When Winning Isn't Enough

Tonight Molly had come straight home from work very tired, skipping her usual aerobics time at the club. She was dumbfounded to see Linda asleep on the couch. She debated about waking her--she had to be sick if she'd skipped her running. She went to the kitchen to get things ready for dinner when she heard noises from the other room.

"Hi, Mom," Linda said, a big yawn stifling the end of her greeting.

"Honey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I guess. Just tired."

"You didn't run this evening?"

"Naw," she said, plopping down in one of the kitchen chairs. "I just felt, you know, tired."

Molly thought Linda had a dull and almost listless look to her face. It was very unusual from the always enthusiastic and energetic fifteen-year-old. She decided.

"I think we'll go to the doctor tomorrow if I can get an appointment."

That caused Linda to sit up straight.

"Mom! I don't need the doctor; I just need a nap."

"I think we need to get you tested for mono."

"I've heard of that somewhere. What is it?"

"Mononucleosis. It's a sickness you get that makes you feel very tired." She chuckled. "They call it the kissing disease."

"Kissing disease?"

"You can get it from kissing." She closed one eye and lowered her head, giving Linda her best "evil eye."

"Just from kissing?" Linda asked, curling her lip.

"Well, the other person has to have mono too."

"Oh," she answered. Reluctantly she agreed to see Dr. Highdecker if her mother could arrange it.

***

"I haven't seen you for a while, Linda, so congratulations on your state championship. It has to be a wonderful feeling to accomplish that." Dr. Madeline Highdecker, a very pretty redhead, smiled broadly at her patient.

"Yes, ma'am. I think I'm still tingling a little." Linda's smile matched the doctor's since she was determined to show she wasn't sick, even if she did have mono-whatever.

"So, what's going on?" the doctor asked, looking from Molly to Linda.

Linda wasn't about to volunteer anything and waited for her mother.

Molly looked at a silent Linda and shrugged, then launched into a description of the changes she'd seen in her, Dr. Highdecker nodding as she spoke.

"So you suspect mono?"

"I guess I'd like to confirm it or rule it out," Molly said.

"We can do the test," the doctor said, then turned to Linda. "May I touch you?" she asked.

Surprised at the question, Linda said, "Sure," as the doctor motioned for her to stand.

"Have you had a sore throat?"

"No."

"Just kind of tired?"

"But that's been better lately." She saw her mother frown. She knew it would be getting better. At least she hoped so.

"How many miles are you running?"

"Seven or eight miles a day."

"Or more," mom added.

The doctor smiled. "And probably all fast."

"Pretty much, yeah."

Dr. Highdecker began feeling Linda's neck and around her ears, then asked her to raise her arms. More examining, and then the doctor sat down.

"Well, we'll draw some blood and run the test, but I'll be surprised if you have mono. Your glands seem to be fine. I suspect all those fast miles have caught up with you, and those naps might be very helpful. But, I'll count on you guys to watch everything and bring her back if it doesn't improve or, heaven forbid, it gets worse."

After that, Linda worked hard not to let her mother find her napping, and she also worked hard to keep her mind and heart in her running and, by March and the official start of track practice, she was as intent on improving as she'd ever been. No more naps, careful entries in her log which were meeting her goals and expectations, and that exhilarating feeling she got from running hard and fast. And that feeling lasted after practice and through the evening, often still there when she awoke in the morning.

Disappointed but squarely facing reality, Jack understood that his time with Linda would be restricted and reduced. But he was already finding track season pleasantly different than cross-country season had been. In the autumn, he knew he had been an annoyance--she'd made that clear--but now, her obvious enjoyment just spending time with him told Jack things had changed. And she seemed to work hard to share bits of what was happening in her life with him. He was finding Linda more fascinating each day, and he was more than willing to be patient in order to spend time with her--and find what the future might hold for them.

Of course, Linda was wrapped up in the competition, savoring every race and the victory that went with each. She had noticed at the invitational meets that, as she warmed up, a lot of the other girls watched her, even to the point of staring. She talked to Coach Conrad about it, and his response was, "You're a celebrity now. Of course, they're gawking at you." She didn't feel like a celebrity, and she'd just as soon they didn't look at her. She just wanted to run...and win.

The winning was coming easily, and she'd won all her 1600- and 3200-meter races by wide margins and was running state meet times early in the season. She was also running anchor on the 4 x 800-meter relay, which was not turning state meet times, so she wouldn't have to worry about that. She had never felt so energized and invigorated, not just in her running but in her school work and the time with her parents. Even Jack was benefitting as she seemed to be working hard to find time to spend with him.

When May and state meet time rolled around, as predicted and expected, Linda rolled to easy victories in both races, missing the state record in both by a total of 1.83 seconds. Still, she was elated, and after getting her final medal, raced into the stands to share with her parents...and, of course, Jack. Big hugs from the parents and an awkward squeeze from Jack. Despite all the spectators sitting around them watching, she wasn't satisfied with that and wanted more, smiling and giving him a warm and very tight hug. If she was a celebrity, she could do what she wanted.

The state titles were a catalyst to make Linda work even harder in preparation for the new year. She tried to keep Coach Conrad's words in mind as she planned each day's activities. Remember, Linda, it's possible to work too hard and end up with an injury and not be able to run at all. You're good enough that you don't need to overwork yourself.

***

Linda's sophomore and junior years were near clones of her freshman year. She worked hard with her running and won state championships in cross country both years as well as the 1600 and 3200-meter titles both years. The only difference was in her sophomore when one of the other runners decided to work hard and greatly improved her 800-meter times and two girls, both excellent runners, moved into the Crawford district. With Linda anchoring the 4x800-meter relay team, she was able to add a state title in that event as well.

As Frank Turner had predicted, she gave Newt seven state titles, and with his sure-shot high jumper only managing a second place, that was more than he had achieved during all the previous years of coaching.

Those periods when she didn't feel like running, doubted her talent and ability, missed assignments, and took lots of secret naps, were still there and seemed to be more intense than in the past. Fortunately, those times seemed to coincide with summer of the time between seasons thus not affecting her racing.

The summer before her senior year was different than the ones before, her doldrums coming earlier than usual, and she struggled to maintain her running schedule. Also, she went to Jack's house more often where she could sneak naps and just sit around, staring and pondering what was wrong with her. Jack was concerned as this seemed to happen at least every year, and he encouraged her to talk with her parents and see a doctor--it didn't seem natural at all. He was already eighteen, but only a month older than her, yet he seemed so mature sometimes.

When her eighteenth birthday came, just two months after Jack's, he was relieved that she seemed better, although he couldn't be certain that she wasn't playacting for his benefit as well. He hoped that she trusted him enough that she wouldn't do that.

Her parents gave her a huge "Coming of Age" party, with about a hundred guests. Linda loved it and was looking forward to the rest of her life.

Cross-country season came, and she breezed through her meets, winning easily in every race. At the state meet, she led all the way and had a substantial lead as she approached the finish line when near-disaster struck. At ten meters from the finish line and at a full sprint, her right foot found a small unseen hole in the turf, and she crashed to the ground in agony. She struggled to stand and couldn't. Glancing back at the approaching group of runners, she began to crawl frantically toward the finish line, making it across about a meter ahead of second-place.

Two officials were helping her stand, awkwardly avoiding the horde of finishing runners. When she was clear of the finish chute, they were about to sit her down in order to examine her ankle when her parents and Jack were at her side. Sobbing, she threw her arms around Jack's neck, clinging to him, her head buried between his cheek and shoulder.

"Did I win?" he heard through her sobbing as she lifted her head and waited for his answer.

"Of course you did," he answered, smiling at her.

The sobbing continued, and Jack could see her dad on his knees, looking at her ankle. Two men with first aid kits arrived to take a look, but Linda wasn't about to release her hold on Jack.

"Let's sit down so they can take a look at your ankle," he whispered, and she reluctantly released her hold on his neck. He sat down, and her father and one of the first aid guys gently lowered her beside him. She was squeezing his hands so hard it nearly hurt.

The other man, in uniform, knelt in front of Linda, smiling at her.

Hi, I'm Bart Wilson, an EMT, and congratulations on winning that race. It was pretty amazing."

A sob-choked "Thank you" from Linda.

"May I check your ankle?"

A nod.

He pushed, twisted gently, asked if that hurt or this hurt, smiling all the time.

"Well," he finally said. "You've sprained your ankle for sure, but I don't think anything is broken. You need to get an X-ray to be sure, but I feel good about that. We can take you in the ambulance if you'd like, or your parents here can take you as well. Either way is fine."

Linda looked up at her father, and the look said all that was needed.

"We'll take her," Dad said.

"You can bring your car to the gate over there, and we'll open it so you can drive right up here," Bart said. Then he leaned in toward Linda and spoke softly. "If you can, you might want to wave and smile to the gallery you seem to have collected."

For the first time, Linda and the others noticed the large crowd that had gathered to watch. Jack helped her stand, and she wiped her eyes. The smile was forced, but the words were vintage Linda.

"Thank you all for being concerned," she said. "But it's harder than this to get rid of me. I'll see most of you at the state track meet."

The smile that followed the applause and cheers was much more genuine.

***

The X-rays were negative, Linda being reluctant to let loose of Jack to allow them to be taken. Ice, ibuprofen, Ace bandage, and crutches were the recommended treatments, as well as elevation of the ankle above heart level. Jack stayed with her, reassuring her she'd be fine in a short while but cautioning her not to be "Linda" until it was time. Running too soon would only prolong her recovery.

"You have to promise to be good about this," he cautioned.

"About this?" she said, smiling.

"About running."

"Oh, that," she said coyly, winking at him.

This was a side of Linda that was a bit unfamiliar, but Jack was already anxious to see where it might lead. The way she'd hung onto him when she'd been injured had gotten his heart pounding, barely dampened by his concern about her injury. She had gotten better-looking each year, and he sometimes wondered why she stayed with him. The way she looked at him, though, helped dispel that wondering.

Jack spent the evening alternately icing and then wrapping her ankle, enjoying every touch of her leg. A final wrap as her parents came into the family room, a subtle suggestion that the evening was over. Jack offered to help them get Linda upstairs to her room--he'd enjoy seeing her bedroom. He caught Linda's wide-eyed look but was assured by Wendel and Molly that they could handle it. Linda did grab his hand and gave him a warm and juicy kiss--right in front of her parents. Still, she was eighteen now and a celebrity at that.

"Good night, babe," she said, the first time she'd called him that. "See you tomorrow."

"Good night to you too, and Mr. and Mrs. Baker. Anxious to see the pictures in the paper tomorrow...of you crawling over the finish line."

"Guh. You'll make me cry again," she laughed as Jack headed to the front door.

At ten in the morning, his cell phone rang.

"You coming over?" she asked.

"I can," Jack replied.

"Mom and Dad are gone till three o'clock," she said, her voice much softer and a little suggestive, he decided. "I told them you'd be here to ice and wrap my ankle. So, you'd better hurry."

"Be right there."

Ten minutes later, he knocked and went in. Linda was propped up in the corner of the couch, her foot on a fat pillow.

"Help me stand up."

"You need to keep your foot elevated."

"Just do what I say," she said, a very suggestive grin on her face.

Jack cocked his head and squinted at her. He'd never seen that look on her face before but found it very compelling. He watched as she held out her arms, ready to stand.

She swung her left foot off the couch and to the floor as Jack took hold of her shoulders and helped her stand. Instantly, her mouth was against his, her lips seemingly about to devour him, and he felt her tongue probing, then touch his tongue. She moaned, and he nearly went crazy at the sound. Caught up in the moment and thinking only of the feel of her mouth against his, he lost his balance, and they crashed to the floor, Linda landing on top of him.

"Are you okay?" he gasped, breaking the lip-lock for a second.

"Getting there," she replied, kissing him feverishly once more.

When they were finally parted, Jack pulled his head back, savoring the aroused look he was getting from Linda.

"Are you surprised?" she panted to him.

"Yes, and surprise me more if you'd like," he said, wondering if she could feel his growing erection against her belly.

"Okay," she said, "but you have to surprise me too."

A puzzled look from Jack.

"The season is over, really over, and ..." Her lips found his again, tongues once more dancing together.

"Are you sure?" he asked, their lips still together.

"What more do I have to do to convince you?"

Jack's brain was working to process what she'd said and was saying. It seemed clear, but it was unlike anything he'd ever heard her say. Subconsciously, he knew he wanted to hear it and had for some time. It was almost too good to be true.

"Okay," she said, smiling at his inaction but realizing what was happening was a total surprise to him. "Last track season, at that big girl's invitational, some of us had to use the boy's locker room. There was a sign on the wall that said, 'An athlete should have no sexual satisfaction during his season.' My season is over."

A slow smile crept over Jack's face. "We can only do so much," he said, "because ..." He paused.

"I know. We could check Mom and Dad's room, but I'm sure she's either on the pill or has an IUD. We can get almost there, though, don't you think?"

Jack's heart was pounding, and he could barely breathe, but she'd said everything that needed to be said. He carefully rolled her off his chest, grabbed the pillow from the couch, and put it under her foot. As he unbuttoned her blouse, the heaving of her chest matched his own. He had seen her run in her sports bra but seeing the tan lines it left had him chewing his lower lip. He bent and began kissing her belly, allowing his tongue to probe her navel. As she groaned and reacted to his kisses, the muscles beneath his kisses were rock-hard. More kissing and licking, and she took hold of his shoulder, sat up, and let the blouse drop off her arms. She reached back and unclasped her bra, then lay back down, her eyes never leaving his.

He eyed the bra, relishing his view of the lacy white fabric and imagining what lay beneath it. She had unfastened it, so there was no reason not to do more than imagine. He lifted the bra and slid it down her arms, tossing it aside as her breasts came into view, the nipples standing high and ready for attention.

"Linda, you're gorgeous," he said as his eyes darted from one to the other.

"How gorgeous?" she asked breathily.

"Just ... just ..."

"Show me."

Not able to decide, his hand went to one and his mouth to the other as she arched her back against his touch. Squeezing and kissing, then gently pinching one nipple as his lips pulled on the other, he was as close to heaven as he could imagine. Through his erotic haze, he heard her voice.

"Jack, stand up," she ordered.

Not about to deny any of her wishes, even those he didn't understand, he released her breasts and stood.

"Take your clothes off." Another order that he loved.

He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. His shoes and socks were next, followed quickly by his Levi's. He watched the smile form on her face as she gazed longingly at his boxers and the rather large tent that had formed in front.

He looked down at her shorts.

"Go ahead," she said softly. "I can wait, but not very long."

Jack knelt and carefully unbuttoned her shorts, slid the zipper down, and paused, looking at Linda. He closed his eyes and then opened them slowly.

"You can't imagine how many times I dreamed of doing this," he said.

"No more than I have," she countered and watched as he slid the shorts down her legs, then tenderly slipped them off over her injured foot and off the other leg as well.

The pink panties that he revealed were inviting, and his fingers slipped inside the tiny waistband, and he began pulling them down as she lifted her hips to help. Again careful of her sore ankle, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She was naked.

"Now you," she said anxiously.

Jack stood, carefully moved the waistband of his boxes over his erection, and let them fall to the floor, kicking them aside.

"Oh my gosh!" Linda exclaimed. "I knew, but I didn't know...that." She sat up so that her face was nearly touching his erection. Deliberately, her hand moved, and she closed it around him. She loved the groan that brought. "This is so different," she said, "a little out of my comfort zone." That didn't keep her from stroking the hot and very hard part of him she was holding.

"Oh, shit," he groaned, which brought another pair of strokes.

He looked at her, eyes wide, as he gasped for breath. When she rubbed the head against her cheek, he thought he might collapse.

Over the last three years, Jack had been there for her every time she needed something, and she had never been able to show how much she treasured that. Watching his reactions now, she thought she could let him know how she felt about him. She rubbed the head on her other cheek, then back to the first and then the second, this time letting it slide across her lips.

"I'm dying here, Linda," he gasped one more time as the head stopped against her lips.

"Should I stop?"

"I'd die for sure then."

"How about this, then?" she asked, touching the head with her tongue.

"Yes, yes," came the quick reply.

She'd talked with other girls and overheard stuff, so she wasn't totally in the dark but was still exploring and using her imagination. Her tongue circled the head once, then once more, and finally a third time. She took hold of his erection at the base and could feel it throbbing with every beat of his heart as she slid her lips over the head until it was entirely in her mouth. She had never imagined how she would feel when she did that, realizing now that her nether regions had to be dripping, she was so turned on.