Chapter 84: The Tour Continues

Warren came back to the room about an hour and a half later. Sophia had fallen asleep crying on the couch.

"Hey," he said, nudging her.

"Warren?" She opened her eyes and sat up. "Where did you go?"

"Went for a walk. Downtown St. Louis is nice. Went up in the Arch. Just needed to think."

"I'm sorry," Sophia said. "I overreacted. And I did say anyone in the cast."

"Apology accepted." He sat down next to her.

Sophia sighed. "I suppose I was feeling guilty. I was with Shawna again this afternoon. And it just didn't feel right." She sighed again. "I wasn't sure how right it felt the first time. I mean, I thought I was attracted to her, sexually. And it was fun. But something was missing. So I gave it another try, and it was the same thing." She looked up and gave him a sad smile. "I think my bisexual itch has been scratched out. Or Alexa is just a special situation. But I don't plan on doing it again."

"Did you talk to Shawna about it?"

"Yeah. She understands. We're still friends. She knew this was kind of an experiment, and she knew all along that whatever happened, it was just a fling."

Warren sighed. "I suppose I'm feeling a little guilty, too. Because I did enjoy myself."

"How much?"

"A lot," Warren sighed. "Look, that was my one fantasy that you didn't know about, the one that I never thought would be fulfilled, especially after I turned Cait down last fall."

"What?"

"Deflowering a virgin. And Liz wasn't just a virgin--she was as inexperienced as I was our first time."

"Really? So everything you did, it was her first?"

"Yeah."

Sophia grinned at him. "Did you go down on her?"

Warren smirked. "What do you think?"

Sophia grinned wider. "Did she cum?"

Warren took a deep breath. "Sophia, she started cumming from just me sucking on her nipple with her pants still on."

"Wow!"

"Yeah. When I got to the cunnilingus stage, it was one long endless orgasm. And I completely lost count by the time I was in her. The girl had some serious pent-up lust. I am not that good."

Sophia cracked up laughing. "Well, you've had me in continuous-orgasm mode more than once. Not from just tittie play, though. You've gotten me close, but never over." She smiled, and sighed. "Shit. Liz Cushman is one of my best friends. This all hasn't made her stuck on you, has it?"

"No, not at all."

"Good. Like I said, she's one of my best friends. If my little chit let you make her first time that memorable, who am I to argue?"

"Good. It was, and we both enjoyed ourselves, and parted the way we were when we started, as friends. But, Sophia, this has to stop, I think."

"Experimenting with other people, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"I think you're right. I've gotten it out of my system. Have you?"

"Yeah. Believe me, you're the best, but only the best--you--could ever top the Liz Cushman Deflowering Experience. Anyone besides you would just pale in comparison."

Sophia laughed. "Good!"

Sophia plopped down in front of Liz in the hotel dining room the next morning at breakfast.

"So, Liz, I hear my boyfriend plucked your cherry yesterday," Sophia grinned at her.

She turned beet red, and got a sheepish smile. "Oh, he told you about that."

"Course he told me. That's the deal, he has to tell. He also said you enjoyed yourself."

"That's one way of putting it." Liz looked at her friend. "You're not mad?"

"I actually was," Sophia admitted. "I did give him permission, so I had no right to be mad. He just didn't do what I expected."

"You expected him to take a meaningless roll in the hay with Stephie Eberhardt, not taking one of his best friend's cherry."

"You got it. But I calmed down. We talked things out. I've come to realize that I'm glad he did you, because apparently it was a night you'll never forget..."

Liz blushed deep red.

"... that's what I thought," Sophia laughed. "You're my friend, and I trust you, and if I had a part in providing you a memorable first time, great. But we also decided that this is damaging our relationship, and I decided that my bisexual itch was not as strong as I first thought. So, congratulations, because you are the last person besides me that will ever sleep with Warren."

"Damn. I was hoping for round two." Liz laughed at Sophia's stricken expression. "No, I'm just kidding. Well, partially. Listen, Warren's yours, that's fine with me, I'm not in love with him or anything. But most of the eligible guys on this tour I wouldn't give the time of day to, and Warren... well... he kind of opened the floodgates." She grinned, blushing.

"In other words, you want it again."

"Oh YEAH. I'm wondering why the hell I waited. But, I know why--and it's the same problem I have now--lack of guys. Especially lack of guys that won't kiss and tell. I know Warren won't. There's very few on the cast that won't."

"What about outside of skating?"

"That's tough. I don't meet many guys outside of skating. And the ones I do are interested in me because I'm semi-famous. Nice guys don't approach World Champion Elizabeth Cushman for dates. "

"Hmmm..."

A couple of days after that, they pulled into Cleveland. Warren and Sophia got into the lobby of the hotel, to run into Caitlin and Papa Bear. Liz was with them.

"HEY!" Warren called out and rushed over to greet them, Sophia joining in. When all the hugs and handshakes were done, Warren said, "Guys, I'd like you to meet our friend Liz Cushman. Liz, this is Paul Herlihy and Caitlin McDermott, our friends from school."

"Nice to meet you," Cait said. "It's a thrill, actually--I've seen you skate."

"Thanks," Liz smiled.

"I've seen you skate, too. Warren and Sophia have actually made a skating fan out of me, perish the thought," Paul grinned as he shook her hand. "And now my intro: guys, this is my older brother Rich. Rich this is Warren and Sophia, and Liz." Rich shook everyone's hand. He was almost a carbon copy of Papa Bear.

"Nice to meet you, Rich," Warren said. "I see the family resemblance."

"Everybody says that," Rich smiled.

"Hey, let us get our bags up to our rooms, and we'll be down in a flash. We need some supper."

"I know a place around here," Paul said.

"Cool. Liz, you coming?" Warren asked.

"I think I just might," smiled Liz.

Liz and Rich ended up sitting next to one another. "I know I've seen you skate," Rich said. "You've won a world championship, right?"

"A couple."

"What's that like, being that good at something?"

Liz giggled. "That's a funny way of putting it. I don't think of it that way. Although it's a hell of a lot of satisfaction to actually win a World Championship. I've finished second the last two years, which makes me appreciate the ones I've won all the more." She took a sip of her drink. "So, what do you do?"

"I'm going to be a junior in college, studying pre-med, just like my little brother over there. I wanted to get out of the cold and snow, though, so I go to UCLA."

"Really? Classmate!"

"You go to UCLA?"

"Yeah, in between skating, that is. I tend to take a full class load in the fall, but only a couple classes in the spring, because that's when Nationals and Worlds are. I'm taking next year off, though, because it's an Olympic year."

"That must be a juggling act."

"Yeah. Nothing like Warren over there, who's taking a full pre-med schedule while skating. Of course, being an ice dancer, he doesn't have to practice as much, because there's no jumps. Dancers have it easy."

"I heard that!" Warren bellowed from the other end of the table. "You come talk to me when you start choreographing your own programs, little miss 'I have it so tough.'" Liz just stuck her tongue out at him.

Rich laughed. "Do you live in California even when you're not in school?"

"Yeah. Well, when I'm not on tour. I live close to campus, in an apartment. Grew up in LA. I train there, not too far from UCLA."

"Cool. I live off-campus myself. Going back in a couple weeks, I just came home for a quick visit."

"Yeah, that's about when I'll be there, after the tour ends. Gotta start cracking on them new programs, what with it being an Olympic year and all."

"Now, you have an Olympic medal, right?"

"Yeah. Silver. I don't want another," she grinned.

He laughed. "Gold or nothing?"

"Hey, I went in last time as the defending World Champion, and got upset. This time, I'm not going in as the defending World Champion. It's time to be the upsetter, not the upsettee."

The food came, and they all started eating.

"What's the hardest part about skating?" Rich asked her.

"Where I am now, actually, it's not the skating. It's all the peripheral junk."

"Getting stopped on the street, that kind of thing?"

"That's part of it," Liz agreed. "Dealing with agents, dealing with autograph hounds, that too. Dealing with expectations, that's a big part of it. Warren and Sophia over there won a bronze medal at Worlds, and were thrilled beyond belief, because it was unexpected. I won a silver, and everybody's 'disappointed'."

"Oy. That's tough."

"It can be. Well, enough about me. You're pre-med?"

"Yeah, the table is lousy with future doctors," Rich laughed. "Me, my brother, and Warren. I want to do surgery, probably neurosurgery. I find it fascinating."

"Now, that's a tougher gig than skating. If I mess up, I just fall. If a doctor messes up..."

"Yeah. But I think there's a greater margin of error in some things than there is in other things. Think about it. Think about baseball. If a hitter is hitting.350, that's great. That's 35 percent! What would happen if you only hit 35 percent of your jumps?"

Liz giggled. "I'd have my face plastered all over Sports Illustrated with the headline 'MELTDOWN!!' in big letters."

"Right," Rich laughed. "So you have less of a margin of error than a shortstop. Doctors have no margin of error. However, we don't have to make the split-second decisions like a skater or a hitter does. I don't know if it's tougher. The consequences of failing are tougher, but that's it, and I think it's easier for a skater to fail, and I know it's easier for a baseball player to fail."

Liz giggled. "You sound like a baseball player."

"All-state catcher my senior year in high school. I could have played in college, but not at UCLA, so now I just play pickup."

"I never would have pegged you for an athlete," Liz said, then immediately regretted it. Rich was a big guy, like Paul. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say."

Rich just laughed. "Hey, you know the old joke--I'm not an athlete, I'm a baseball player. Which holds doubly true for catchers." Liz laughed in spite of herself. "My bulk is deceptive. I'm 6'2" and pushing 250, but you'd be amazed how low my body fat is. I'm just big."