Double Flip

Chapter 3

Chapter 3Naked bodies intertwined in official 2012 Olympic sheets, and kisses turned passionate, as lips and hands explored flesh imagination had envisioned touching a very long time.

“Talk dirty to me,” came a breathy request from Kat.

Ekaterina Mischen was born to Ukrainian parents in the United States. Her mother, Irina, won two consecutive World Figure Skating Championships in pairs in the late 80s. Papa Oleg had a gymnastics floor exercise move named after him. Much of America had already fallen in love with Kat, because of a Super Bowl Sunday soft drink ad. Doing backflips and splits, Kat managed to dodge evil alien laser guns, all without spilling a single drop from the blue and red can. If Kat added an Olympic gold medal to what she’d already accomplished, “her people” figured she could go from “that girl in the soda commercial” to a household name.

An almost shy giggle followed Kat’s request, then some filthy words strung together with medal-worthy skill, considering English was the dirty-talker’s second language.

“You sing your national anthem with that mouth?”

“Oui.” The mouth in question touched the one that asked it. “But kissing is better than talking, no?”

Grabbing handfuls of hair, gasps, and grunts took the place of words as Kat and her lover lost themselves in carnal endeavors. “Oh Canada!”

* * * *

Ben rapped on the door, then walked in, as was customary. The Athletes’ Village rooms looked like any college dorm—basic white and gray, with faux wood furnishings from Ikea or some store just like it. “Your bed looks like the wrestling team practiced on it,” he said upon entering. “I’m assuming Tanya was here.”

“Jealous?”

“I’m gay.”

“No kidding.” Kat tightened the belt on her powder blue bathrobe. “Me, too.”

Kat and Tanya Gairden, a French-Canadian gymnast, had been “event lovers” for a couple of years. The term not only referred to the magnitude of their s*x; it was also the idiom given to athletes who regularly hooked up at meets and competitions throughout the season. Sadly, the two had to keep their relationship on the down-low, not just because it was rather like Betsy Ross banging Benedict Arnold—though Gairden and the Canadian ladies had no realistic hopes of medaling at the XXX games—but more because “Betsy” was banging Mrs. Benedict Arnold.

“You knew?” Ben had expected a bigger reaction to his big reveal.

Kat hugged him, perhaps sensing his disappointment. “I can pretend to be shocked, if you want.” She jumped back. “Gay? Oh! My! God!”

“Shh.” Ben smiled. “The walls may have ears.”

“If they have eyes, I’m in more trouble than you.”

Even in 2012, endorsement deals and, Kat’s same “people” feared, America’s affection might come to a screeching halt were Kat to go public as—wrong sports metaphor aside—a gymnast who batted for the other team.

Kat had gotten good at sneaking around and being vague, carefully choosing her pronouns on those rare occasions when she discussed her personal life in the press. Only a few people knew. Her best bud, Ben, was the first she’d ever told.

“Seriously, you okay, Piglet?”

Kat started calling Ben Piglet the day she caught him skinny dipping with Booger Fisher, one of the figure skaters who trained at the rink run by her mom. Short, cute, soft-spoken, and very pink in lots of places, she thought the nickname fit Ben to a T.

“I’m good,” Ben told Kat, there in her Olympic dormitory.

“For real good?”

“Yeah. It feels…” He took a breath, then plopped down onto the messy bed. “Like a relief. Not that I expected you to react negatively. I don’t know why I waited so long.”

“If this moment’s right for you, it’s right for me. In fact, it’s perfect, because…look.”

“At?”

“The guy who was checking you out at the opening ceremonies.”

Ben looked at Kat’s phone.

“Igor Koshulynsky,” she said.

“Gesundheit.”

“Wrong language.” Kat cued up a video she’d recorded. “Look at the lust in his eyes. Lust, I tell ya!”

“He’s kind of…huge.” Ben’s eyes got bigger.

“Gentle, though, maybe. He is way into you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“And why wouldn’t he be?” Kat kissed the top of Ben’s head. “You’re irresistible, especially since flashing your goods to the world.”

“My goods were Photoshopped out.”

“Bummer. My Piglet’s got some nice goods.”

“I thought you didn’t like dude parts,” Ben ribbed.

“I love men.” Kat reached for a brush from the nightstand and began combing through damp hair. “Especially you. Naked or otherwise. Look at it this way,” she said, breaking from her task. “I would never go down on a bouquet of roses, for fear of a mouthful of thorns, but I still think they’re pretty.”

“Stick to the uneven bars.” Ben picked up his phone, which had fallen from his pocket. “Your analogy skills need work. And, PS and by the way, my pretty pecker has never scarred a single tongue.”

Kat laughed. “Only a heart or two.”

“Hopefully, Taylor’s heart is just fine.”

Ben knew two sets of twins; identical twins Adam and Richie Stoker, and fraternal twins Taylor and Tyler Hin. Ben and Taylor dated. He took her to the awards show put on by the magazine in which they’d both been featured in their altogether. A reporter asked if they were romantically involved. Ben answered he loved her.

“Not one of my finest moments,” he said now. “Many moments. Weeks, months, ongoing.”

Though Ben and Taylor had parted ways romantically, the press often still referred to them as a couple.

“It wasn’t fair of me to let her think we could be something more, when I knew all along…”

“You’d rather marry her brother?”

Ben tossed his phone across the mattress. “It’s probably better if we don’t bring him up.”

“Oh, really?” Kat leaned closer. “Why is that? What else are you hiding from me?”