My Only Talent Ch. 25

I had nothing to say to that, and desperately hoped he would fill the silence. He finally did. "We expect you will only be interested in our lovely Miss Duchenne on this trip, and that is as it should be. But keep your mind open to other, future possibilities. I suspect Belinda is considering you as one of the girls 'pre-approved' partners for the future."

I must have turned red, and he laughed. "I know this is hardly the conventional talk that a father, or even a step-father, gives to a young man, and I don't expect that you will be part of the girl's lives in the long term, but in the short term I think you could be a good influence on them. Just observe and see what you can glean about them and our other guests as the day unfolds." What else could I do?

The entire group trooped over to the tennis building, buzzing with excitement, conversations, and various catcalls and challenges bouncing back and forth. There were four well lit courts inside, with a few rows of seats around each. Two big plasma screens loomed high on one wall: one had a video version of the tournament ladder that had been on the board inside, and the other had a map like representation of the courts, with the names of the teams for the next match displayed on each court. Belinda and I, as high seeds, were not playing in the earliest matches. People began filling up the courtside seating, and I noticed that Belinda and Abelard were already settled in courtside with no vacancies in the rows around them. I moved toward the least crowded seating at the furthest court away, and sat down to enjoy a match.

*******

Lara busied herself getting ready for the open house. She had bundled up and doggedly done her three mile run right after breakfast, still surprised at how cold it was. Her 'work day' then started with the flower delivery, and she began to distribute and arrange them about the house to bring a little floral spring beauty (mostly imported from Central and South America) to this cold Colorado day. The caterers came next, setting up their tables and getting them and other stuff ready for when they returned later with the fresh food and drink. She had already set up two decorative Christmas trees in addition to the big one in the family room, and phoned to check on the musicians and the guy who would bring the 'rent a reindeer' for the front yard. Finally she completed her walk through and pronounced everything ready for action. The RSVP's had been vigorous this year, as apparently theirs was one of the most desirable events in the Beaver Creek area this evening. Maybe there would be some interesting new people to meet. She wished Robbie was coming. Actually, she wished she was coming, with Robbie, maybe with a little Suzanne on the side!

*******

Suzanne had enjoyed the performance of the Messiah at the Kennedy center, and even some of the conversations at the dinner party afterward. She was pleasantly surprised to see Heidi and her husband the newly elected Senator at the dinner party, and introduced them to her parents. Heidi's hubby and the Ambassador were very politically compatible, but Suzanne found herself wondering if she and Heidi were also personally compatible, and if she could tempt Heidi to run off for a little secret rendezvous. Probably not, given all the press attention they were receiving, and it would only get worse after her husband was sworn in.

Now fully equipped with the proper clothing, Suzanne had made a date to visit the judge at his condo, which was the only place she would agree to meet him. He pledged his total devotion. She had pledged to cleanse him, more thoroughly than he could ever imagine. She wondered if her new super thin body suit would have the same effect on him that it had on Cindy. She almost got all sweet on Cindy when the woman took one look at Suzanne in that filmy getup and instantly stripped and fell to her knees, chin quivering and eyes full of tears, already dripping wet and filling the room with her surprisingly aggressive pussy smell. But Suzanne knew that being sweet would not get Cindy off, and that she would have to be very rough on her, and so she was. Cindy was even more excited when she left, and so was Suzanne. No release for either of them yet, but it sure gave her some ideas for the Professor's coming humiliation. Actually she was not planning to let him come, except perhaps via self abuse, and from a long way away from his supremely dominant Mistress.

*******

The preliminary tennis matches actually featured better play than I expected. Everyone was in decent shape and relatively mobile, but they often had poor technique; reaching for the ball and hitting it without being set and balanced. I could probably do very well here as an instructor, at least with these lower seeds. As the early matches neared completion, several Suzies popped up, as if there were something sexual about who won the match. As they finished, the video screens updated, and I saw I was to sit out the next match, too. I decided to stay put and just watch. The play in the next round was better, but still well below what I perceived as my high school form. I realized I hadn't played really competitive tennis at all since my match with Lara. I remembered the wonderful prize I had won then, and realized that I missed Lara terribly already. Belinda Hatch-Peters then eased into the seat next to mine, so silently that I might not have noticed except for her perfume.

"I hope you are diligently scouting the opposition, Robbie. We will begin play in the next round, and I expect to win. I also expect your stellar play to carry me!"

"I suppose the pressure is on me to perform, then. The twins told me that I really don't want to cross you!"

She snorted. "Well, I might give you a little more leeway than I usually give them. But tennis is not one of my special skills, and since the girls are already staking a claim to you, you may never get to experience my special skills. "

I snorted. "My loss I am sure. Abelard mentioned your 'open' relationship, but the girls also mentioned 'the rules'."

"I love Abelard, and he is so good to me, and I am very good to him. You seem to be pretty quick on the uptake. May I ask you a personal question or two?"

"Yes, so long as reciprocity applies."

"How old were you when you began having sex?"

I smiled, wondering what I should reveal and what I should keep to myself. "Coincidentally, it was not until after I turned eighteen."

"I don't think it was coincidental at all. I suspect it was parental influence, like with my girls. I do worry about them. They are exposed to way too much at much too young an age these days. I am trying to get them at least near adulthood undamaged, and most of their friend's bubble-headed mothers are throwing booze and pot parties, 'I kissed a girl and I liked it' musical reviews, and 'E rainbow blow job orgies'. I'm hardly a prude, but there is such a thing as too much too soon, even for an old libertine like me!"

I was sure her next question would involve more details on my sexual initiation, but she changed directions on me completely. "Where were your people from before they went to the New World, Robbie?"

I answered without thinking. "My father's people are from Scotland mostly, Aberdeen to be specific. My mother's ancestors are mostly from France and England, although there are all sorts of interesting twigs in her family tree, including Karankawa and Chiricahua Apache."

She looked interested. "Cannibals and scalp takers: a savage beast in your DNA, perhaps? How evocative."

My turn, Belinda baby. "Does platinum hair run in your family?"

"Yes, but females only. My grandfather used to say we were descended from Druids, but I think he was joking."

The second round match ended, and we moved to one of the other courts for our first match, as directed by the map on the overhead video screen. I did my stretching and warm-ups, as did Belinda. She looked very flexible and seemed to have good balance and excellent core strength, causing me to speculate briefly on the other 'talents' she made reference to earlier. Maybe I would have to 'carry her' to win the match, but I suspected she could carry me easily when horizontal. What a lovely image. She introduced me to our opponents, a thirtyish barrister who was quite successful and already a major museum donor, and his hot girlfriend, a trendy fashion photographer. Everyone hit a few practice serves, and then Belinda suggested they serve to start the match. When play began, I decided on my 'charity and social tennis' mode: just keep the ball in play, and let the other team make unforced errors, without trying to hit any winners myself. Against most opponents, especially playing doubles, this worked out just fine, and it did with this match, too. The barrister may have been spending too much time sitting at his desk, as he did not move very well on the court, and he was a showboat, trying to hit winners with every shot, instead of just returning the ball. His girlfriend was actually the far more effective player, and she got a little frustrated with him.

Belinda was okay on the baseline, but she got nervous and was virtually useless up at the net. The showboat soon figured this out, and took delight in smashing shots right at her that made her cover up in fear. I changed my approach, making sure he got wide and deep balls he could barely return, much less deliberately smash toward Belinda, and I began rushing the net, sending Belinda back toward the baseline. After a few very effective volleys brought us a first set victory, I noticed the girlfriend grin, and Belinda grimace. Don't piss off the big donor, Roberts! I let up, giving him returns he could hit, but not smash, and his sprits improved as they won a few points. But they made enough unforced errors for us to win in straight sets.

We shook hands at the net, and as they trudged off, Belinda swatted my butt with her racquet. "Glad you finally figured that out, Robbie, although I did enjoy his discomfort for a moment."

The video screens announced that we were already at the quarter finals. Belinda told me that the level of play was about to improve markedly, and we were matched against a couple in their forties, who looked very much alike, and as if they spent lots of time out in the sun. I thought about my grandfather's aphorism that people who live together for a long time began to look like each other, and like their dogs, and could not avoid the image of two nervous Basenjis with sunburns as these two warmed up. But Belinda then introduced them as brother and sister, mentioning sotto voce as we walked onto the court that they were fabulously wealthy and moderately royal, with the suntans coming from their major passion, yacht racing. The sister served, a damn good first one in the corner, and the match was on. Now I really was covering for Belinda, although I got the idea she was holding back to see how well I could manage. I avoided hitting any obvious winners, but I was near the envelope of my 'charity' style of play, still able to return all of their shots, but having to work at it. If the next match was any tougher, I was going to have to try to hit some winners just to survive. We won in three sets, but it was a rousing match. All four of us were winded, and they seemed genuinely happy with the effort, despite their loss. "Well played, young man. I hope you two can run young Chasemoore around just as much!" There were only the semi-finals and final left to play, so only two courts were needed from now on. Belinda motioned me over to one of the four indoor courts, where the nets had been struck, plastic flooring laid down, and tables set up with food and drink. I was in need, and soon found what I needed.

The Gatorade rally hit the spot: invented by an ESU grad, of course. That cinnamon bear claw pastry thing was just the sugar hit my brain needed, too. Suzies popped into my receiver: some were even signaling for me. But there was a very discordant and unusual signal emanating from a short and pleasant looking woman in her early thirties who was talking animatedly to Belinda. The signal was not for me, and not really 'for' the male that was eliciting it, either. It had a very hurtful and grating quality, the Suzie signal equivalent of nails on a blackboard, and was somehow even more disturbing than Melanie's meltdown signals. My hunch told me it was about rape, force, unwilling sex, and it made me feel awful. She was looking across the court at a tall and gangly young man in his mid twenties, who was staring unblinkingly at her with a smug grin on his face. I took an instant and deep disliking to him. Belinda walked over to me and nodded toward the gangly grinner.

"That is one of our most likely opponents in the final match, and betrothed to the woman I was just talking to. His name is Chasemoore Gardner-Betts."

"I don't think she is looking forward to the wedding, Belinda."

"She isn't, but her family is. They arranged it. The last few foolish generations have mortgaged the old feudal lands to the point of attachment and foreclosure, and the lad's family is going to pay off the debt after the wedding – sort of an 'inverse dowry' if you will, but very hush-hush. The two family lands adjoin each other. Chasemoore considers himself God's gift to women, although most women don't seem to want to open the package, if you get my drift."

I did, with confirmation from my Suzie receiver. I wondered who his mixed doubles partner was. Chasemoore soon favored us with his presence. From close up, he looked even worse: oversized Adam's apple, big ears, close set eyes, and a huge and asymmetrical nose that really cried out for plastic surgery. 'Horse face' would be an upgrade.

"Greetings, Belinda. I see you have recruited a new doubles partner, not that it will do you any good." He stuck out his hand, magnanimously, he thought. "Chasemoore Gardner-Betts!" he announced.

"Catch any?" I could not resist, even though I was sure he had heard it before.

"How droll! You must be the American fresher that Newcombe was prattling on about. Are you here to service the twins?"

I thought it was just in bad taste, but Belinda's reaction was much stronger. It must have been her equivalent of a Susie signal blast, something I was surprised she could produce. Chasemoore only blinked, but for me it was physically painful, like some of the car stereo decibel contests I had been to with Bigun Jackson back in Dallas. Whatever Belinda's other proclivities might be, she was fiercely loyal to her daughters, and Chasemoore was truly pushing his luck. Chasemoore moved over to the designated court for his semifinal match, and we headed for ours. We won and so did he, playing with a very athletic and attractive young lady that seemed to barely tolerate him, and sent no Suzie for him.

Belinda said "He plays with his school chum's sister, who I think is pressured to team with him for her brother's sake. The two young men have been roommates and joined at the hip since first form at Charterhouse. Both are the latest and least able males that their famous families have ever produced." We then joined them on the court for the final match.

The school mate was even more awkward looking than Chasemoore, if that was possible. Chasemoore introduced the chum as 'his wingman' which made me chuckle. He thought I was amused by his command of American idiom, but I was actually struck by the inappropriateness of the term: these two were about the furthest thing from fighter pilots I could possibly imagine. I dropped my charity tennis mode and tried to get fired up to do my competitive best. I resolved to get in the best position I could and hit the best shot I could, every time. Chasemoore was one of those guys who ran his mouth continually as he played, alternating between declarations of his own soaring superiority and inevitable triumph, and functioning as his own play by play man and color commentator, loudly describing his incredible exploits for an imagined audience. I made two promises to myself: I would beat this asshole, and previous to that I would run him around so badly that he had no wind left to talk with.

My partner's play suddenly improved markedly, too. Belinda had a look of grim determination on her face, and was now a ball hawk at the net with no trace of timidity, and continued to play the baseline very well. Chasemoore's partner was an even match for Belinda, though, so it was up to me to best the Bozo. I was fully warmed up from all the previous matches and feeling fine, having tanked up on water and some nuts and granola mix just before the match. Chasemoore's spinning serve kicked wide almost every time, which previously would have given me trouble, but I found my new marathon trained legs and Suzanne and Lara molded gluts propelled me easily into position to have time to set my stance fully, get down low, and hit it back deep and true. I was at least a step and half faster to the ball than I had ever been in high school! His partner's serve had good velocity, but I found her very predictable, and began taking the opportunity to drive my returns deep and in such a way that Chasemoore had to really dig for them.

They had obviously played doubles together before, and had good communication and almost no positioning errors, but Belinda was playing almost error free, too, and if Chasemoore failed to get back in position just right I could send one where he was not and win 3 rallies out of 4. When Chasemoore served to Belinda he held serve, and when she served to him he hit some very strong returns, but otherwise we had the best of it. I took delight in noting that Chasemoore's announcing was becoming less frequent and his breathing more labored. When he began to complain loudly when his partner couldn't return one of our deep balls, I knew we had them. I must admit I took some pleasure in his discomfort. Belinda was grinning ear to ear. I was really enjoying my new legs and command of the situation.

I began to hear applause from the gallery, and thoroughly enjoyed that too. I looked up before my next serve and saw that Abelard was seated center court, and I suddenly noticed Peggy sitting next to him, her hair up in pigtails in a school girl outfit, smiling brightly, her lips highlighted by dark red lipstick. She looked incredible, and soon I noticed how tight these tennis whites were. When Belinda hit a winner right down the line, I heard two soaring cheers from the twins. In fact, almost everyone from the breakfast was in the stands watching and cheering. I suspected that more of them would be happy to see Chasemoore defeated than wanted to see me win, but it sounded good anyway. I would rather be playing with Lara, but other than that, this was the best I had every felt on a tennis court, and every hit was a bit of a high. I suppose the better you are at something the better it feels, and that explains why truly great players are so devastated when they can no longer compete – they are losing the chance to enter an altered state that they have enjoyed many times before and know they cannot achieve again.

Chasemoore was not talking at all now, just hustling for the ball and breathing hard between shots. I began to toy with him, extending how long it took to tend the match and prolonging my enjoyment. Belinda jogged my thinking "Finish him off before he gets a second wind, Robbie." Three more quick winners, and then the final shot tied Chasemoore in a knot while he tried to decide whether to run back to the baseline or try to stand and volley – and thus he missed it totally. His partner, Sidwell Selene Happer, known to most people simply as Sid, came directly to the net to shake hands and congratulate us, Chasemoore refused to. That made it even better. I tried kissing her hand, but the initial contact with her Suzie told me she was sending for Belinda and not me, and I watched her shake Belinda's hand very warmly indeed. Chasemoore's chum, Evan Rembrandt Happer, commiserated with him in the backcourt, pretty much ignoring his sister. I stood at the net, hand extended across it and looking right at Chasemoore, demonstrating I hoped my good sportsmanship and highlighting his lack thereof. He never even looked at me.