Freestyle Flirting: A Sweet Lesbian Romance Page 6

  “Kay,” I affirmed shortly. It was warm with an lazy summer heat in Dasha’s bedroom, a subtle wind working itself in through the open window. I felt a little bashful, as you often do when you’re about to disrobe for the first time in front of someone new. I mean, I’d been naked in the locker room more times than I could count and I wouldn’t have been surprised if Dasha had already seen me in various states of undress. But never before in the kind of sexual context that we had then found ourselves in.

  I first yanked my shirt up over my head and let it fall, all while Dasha looked on with bedroom eyes. Then I unclasped my bra and let it slide down my arms and off, dropping down next to my shirt. And my skirt, the last piece. I threaded my fingers into the waistband and pushed it down over my hips, the built-in liner underneath coming along with it as I pulled it down my legs and off my bare feet, standing there now totally naked. I blushed.

  “Are you looking at me?” I said coyly, letting a hand move down between my hand to abashedly block my fur from view.

  “Of course,” said Dasha. “Get down here,” she said, patting the bed next to her.

  Obeying her command, I crawled onto bed and collapsed down into her. We instantly returned to our embrace, our kissing, our frolicking. I indulged in her amorous touch, feeling Dasha’s hands smoothly run over my flesh. She coursed her hand down my back and under one of my cheeks, grabbing my rear in her palm and giving me an ardent squeeze. I giggled softly into her lips.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” moaned Dasha tenderly between kisses. “We could get in trouble.”

  “Doesn’t that make it all the more exciting?” I said, laughing happily.

  “Mm hmm,” intoned Dasha, our lips pressed tightly. Our chests coalesced, the humidity between us growing, my own arousal mounting as I felt closer and closer to Dasha. No longer was I embarrassed to be naked next to her. I never really was. Just those first time jitters. Now I was hungry for more. I widened my legs and rolled on top of her, burying my face into her neck to taste her salty skin.

  Synced up with my movements, Dasha slipped her hand between my legs and cupped me, beginning to massage my mound back and forth with her palm. This really got me going, causing me to moan against her neck, giggle, purr, kiss some more. I could feel my own wetness transferring over to Dasha’s hand and it gave me goosebumps.

  “I like you,” whispered Dasha into my ear, simultaneously parting me with her fingers and tenderly slipping a single finger inside. I totally melted. Any tenseness I felt about this new experience dissolved as Dasha touched me. My limbs relaxed, giving in to the attention.

  “I like you, too,” I murmured back. “I think I’m going to sleep over, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, kissing me on the side of my head.

  We persevered together, through those ambrosial and dendritic aromas of rousing sex, our skin growing moist with the redoubling heat. My heart longed for Dasha, my body given in to her, and our evening went later than either of us had anticipated, time disappearing through some kind of lusty thaumaturgy. The pleasure was unreal. The pain of being alone had all but evaporated, replaced with the beautiful sapphic connection I felt for this tremendous woman. I let her take charge, just as I did while in the pool, and I was rewarded for it in the bedroom as well.

  That night, Dasha made me feel like everything would be all right. And that was a reminder that I could most certainly use.

  Two

  After that first night together with Dasha, things were much different. In a good way, of course. Although we had promised that nobody could find out about our tryst, I admit that we were a little more friendly with one another than we probably should have been. It wasn’t that out of the ordinary, though. Sometimes you pair up with a coach you really click with and you get close to them. They become a mentor for you. I was very close with my old high school swim coach, Coach Rick, who had swam at U of M with my parents. Although Coach Rick and I didn’t have, you know, what Dasha and I had, we hung around a lot together, hugged around the other swimmers, had inside jokes. He was like family.

  A number of times at practice I caught Amber giving me a funny look over how I acted around Dasha. Which was, of course, familiar, like Dasha and I had known each other for ages, like she had been my coach since I started. I tried often to offer the olive branch to Amber, but she never quite took it. I didn’t want that sort of drama. I wanted to train hard, go to the Olympics, and compete to the best of my ability. It was my last chance, I knew that, I knew that four years from now I could no longer compete with the 20 year olds, and I didn’t want any kind of cattiness to get in the way of my dreams.

  Still, Amber was a bit of a mess with her overly competitive spirit. She wanted the Gold Medal and she wanted it in the 400 meter. I couldn’t deny that. But at the same time, we both wanted the Gold in the medley relay and we had to work together to make that a possibility. The situation was certainly complex.

  I sat on a bench near the pool, awaiting my turn to jump in, towel around my neck, clad in my black one-piece suit, swim cap and goggles in my hand. I slunk down and watched Amber in the pool, considering what I could do about this mounting conundrum.

  The bench shook slightly and I was shaking from my reverie when Paul sat down next to me, he too awaiting a training session with his own coach. He wore only his swim briefs, his cap around on his head and his goggles around that. He gave me a smile and then stretched his hand out, palm up. I slapped my palm down on his.

  “What’s shaking, Marie?” he asked casually.

  “Just thinking,” I said with a longing sigh.

  “Be careful doing that,” he joked. “Think too hard and you might lose your stroke.”

  “Right,” I said, releasing a short laugh and offering him a knowing smile.

  “You and Amber still in the weeds?” he said.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “It sucks. I just can’t get through to her.”

  “I think she’s the kind of girl that only responds to getting her ass handed to her,” Paul said, watching Amber in the pool and slowly nodding his head. “She’s not going to get it until you beat her senseless. In competition, I mean.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said.

  “Yeah, I don’t mean literally kick her ass or anything,” said Paul. “That’ll get you suspended.”

  “Can’t have that,” I said. “I’m aiming to take Gold.”

  “There’s no other feeling like it,” said Paul. And he knew. He had stood atop that podium plenty of times.

  “What’s it like?”

  “Hmm,” he mused. “You know, I’ve got that question a lot but it’s still hard to say. It really just quantifies all the hard work and sacrifice we give to make this dream our reality.”

  “Wow,” I said, looking at Paul and offering him a surprised grin. “That’s really deep of you.”

  “What did you expect me to say?” Paul said with a light chuckle.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe, ‘it’s sweet to be the best in the world!’” Paul laughed again and knocked his shoulder into mine.

  “C’mon, Marie,” he said. “I’m not a total idiot.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. You just always struck me as kind of a meathead.”

  “I’m most definitely a meathead,” he said. “A meathead with sponsorship deals and a hand full of Medals. And you don’t get to this point without something going on up here,” said Paul, pointing to his head.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “My bad. Too judgmental of me.”

  “Naw, whatever,” he said, offering me an accepting smile. “Same team.” Paul stuck out his fist toward me and motioned toward it with his head. After I tittered from his ridiculousness, I complied and bumped my fist to his.

  “I wish Amber had that attitude,” I said. “I don’t know what crawled up her butt to make her hate me so much.”

  “You’re better than her, Marie,” said Paul frankly.

  “Yeah, I know,
” I admitted. “I guess that’s just it.”

  “She had her chance at the last Olympics to take Gold and you weren’t there to compete,” said Paul. “Now you’re back, you two are going head-to-head, she’s scared.” Paul shrugged. “Lotta emotions around here.”

  With that, Paul gave me a smirk and pushed himself up off the bench. He saw that the lane he was scheduled to swim in had opened up.

  “Stop being so sage-like,” I said, looking up toward him. He was a tall guy and he towered over me. And while Paul was really only repeating what I already knew to be true, it felt nice to hear someone actually vocalize it. “You’re changing my opinion of you. Get out of here.” Pulling my hand back, winding up, I released my palm and gave Paul a hard smack on the rear. It didn’t change his stance at all, he just laughed.

  “You ever give up that whole lesbian thing,” said Paul. “You know where to find me.” He started walking away.

  “That’s not how it works, dude!” I called after him. “You need to go back to sensitivity training!”

  “Aced that class!” he called back, hoisting his arm up in the air. I went to say something further to him, but Paul had already dove into the pool with a splash. I crossed my arms and smiled. I guess he wasn’t so bad after all.

  Before my burgeoning relationship with Dasha, I had found it difficult to connect with some of the other swimmers. It was hard to make friends. But once a little love was restored to my heart, I could see these people for who they really were. Bright, hard working, decent people who just so happened to be world class athletes. They were my people, for better or for worse, the only people out there who could really understand me, really understand what it’s like to to give up so much, to push yourself, to work your butt off for the possibility of writing history. Getting to the Olympics is really hard and most people who go don’t even win. They’re forgotten about over time. All these people on Team USA, standing with me, Amber included, they were my friends. They were the only people who could understand me.

  It was comforting to really see that.

  I watched as Amber popped up from the pool, pulling herself up onto the deck and sitting there, speaking with Dasha about her laps. Dasha showed her the stopwatch, showed her what she’d written on the clipboard, and then leaned down and lightly hugged her, trying not to get wet in the process. Both Amber and Dasha laughed as Dasha pulled back, said one more thing to her and walked off to address another member of our team.

  Amber wrapped her towel around herself and started walking away from the pool, stopping as she caught eyes with me. I smiled at her. It was an earnest smile. Well, it was trying to be. I really wanted to bury the hatchet with her. We had to make this work. For a minute, I saw that old Amber spark in her eyes and her lips started to curl into a smile. But then her demeanor changed, her visage morphed into one of disappointment, and she continued her walk away from me.

  So it goes.

  “This is it?” asked Dasha, pulling her car against the curb of the tree-lined street. She put it in park and gave me an empathetic look.

  “Mm hmm,” I affirmed. I looked across the street at my old house. The house I had grown up in. It had only been about 4 years since I last lived in that house. But 4 years can feel like an eternity when dealing with loss. The new owners were taking good care of it. The lawn was manicured. The outside of the two story house looked clean and bright. They had added new faux-shutters to the windows.

  “It’s very nice,” said Dasha. She offered a weak smile.

  “It was a great place to grow up,” I said. “I’m really grateful for that.”

  “What was it like?” asked Dasha. She was very kind and I appreciated it.

  “Idyllic, really,” I said. “I never really had a care in the world. It was like youthful perfection. I swam, I did the school thing, my parents were always very supportive. Sometimes it’s not until you really get out into the world and experience how harsh it can be that you realize how good you had it.”

  “That’s true,” said Dasha. She turned the keys to shut the car down. “But it’s important to remember all the good times and don’t let the bad replace them.”

  “Oh, I know,” I said with a tender sigh, slinking down into the passenger seat. “I’ve thought enough about the negative side of things that I’m totally ready to give myself over to the positive. I know my parents would be so proud of me for what I’ve accomplished, for giving myself another shot at the Olympics. There’s really no doubt about that.”

  “Are you ready to talk about what happened?” she said gently. “If not, that’s fine. I completely understand.”

  “I suppose,” I said, giving my old house another look as I retreated into my mind. It was always difficult to remember the accident. And as I got further and further away from it, my memory of it was beginning to grow hazy. It became more of a distant dream with every day that passed.

  “It’s okay,” said Dasha with an understanding smile. She placed her hand on my bare thigh. “I’m here for you.”

  “They were returning from an event at the University,” I said, recalling. “It was a gala for my mother’s department. Some celebration of a new endowment. It was kind of a fancy affair and they were both dressed up.”

  It was as though I were transported to that night. I could see my parents leaving the party, both happy and smiling, probably joking about how happy they were to get out. They much preferred each other’s company to the company of any others and parties had a tendency to wear them out. Despite the extroverted nature of their lives, they both had a thick introvert streak inside of them.

  “Neither of them had anything to drink,” I continued on. “It was a perfectly clear night. We were all excited as I had just made the Olympic team.”

  “So the anniversary of their passing is around now?” said Dasha.

  “Right,” I said. “Well, it was just a little bit ago. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

  “That’s hard,” said Dasha, her eyes appearing sad. I could tell she really felt for me.

  “I’m all right,” I said, pressing on. “They drove home, like any other night, coming up the same way we took to get to the house,” I recalled. “But remember that curve we took that looked like it should have had stop signs?”

  “I do,” she said.

  “A young kid, just 16, was flying down the street with his friends in his car, probably excited that he’d just got his license or something,” I said. “He smashed into my parents head on, going far too fast on the residential street. That was it,” I said. I could feel a slight tear well up in my eye but I held back. I had cried too much over their death. It didn’t get any easier but I had accepted it.

  “Oh Marie,” cooed Dasha. I felt her hand rub back and forth over my thigh. “It’s hard. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m okay. Ugh!” I cried with a nervous laugh, wiping at my eye. “I know they would have wanted me to be strong and to soldier on. They were so proud of me making the team 4 years ago and they would be even prouder now.”

  “I’m proud of you,” said Dasha. Leaning over toward me, she planted a soft kiss on my cheek.

  “Thank you,” I said. I slithered my hand around her arm and hugged up against her. “It means a lot to me.”

  I felt an intense closeness to Dasha in that moment, holding on to her, her hand on my leg, the two of us bonding over this heartfelt trial. She was a caring woman and that was exactly what I needed. I felt like I was entering that time in my life when relationships become less about the carnal lust you feel for the other person, and more about the emotion that builds between the two of you. Dasha had a lot of love in her heart and I could feel my own heart growing for her.

  “I know that things are difficult on the team,” said Dasha. “There’s some negativity there for you that seems out of your control. I think if you just accept that, accept that you’re not in control of other people or how they conduct themselves, prob
lems will be a lot easier to deal with. Much like with your parents,” she said carefully. “You understand that it was unfair, it was wrong, but it was also something you couldn’t control. And you just need to let that all flutter away.”

  “It’s easier when something is so final,” I said. “Like death. It’s not like I can bring them back by worrying about it. But in the pool, all this stuff with Amber,” I said, slowly shaking my head. “It’s so immediate, you know? It’s hard to ignore.”

  “You can’t let her throw you off your game,” said Dasha. “Focus on doing the best you can for yourself and for the team. That’s all you can do.”

  “I know,” I said. I leaned up tighter against Dasha, constricted slightly by the seatbelt, the two of us arm-in-arm. She brought her hand back and we threaded our fingers together, holding hands. “I’m really starting to like you, Dasha.”

  “Likewise,” she said, smiling. After a pregnant moment, I tilted my head toward her and the two of us pressed our lips into each other. It felt so right. When you’re with someone and it’s perfect, your body just knows. You feel it in your core, a funny little tickle. You feel little prickles on your skin. You feel a fullness in your heart. That’s what I felt when I was with Dasha. She made me feel like I could do anything, like no obstacle was insurmountable. I could climb mountains with this woman.

  “I wish this didn’t have to be a secret,” I mourned as our lips parted. Dasha raised her hand and pushed a tendril of my hair out of my face.

  “Just a little while longer,” she said. “Just until after Rio.”

  “I know,” I said. I bowed my head and pressed my forehead to hers. “I know that will be the end of my competitive swimming days.”

  “What next after that?” she said sweetly. I pulled back from her and thought about her question. It didn’t take me long to come up with my answer.

  “Coaching,” I said with a smile. “I don’t think I’ll ever leave the pool.”