Six

OUR TUESDAY NIGHT TEAM PRACTICE started out as an exercise in chaos and frustration. Whitney was at her peak as a tease and she was fawning all over Lissa. She was wearing tight shorts and a T-shirt that was barely legal in the club. She made sure she was in Lissa’s line of sight at all times and frequently touched her when they talked. Lissa set her up to train with Tonya and hoped working against a woman even taller and more powerful than she was would cool her down.

Bree sidled up next to me as I watched our men’s pair working.

“Enjoying the show?”

“These guys? You know I don’t swing that way.”

“I meant the next court. That bitch is bleeding pheromones.”

“Oh yeah. Whitney,” I said dismissively. “She thinks she’s a big tease, but she’s really just being annoying.”

“She thinks the best way to get to you is through Lissa,” Bree said. “If you don’t do something, she’ll disrupt the team, and there are only six of us, and I don’t count.”

“You could play.”

“It would interfere with my laundry duties. Besides, I’m nowhere big enough to play against you guys. Look at them. All five-ten or more. I’m a shrimp.”

“Portia is only two inches taller than you, and a couple of years older. You could do it,” I suggested.

“I’ll scrimmage, but you won’t get me in a competition,” Bree said. “I think I’ll get a bucket of cold water and see if I can cool her down.”

“Don’t go overboard,” I laughed. “I think Lissa’s got an idea.”

“Okay, everyone,” Lissa called after we’d had a ten-minute break. We all gathered around to listen to our coach. “There’s two competitions coming up and we’ve got permission to play if you are all in. The first one is in three weeks up in Bellingham. Second one is a pre-holiday event in Mountlake Terrace. These are local tournaments with a wide variety of talent playing. There aren’t any official college club meets in Washington, even though there are some other college clubs that want to play. We’ll hold our own invitational next year.”

“Are we ready for competition?” Tonya asked.

“Not really,” Lissa answered. “But at the same time, you need a taste of it so that you know what to look forward to. Remember, when we get to the intercollegiate championships next spring, there are several levels of play. You don’t have to be competing at an elite level to be in the tournament. And I’ve got a secret ingredient that will help you.”

That was news to me.

“What’s that, Lissa?” I asked.

“You all have seen how well Brent and Franklin are doing as a doubles team. I think I’d like to try Tonya and Whitney out as a doubles team as well. We might even field two mixed doubles teams so you get a chance to play in several matches. That keeps you out of the spotlight as individuals in the first couple of competitions, but gives you good practice on the court,” Lissa said. “I want you to think of this as a little team building. So far, you’ve all played against each other. You are going to start playing with each other. And we’re going to start with a demonstration. Tony and I are going to volley. When you are playing against each other, you try to prevent your opponent from hitting the ball. But when you play with each other, you want them to return it. If you know where to place the ball so your partner can return it, then you can place the ball so your opponent can’t return it. Clear as mud?”

“Um ... yeah,” Brent said. “Sometimes Frank and I just try to see how long we can keep a rally going.”

“Exactly,” Lissa said. “That’s what Tony and I are going to do in this demo. We’ll start slowly, but you have to consider the person on court with you to be your dance partner. Some of you saw what we did in Minneapolis. We not only danced together, our opponents danced with us. So, watch us as we rally for a few minutes, and then we’ll let you play. Ready, Tony?”

“Sure,” I said. I knew what we were going to be doing on the court. Whitney thought she could tease. When Lissa and I were done, Whitney would have a hard time keeping her hands out of her panties. If she was wearing any.

It worked like a charm. Lissa and I just smiled at each other and let all the day’s cares and worries slip away. Then we started to dance.

We began with a couple of easy lobs to each other. We didn’t even bother to enter the service area, just started the ball flying. We kept it slow and easy while we adjusted to each other, just letting the ball connect us. We didn’t really need any music to set the pace. In a minute we were back in the zone we’d found in Minneapolis. And like all zones, time started to disappear. All there was were the two of us and where the ball would be.

At one point, I returned a volley and found myself planted right behind Lissa. We touched and held ourselves together as she returned the ball with a backhand, straight to my forehand. It went back to her backhand and she spun around so that I was in front and returned the ball with my backhand. She kept her turn going until we were both facing the wall again and she met the ball with a forehand into the left corner so that my forehand was called into action again. I flattened myself on the floor as Lissa stepped over me to take the next return.

I was sure no one could tell how well in synch we were with each other. People who watch racquetball just see the serves and missed returns. But what they were really seeing with Lissa and me were two people making love on the racquetball court.

Don’t ask me how we ever got to this point. Someplace, racquetball became like sex to us. We met each other’s thrusts. We rolled over each other without hesitation—without breaking the rhythm. We went through foreplay, even sneaking a kiss. We built the tempo, reading each other’s wants and needs—knowing where to stimulate our partner for just the right response. We slid against each other and touched softly when we passed. Our fingers touched as we switched places.

And the pace increased.

Soon—or not so soon; who was keeping track?—we were pummeling the ball back and forth to each other. It was a constant rhythm of floor-racquet-wall-floor-racquet-wall. When we were both near our peak, we changed the rhythm up slightly. Racquet-wall-racquet-wall. Sometimes we were playing high on the wall and sometimes low. But the speed continued to increase. I had no idea how long we could keep it going at this rate, but I knew that we would both explode at the same time. Lissa solved the problem.

“Now!” she screamed as she sent the ball high on the end wall so that it would hit the back wall before the floor. She dropped her racquet on the floor and I fell into her arms in a deep kiss, still flicking the ball forward as it passed me and dropped to the floor.

Lissa and I sank to our knees in the middle of the court, still locked in a kiss, panting and coming down as if we had just had an orgasm.

“I love you, baby.”

We looked at our five teammates. Bree was sitting behind the others and I could see a tear on her cheek. Everyone else looked at us in stunned silence. Lissa took a deep breath. She was our coach.

“We have four doubles teams here,” she said. “One men’s, one women’s, and two mixed. We don’t know who is going to click on the mixed side, so let’s start with Whitney and Franklin on court one and Tonya and Brent on court two. Now get this. You need to court each other first. Expect some fumbling around. Maybe even an offense. Get through it. You can do it. Now go.”

They entered the courts and started hitting the ball back and forth to each other while Lissa and I got a drink. When I turned around, Bree was standing next to us. She took each of our hands in hers and looked up at us.