D I Ch. 02

When I blew out my knee, I collapsed into a pile of immobility. The pain was not the excruciating, horror scream kind that I always envisioned. Everything felt loose and I was unable to support my weight. I had to be helped off the court by a couple of my teammates. That quickly, my season was over. Surgery to scope out the knee was recommended. I had to watch my team make it past the first round of the playoffs. I could not believe they were moving on without me. I was relieved when they finally lost. The thought of the team doing so well without me was unbearable. I hated myself for thinking that, but I was the leader on that team. How could there even be a team without me?

Now that my athletic time was cut for a while, I was able to focus on my studies more. I had been getting good grades, but now I was excelling. For the first time, I was envisioning a life outside of sports. I figured that the following season might replace all the feelings of ineptitude, but still, I had to envision myself as a teacher now. I was working towards a teaching degree. And somewhere, the idea of being a coach some day, mixed in with all these emotions.

Stacey would not return my calls, and the couple of times I saw her, she avoided me, without any compassion for me. I thought I deserved at least a bit of sympathy from her. We shared something that would remain in memory for the rest of our lives. I left a few pleading messages that ended with me sounding tearful and incoherent. She finally sent me an email, apologizing for her coldness. She said she hated seeing me go down like I did. I just remember she was at the game with her boyfriend, smiling and cuddling with him. She wrote about moving back to Miami. She was not returning after winter break. That was probably why she had the boxes stacked in her apartment. She was already planning on leaving. She said she felt lonely for home and wanted to be near her boyfriend. I tried to understand how she was able to move on and away so easily. I figured that her experience with me, with another girl, was a one-time moment. Aside from anger and sadness, my first reasoned emotion was pride. I knew that I was committed to finding love with a girl now. Stacey had failed, or had never been serious about it, but I was going to succeed.

During the summer, I stayed on campus. I took one class, just to keep my mind busy, while I rehabbed my knee. I did not want to stay in my hometown. Small towns in Ohio are all the same: Boring! I had a training regimen that I tried to adhere to, even though some days I was very unmotivated. I started by doing a lot of swimming pool exercises, then, slowly moved to the track. My progress was slow, and for the first time I had lost confidence in my body to win out over everything. It had failed me. I wasn't sobbing when they carried me off the court, but inside, I knew something, some plateau, had been breached.

Around town, on my free time, I would sit outdoors, just to watch girls. This was something I once had no interest in. I wanted to see girls outside of my circle. There were raven-haired goth girls that seemed unreachable. There was spoiled money strutting through downtown. There were older women that intrigued me. I had a need, especially at that point, to be nurtured. There were some athletes that I crossed paths with, and while some were very fit, and very sexy, I did not feel a connection. None of these new faces did anything to inspire me. I was attracted to some of them, but I did not want to share in anything special with them. One or two sensed me hovering, sensed me watching them, and approached me, to see if I was really serious, but I was unmoved, and let it pass. I wanted and I needed love. Only I would be able to sense its arrival.

I heard through a friend back home, that my ex-boyfriend was now married and trying to do his best to start a life with his new bride. We never officially ended it. We just drifted apart, mutually coming to that unspoken good-bye. He bought a house in a neighboring town and was hoping for a family soon. I felt no anger towards him. I felt sorry for the two of them. I didn't think he was creative enough to make it work. His wife, I was told, was very pretty, but nothing like me. She was shorter and dark haired, with very small proportions. This made me wonder why he would choose someone the opposite of me. Had he ever loved me? Did he sense there was something in me that was going to make permanence impossible? I only asked these questions for future reference. I thought of that person that had had a boyfriend once, as someone very alien to me now.

I started working harder, to get back into playing shape, after doing my workouts half-heartedly for too long. I felt as though I was behind schedule. During the first few practices, I knew I was not going to be the same, but needed to stay on the team. I doubted that I had the ability to deal with the rejection of the coach, or of the sport I loved. I knew I was not going to be the go to girl, yet, or maybe ever again, but I needed to be on the team in some role. Fall sports had been part of my life for too long a time. I would not be able to cope.

"I think I can help the team, and as the season goes on, I am sure that I will get stronger." I said, nervously. The coach looked at me without saying anything. Those few seconds had me tripping on uncertainty. I was fearful. His decision would shape my immediate future. And although I knew it would not be a bad thing to lose my spot, I was far too emotional to ease into life without volleyball at that point

"Relax, Rox. You have a spot. Trainer says that as long as you follow his instructions, working out, wearing the brace, you should get better. I'm going with Davenport in your spot for now, but you will be called on."

"Thanks, coach." I said.

Afterwards, I didn't feel all that relieved. I just wanted to be part of the team. I was prepared, I reasoned, to move along and away from something that I had loved for most of my life: Competition. I had to be grateful though. I was going to do what he said and what he needed of me, what the team needed. I sensed a few of the girls were happy to see me lose top girl status. They were all seemingly supportive of my training and recovery, but competition was fierce, even if it was not overt.

"I'm glad your back." One girl said. It seemed she was saying my future had been in doubt. 'When did I ever leave?' I thought.

"Thanks. Just going to work hard." I said.

The football games were not the same for me. Not seeing Stacey on the sidelines left me empty inside. This was my senior year and I was not going to have any memories of her standing strong in a pyramid formation. I wondered if my injury had made me more pensive, or if it was her departure.

Stacey was enrolled at a school in Miami, but she was not on the cheer squad. I wondered if she even tried out, or if her studies had taken the center spot in her life now.

Did she think of me? I looked back on the day she beat me up. I laughed when I recalled the moment I put her spit inside of me. I was thinking of her too much, I thought.

It was around mid-season, the team was playing very poorly, and I was languishing, trying to avoid further injury, that my pursuit for love was finally renewed. It was after a game, and I was leaving the dressing room, when I bumped into a player from the basketball team. She was a junior transfer student from a school in Chicago. We were both coming around the same corner, headed in different directions, when we bumped into each other. I felt that my presence did not meet her with the same authority she greeted me with. I looked up to apologize to her. She smiled cheerfully then was moved along by another player. Her baggy clothes prevented me from seeing her shape, but it looked very athletic. She had an approachable disposition. If I had been feeling my usual self, I probably would have already known about her, probably would have noticed her some time ago.

I looked back at her and was intrigued. She was, I later learned, 6"5", but was listed at 6'6". She was a taller and slightly more muscular version of me. We both had the same color hair and wore it in a ponytail.

Rebecca was her name, and I was going to one-day join with her in a place few can get to. I was certain of that. It was an instant attraction for me. I wanted it to be a commingling of two girls, two women.

During the last game of the season, I noticed she was in the stands with a few of her teammates. They were laughing and enjoying themselves, as I rushed into position, trying not to hurt myself again. My season was so uneventful, that I did not even keep track of my statistics. The knee was stronger, but not once did I play with the same power as before. There were acknowledgements throughout the game that this was going to be my last game. I was, part of me at least, happy it was over. I could now use my same determination in other areas of my life. A teaching degree was certainly a beginning. Rebecca, or Becca, as I had heard her called, was smiling, enjoying the day. We locked eyes, and although she lingered, she gave nothing away. I was awed by her size, and imagined both our bodies struggling for supremacy. She made my mind wander

"Rox! Get in there!" The coach yelled. This was going to be my last time in a game. Coach probably thought I was avoiding the end of my career. After a quick sequence, in which I got as high as I did all season for a kill, I was done. People rose and clapped for me, as the public address announcer made a point to remind everyone that Roxanne was finished. I waved to a few people and hugged a few teammates. The coach came over and hugged me. Even players from the other team were applauding. I was trying to cry, but couldn't.

I was not going to linger in the gym after I had changed. I was moving to get out of there. As I was leaving, Becca passed by me on her way out.

"That was nice..." She started to say.

"Rox. Way to go girl." A senior point guard, named Liz, interrupted Becca. I hardly ever talked to Liz and never much liked her. She seemed very scattered in her friendships. Liz was small and cute with dark hair. Her body was very fit and enviable.

"You must be all sad it's over. I'm glad our final game is on the road. We should make the playoffs though, so who knows." Liz said.

Becca towered over us, letting Liz do the talking.

"Its over, that's for sure." I said. "Don't expect to feel anything you want to keep with you. Your play is all that matters." I made a point to emphasize the word 'play'. Liz was not a starter.

"I'm sorry you were... I was here visiting that game you were hurt." Becca said. Her eyes were cautious.

"That's nice..." I paused a second, trying to imagine her in the stands that day, "of you to say."

"You came back, though. That impressed me." Becca said.

I gave Becca a quick smile, as I left the gym. I did not say anything to Liz. Becca was gracious, and now we had a moment to build on. I planned on positioning myself in her path as often as I could. She, unlike Liz, was a good player. She was a center who came to the program very well coached and very well trained. Watching her play was something I was going to enjoy.

*****

I tried to feel good about myself. I had my hair done and kept up with my pedicures. I was only interested in school and in Becca.

In a game that Becca was dominating, she had scored 22 points with 5 minutes to go, she suddenly twisted her ankle and was writhing on the floor. Most of the team seemed surprised and didn't know what to say or do. The big girl went down. I knew what that felt like. I was thinking that they were trying to decide who would have to help her up, and walk her out of the gym, in case she was unable to do it on her own. I felt a sense of anger in her demeanor. Usually she was all smiles and laughs. She was really angry. She even said something to the opposing teams center. I didn't see the small details of the play, but it did seem there was some contact between the centers. The five-point lead faded and there was almost a fight. Some fans were yelling at the visiting team. When a team plays a rival, anything can happen.

I waited around a little after the game, to see if I could speak with Becca, but she was hustled out of the gym by a few people, and the opportunity did not present itself. I heard that it was a minor sprain and she might end up only missing a couple of games. Liz passed by me, and as I expected, had nothing to say to me. She already tried and failed to make me feel bad after my last game, and now had nothing to say to me. I needed to know more about Becca.

"Is Becca O.K?"

"Yeah. She's strong. She can handle it. Probably won't miss a game." Liz said, not stopping to say this, but walking away from me.

"Yeah... Well, thanks anyway." I said. "Good game, by the way." I lied. Liz played probably 5 minutes and didn't score any points. She gave the ball up twice.

The school website confirmed that Becca was only going to be out a few games. I was plotting. We now shared something. We both had to be helped off the court. Our bodies had failed us. This was the introduction that we both needed, to get things moving in the right direction for our eventual partnership.

I hung around the sports complex as much as could. I tried to act as though I wanted to stay in shape, even though my career was over. I finally found her one afternoon. She was relaxing by the swimming pool. She had been doing a few laps. She was wearing a one piece. Her skin was very pale, and very smooth. There was a slight hint of jiggle on the back of her thighs. Her breasts looked firm and not in need of much support. She was a B cup, and they appeared somewhat small on her frame. Her rear end, although the jiggle diverted some attention from it, was full and toned. I was sure she turned heads when in jeans. Her stomach was slightly protruding. I took some comfort in her imperfections, maybe even some one-upmanship, but she was 6'5", and must have needed to eat quite a bit to supply all those muscles. Her arms had full biceps that did not jiggle. I quickly absorbed her image as I walked up to her.

"Hi..." I said

"Oh, hi." Becca said, as if we had known each other for some time.

"I am Roxanne. I was coming to get a swim myself. After I hurt myself, I just fell in love with the pool. For me, it was a good way to work out without stressing the knee." I opened my robe to reveal my one piece. I was carrying more around the middle than I had before, but my legs felt toned, and even my boobs were getting back to something better since I stopped running so much.

The once over she gave me, made me feel justified in this pursuit. Her eyes swallowed in my features. She lingered on my thighs for a second. Her eyes then moved up to my stomach area. I think she sensed we both carried a round a few pounds there.

"I really hated seeing you go down the other day." I said. "It reminded me so much of my injury. I am glad to hear it was just a sprain."

"That is so sweet of you. I'm better now. I could go out now and play, if I taped it up and tied my shoe tight, but the trainer and coach want me to rest a bit. Plus, the two road games we have are against the bottom teams in the division. So... no biggie."

"That is good to hear." I said, letting myself fall into the pool.

"Nice entry" She said.

"Be back in a sec." I said, as I started to do a few quick laps.

My mind was racing as I tried to get this quick workout over. I was trying to come up with an offer for us to meet someplace. I was sure we had a chance.

Before I finished my first lap, I heard the door slam, and was hoping she was not gone, but she was. Her spot seemed so empty there. I was in the pool only a few minutes and wanted out, but didn't want to seem too ambitious, by charging into he dressing room, looking for Becca. I lingered in the pool. I was relaxing and trying to seem cool, when I noticed the door open, and Becca coming towards me.

Standing in flip-flops, and wearing a toe ring, was Becca. She was wearing jeans and had on an orange blouse. Her toenails were painted orange. She looked very sexy, very casually put together. Her hair was loose now. Even the waves in her hair seemed overpowering.

"I'm sorry I rushed off, but I was just so tired of the water." She said.

"That's O.K. It takes a while to get used to it." I said, acting like I was really there for a workout.

She kneeled down now. I like the way her toes scrunched up as she put weight on them. She had nicer feet than me, and I had pedicures on a regular basis. Her big toe was particularly sexy: well rounded and dominant over the other toes.

"Maybe, well see each other up here again?" She said.

"I was ordering tonight's game on my computer. Were you going to watch it?" I asked.

"No. I hadn't planned on it. I wanted to be at the game and all."

"Would you want to come over to my place and watch it? If you don't have anything better to do?"

"Sure." She thought for a moment. "That sounds like a good idea. I'll bring some popcorn."

Sure." I said, laughing at the suggestion of her bringing popcorn. I gave her my address.

When she walked away, I got a view of her ass. It wasn't as spectacular in jeans as I first thought. It was too broad for jeans, but she still looked amazing because of her long legs.

I had to go home and figure out how to order the game and had to clean up a little.

I also had to prep myself for her arrival. I showered and left my hair untied. I found a pair of orange panties and then put on some loose jeans and a lycra top that hugged my body. I was going braless and barefoot for Becca. My last pedicure had been a week ago. My feet looked sexy.

Becca was a few minutes late. The game had already started. She came in with a bag of microwave popcorn. She had on the same outfit from the pool, except she was wearing a pair of suede boots that hugged her calves. It was too cold outside for flip-flops.

"You actually brought popcorn." I said.

"I love popcorn." Becca answered.

We were sitting on the sofa. My computer was on the coffee table. We did not show much interest in the game. She mentioned that the girl playing in her place was very nervous about getting the start on the road. Becca talked about Liz. I told her that Liz was always rude with me. Becca said it was because Liz was jealous of me. Liz was actually glad when I got hurt. That did not surprise me at all. Somehow, we started talking about our well cared for feet. She told me where she went for her pedicures. It was the same place I went for mine.

"They just know how to treat you right, there. Back home they would always make me feel rushed, like feet were not so important." She said.

Becaa slowly took off her boots and slipped off her socks. The unveiling had begun.

"Nice." I said.

Without asking, she swung her feet over to me and placed them on my lap. I liked to compare feet, just because I spent so much time comparing other parts of me with girls, but I really wasn't that into feet, but the ring on her toe turned me on. I reached for the ring and started to turn it. She acted the same, as though she expected to lay her feet on my lap. I touched the soles of her feet. They were very soft. I sensed she had been with other girls.

"We have to go together one day and get pedicures." I said.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" She asked.

My search for love, search for the right girl, made the question rather difficult to answer. I wanted to be in a position to say yes, but had to admit that I was alone. Becca had a girlfriend back home: A woman in her late twenties that controlled all the aspects of the relationship. Becca said she was getting tired of all the demands. She felt this woman wanted to mold her in her image. That is part of the reason she transferred out of state. Part of me was jealous, that Becca sort of belonged to someone else. I felt love just slip away, but I was horny and willing to let this time together play out.