remember speaking with Brian out by the pool, but everything after that was a complete blur. She thought a moment about waking up without her panties on, and she couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Smiling, she shook those concerns from her head. She had no other memories of the previous night, but she was almost positive that nothing happened between Brian and her.
19
Jillian spent a little extra time getting ready before going down to the court. She pulled her hair back and wore the sexiest tennis outfit she owned. The skirt was super-short, and she thought it really showed off her legs. When she went out to the court, Brian was sitting on the bench, and he’d already worked up a pretty big sweat. Approaching him, she smiled. "I saw you hitting. You're really good."
"You think? You’d probably kill me out here."
"Want to hit?"
"Sure, but I’m a little tired from the ball machine and everything, so take it easy on me."
It didn't take long for the two to discover that they got along just as well on the court as they did off the court. They both favored a serve-and-volley game, and their skill levels matched up perfectly. Brian stole many glances at Jillian’s body in that short skirt. He watched her bending over to pick up balls and would stare as she walked away from him to the baseline. It was more than a little distracting. They played two sets, and unlike Jillian’s previous experience with Mike, the overly-hairy jerk, Brian was a perfectly good sport on the court. She thought he even called in a few of her shots that were clearly out, but they were close enough that she didn’t argue.
She won the first two sets six games to four. During one long point in the first game of the third set, Brian rushed to the net and hit a near-perfect passing shot. He grinned when he hit it, because he was sure it was a winner. She took off after it and reached it ten feet outside the court. Once there, she stretched then grunted, as she smashed a running topspin forehand toward the back corner. He watched it almost in slow motion as it arched high and looked like it would certainly go long. She had hit it perfectly and with so much topspin, however, that it dropped like a rock mere inches inside the corner.
Standing there with his mouth agape, he stared at the spot, unable to move. As he watched the ball slowly roll away, he said, "Fuck me."
In response, she whispered something under her breath that Brian couldn't hear.
He slowly turned his head to look directly at her as she stood in the perfect finish position, with her legs stretched far apart and her racquet held high. She grinned from ear to ear. He just smiled at her, and she shrugged her shoulders. Then she popped her legs together and headed to the baseline with a spring in her step, all the while maintaining eye contact with him.
"Was that you grunting just like Maria Sharapova?"
She looked a little embarrassed. "Was it that bad?"
"If it leads to shots like that, I say grunt away." He added jokingly, "I can’t compete with that. That was so my point." He simply clapped his hand against his racquet a few times, which is the proper tennis etiquette when your opponent hits a shot of that caliber. Retrieving the ball, he shook his head. "Sorry about dropping the F-bomb."
"Don’t worry. That was a freaking amazing shot. I never can hit on the run like that."
Brian won the third set six games to three and impressed her more than once with his game. Afterward, they sat on the bench, chatting about tennis and other topics. Twenty minutes was spent on the racquets they had played with over the years. She asked if he ever had any formal lessons. He told her he hadn’t and mentioned that his backhand was always the weakest part of his game. He asked if she had any advice for him, and she said she did.
After leading him back onto the court, she suggested that he adjust his grip by rotating the racquet slightly in his hand and added that she
19
Jillian spent a little extra time getting ready before going down to the court. She pulled her hair back and wore the sexiest tennis outfit she owned. The skirt was super-short, and she thought it really showed off her legs. When she went out to the court, Brian was sitting on the bench, and he’d already worked up a pretty big sweat. Approaching him, she smiled. "I saw you hitting. You're really good."
"You think? You’d probably kill me out here."
"Want to hit?"
"Sure, but I’m a little tired from the ball machine and everything, so take it easy on me."
It didn't take long for the two to discover that they got along just as well on the court as they did off the court. They both favored a serve-and-volley game, and their skill levels matched up perfectly. Brian stole many glances at Jillian’s body in that short skirt. He watched her bending over to pick up balls and would stare as she walked away from him to the baseline. It was more than a little distracting. They played two sets, and unlike Jillian’s previous experience with Mike, the overly-hairy jerk, Brian was a perfectly good sport on the court. She thought he even called in a few of her shots that were clearly out, but they were close enough that she didn’t argue.
She won the first two sets six games to four. During one long point in the first game of the third set, Brian rushed to the net and hit a near-perfect passing shot. He grinned when he hit it, because he was sure it was a winner. She took off after it and reached it ten feet outside the court. Once there, she stretched then grunted, as she smashed a running topspin forehand toward the back corner. He watched it almost in slow motion as it arched high and looked like it would certainly go long. She had hit it perfectly and with so much topspin, however, that it dropped like a rock mere inches inside the corner.
Standing there with his mouth agape, he stared at the spot, unable to move. As he watched the ball slowly roll away, he said, "Fuck me."
In response, she whispered something under her breath that Brian couldn't hear.
He slowly turned his head to look directly at her as she stood in the perfect finish position, with her legs stretched far apart and her racquet held high. She grinned from ear to ear. He just smiled at her, and she shrugged her shoulders. Then she popped her legs together and headed to the baseline with a spring in her step, all the while maintaining eye contact with him.
"Was that you grunting just like Maria Sharapova?"
She looked a little embarrassed. "Was it that bad?"
"If it leads to shots like that, I say grunt away." He added jokingly, "I can’t compete with that. That was so my point." He simply clapped his hand against his racquet a few times, which is the proper tennis etiquette when your opponent hits a shot of that caliber. Retrieving the ball, he shook his head. "Sorry about dropping the F-bomb."
"Don’t worry. That was a freaking amazing shot. I never can hit on the run like that."
Brian won the third set six games to three and impressed her more than once with his game. Afterward, they sat on the bench, chatting about tennis and other topics. Twenty minutes was spent on the racquets they had played with over the years. She asked if he ever had any formal lessons. He told her he hadn’t and mentioned that his backhand was always the weakest part of his game. He asked if she had any advice for him, and she said she did.
After leading him back onto the court, she suggested that he adjust his grip by rotating the racquet slightly in his hand and added that she
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