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Hi, and thank you for choosing my story. I hope you will enjoy it.
If you do, please be kind enough to give a score at the end. This helps me to gauge the popularity of my work. – If I may – I usually like to suggest, one star each for:
Composition & Use of Vocabulary, Readability, Plot, Drama or Humour, and of course Sexual Content (because — isn’t that why we are all here?), but please feel free to use your own criteria if you prefer.
Also, if you would like to know a little about my personal background, please read my Brief History.
As with most of my stories, there is quite a lot of ‘scene setting’ and character building taking place before any real action occurs. For those who want to get ‘straight to the action’ you could possibly skip the first sections (Parts 1 & 2) and move straight to Part 3, but I do hope you will read them, as I think the final reward should be well worth the journey.
This is a tale of lesbian romance blossoming on the tennis court. This first part finds Katie meeting a new player and making friends, with a little flirting thrown in for good measure.
This story is dedicated to DodgeJuliez
Title: Game Set & Match – Part 1: Meeting Julie.
It was a Saturday afternoon and I was sitting in the clubhouse with my singles partner Lynne, waiting for a free court, when I first noticed Julie. She was sitting on the other side of the clubhouse with a group of other women. They appeared to be having a post-mortem discussion on their match that she and her doubles partner had apparently just lost to the other pair. It all sounded very friendly but they were speaking quite loudly and we couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, although Lynne chose to ignore them.
Lynne was my long term singles partner, but I was really little more than a sparring partner for her. She was a couple of years older than me, and had been a club member since leaving school. She had ‘adopted’ me almost as soon as I joined, just over six months ago, and she seemed to enjoy dominating me on court, treating me like her trained puppy, but not in a loving way.
She was roughly six inches taller than me, which would make her about 5ft 4in, with long dark, almost black hair which she always wore in a pony tail on court. She always had the best clothes, shoes, racquet and other equipment, and a ‘Holier than Thou’ manner, preaching to me that ‘you simply can’t expect to play well with inferior kit’.
She did play well though, at least I thought she did, but at that moment my attention was drawn to Julie. Julie stood out from the others in her group in several respects, most notably her figure. Julie had a body to die for. The white cardigan she wore pulled tightly across her generous bust, emphasising a distinctly attractive figure, to a point that would be impossible to ignore.
She was significantly younger than the other three women in her group, who all appeared to be around their mid to late forties, whereas Julie (although I didn’t know her name at the time) was probably only half that age.
It was impossible to tell how tall she might be from her seated position, but I guessed she was around average height. She had the most beautiful, shoulder length deep auburn hair that hung virtually straight around her face, curling slightly at the ends where the sun had faded the colour to a slightly lighter shade.
From what I could see, her complexion was smooth, pale and creamy looking, with a cute little nose, and the most inviting pair of full lips I had ever seen. There was an actress called Sofia Vergara, from an American Sit-Com I had seen, whose mouth looked similar to Julie’s, and I couldn’t help thinking they looked a little alike.
She was sitting with her side toward us, and I thought I had noticed her looking over our way once or twice. I could have been mistaken of course, but something about her drew my attention several times, and on one occasion I felt sure I saw her smile – just for the briefest of fleeting moments; then it was gone.
I was wondering how she had come to be involved in a ladies doubles match with a group of women who were clearly so much older than her, but perhaps it was just a case of numbers? After all, ours was quite a small town, and being little more than a village tennis club, the number of members tended to limit our selection of partners quite drastically. I, for example, had partnered up with Lynne, who was quite a good player, and I knew I wasn’t anywhere near in the same league as her. Without needing to brag at all, I’m sure that Lynne would be among the first to admit that she never failed to beat me, and it was only that fact (initially anyway) that prompted me to wonder if perhaps I ought to be looking elsewhere for a closer match.
In the back of my mind I had an idea that I knew Julie from somewhere. Something about her cute nose, or casino oyna the way her eyes closed more slowly as she blinked in a relaxed sort of way, or maybe it was the way her hair swung to the side whenever she tossed her head. I just felt I had seen her somewhere before. One thing was certain; I wanted to know her, although I was far too shy to tell her so.
I had never let on to anyone that I had always been interested in other girls… and a few women too, if I’m honest. It wasn’t that I wanted to start any sort of relationship with a girl; quite the opposite in fact. I had realised from very early on during puberty that I felt attracted to other girls, but I was scared of what it meant. I thought there must be something horribly wrong with me and I dare not reveal my desires to anyone.
While all of my school friends were cooing over this boy or that (sometimes even uncles or other girls’ dads – yes, really!), I was playing along, yet hiding my true sexuality for fear that I might be labelled as some sort of freak. I needn’t have worried of course, because unbeknown to me at the time, about 20% of my class at school were either the same as me, or went ‘both ways’, so to speak, in fact, I imagine most of them were going through the same torture that I was back then.
But for the moment I resigned myself to hide away behind a facade of lies, not even giving myself away to Lynne – no, least of all, Lynne.
I put my head back into my book and made a vain effort to ignore Julie’s presence, but with each curious covert glance, I couldn’t help but notice that her doubles partner kept touching her hand, and every now and then they would exchange smiles, like some affectionate couple who were unable to hide their feelings for each other. Could it be? Were they openly displaying feelings for each other? I was fascinated with them. Julie’s partner was so much older than she was. Perhaps it was her mother, or maybe an aunt? Yes. That had to be it, I decided, perversely pushing the idea to the back of my mind.
“Our court is free,” Lynne announced, standing abruptly, shattering my thoughts like a hammer through a plate glass window.
“Oh. Oh, yes,” I replied, standing too, as if called to attention by my mistress. I picked up my racquet bag and trooped out behind her, steeling myself for yet another blistering defeat.
It wasn’t surprising that Lynne would beat me so consistently. At 21 she was a good two years older than I was, and although I had been playing since I was at middle school, I had never had the benefit of any formal coaching. Lynne, on the other hand, had gone to a private school and although she hadn’t even come close to fulfilling her mother’s dreams for her, by winning any major tournament, she’d had the benefit of a professional coach for most of that time. As a result, her abilities were in a whole different league from my own. If I’d had any alternative, I would have been playing against almost any other player in the club, but as I’ve already said, it’s a small club, and ‘beggars can’t be choosers’, as the saying goes.
But despite all of that, as I left the clubhouse, I happened to glance across to where Julie and her companions were sitting, and she was watching me, at least I thought she was. No. Surely I was fooling myself. She must have just glanced my way as Lynne and I opened the door. I tried to put it out of my mind as we left.
Lynne and I usually played a ‘Best of three sets’ match, although we never ever got to a third set. She usually managed to take both of the first two sets either 6-0 or 6-1 or sometimes if I was doing ‘really well’, I might only lose a set 6-2, but I rarely ever did any better. And Lynne was never generous enough to ‘let’ me win of course; not that I wanted her to. I wouldn’t want a charity handout – it wouldn’t feel like a real win would it, so I was stuck with being a perpetual loser or just not playing, and I did enjoy the game.
I was one set down; only 6-2 after 15 minutes (I was having a good day), and I had lost the first two games of the next set, when Julie walked onto the court.
“Mind if I watch?” she called out after I’d lost the first point of the third game.
Now she was standing I could see that she was marginally taller than Lynne – maybe 5ft 8in at the most. Those beautiful long creamy thighs and the neatly pleated white tennis skirt complimented each other perfectly, and as she turned, it was clear that she had a lovely slender waist and the most beautiful shapely bottom, delightfully lifting the back of her white, finely pleated skirt.
In the bright sunlight her stunning figure was even more alluring than it had appeared in the clubhouse. I’m quite a connoisseur of the female form on the quiet, and I guessed her figure to be probably a 36, with a generous ‘C’ cup; much more enticing than my own meagre 32A.
“Of course,” I said with a smile, although in truth, having any spectator witness my humiliating defeat was really the last thing I needed. Even worse, that it was someone I felt attracted to.
“Feel canlı casino free,” Lynne replied, almost dismissively. ‘How rude,’ I thought, but I stayed silent.
Julie took a place in the centre of a long bench at the side of our court, crossed her beautiful long slender legs (toward Lynne, although I didn’t notice that at the time) and spread her arms out to either side, displaying her ample bosom as she sat back to watch.
Lynne prepared to serve and I stood almost impassively, waiting to receive, only to see Lynne’s serve overshoot the service line by about two feet. I just looked at her, my mouth hanging open. One of the stronger parts of Lynne’s game was her serve; I could rarely return it, and although she might miss occasionally, I had never seen her put a ball out by so far.
“Miss hit?” I called.
“Probably,” she called back, but she didn’t look at all happy.
She prepared to serve again, tossing the ball up, but then caught it again. She looked a little flustered. She tossed the ball again, only to catch it again. “I can’t seem to get my rhythm right,” she called. She tossed it up again and took a swing, but I could tell from the ‘crack’ the racquet made, that she hadn’t hit it cleanly. The ball spun off to the side and out of court. I was agog. It was a double fault so the point was mine. It was only one point, but it helped.
We were at fifteen all, and two love to her in the second set. She was still way ahead but she didn’t look happy at all. We both moved to the right of the court and she served again. This time I took a bit more interest, but she put it into the net. She was getting a bit red in the face as she tossed the ball again. This time it went in, but it was so slow I was all over it. I moved forward and gave it such a forehand whack, and it shot past her on her left while her racquet was still on the right – her forehand side. I turned to look at our single spectator who just smiled encouragingly. “Shall I keep score?” Julie asked.
“That would be…” I began.
I had been about to say ‘That would be nice’, but Lynne interrupted. “No thanks. We’re OK,” she said. Julie gave me a ‘Whatever’ sort of half smile, and shrugged.
“Fifteen Thirty,” I called back. I couldn’t help but smile. She clearly wasn’t happy. I wasn’t ahead in the match, nor even the set, but it wasn’t often I got ahead in a game and I liked the feeling.
I glanced across at Julie and she seemed to be studying Lynne’s service action, then I noticed Lynne was discreetly watching Julie too. That was quite peculiar. She was breaking the first rule of tennis – always keep your eye on the ball – and she was paying for it. Suddenly I understood. Julie’s presence was distracting Lynne. Whether she intended to or not, she ‘was’ distracting her. I tried hard to subdue my pleasure. It wasn’t really cheating, but I did need all the help I could get so I wasn’t about to complain.
The next two points went one each way, making the score 30-40. It was rare that Lynne had to serve to save a game and I can’t remember it happening with me before. She tossed up again and I could tell it wasn’t a straight toss but she swung at it anyway and caught it with the edge of her racquet, spinning it way out to the side. My pulse was up, waiting for her second serve. She looked quite angry; I’d never seen her like this before. She tossed again and hit it cleanly, but it was just long.
“Was that in?” She called, more hopeful than anything else.
“It looked out to me,” I called back.
“Me too,” Julie called, much to Lynne’s annoyance. “Two one is it?” Julie asked.
“Yes, that would be right,” Lynne called back, clearly irritated.
We had to change ends and it was my service. I moved up to the baseline to serve and Lynne prepared to receive my service. Just as I was about to serve, Julie crossed her legs the other way and I noticed Lynne glance aside toward her. I paused for a moment to give Lynne time to regain her concentration, then tossed the ball up. I made a good service; one of my best ever, and it passed Lynne’s forehand as if she hadn’t even seen it. I served again, passing her on her backhand side before she could respond.
“You seem to be bringing me luck,” I called to Julie, but she just smiled. I served again, and although Lynne got her racquet to the ball this time, she didn’t manage to return it. I couldn’t believe it. I had never been 40 love up in a game against Lynne ever before. I was thrilled, and I couldn’t help but show it. Lynne looked livid.
‘One more point’, I thought. I could feel the tension rising in me. You would have thought it was match point at a Grand Slam the way I felt, but it was a big point for me. I took a long time to prepare, and when I finally served the ball, Lynne was on it like a panther. She sent it sailing past me with a resounding cry of “Yes!” driving her fist into the air ecstatically. Obviously she was feeling the same way as I did, and I have to admit I was quite disappointed about it, but I tried to remain cool in front kaçak casino of my spectator. ‘It’s only one point’, I told myself, ‘and you’re so far ahead. What’s all the fuss about?’
Despite feeling a little deflated, I was determined to take the game. Julie shuffled in her seat while I composed myself. I tossed the ball up and hit it cleanly, sending it sailing past her on her backhand side. Clearly she was expecting another forehand. I couldn’t believe it. This was the best game I had ever played, and although she had taken a point from me, a game to 15 was a personal best for me.
Julie had a broad smile on her face and clapped encouragingly, and I couldn’t help but feel elated. “Well done,” Lynne called, but I sensed she was a little begrudging with her praise. I didn’t care though. A win was a win after all.
We were at two all now; the first time I had ever been level with her in a set, but it was her service and I just knew she would take it.
The next five games went with serve, Lynne’s performance remaining down from her usual standard, but still good enough to stop me from breaking her serve of course. Even so, I was riding a high in the happy knowledge that she hadn’t managed to break mine either.
Now I had to face the inevitable. It was 4-5 in the second set and my serve, and I knew Lynne would put everything into her game to stop me from levelling the set.
She only needed this game to win the match and the determination on her face told me that was exactly what she intended to do. I think that was the point when my nerves really gave up on me. I could feel myself trembling slightly as I stood preparing to serve the first ball. It was a good clean serve, right on the junction of the service line and the centre line, and it shot past her like a rocket. ‘Good start’, I thought as Julie clapped, forcing an involuntary smile onto my face.
My next was a little short and she hit a blistering return. Fifteen all. ‘Here we go again,’ I thought, with a sigh.
My next two serves were fairly good, but nowhere near good enough. She returned them well and although I got my racquet to the ball each time, I couldn’t keep them in play.
Now she was 5-4 up and 40-15 up, and that familiar smile was on her face again. I don’t know if she really understood how hurtful that smile could be when she knew she was about to take a match, but I resigned myself to let it go. I felt stupid afterwards of course, because I realised that if I had tried harder, if I had made her really work for it, I might have levelled the match to one set all and made her play a third set. Hell, if I had put my mind to it I might even have beaten her.
But she took the game, and the match, leaving me feeling drained as usual.
We shook hands and she picked up her things, heading off to the clubhouse surprisingly hurriedly I thought, with hardly a word to Julie, leaving me alone on the court with the auburn haired beauty.
“Well done,” Julie praised me as she walked over to greet me.
“Well done?” I queried. “But I lost!” I reminded her. I couldn’t help but detect the hint of a delicate perfume and it made me want to move a little closer to inhale discreetly.
“Not by much…” she replied with a broad smile, “and that was a personal best for you wasn’t it? I’m Julie by the way,” she added by way of a belated introduction.
“Well… Yes… I suppose it was,” I agreed. Thinking back over my previous performances, I had done rather well against Lynne this time out. “I’m Katie, I added, holding out my hand to her, “Pleased to meet you.”
“I know,” she replied, still smiling, “and lovely to meet you too,” she added. She took my hand and held the fingers gently but firmly, smiling as she gazed into my eyes while retaining her grip for rather longer than seemed appropriate.
“But… how did you know?” I asked, eventually teasing my fingers free.
“Ahhh… she replied,” winking.
“No. Come on! Tell me?” I almost whined.
“I was having a look through your score history in the clubhouse. She usually beats you doesn’t she.”
“Yes, I admitted,” dropping my head in mild humiliation. “She’s a much better player than me,” I confided.
“No she isn’t,” Julie said, shaking her head but still smiling.
“Of course she is. She always beats me,” I countered.
“No,” she said, shaking her head more slowly this time. Her beautiful auburn hair swung from side to side, dazzling me as it swayed, almost sparkling softly in the afternoon sunlight. “She isn’t better… at least she shouldn’t be. She’s just been trained better.”
“Ahhh, well that makes her better doesn’t it?” I reasoned. Somehow she seemed to be inspiring me.
“No Katie. It only means her skills are more finely honed. It doesn’t make her better at all.” I was about to say ‘That’s the same thing isn’t it?’ but she continued, adding, “I’ve been watching you and I think you have far more potential than you give yourself credit for. You move well on the court when you want to. You’re small and light on your feet; you should be able to run almost any ball down. All you need is the confidence to do it and a few tips to help you overcome your weaknesses,” she said, her lovely smile lighting up her face.