Porn

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

What Kate knew about tennis wasn’t worth a damn, but she could tell Monica was good; really good. Biff had won the toss and his serve was a hard drive to center court. Monica got her racket under it and easily flipped the ball into the far left corner. It caught Biff flat on his heels and he watched helplessly as the ball bounced once inside the baseline before dribbling out of bounds. He was off to an embarrassing start.

And Monica kept turning up the heat.

When it came to be her turn at service, she aced him with the first drive. The ball just caught the outside corner of the serve box, did a weird little spin and rolled out over the sideline. With twenty years of tennis behind him, Biff had never witnessed a serve like it. He dropped his head and tried to set the humiliation aside; a fluke, he thought. But when she did it again, from the opposite side of the court, he had to wonder if he was in trouble.

Biff had a problem with the far left corner and once Monica had found his weakness, she used it relentlessly against him. Meanwhile, Kate darted back and forth with her handheld, working the angles hard to catch the close-ups without getting in way of the play. The stationary cameras caught everything else.

The first set went to Monica, and Biff, feeling he was about to be made the butt of a first-class joke around the tennis club, pulled his shirt up over his head. Kate had to take a moment to admire his chest and arms. He was a major-class lout, a plugger with no imagination, but she had to wonder what that muscle would feel like; how it would be to have those arms wrapped around her shoulders.

Monica laughed. What she lacked in strength, she more than made up for with speed and agility. And Club Pro or not, Biff Lancaster was no match for her deadly accuracy. Monica knew intuitively where she needed to place the ball and hit the mark every time.

But in the second set she appeared to faltered. To lose concentration.

Then Monica missed.

Biff had struggled to underhand the ball; a high Hail Mary lob that was meant to buy him enough time to re-position himself and prepare for what was sure to be a blistering return. But Monica missed.

She took a halfhearted swipe like she held a fly swatter before the ball bounded up at her feet. But then, spinning full circle, her racket connected with a vicious, double-fisted backhand. Later, in Kate’s video, the speeding ball would appear as a fuzzy-white line. It clipped the tape at the top of the net, rocketed past a stunned Club Pro and just caught the baseline. There was a puff of chalk dust. The ball had enough back spin to send itself twenty feet straight up into the air. It reversed direction and when the ball landed on the blacktop, it rolled listlessly back, to stop by Biff’s sneakers.

It was an amazing shot, the type of shot that had you anxiously awaiting the instant replay. And Monica had showed off her prowess just to prove she could; to herself and to the others. But the shot didn’t count.

Then she started having trouble fielding his serves. And Monica kept returning the ball to his right-hand side; his strong suit, placing the ball within arm’s reach. He would bash it away and she would miss the return. Finally Biff began to loosen up and enjoy himself. Any self-doubts he may have harbored, dissipated.

“I’m gonna beat your ass,” he shouted with no attempt to conceal the glee he was feeling.

“You win the match and you can spank my ass,” Monica retorted and drilled a ball into his kneecap just to keep him from running away with the game.

To Kate, it was obvious that Monica was throwing the contest. But Biff was too full of himself to realize what was happening.

“Your ass is mine,” he shouted back when Monica failed to return his serve again. “Your cheeks will burn for a week.”

Biff won the set and Monica, turning toward Katie’s camera, unzipped the front of her lavender tunic. With a haughty expression about her eyes she leaned her tennis racket against the net. Crossing her arms in front, she gripped the hemline and pulled it up over her head. Her breasts sprung free like two pixies let out to play.

Kate worked the zoom on the G21 handheld. “I just knew she’d have a nice set of boobs,” Kate mumbled under her breath, mentally comparing Monica’s to her own fully developed mammaries. “I just freakin’ knew.”

Biff let out an audible groan.

She turned to Biff clad in underpants. “Your serve, asshole,” Monica said.

Monica was small, as befitted her tiny frame, but the conical cones of flesh, crowned with large pink buttons, were perfectly matched and delectable to watch in motion. There was a firm ripple as Monica bounced on her toes, readying herself for Biff’s serve and her breasts stretched and lifted as she extended an arm to meet the ball. Kate, kneeling close by, caught the movement through the lens.

Biff missed; didn’t even get his racket up in time. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the sassy little blonde on the other side of the net. She aced him twice before he got his wits back; but only to the point where he managed to lob a return. Monica sent it straight back.

He steadied himself. If he could just maintain control for this last set, he would have her standing naked at center court. And he wanted that more than anything. The ball whistled by just outside his reach and in frustration he rapped his tennis racket against the asphalt.

But then Monica began to slip. She mishandled the ball twice, and once, completely misread his body movements and raced to the wrong side of the court. It was a costly blunder and put him ahead. One more point and he would have her; two sets to one.

Biff tried to relax. “Match point!”

Monica was not about to let him win easily. If he was going to get a treat he didn’t deserve, he was going to have to work for it. He backhanded her return and she sent the ball to his right side. Monica charged the net, caught the ball just as it crossed and sent it straight back, to his left this time. He had to dive for it. Biff got his racket under and lifted it high.

Monica sensed the lob and raced to the back of the court. She made it and this time connected. She aimed directly at Biff’s head and drilled it. Biff had to lurch to one side to make the return.

The game was suddenly fast and furious and Kate’s arms grew weary as she followed the action with a camera weighing over three pounds. She began to think that Monica was going to push the game to a tie-breaker. But no, Monica tired of the sport. She wanted it over and deliberately sent the ball to Biff’s right hand side and within easy reach. Monica moved forward toward her left. Biff, seeing where she was headed, steered the ball to her right and it landed with finality in the empty corner of the court. Game. Set. Match.

He had won and he let out an Indian whoop when he realized his dream had suddenly become reality.

Monica dropped her underpants and with hands on hips, kicked them defiantly into the net.

Monica stood under the lights at center court, naked except for her runners. Kate zoomed in on the tassel of corn silk that sprouted from between Monica’s legs and when Monica saw where the camera was pointed, she reached down and ruffled the trimmed pubic hair with her fingers.

But there was something more happening there; lower down. The hairs were gooey, stuck together and clung to the insides of Monica’s thighs. As Kate watched through the viewfinder, Monica’s hand lingered a moment and one finger ran deeper than the others. She tensed and her loins quivered. Then abruptly, she turned and bent forward to give Kate a view from the back.

Biff was pleased to see Monica was a true blonde and letting out another yip. He jumped the net and surprised Monica by throwing an arm around her waist and lifting her feet from the ground. He spun her around like a toy and carried her toward the chairs along the sideline. Kate followed, eye to the camera.

“What the f**k are you doing?” Monica was screaming. “Put me down.”

Biff pulled his chin away from the punch she threw. “We’re not done yet.”

Monica started squirming, lashing out with her feet and trying to reach him with balled fists and knees. “You asshole. Let me down.”

Biff controlled her with one arm and ran his free hand across her breasts. He grabbed and tugged at each n****e. “I won. And you promised. Now pay up.”

Monica struggled harder. “You don’t really think I meant it.” She was kicking now in an attempt to get free.

Kate momentarily thought about putting the camera aside, but she couldn’t. She kept her eye to the viewfinder and with the rush of adrenaline pulsating in her veins, she watched Biff plunk down in a chair with Monica on top.

“Time you got yours, you stuck up b***h,” Biff threatened, bending Monica across his knees.

Kate moved around to face Monica. She focused on the look of fear and disbelief in Monica’s eyes as Biff run a hand up between her legs. Then there was the look of shock, iced with pain as Biff brought his hand down across her ass. There was a crack like a dinner plate hitting the floor.

“Ow, s**t. That fuckin’ hurt.”

Kate saw the tears spring up but kept right on shooting.

Monica saw the lens tighten on her face. “Fuckin’ help me,” she cried out.

Kate stood up, bit her lip, took a step back and looked around for one of the stationary cameras. It was right there by the net. Kate got a hand on the tripod and dragged it over. She swung the lens around and re-focused as Biff brought his hand down a second time.

Kate heard Monica screaming and hoped the microphones were tuned. She worked steadily as Biff beat Monica with an open hand, tracing the camera’s eye along the length of Monica’s squirming body and finally rounding up on the tight buttocks. Monica’s legs were parted and Kate got close-ups of the pouting anus and lower, Monica’s moist v****a. She was secreting heavily, despite herself. Then, pulling back, Kate captured the last few strokes as Biff ripened Monica’s bottom with a hard hand.

Biff finally stood and unceremoniously dumped Monica’s nude body onto the damp grass. “There. That’ll teach you to flaunt it.”

Monica twisted, a look of horror spreading across her face. She cupped herself between the legs and bounded to her feet. “f**k you,” she screamed. “f**k both of you.” And scurrying like a crazed rodent, she scooped up her clothes, raced across the court and disappeared into the clubhouse. A moment later, her MGB cranked to life. She hadn’t taken the time to dress.

Kate was overcome with a sudden desire to get home. Her watch told her it was after midnight and Biff was gloating. She broke down the stationary cameras and loaded them into their cases. The photo floods were next.

Biff’s eyes flickered. “I’ll help load the car,” he offered.

In return for what? Katie thought as she rolled up an extension cord. He took the cameras and then came back for the lights. With cords draped from both shoulders, Kate followed him out.

“Well that was interesting,” Biff said. “I don’t know whether to thank you or Monica.”

“Just thank your stars you got a piece of her,” Kate replied, her voice traced with malice. “It’s what you wanted. She’s way outta your league, otherwise,” Katie added and she leaned into the Honda’s hatch to place the cords on top of the cases. Astounded, she felt his hands close on her hips from behind.

Biff squeezed. “Yeah. But how ‘bout you. You ever play games– in the nude?”

Kate stiffened, feeling ice water awash in her guts. “Don’t...”

He ignored her and pulling her back, she felt the bare chest she had fantasized about earlier. Kate also felt his erection in the cleft of her bum and suddenly she was incensed. Monica had provided the stimulus for the erection but he expected her to take care of it for him. To hold it inside her body so he could relieve the pressure. The thought made her crazy-mad.

He was reaching around with his hands coming up when Kate drove an elbow back. It did little to hurt him but it made her point. “Back off,” she sneered. “You’ve had more than enough excitement for one night. Save it for the old tennis broads who come to play your games.”

He dropped his hands. “Geez. I was just askin’ yah. You could be as hot as Monica, you know, what with a bit of makeup on.”

Kate couldn’t believe someone could be so crass and clueless, all in the same go. Clearly his assets were not contained in the space between his ears. But she kept her mouth shut, slammed the hatch closed and got into the driver’s seat. “Do me a favor,” she said through the open window. “Don’t call me. Don’t follow me. Don’t try to find me. Have a nice life.” And Kate started the car and left him, standing shirtless, in the parking lot.

When she got home, Monica’s MGB wasn’t in her parking space and her room was empty. Kate shrugged. They weren’t really friends anyway, not close, didn’t even hang out together. They had met when Monica answered the notice Kate had pinned to the bulletin board at school. She had been looking for a roommate to defer expenses. Katie lived in Apartment 101 on the ground floor of a low class, high rise across the highway from the college. She would have preferred an apartment on an upper floor with a view and a balcony, but ground floor living was cheaper.

She thought about a shower to rinse away the feel of Biff’s sweaty hands on her breasts but she was too tired. And she had to be up early to return the cameras before classes. Instead, she poured light rum into a glass then added ice and cola from the fridge. She gulped it down, made herself a stronger one and took it to bed. That night she dreamed she was playing tennis, but her boobs kept getting in the way.