Disclaimers:
The characters are of my own creation. Any similarities
to anyone living or dead are purely coincidental. No part
of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner
without written permission from me, the author.
If the thought of two women being romantically
involved is not for you, then this story is one you won’t
want to read. But seriously if you are underage and live
someplace where that is not allowed move on, literally.
Sit back and enjoy the story and if you
have something wonderful to say about it write to me at
terrali20@yahoo.com.
I want to thank my beta goddess for correcting
this for me. Jaden I bow to your grammatical knowledge.
As always this is dedicated to C. I love
you.
Chapter 1
Whack. The ball flew over the net at
one hundred and thirty miles an hour hitting right inside
the line flying off in a wicked slice that proved to be
untouchable by the player on the other side. Even the ball
boy had a hard time trying to chase it down as it went in
a direction he wasn’t expecting. The server waited
for the boy to get out of the way and for her opponent to
get set before she let another one fly.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the type
of tennis that has been missing from Wimbledon since the
time of Martina. This is just an awesome display of straight
forward power tennis.” The commentator spoke softly
into the microphone from the booth to tennis fans watching
the match from home. From center court the crowd cheered
when the clipped English accent said, “Forty love.”
“Yes, Joe, it seems that Parker used
her time in England after the French to work on that first
service, and isn’t Jill sorry about that. It was the
one thing that was missing from Parker’s arsenical
of weapons and now her war chest seems complete. Parker
has matured into an outstanding player,” continued
the female commentator. For a brief moment the woman behind
the microphone relived what it was like to be so close to
the coveted title Parker King was sure to win by mornings
end. The crowd was on their feet again as ‘Kong’
served up another ace to win the third consecutive game
of the first set.
Parker King was the new darling of the tennis
world, loved by the crowds that flocked to see her play
as well as the companies that lined up to sign her to wear
their logos. At a little over six one, shoulder length dark
brown hair slightly streaked, skin that was touched by the
hours she spent in the sun and eyes the color of blue ice,
she was a natural favorite.
Anyone that saw her on a court would have
to be blind not to see the fire that burned within her to
win. Opponents, no matter what their ranking, cringed when
they saw her name on the board as their next game. The power
she displayed on the court had earned her the nickname Kong
from the fans, and Parker was never one to disappoint getting
to the final without dropping a set and losing only eight
games in her time in England.
“Jill has got to be more aggressive
at the net if she wants to get back into this match,”
Joe Welch, former male champion said to his two other partners
in the booth. The crowd drowned the rest of what he was
saying out as Parker returned a lob so hard that the ball
bounced into the stands behind her opponent Jill Seabrook
after it had bounced just inside the line.
“Love forty,” the judge said into
the microphone pointing to the King side of the net, followed
momentarily by, “Game Miss King.” Jill went
into her return stance looking defeated already as Parker
flashed her coach in the stands a winning smile. Sitting
next to him was Parker’s guest for the match displaying
her own smile down to the number one player in the world.
After they collected the title, it was back to the US for
the rest of the summer to prepare for the Open, and after
a grueling schedule Parker was more than ready for that.
Whack. The little yellow ball flew millimeters
over the net landing just inside the line. Parker pumped
her arm once pleased with the shot sending the crowd to
their feet.
“What a rifle shot, Gene!” exclaimed
the third commentator as Jill scrambled after the serve.
“Quiet please,” said the judge
as the crowd was on their feet again chanting “Kong.”
Less than forty minutes later Parker was doing her curtsey
and holding up the women’s singles trophy over her
head. She walked the complete court so that everyone present
could see the large silver plate in her hand. In an interview
she had once said that the victories were as much the fans
as they were hers, and Parker liked to share the moment
with those that paid the price to come and see her. Her
last stop was in front of Gary Bertrand her coach.
Gary had been at one time, a rising star in
the tennis world until the day he collapsed on center court
at the US Open with a blown knee. Instead of accepting defeat,
he had turned to coaching finding a tall gangly kid that
over the years he molded into a champion. The coach smiled
like a proud father now as he watched the woman that she
had turned into walk the circuit of the court showing off
the spoils of her victory.
“Come on, Alicia, let’s go congratulate
the new champion down in the locker room,” said Gary
to the young woman next to him. The shapely redhead was
an up and comer herself in music industry and was wild about
Parker. She had been able to attend the prestigious tournament
because her band’s tour schedule put them in the area
during the finals. It had been complete pandemonium a couple
of nights before when the three of them had gone out to
dinner and the two young women had been recognized. In a
country that thrived on tabloid sensational stories it had
been like a gift from the heavens.
“Excuse me, Mr. Bertrand, I have a message
for you.” The young man with the traditional Wimbledon
colors on handed Gary a note, which made him frown the moment
he started reading. He absolutely hated when Parker used
him to blow off her date.
“Alicia, honey, why don’t you
head on back to the city and wait for Parker to call you.
Something must have happened on one of those last serves
and she is in with one of the trainers now.” The look
of concern on the pretty face made him feel like an ass,
but there would be a heavy price to pay if he showed up
with her in tow in the locker room.
“Is she going to be ok?” It had
been Alicia’s plan to walk out of the grounds on Parker’s
arm and hope there would be more photographers around. The
publicity she and the band had racked up in their time in
England had been priceless. The young singer had no regrets
being seen on the arm of the tennis world’s bad girl.
Nor did she regret the stories that placed her in Parker’s
bed.
“She’s going to be fine. This
is just typical Parker believe me.” If you only
knew, honey, thought the coach as he looked at the young
woman before him. If Parker was true to form it would be
the last time he would see her unless it was by chance.
Like in a restaurant where the typical scenario ended with
Parker wearing a drink before the dessert cart came out.
It still amazed him sometimes that women wanted to go out
with the good-looking tennis star considering her track
record, but they were all convinced that they were the one
that was going to tame the bad ass Kong. Scratch another
one off that list.
Gary entered the green room singing the line
‘just another notch in my lipstick case’ softly
as Parker was finishing up her post game interviews. He
shook his head in her direction making her laugh at his
reaction to the favor she had asked of him in the note.
She was going home and didn’t want the complications
that the increasingly demanding Alicia would pose. Gary
congratulated her with a scowl on his face for using him
as the heavy before cuffing her on the back of the head
and sending her into the locker room to change.
He would cut her some slack like he always
did considering there was no time to just kick back and
not worry about the next tournament. It was the U.S. Open,
and the only one that continued to elude the American player
with more trophies than women she had slept with. Gary knew
it wouldn’t take much prodding on his part to get
Parker to work hard for the title that would make her a
true champion. The French, Australian and now the Wimbledon
trophy were going home with them and he could almost taste
the slam.
The men’s final was still going on by
the time they arrived at the airport. Parker was anxious
to get home after being out of the country for over three
months. The two police officers that had been assigned to
them kept the crowds at bay as Gary and Parker sat waiting
for their flight. The Bobbies stood far away enough to give
the couple some privacy, but close enough to send a message
to any overzealous fans. They would let in a few autograph
seekers in at a time, most of them young teen girls thrilled
to sit this close to their idol, before putting their arms
out and closing ranks.
Parker took the time to ask them about their
own tennis game and gave pointers to those that seemed serious
about the sport. The tennis gear had been replaced by a
lightweight linen suit over a tight white t-shirt. Without
the jacket on, everyone close enough could see the muscle
rippling through Parker’s arms as she autographed
everything from tennis balls to tournament programs. A groan
went up through the crowd as boarding for the flight began
and the player and coach picked up their stuff to leave.
As on most flights, the crew of Virgin flight
756 was waiting at the door to greet their passengers. The
small blonde standing toward the front would have recognized
their famous passenger the minute she turned the corner
of the jet way even if she hadn’t been carrying a
large bag full of rackets. She had spent the morning watching
the talented Parker King completely obliterate her opponent.
Seeing her in person, everyone standing at the door agreed
the player was even better looking in person.
“Welcome aboard, Ms. King, I hope you
enjoy your flight, and congratulations on your win”
said Captain Emily Parish. She had stepped out of the cockpit,
as was her habit before every flight to join the crew in
greeting passengers at the door leaving the coat with her
ranking draped over her seat.
“Thank you, ma’am. But if you
really love me, could you fetch a cup of hot chocolate and
a sandwich if you have it? Thanks, sweetheart,” said
Parker. The attendants around Emily put their hands to their
mouths to hide the smiles and laughs that were about to
come out at the young woman’s assumptions. Emily was
a great pilot but a perfectionist that made her a little
hard to work for, so having someone bring her down a peg
was amusing and more than a little entertaining.
“I’ll see what I can do in between
flying the plane and all,” said Emily trying to control
her temper. Her crew looked straight up and kept quite knowing
what kind of effort it took on the small pilot’s part
not to tack on butthead to the end of her statement. Parker
did have the decency to look apologetic at her mistake,
but didn’t offer a verbal one as she shrugged her
shoulders and moved past the group to her seat.
“Way to go, champ, she’ll probably
send us back to coach just to prove a point. Now that we’re
alone, want to tell me what’s up with Alicia?”
Gary put his bag in the overhead compartment before moving
into the window seat giving Parker the isle.
Both their smiles were in place as the other
passengers started streaming in offering congratulations
as they past like they were old friends. Parker nodded her
head at each well-wisher ignoring her coach for the moment.
“Come on, Parker, sitting next to me at one of these
tournaments seems to be the kiss of death for any relationship
you seem to be in. I want you to have a life outside of
tennis and be happy, kid. Believe me it will instill the
desire to win in you more than this bullshit you’ve
been doing with these girls.”
“I have the desire to win, Gary, so
give it a rest. You aren’t my mother. I just want
to go home and take it easy for a while with no complications.
Is that a crime? Alicia was fun but she’s got her
own gig to worry about without me screwing it up for her.
Trust me, buddy, when I meet the one all the fairytales
talk about you’ll be the preverbal first to know.”
When the first edition copy of ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’
came out of her carryon, Gary knew the conversation was
over for now. The shoulder length hair formed a curtain
around her face from the outside world, as Parker got lost
in another classic story. This is the Kong no one writes
about, thought Gary. Parker was so much more than just
tennis, but those other parts she kept hidden.
The bad girl of tennis was in reality a very
private intelligent person that loved to read as many books
as her schedule allowed for. But Gary knew that didn’t
make as interesting headline news as the crying Alicia would
the minute she figured out she had been dumped. The frown
of that thought changed quickly as he saw the captain walking
down the short aisle of first class with a tray in her hand.
Maybe the woman did have a sense of humor after all.
“Sorry it took so long, but we had to
send out for the marshmallows. We wouldn’t want it
said that Virgin didn’t go the extra mile to make
our passengers happy,” Emily said sarcastically as
she put the tray down for Parker. The tirade stopped momentarily
when the book in the woman’s hands snapped quietly
closed and the pilot was pinned by almost white colorless
eyes. It was as if Parker’s eyes were chameleons that
had taken on the color of her shirt. “I hope Godiva
is good enough?” Emily asked not straightening up
back into the isle. The phrase ‘the eyes are the windows
to the soul’ popped into her head as she was drawn
into Parker’s personal space. It was as if Emily could
feel the power sitting so close to her as Parker exhaled
and put her head down and looked at the offering the captain
had brought.
“Actually, I’m more of a Hershey
girl myself, Captain,” said Parker without looking
up again. Having been on the receiving end of scorned women
before, the tennis player decided an apology was in order
before this turned into the flight from hell. “Would
it help if I apologized, Captain? I didn’t mean to
insult you in anyway. The fact that you are the captain
of this aircraft never entered my head when I stepped on
board, which I imagine makes me a chauvinist pig of the
female variety. So I’m sorry and go forward with the
knowledge from this day on that I learned a valuable lesson
in not making unfounded assumptions. Thank you for the hot
chocolate and the sandwich, chicken salad I see, and for
helping me choose the book I’m going to read on the
way home.” Parker’s own little sarcastic speech
made Emily look down to Parker’s lap wiping out her
own assumptions of dumb jock.
Looking into those seemingly colorless eyes
when they suddenly appeared again made Emily suddenly think
her lover back home in New York. The color of Gail’s
eyes were on the opposite end of the spectrum from Parker’s,
and Emily couldn’t help but compare. This would be
her last transatlantic flight for a while and she would
be back to a more normal schedule that would allow her to
be home more. Gail was waiting in Tampa for her for a little
vacation before they both headed back to the city. Hopefully
the time alone would put the fire back into the relationship
that seemed to be fizzling out with Emily’s constant
absence and Gail’s constant complaints and possessiveness.
“It’s all right, Miss King. You
join a long list of others who’ve made the same assumption.
I apologize for taking them all out on you.” Emily
walked back to the cockpit without another word leaving
Parker leaning into the aisle watching the sway of her hips
as she departed. The way the skirt fit told Parker that
the Captain did more than just sit in the cockpit flying
planes. She was a beauty in motion.
“Forget it, tennis pro,” said
one of the male attendants who had had the tray snatched
out of his hands by the captain. “The ice queen is
very much involved with a trader in the big apple so you
got no chance there, big guy.”
Looking at his nametag Parker smiled before
answering the obviously gay man. “No worries, Willy,
cold fish are not my type, or don’t you read the rags?”
Willy laughed along with her as Parker dropped her gaze
and went back to her book. She dropped in a handful of marshmallows
into the cup Emily had delivered before taking a sip.
Ten hours later Emily’s voice came lilting
out of the speakers informing everyone of their impending
arrival into the Miami airport. She went down the list of
connections so those continuing on would know what gate
to head for once they deplaned. “So ladies and gentlemen,
if you would bring your seats to their full upright position
we should have you on the ground in about ten minutes. Again
thank you for choosing Virgin for your flying needs and
we hope to see you on board in the future.”
“The Nike shoot is scheduled in three
days so you are going to have to hit the gym starting today.
If your naked ass is going up in Time Square we want it
to look pumped up,” said Gary. The schedule book had
come out of his bag twenty minutes ago so that they could
review upcoming events. Having Parker trapped in a plane
helped him make it through the end of the month.
“Whose idea was this again?” The
sponsor had approached her with the idea before Wimbledon
to add her to the list of athletes that had appeared in
the ads clad just in their shoes illustrating that the footwear
and the body were all that were necessary to succeed in
sports.
“It was Nick’s idea, and I forbid
you to give him a hard time about it. You know how sensitive
he is and I’m the one that has to live with him. All
the shots will be from the back and he got Annie and her
all girl crew to do it, so quit complaining.” Gary
pointed his finger at her to make his point. The last thing
he wanted was both of the people he cared most about giving
him a hard time for weeks to come.
“I just asked a question, Gary, I hardly
see how that could be construed as complaining. Are they
coming to the house or will it be done in a studio?”
She put away her book and stood to pull her jacket back
on. The crew had been surprised that besides her initial
hot chocolate and sandwich, Parker had stuck to bottled
water. The fourteen she had consumed kept her hydrated and
active with constant trips to the bathroom. No amount of
free alcohol was worth jet lag in her opinion, so while
most of the other passengers fought fatigue, Parker would
be lifting weights for the rest of the afternoon.
“You get to stay home, kid. Annie thought
the court at home that overlooks the gulf would make for
good shots. Now let’s hope we didn’t miss our
connection. You know how Nick hates waiting around in airports.”
“Now who’s complaining?”
asked Parker. She was pulling her hair into a ponytail when
they both felt the wheels of the plane hit the tarmac once
followed by three hard bumps before the engines were thrust
into reverse to kill their speed. Not expecting it, Parker
came close to smashing her head into the seat in front of
them despite having her seatbelt on the jolt of the landing
was so rough. Aside from the earlier announcement it was
the first time the blonde captain crossed Parker’s
mind.
Parker and Gary waited as everyone got off
before standing up from their seats. Their patience was
usually rewarded by an empty waiting area as passengers
where claimed by family and friends or were running toward
baggage claim.
Parker finally looked up from her book to
find an empty plane and Willy waiting at the door with her
large bag of rackets and a pen. Alicia and Gary hadn’t
been the only avid fans in the stands, and the attendant
saw this as his opportunity to get his program signed. When
she got up he handed the bag over and held the booklet up
with a pleading look.
“Willy, my man, I didn’t know
you were interested in tennis.” She accepted his pen
and sat down in the first set of first class seats waiting
to hear his answer before writing something in the glossy
book in her hand.
“I had to trade some really bum flights
to be able to go and watch you play. The final match was
awesome, though I wish it had lasted longer. Had that first
ace you rocketed over the net hit Jill, I think the match
would have been over because of a chipped bone. Having you
on our flight home was just an extra added bonus.”
He stopped his babble of hero worship when Parker started
writing. She handed his program back with a thank you note
for his hospitality then took the time to sign some of the
other souvenirs the rest of the crew had produced.
Emily watched from the door of the cockpit
as Parker entertained her crew acting very unlike the person
most of the press had written about. The tennis player never
looked impatient as another item was pressed into her hand
for signing and finished by unzipping the large black bag
sitting at her feet and sliding out one of the rackets.
With Willy’s pen she signed Parker ‘Kong’
King and the date along the grip.
“Sorry you didn’t get to see more
play, Willy, but I was anxious to catch my flight. You might
get your wish at the Open since it seems to be my Achille’s
heel.” On the other side of her name Parker wrote
‘first ace racket Wimbledon.’ “I hope
this makes up for your shitty schedule. That means a lot
to me when people go so out of the way to come see me hit
some balls.” The rackets were custom made for her
by the sponsor and were a valuable collector’s item
for the few fans that had gotten one as a gift. The one
she had used for the majority of the match would rest along
side the trophy at home. Both she and Gary laughed at the
squeal Willy let out at her gift. Parker could only imagine
the hardships the man had endured in his lifetime because
of his obvious sexuality preference. She respected people
like Willy who had a real survivor’s spirit and let
it shine through.
“Oh my god, thank you. This is the best
gift I’ve ever gotten, Parker, thank you.” Willy
hugged her as she stood up and almost fainted as Parker
hugged him back. “I know all those tabloids were full
of shit,” said Willy.
“Thank you, Willy, that means a lot.”
Parker squeezed him one more time and smiled at the sentiment.
“Don’t play with that one. Save it for your
next vacation, at auction it should get you to Hawaii if
you hit it on the right day.”
“No way, this one’s a keeper,”
said Willy. The crew bid them safe travels as Parker shouldered
her bags and stepped off the plane noticing the cockpit
door was closed as she stepped out. The impromptu autograph
session had let her escape without having to confront Emily
again.
“Is Nick going to pick us up?”
asked Parker. The next leg of their trip to Tampa was less
crowded and they finished their calendar review without
interruption.
“Yep he is. Some of your contracts were
coming up so hopefully he’s resigned everyone and
is over having to miss this trip.” Gary sighed; Nick
Spoli was a sweet man but could whine for days given a reason
to. He and Gary lived together as well was worked together
at keeping Parker both happy and ranked.
“Like you said, you’re the one
that has to live with him, buddy, not me. Just remind him
of his commission if it gets out of hand. The smallest one
alone should get him that new sports car he wants along
with a new wardrobe to go with it.” Parker wiggled
her eyebrows at him and laughed when Gary scowled at her.
Nick and the flight attendant they had just met, Willy,
could compete on the flamboyancy scale in Parker’s
opinion.
The two men were Parker’s role models
when it came to a loving relationship having been together
for fifteen years. They had built their home close to her
on Press Cove, a mostly deserted stretch of beach near Clearwater
Florida. Her house had everything she needed to train for
upcoming tournaments while giving her the solitude she needed
to prepare for the weeks on the road. Gary looked forward
to these trips home as much as Parker did in that it gave
he and Nick the time they needed to strengthen Parker’s
mental state as well as her body. Having every vice imaginable
at your fingertips would have ruined her career had it not
been for their influence along with that of Parker’s
two sisters.
Parker seldom complained about the schedules,
knowing her career wouldn’t last forever. There was
a small window of opportunity to get all her goals accomplished
before she either retired to her house, or to the commentator’s
chair. At twenty-two she had plenty of time to contemplate
her future barring any injury. What happened to her coach
was always with her, driving her to train harder in case
her time on center court was fleeting.
“You know how much he loves to watch
you play, so cut my boy some slack,” said Gary. They
moved onto the gate where their connection was boarding
both anxious to get home. The woman that followed them on
board couldn’t believe her luck when she saw the two
tall athletes go on ahead of her.
Don’t tennis superstars live in New
York or something? Emily asked herself as she slowed
her pace not wanting to be noticed. The pilot had been looking
forward to her own first class leather seat for a quick
nap before meeting Gail. The thought of having to share
the space with Parker King made her veer into the cockpit
in search of an empty seat. Emily would settle for some
mindless conversation with the crew instead of her nap.
Parker had apologized but something about
her still rubbed the pilot the wrong way. Maybe it was
the way she apologized. Emily couldn’t help but
think that Parker was one of those people not used to being
wrong in any situation, or at least admitting she was wrong.
The young woman’s assumption of her
position on the earlier flight had just hit a raw nerve
with the pilot negating the instant attraction Emily had
felt when Parker had turned the corner. Emily was used to
the cracks from men, but when it came from successful women
it was even worse to her. No, Parker King could keep her
wise cracks and good looks to impress someone else she wasn’t
interested. What she needed now was some time in the sun
with Gail, but with out permission, Emily’s brain
drifted back to the sleeping tennis player on the other
side of the cockpit door.
