan weighted on her like an ominous cloud.

  “I’m beginning to wonder if this is a jinx,” she said to Gary after losing in a third set tiebreaker.

  “No,” he said. “Next week, I’m going to get one of my buddies to play a few practice games with you. You have to get into the habit of closing out a match. There’s an art to it, although you have to have confidence, too. Your game is similar to mine, and that may be one of your problems. We’ll see.”

  She didn’t go back home, but went directly to Tashkent in the southeastern region of the former Soviet Union. When Gary asked her if she intended to shop, she said, “I’m not nuts about vodka, and I’ll have to pay too much duty on caviar to make it worthwhile. I did all the shopping I’m planning to do in Seoul.” They practiced for two hours the morning of the day after she arrived, and she spent the remainder of the day lolling around the hotel.