Freestyle Flirting: A Sweet Lesbian Romance Page 5

  “It’s our secret,” she said. “We can give it a try. But it’s locked in the vault, okay?”

  “Okay!” I radiated.

  “I do think you’re really cute,” Dasha admitted, looking over at me warmly. “As soon as we met, I was instantly attracted to you.”

  “Me too!” I said. “It was, like, uncontrollable. I was just drawn to you.”

  “No more fighting,” she said, holding a finger up. “If this is going to work out, we need a drama-free existence before and during Rio. Train hard, focus, do your reps, eat your plan, and don’t let anything we have get into the mix.”

  “I promise,” I said, crossing my finger over my heart. “Oh!” I growled joyfully. “So excited, Dasha!” I reached over and gripped her arm tightly, causing her to laugh.

  “Okay, okay,” she said. “I’m driving.”

  “Let’s do something!” I said. “I don’t want to head back to the dorms now. No way! I want to go out with you and do something fun.”

  “All right,” she said. “It’s still early. Let’s go downtown and wander around. Why not, right?”

  “Why not!” I agreed.

  I know that the whole thing kind of seemed like a transaction. It was a back and forth, a contract, a negotiation about whether or not this could actually work out. Dasha was a bit more frightened than I was, I guess that was just her nature. I was always excited for new beginnings, always ready to take fear by the throat and exert my dominance over life. I had a lost a little bit of that attitude with my parents, but there in the car with Dasha I could feel it coming back. It was a renewed sense of self, and seeing that Dasha could inspire that in me drew me even further into that familiar web of infatuation. If you get too close, you might get stuck. But I was happy to get stuck. I was ready.

  While our conversation shifted to the possibility of what we could do in downtown Ann Arbor to relax away the afternoon, my brain was fixed on Dasha, my eyes focused on her beautiful clear face. Her rosy lips bounced as she spoke, her little nose a scrunched button when she changed her expression, her visage animated and alluring and wonderful. Dasha was bright and lively, her countenance revealing a deep intellect. She was the kind of woman who was easy to fall for, as there was something casual and easygoing in her, yet also something profound and meaningful. I could read her experience of loss, because I had those same pages written inside me, and it was her complexity of character and earnestness that rounded out the mounting feelings I had for her.

  I wasn’t going to let anything spoil the possibilities that laid before me with Dasha. Not any bylaws of some swimming organization and certainly not Amber. When opportunity is presented to you, if you’re awake enough to see it, you’ve got reach out and grab it and never let it go. Love can be taken from you, taken by things that are completely out of your control. So it’s imperative that you gratefully accept what you do have… right now, right in this moment.

  As we drew nearer to Ann Arbor’s charming downtown, the amiable stretch of Main Street, Dasha and I caught eyes as we waited at a red light. The moment was fraught with possibility… like, this really is achievable. We exchanged happy yet coy smiles, eyes bright and flashing at one another, excited to have found one another by complete fortuitous chance. Was it love at first sight? Maybe. I mean, I didn’t know if I believed in that notion prior to meeting Dasha but since meeting her, yeah, it really could be just that.

  Our starry gaze was interrupted by a horn from behind us. The light had turned green and we were holding up traffic. Together we laughed as Dasha pressed her foot to the gas. What an amazing ride it was turning out to be.

  After some time wandering around downtown, Dasha and I settled at an outdoor bistro restaurant for an early dinner. I, of course, ordered a large dish, chicken parmesan, while Dasha stuck with lighter fare. We also sipped down some mocktails, as neither of us really drank alcohol, and relaxed into the approaching evening.

  The two of us were really getting to know each other. We shared swimming stories, we laughed, and we talked about how exciting the Olympics would be, but we tried to keep “work talk” out of the conversation as much as possible. It’s tough, though, when you’re basically on a date with your coach. I was determined to keep it light and breezy. I wanted to spend time with Dasha the woman, not Dasha the coach.

  Taking a sip from my drink, I looked over Dasha’s shoulder and spotted three of the guys from the team walking down Main Street and toward us. I felt my heart jump, as I was worried about what they might think of me and Dasha being out together, but there was really nothing I could do. They had spotted us and sauntered up to our table, separated from the sidewalk by a small barrier, exhibiting their usual cocky swagger.

  The boys all had a similar look. Tall, top heavy, lean, shaved heads, overconfident. This little crew of three was lead by Paul Drake. He was a previous Gold Medal winner. Like, many times over. You’ve seen him on TV commercials. He was a big deal. A nice guy when he wanted to be, extremely talented and aware of the fact, and a swimmer who got the bulk of the media attention on our team.

  “Hey Marie,” Paul said to me. “Coach Dasha. How are you ladies on this fine evening?”

  “Not bad,” said Dasha, smiling up to him like she had a secret. “I hope you boys are staying out of trouble.”

  “Always, Coach,” said Thomas, from just behind Paul.

  “Good,” affirmed Dasha, looking down to her salad as though she was implying that they should let us finish our meals.

  “Marie,” said Paul. “I heard about your fight. Is everything okay?”

  “You heard?” I moaned, rolling my eyes back in exasperation. “I guess word travels fast.”

  “Yeah, you can’t really keep secrets around the locker room,” said Anders, the third of the crew.

  “Right,” I said. “Well, yeah, everything’s okay. I’m just trying to avoid the drama.”

  “Nothing wrong with a little friendly competition,” said Paul. “Right, Coach?”

  “As long as it doesn’t escalate to something that could jeopardize the team,” said Dasha.

  “Oh, I agree,” said Paul. “I don’t condone actual fighting.”

  “Thanks Paul,” I said drolly. “I’m not really keen on talking about it anymore,” I continued. “And I’d really like to just forget it happened so I can focus on my job.”

  “Right,” he said, giving me a nod with his eyebrow raised. As long as I’d known Paul, he always tried to flirt with me even though he knew I was a lesbian. It got old. I’m sure he had heard that Amber and I ended up getting into it in the buff and I’m sure that little image was now etched deeply into Paul’s mind, a little unfortunate entry into his spank bank. I just had to forget about that notion and keep moving on.

  “We’re trying to finish up here,” said Dasha finally. “…If you don’t mind.”

  “Oh,” said Paul, suddenly realizing. “Yeah, sorry. But… it is surprising to see the two of you out together. We were just remarking that it’s a little strange to see Marie hanging out like this with her coach.”

  “It’s not strange,” countered Dasha. “I hang out with all my swimmers. Marie and I are just going over what happened today at the natatorium and trying to work through it.”

  “Cool, cool,” said Paul, giving a satisfied nod. “Just thought it was weird, is all.”

  “We’ll see you boys tomorrow,” I said, giving them an exaggerated smile and a wave.

  “Right,” said Paul. “Let’s go, guys.”

  We all said our goodbyes, Dasha and I relieved to get rid of the guys, wanting simply to spend some quality time together. She was all I could think of anyway. Sitting across that small outdoor table from me, her reddish-brown hair down from its usual ponytail, framing her face. Both of us were in fashionable athletic clothing, the kind that looks dressed down but expensive enough to also appear slightly dressed up. Even though the sun was beginning to set, it was still quite warm but our clothing helped mitigate the heat. And wo
men like us, submersed in the swimming world, we pretty much lived in this kind of gear.

  “You don’t think they really suspect anything?” asked Dasha, taking a nervous sip from her drink.

  “No way,” I said matter-of-factly. “Nice guys, but they’re total meatheads. They were just here to get a look at our bare legs.” This gave Dasha a laugh.

  “C’mon,” she said. “They know you’re not interested in them.”

  “Are you kidding?” I said. “Yeah, they know but that doesn’t mean they give a crap. They don’t exactly think with their brains all the time. They’re sport bros.” Again, Dasha laughed. When she laughed along with my jokes, it gave me a nice warm feeling inside.

  “You’re right,” she said, shaking her head as her laughter waned. “It was the same when I was swimming. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “They are nice guys. I like them. Really talented and often fun. But they’re still young guys who can’t get over the fact that they have a penis. You just have to accept it.” I grinned at Dasha and took one final sip of my drink. Shaking the remnant ice left in my glass, I set it down on the table. “I’m having a good time with you, Dasha.”

  “I’m having fun, too,” she said. “I’m happy we could do this. Drop the professionalism for a minute and just be ourselves.”

  “You’re a great coach,” I said. “But you’re a better friend.” I smiled adoringly. Even though I was trying to play it cool on the outside, on the inside I was buzzing with excitement.

  “Stop,” she said, almost blushing. Dasha looked away but I could still see the appreciation on her face.

  “How long as it been?” I asked carefully. “I mean, since you, you know, went out with somebody?”

  “Oh God,” Dasha exclaimed. “I don’t know. My last date was probably a year ago. I’ve been too focused on coaching lately so that I could get the job as coach for Rio.” She gave me an embarrassed smile.

  “That’s understandable,” I said. “I’m just as driven. It’s hard being a professional athlete. A lot of the rest of your life really suffers.”

  “And you don’t just go bang groupies like the boys,” said Dasha. The two of us laughed together.

  “They’ll grow up one day,” I said.

  “I’m not so sure,” mused Dasha. We laughed again. This time, unable to help myself, I slipped my foot between her feet and nudged my leg against hers under the table. I could see her expression change from amusement to surprise, and then melt back into comfort. I kept my leg there as we continued on.

  “I’m really sorry about the fight earlier,” I said, playing with my straw in my empty glass. “It was stupid. I should have just walked away.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, tilting her head to one side as she considered it. “My only regret is that I wasn’t there to see it.”

  “Hey!” I exclaimed, lightly kicking her under the table. She knocked her leg back into mine playfully. “Just because the two of us were naked that doesn’t mean there was anything sexual about it.”

  “If you say so,” intoned Dasha, a flame building in her dark eyes.

  “Jeez,” I said, feeling embarrassed now myself. “It’s starting to get dark,” I remarked absently, looking off into the encroaching night. “I guess I should get back to the dorms soon.”

  “You have your own room, right?” asked Dasha in almost a conspiratorial tone. “No one’s waiting for you?”

  “Yeah,” I said, dragging out the vowel, raising a brow at her.

  “Why don’t we just stay out a little longer?” she said, smiling. “I can show you my apartment. It’s an AirBnB I found. It’s really nice.”

  “Oh,” I said, looking over at her, slowing nodding. “I see.”

  “Nothing funny,” she said in a serious tone, holding a finger up at me.

  “Nothing funny,” I replied, mimicking her tone and expression. But I could feel that deep sense of longing within me, a rush of blood through my veins.

  Dasha turned the knob on her apartment and pushed the door open. She stepped in and I followed, getting out of the way so she could close the door behind us. It was a nice, quaint place, not too far from downtown, in a quiet part of Ann Arbor, an area I knew was home to a lot of U of M professors. I knew my way around this town as it had been my life for so long. I’d actually driven by her apartment in my youth about a million times.

  “I love this place,” said Dasha, tossing her bag onto the kitchen counter. “I drove here from Baltimore with just a couple of suitcases and a few other small bags. I settled right in. Fully furnished.”

  “It’s nice,” I said with a smile, looking around.

  “Would you like a sparkling water?” she asked as I moseyed deeper into the apartment, the living room lit only by a low light and the evening sky outside revealing the peppering of stars through her wide window.

  “Sure,” I said. I watched with interest as Dasha flung open her fridge door and dug around inside for a couple cans of sparkling water. Her fit butt wiggled underneath her thin sport shorts as she rifled about. I softly placed my hand over my heart to feel its increased velocity.

  I was in Dasha’s apartment. Evening was upon us, the door was closed. It was private. I was feeling eager.

  Dasha approached me with a smile and handed me a can. We opened our drinks together and as I took a sip, I felt the effervescence slide down my throat and cool me off. I grinned at Dasha.

  We ended up sitting together on her couch, she against the arm and me nestled into her with my feet up. Dasha absentmindedly played with my blonde hair as we talked, easing into the comfort of one another. Talking with Dasha, being next to her, it was like chilling out with an old friend. We just clicked. I couldn’t believe how hard I was crushing on her and I was even more excited that the feeling seemed to be reciprocated.

  After a bit of lighthearted talk, some more conversation about swimming and that part of our lives, we eventually meandered to our commonality of familial loss. I didn’t really open up to many people about it, mostly just my therapist, but with Dasha it was fluid and easy. I could feel she understood me.

  “It’s still hard,” I said, cradling my can of water between my hands. “I think about them every day.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” she said tenderly. “It’s not too hard on you being back home in Ann Arbor, is it?”

  “A little,” I admitted. “I haven’t yet gone by my old house. It’s just too painful.”

  “Well, if you want to go,” said Dasha. “I’ll take you there. We don’t have to stay long or anything. If you want to revisit that part of your life, I’ll help you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling back at her.

  Dasha leaned her head down, resting it against my own, the two of us sharing that gentle caring moment with a comfortable silence. She tucked a single finger into a tress of my hair and slowly twirled.

  With our eyes locked, faces soft, time seemed to stand still. I parted my lips just slightly and as I did this, I saw Dasha’s face move closer to mine until suddenly our lips met and we engaged in a delighted kiss. I had been waiting for this moment and I relished it, adoringly pressing my lips to hers and emitting a tender sigh. There was an immense joy bubbling within me and I swam in it, wanting so much to give myself over completely to my wonderful coach.

  Dasha planted a handful of sweet kisses on me and then pulled back, her lips curled up in a tight and amused smile as our eyes once again met. I couldn’t help myself and I giggled softly, unable to control the happy amusement.

  “That was nice,” I said softly. “I could do with more of that.”

  “We can’t let anybody know, okay?” she said, tilting her head, her eyes still peering into mine. We searched each other lovingly and found kindred spirits in one another.

  “Of course,” I said, craning my neck up, desirous for another kiss. Dasha obliged, our lips meeting once again, our arms wrapping around one another. I slit
hered around from my laying position there on the couch, trying for a better angle. The two of us ended up laid out next to each other, arms embracing, legs becoming intertwined, bare skin against bare skin, faces pressed together, heads resting on the pillow underneath. It felt magical.

  As we indolently made out, kissing slowly and passionately and adoringly, as though time didn’t really exist, I felt Dasha’s hands move down my back and slip underneath my sports skirt, her palms cradling my rear through the stretchy liner fabric underneath. She slid a lithe finger into the elastic leg hole of the liner and traced it downward, our lips continuing on wetly, causing my breathing to mount, my heart to thump, my eagerness to increase. I pressed myself harder up against her to convey how much I liked it. There was a light coating of sweat accumulating on my skin and I was itching to get out of my clothes.

  I try to be a proper girl. And by that I mean that I don’t give myself away too easily, I don’t just hop into bed with anyone. I don’t judge people for being a little more open with themselves, but that’s just not who I am. And it became even harder to be intimate with another woman after the death of my parents. But I was lonely. I was clamoring for attention, wanting so badly to feel good, and Dasha was just so perfect, so right. She was the kind of woman I wanted, the kind of woman my dreams always focused on. Hard working, successful, sporty, loving and true. She kind of reminded me of my own mother. But, you know, not in a weird way or anything.

  Before I knew it, the two of us had ended up in Dasha’s bedroom. She had been trying to keep it all unequivocal but she couldn’t hide her passions. She was just as interested in me as I was in her. Dasha laid on her bed, writhing into the sheets wearing only a pale pink pair of panties as I stood just off the bed, knees leaning against it, looking down at her with a lusty smile.

  “You’re so pretty, Dasha,” I cooed lightly, gazing down at her near-naked body. She was long, limber, pale, and I could see her chest rise and fall with her labored breathing.

  “Join me,” she beckoned, almost whining, slipping a hand up underneath her pillows and grabbing onto the bed tightly in anticipation.