The Prodigal
Ten
THE INVITATION to Party with the Pros said ‘dress to impress.’ Lissa and I were back in our black attire as we entered The Pourhouse at ten p.m. The party was already in full swing. We weren’t slated to play Sunday until ten and eleven in the morning. We figured if we didn’t drink and left at midnight, we’d be in fine shape. It was still going to be a killer on me, though, to leave my singles match and walk right onto the court for doubles. But I wasn’t stressing out over the matches. All I was interested in was starting a new legend of the Ice Queen.
We started it on the dance floor. It was like going into a zone on the racquetball court. The music was right, my moves were right, my date was perfect. They played some jazzy swing music that seemed to match my heartbeat. Lissa moved, I was there to catch her, match her, and hold her. She spun away, her hand found mine to stop her momentum and bring her back. I moved toward her, she was in perfect synch, coming to me or bending back. We’d never been more connected.
And we just couldn’t stop.
The DJ kept the music flowing, sometimes moving to a bit slower beat and sometimes picking it up a little, but never being abrupt in his choices. There were a lot of people on the dance floor when we started. I was so lost in Lissa that I didn’t noticed the crowd thin. We weren’t being overtly sexual—not exactly—but we were both getting turned on. Every turn ended with our eyes locking back onto each other. It was like playing contact cutthroat. We were always in touch.
It fell apart when Lissa glanced away. I followed her eyes and saw that we were the only ones on the dance floor. We snapped back together, but our focus was broken. I just stopped cold with Lissa in my arms and kissed her, right there in the middle of the floor. Before our lips parted, I could hear the applause.
“And that, folks, was Open Mixed Doubles Champions Lissa Grant and Tony Ames. Tonight, they’re our Open Dance Champions,” the DJ said smoothly over the transition to an upbeat dubstep tune. Lissa and I stumbled off the dance floor. “Let’s get everybody back on the boards and get that couple a drink—maybe a fire hose,” the DJ continued.
My Team USA teammates were waiting for us as we headed toward the bar. Hannah and Randy handed us bottles of water. Joel, Eric, and Karla were all reaching out to touch us and congratulate us.
“And so ends the legend of the Ice Queen,” Randy said. “You two were seriously hot out there.”
“How long were people watching us?” I asked.
“All night,” Hannah said, “but they left you alone to dance for about fifteen minutes. It was beautiful.”
We all drank our water and decided it was late enough. We should get some sleep before the final matches tomorrow.
Sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. I barely had Lissa inside our room before I was stripping her dress from her perfect body. I kissed her while she started the shower. My shirt, jacket, and shoes were lying just inside the door with her dress. I got my last sock off before we were actually in the shower.
The water did nothing to dampen our fire. We joined together with me pinning Lissa against the wall, sliding in and out of her hot core. Lissa came immediately, wrapping one leg around my waist as I plunged into her. Only the physical exertion of holding her weight and doing most of the work kept me from coming just as fast.
We stepped out of the shower and didn’t bother to dry off, but dove into the middle of the bed on top of the spread. Lissa rolled me onto my back and mounted me again, rocking back and forth until I was past the point of no return. We slumped against each other while I held Lissa on top of me, still unable to convince my hips to slow down.
Making love with Lissa has always been a slow and gentle. We just mesh together, usually in the morning. But we’d been having foreplay on the dance floor for two hours and there was nothing slow and gentle about this coupling. It was raw and passionate, a side of Lissa I seldom saw, though I suspected Melody encountered it more frequently.
Lissa rolled off me and sucked me into her mouth, making sure my erection didn’t flag.
“The lube, lover,” she gasped. “I want you in my bottom.”
We always kept lube with us by the bed. Sometimes I would wake up to a gentle stroking hand job. Sometimes we would use a touch if I was held between her breasts. And once in a great while, Lissa would want more anal contact than just my finger playing with her. It didn’t take long before Lissa was on her back with legs pulled toward her shoulders as I slid slowly into her, pausing as she panted for breath and relaxed her muscles to allow me easier access.
“Thank you. Thank you. Oh, Tony, I love you.”
“I love you, Lissa. It feels so different this way. Is it okay?”
“You are the only man—the only person—I’ve ever given my ass to. Oh, Tony, it’s so special that this is something that I only ever share with you. You are my love. You possess me. I would die without you.”
I was overwhelmed with her emotion as much as with her muscles working on me. I let go and filled her. She wept as she came with me.
“I think we need that shower now, love.”
We didn’t sleep much. We lay in bed whispering. I couldn’t get over the passion my lover showed. Her hands never stopped moving across my body—no more than my hands on her. Our sentences were punctuated with kisses. I couldn’t get enough of the perfect, beautiful, former ice queen in my arms. I tasted her lips, her breasts, her pussy. We slowed down, feasting on each other like late-night dessert rather than a starving man’s first meal. I worshiped her clit with my tongue as my fingers found new places to explore deep in her vagina. I listened to her orgasms change from animal howls to tiny whimpers.
Even after we’d dozed off, I was awakened by her mouth on my mysteriously re-hardened cock. I thought I was too drained to come again, but Lissa convinced me otherwise as she drank from my fountain. We woke in the morning in a familiar position and once again moved together as I entered her from behind, gently squeezing her nipples and stealing sideways kisses over her shoulder.
When we finally stumbled into the shower, it was almost nine o’clock and my final singles match was at ten. We rushed through a cup of coffee and breakfast sandwich on the way to Target Center. I didn’t even stop at the locker room, but shoved my bag under the bench where Lissa sat to watch my match. I noticed that she was walking a little slowly and sat gingerly.
“Are you all right, love?” I asked.
“A little tender is all. I’ll be fine by the time we play.”
My final match was against an underdog who had defeated the second seed in the first round and made it all the way to finals. It took a while before I found a groove and that left me down a game. Lissa kissed me between games and simply said, “I love you. I just adore you.” No shouted “focus” or other words of encouragement, but that was all I needed. She adores me. I pounced on the guy’s first serve and it was a different game after that. He got some good points in, but I grabbed the game 15/7. My match was going to run more than an hour, but Lissa assured me that we’d still be okay for our doubles final as it was to be played on the same court. I said a silent prayer of thanks to the organizers and went in to face my last singles game in the glass box.
I took a deep breath before my first serve and let the walls disappear. I depended on my visualized scuff mark, and it came when I summoned it. My first serve would be a foot to the right and a foot above the mark that in reality only existed on court two back home. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure my opponent was ready and served. Eight straight aces later, I went side out. He picked up two points and I was back in the driver’s seat. Seven serves later, I was the new Men’s Elite Champion.
Jorge and Jessica were with Lissa to congratulate me when I came off the court. I was drenched in sweat while the three of them were fresh and ready. The court officials gave me time to run to the bathroom before our first Mixed Doubles game while the other three warmed up with each other on the court. I took the opportunity to splash some water on me, dry off and put on a clean T-shirt. I felt better when I opened the court door and joined my teammate and our opponents.
It was a rematch from last year’s Opens. The difference was that now we all knew and really liked each other. This was more like playing against friends back home. We laughed and joked with each other, then settled in to play racquetball.
I was dragging a little and had a tough time getting in sync with Lissa. She was obviously sore from our vigorous love-making and I was tired from already playing three games. Jorge and Jessica, on the other hand, were fresh and had been looking forward to this match through the entire tournament. We scraped together a few points, but they controlled the game. We stepped off the court for our break and I went to my bag to grab my player.
“I don’t know, Tony,” Lissa said. “We might have overdone it last night. Jorge and Jessica are playing at the top of their game and we aren’t close.”
“Here. Listen to this,” I said. We’d connected while dancing last night. I was sure we could do it again. I played a swing tune and we started nodding our heads in time with the beat. Jorge and Jessica might be expecting salsa, but we were going to dance to our own music.
It was a different game when we went back on the court. Lissa and I had the first serve and even as I stood in the safety box on the side of the court while she bounced the ball and glanced at our opponents, I could feel the beat and see exactly where the ball would be when Jorge returned it. I was there.
We seesawed back and forth most of the game, gaining a couple of points then losing a couple. In the end, though, we were up by four and the match was tied at one game each. Far from being disappointed, Jessica and Jorge were grinning as they approached us between games.
“We love you,” Jessica started. “We never have so much fun as when we are playing against you.”
“We were worried in the first game,” Jorge added. “That was difficult to come from playing one match right to another when the rest of us were fresh. I am happy you recovered.”
“You danced to your own music in that last game,” Jessica said. “Please, will you dance with us in this last game? Like last year.”
Lissa and I grinned as the officials announce the last game. I thumbed my player over to our favorite salsa tune and pulled the headset out of the jack so we could all listen to the tinny sound from the little speaker. “Besame. Besame mucho,” Jorge and I sang to our partners along with the recording.
“Will the players please take the court?” the official announced over the loudspeaker. We were still singing as Jessica lined up for the first serve.
If the spectators were expecting to see sex on the court, they were disappointed—but not by much. We played hard, all of us playing to each other as much as against each other. There was a lot of contact, but it wasn’t rough. I’m sure we made quite a scene. Both Jorge and I were dressed in Ice Queen Knights black. Lissa was in her trademark green, and Jessica wore our newest purple outfit. Sometimes it was difficult to tell which team was which. We stayed out of each other’s way when swinging and practically cuddled together when waiting. We did a samba line between serves once, much to the laughter and enjoyment of the fans. This wasn’t just a sport, it was entertainment.
None of us paid attention to the score and when the official announced, “Game! Rodriguez and Rodriguez over Grant and Ames, 11/9,” none of us realized the game was over. I kissed Lissa and turned to find Jessica waiting for an equally passionate kiss as Jorge and Liss meshed lips. Jorge and I pulled each other into a hug as Jessica and Lissa shared yet another kiss.
We stayed for the rest of the day. The guys at the Raquethon booth had put up a new, hastily lettered sign that said, “Home of Ice Queen Sportswear, the hottest name on the court!” They were doing a rapid business and took our last two cases of outfits. Randy and Hannah wore their Team USA uniforms by Ice Queen, even though neither of them won their final match. It was becoming an Opens tradition to watch Randy go up against Len Lauerman and Hannah try once again to defeat the incredible Portia Lupino. This was the third year in a row that the four had been matched up with the same results.
As soon as the last match was over, Lissa and I caught a cab for the airport. Our special time together was at an end.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
