The Prodigal
Twenty-seven
“THAT WASN’T EXACTLY COMPETITION RULES,” Lissa complained over breakfast. “Melody, we have to get Tony on edge and keep him humming through the competition, not exhaust him at four a.m.”
“Oh, it was closer to five by the time I was exhausted, love,” I laughed. “Besides, I don’t compete until Thursday. It’s only Tuesday morning. Let’s not start too soon.”
“And Tony’s coming into this with two consecutive championships,” Melody added. “You didn’t just tease at Opens.”
“All that’s true,” Lissa said laughing. She tried to put her coach face on and get serious. “Let’s not forget that Brian is coming in with two consecutive championships, too. He won last year’s Nationals and took the Open division when Tony played in Elite. The odds-makers would say he’d played tougher competitions and is the favorite. Remember, as defending champion, he’s the number one seed. Tony is number two.”
“Darlings, I’ve trained hard for this and I’m anxious to meet Brian. But nothing in the world is more important than you. I would give up the tournament to make love to you one more time.”
“Well… I suppose we don’t have to start the regimen until the competition starts tomorrow,” Lissa smiled. “But after midnight tonight, you get teased only. It’s a matter of family pride.”
“And, oh boy, are we going to tease you!”
“Tony, calm down,” Lissa whispered.
“Where is he?”
“He might not even be here yet,” Lissa said. “He doesn’t play till Thursday either.”
“I’ve only even seen him play once. I at least want to see him before I meet him on the court.”
We were at the player’s banquet on Tuesday night. There were close to 700 of us gathered at the conference facility. We’d spent the day getting our credentials, finding a warmup court, meeting other players, and having a meeting with the reps from Raquethon.
The Raquethon guys wanted to take us out to dinner. We passed so I could attend the opening dinner for all players. Even though sponsors aren’t supposed to play favorites, there was no question they were cheering for me. I was the on-court representative of Ice Queen Racquet Wear by Raquethon. I was a good representative. I should pay more attention to what I wore. I had my team USA warm-ups, though.
There was a speaker at the dinner and presentations of the various officials. There was a mandatory statement of rules and the reading of the brackets—not every player, but the name of the bracket, the number of players, the time of the first round, and where the pairings were posted. I’d already looked at the pairings and confirmed that Brian Summers was the first name on the bracket as top seed and I was the last name on the bracket as second seed. If we both won all our matches, we’d meet in the finals. First, I had to beat three other opponents. Well, that’s what I’d been training for.
Melody and Lissa were gently loving when we returned to our room. It was already eleven o’clock and they wasted no time getting me naked and each taking a turn with me before I let loose the last load that I’d be allowed until after the tournament. I was already on edge.
Wednesday went quickly and I watched the match that would yield my first opponent. The guy was good, but he was tall and slow to respond to his backhand.
They had twenty-four courts plus portables they set up outside for the three-wall challenge and the Lucite cube for the big matches, including the separate pro tournament. No matter what the name says it is, it’s the pro tournament that pays the bill. The only amateur contests played in the Lucite cube were the Elite finals.
By Thursday, I was so keyed up I could hardly think. I still hadn’t seen Summers and was beginning to think the guy was a figment of my imagination. Our matches were at the same time on Thursday afternoon, so after I finished dispatching my first opponent I rushed to his court. His game was already over and the result was posted. I’d allowed my opponent to score. Not so, Brian. I looked around, but the dude was gone.
I headed in for a shower, but took a detour and put in a couple miles on a treadmill before I finally hit the locker room. I was surprised to find Randy waiting near my locker.
“You’ve got too much steam built up,” he said. “You need to let some off before you explode. Get dressed, get your coach, and let’s head out for dinner.”
Dinner with Team USA was just what I needed. The three men and two women were all competing in the Pro division for the national championship. Melody sat on one side of me and Lissa on the other.
“What’s he drinking?” Hannah asked. “Whatever it is, make sure my husband gets some. How many ladies do you have, Tony?”
“All of them I need, believe me,” I laughed. “And not one too many,” I hastily added as both Lissa and Melody elbowed me.
“So, here’s the thing, Tony,” Randy said. “Summers is playing you. I don’t mean in the last match; I mean you’re being played. He’s staying out of sight and destroying opponents that don’t know what they came up against. He’s trying to psyche you out. He wants to be the man of mystery that you never see. But believe me he’s watching you.”
“How’s he managing that? Our matches weren’t long enough.”
“He skunked that guy twice in thirty minutes. I don’t think the guy returned one serve. I’ll forward it to you. You only need to watch a couple minutes and you’ll see everything you need to,” Randy said. “The thing is that you’ve got to relax. You’re acting like any player could prevent you from facing Summers. Don’t compete with him before you have to. Just knock off each opponent as he comes.”
“That’s good advice, Tony,” Lissa confirmed. “I half considered breaking training to calm you down.”
There were raised eyebrows all around the table and I know I blushed if the heat in my face was any indication.
“Do you make him… you know… be celibate during competition?” Claudia asked. She was blushing, too. We all nodded our heads.
“It keeps him on edge and it gives him something to focus on between matches,” Lissa said.
“We tease him unmercifully,” Melody added.
“I want in on that,” Hannah laughed.
“It’s okay. You don’t need to do anything extra,” I mumbled.
“Extra?” Hannah asked.
“Um… I mean…”
“He means he’s already hot for you.” Hannah blushed, too.
“Now about the World Games,” Randy said. “Coach Elliot has already sent your entry in. So, you’re coming to Colombia, right?”
“Gosh. I hadn’t even thought about competing this summer. It’s a busy summer. I’ve got classes starting in three weeks.”
“You do?” Melody asked.
“Yeah. My advisors want me to take two classes this summer to finish my requirements. They’re all online, though.”
“When were you planning to tell us that?” Lissa demanded.
“It just never came up.”
“World Games,” Hannah reminded me.
“Well, if I can get free.”
“Racquetball is on the first three days of the Games. July twenty-five, twenty-six, and twenty-seven. Team USA needs you, Tony.”
The team dinner Thursday night calmed me down in spite of Melody, Lissa, and now Hannah upping the teasing. I was relaxed and focused when I stepped onto the court Friday for the quarter-finals. I won fifteen-seven and fifteen-five. When I stepped off the court, I headed straight for the showers. I didn’t bother even trying to find out if Brian had won. I knew he had and I didn’t need to see the scores. I was only here to play racquetball, not mind-games.
I’d reviewed the video Randy sent me. I saw one thing right off the bat. Brian Summers was as anxious to meet me as I was to meet him. It was time for me to relax and let him sweat.
“Movie,” I said to Melody and Lissa when I got out of the showers. “I don’t care what. Let’s just go see a movie.”
We saw a silly animated kids’ show and laughed ourselves senseless. We grabbed burgers on the way back to our room for dinner and I got Lissa and Melody into some lurid poses that I sketched. I was hard when we went to bed and still hard when I woke in the morning with my cock being squeezed between Lissa’s nether cheeks. When I didn’t think I could take it any longer I dashed into a cold shower.
I played with my opponent in the semi-finals. I slowed the game down so far that I almost got called for a delay for not getting my serve off in seven seconds. I served a lot of long lobs that he had difficulty returning because he wasn’t good off the back wall. Our match took just under an hour. I was sure that Brian—playing on the next court—had finished long before we did. I took an hour in the locker room with a long soak before I dressed. We had dinner and when we got back to the room, I simply passed out on the bed and slept till morning.
Sunday dawned clear and bright with a warm, wet mouth sucking on my cock and a tongue licking my nipples.
“All right! I’m up!” I shouted. “Stop! Stop, please!”
Melody and Lissa rolled away from me laughing.
“Go get your shower,” Lissa said.
“Isn’t anyone joining me?”
“No. We want you thinking about what your two lovers are doing in bed while you are getting ready for competition,” Melody giggled. With that, they rolled together to give me a sneak preview. I groaned and headed for the bathroom. Most of my shower was cold.
When I came out of the bathroom, room service had already delivered breakfast. I had a fruit bowl, poached eggs, toast, and a couple slices of ham. Good protein and carbs with minimal fat. I was ready to face the day.
We headed to the club at ten. There were finals in several divisions, some played on the glass court and some on the regular courts. Someone with a sense of humor scheduled my showdown with Brian at high noon. The glass court was set up in the gym so there was room for a few hundred spectators on the portable bleachers arranged in a huge u-shape around the cage. As usual, a few seats were saved in the front row for Brian’s team and mine. Team USA was occupying the second row on my side. I didn’t recognize anyone seated in Brian’s section.
My first meeting with him was on the court. The announcer gave our names and we entered the cage.
“I’ve been looking forward to this for two years,” Brian said. He had a grin a mile wide as he faced me. I couldn’t help but catch his infectious good humor.
“I couldn’t believe I missed the opportunity last year,” I laughed. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
“This is my last match before I turn pro,” Brian said. “I want it to be the best match ever.” He extended his racquet and I touched it with mine. We were like two fencers ready to cross swords.
“Then let’s play racquetball,” I said.
As defending champion, Brian called and won the toss. He took the first serve. It was short and sweet. I returned to the left corner and the ball died when it hit. Brian nodded and surrendered the serve to me. I tested him with a skimmer along the right wall. He sent it back along the same trajectory and I hit the wall with my racquet throwing my return to the ground. That set the pattern. For the first fifteen minutes we exchanged serves with no score. The glass had disappeared for me. I was completely unaware of the crowd watching the match and only barely heard the ref calling side out. Everything was drawing in on me. Focus was everything. I lined up for the serve and just as I hit the ball the court lit up in my mind. My racquet became a giant paintbrush and the ball was my paint. I scored first and the battle was on.
It was the longest championship match recorded in Nationals history at a little over three-and-a-half hours. The only time I’d been so perfectly matched with an opponent was when I was playing Lissa. I could see every move Brian was going to make before he twitched. I knew exactly where every ball would land. The thing is that Brian could see it, too. We went back and forth, changed things up, altered our strategies, and still read each other instantly. Between games, Lissa gave me water and a protein drink. Then we were back at it. I was never so glad that I had undertaken the marathon training sessions and could endure the punishment Brian was dishing out. I knew that as I painted the court, I was humming, sometimes singing out loud. It didn’t seem to be a problem as Brian was as vocal as I was. Lissa and I had danced with Jorge and Jessica on the court. Brian and I sang a duet.
Of course, if you were watching the game you wouldn’t have heard the music. It was a chorus of grunts, moans, and even shouts. But to me, it was point-counterpoint.
Like painting with a palette-knife, I could see the image appearing through the layers of color. It was bold, exciting, and as beautiful as anything I’d ever put on canvas. It crescendoed as I saw the last strokes taking shape on my imaginary canvas. One more stroke and my masterpiece would be finished.
In a flash, I saw my perfect racquetball masterpiece ruined by a green streak that came from nowhere like dripped paint on a canvas.
“Game to Summers, eleven-ten,” the announcer droned over the speaker. “Match to Summers, our new National champion.” I stood there, stunned. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to look my opponent in the eyes. He looked as stunned as I felt.
“I don’t know where that came from,” Brian said. “I thought it was gone.” I shook my head and started to laugh.
“Hey. You just won the national championship,” I laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a photograph. Congratulations!” We shook hands and left the court, each of us mobbed by friends, family, and fans.
“God have mercy if I ever have to step onto the court with either of you,” Randy said as he shook my hand. “And don’t think this lets you off the hook for World Games. I’ll see you in Cali.”
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