Linda Loves Lace

This short story requires some knowledge of tennis. Skip the next paragraph if you already know the game.

For those of you who haven't followed tennis, love means zero. Points are scored as fifteen, thirty, forty, and then game. If tied, at forty, you have what's referred to as 'Deuce'. You must win by two points, so once tied, the next point winner is 'Advantage' and is followed by 'Game' if up by two or 'Deuce' if tied again. Six games constitutes a set, although you need to win by two games. Nowadays, if tied at six games apiece, you play a tiebreaker to determine the set winner. The twelve point tiebreaker was introduced in the 1970s, centuries after the origins of tennis. It is scored one, two, three, etc. Go figure. Best of twelve points, and up by two, wins the tiebreaker and thus the set. Some refer to it as a seven point tiebreaker, since seven points is the best of twelve. Usually in amateur events, winning two sets wins the match. If a ball bounces twice before being hit, or the first bounce occurs outside (out) of the playing area (court), a point is scored. A game starts when one participant 'serves', by hitting the tennis ball over a net and into a small box. The recipient must let the serve bounce and then 'returns' the serve by hitting it back over the net. They hit it back and forth until a point is won. Break point is when the server is about to lose a game. The other participant serves the next game. Most amateur games are marred by claims that balls were 'out', even though they may not have been. 'Tis a gentleman's sport, where you are expected to call things honestly. Yeah, right. In tournaments, the officiating person, sitting in a chair adjacent to the net, calls shots in or out. I made sure to leave several important things out so my one-bombers can immediately vote, comment, and leave. Those of you still awake, thanks for humoring me.

Please read my profile for my stance on comments. Feel free to email suggestions or to start a conversation. Private messages work too.

Pete Townshend: "I'm lookin' for me. You're lookin' for you. Were lookin' at each other, and we don't know what to do!"

= = = =

My name is Kevin Starling, divorced, childless, age 40, and owner of Deuce Tennis Club. It's in the foothills, outside of the city limits, and mortgaged to the hilt. I've got four indoor courts, and six outdoor courts. It's been a long uphill climb, but now the profits are high.

I don't give lessons, because I have a speech impediment. I've tried giving lessons, but found that my stuttering was too distracting for me to be an effective teacher. So I play several games every day. No, I'm not some kind of super athlete. I pace myself, and play down to the level of my competition. Most people don't know my name. Since I play tennis in a sailor's cap, they tend to just call me Captain. My cap has a little anchor on the front so I get teased a lot with the 'aye, aye Captain' stuff. It's really meant to cover my bald head, as my golden locks disappeared way too soon.

I'm very popular with the older players, as they get all pumped up when they 'beat' me. I have ulterior motives, as they are also the ones willing to spend their disposable income on tennis. Most think I'm just some weird old guy that hangs around and doesn't talk much.

Marsha, my front office manager, acts like she is related to the owner. She isn't, related to me, but runs things like she owns the place. I want it that way, as it allows me to play tennis. Having been badly burned, by the opposite sex, I tend to avoid romantic connections with the women who frequent the tennis courts. Sometimes the lure is too great, and I accept indecent proposals.

There are tournaments, for every skill level, almost every weekend. Rather than being exposed, I sit them out. I also have to graciously decline invitations to be this person or that person's double's partner. Why screw up a good thing? Our weekend tournaments are run contrary to traditional scoring. You play for forty minutes, and then 'finish' a first to fifteen points tiebreaker. You start the tiebreaker with the number of games you won in the first forty minutes. You are guaranteed three pool games on Saturday and at least two elimination games on Sunday. Traditionalists quit after one tournament, but based on the sign-up sheets, most think it's a fun way to spend the weekend. It generates a lot of income for Marsha's boss.

Several tennis coaches use my facilities for their teaching programs. I have yet to see a prodigy, but there's a few young players who are above average.

It was Thursday evening, and I'd just been beaten by a fifty year old woman. As we exited indoor court three, a young lady and even younger boy, took our place. It was 8 Pm, the last time slot before closing. The lady appeared to be late teens, and dressed like a magazine ad. Complete stereotypical shoes, socks, skirt, and top. All she needed was Mr. GQ to hang onto. Her blond hair was bound into a pony tail.

She was tall and thin as a rail. The boy couldn't have been more than ten. She set up the automatic Tennis Ball machine. The kid's job was to retrieve the tennis balls, after the girl reacted to each ball fired from the machine.

For whatever reason, the other indoor courts were empty, so I watched the young lady as I drank my Coke Zero. No need to load up on calories, as I have brownies for that task. The young lady had some skills, but was slow to return to center after her backhand shot. The automatic machine was rotating randomly left and right, so you couldn't anticipate which way to move. After several misses, she snapped at the young boy to turn the machine off. She was toweling off, and hydrating, when I made contact with her.

"You have a h-h-hole in your g-g-game."

There was spite in the look she gave me before responding "The last thing I need is advice from some old man who can't beat an even older lady."

"O-o-okay. Get used to l-l-losing."

Again, the look shot my way was less than loving.

Round two, off of the serving machine, saw her making the same mistakes again and again. I put that L sign against my forehead. That got her attention.

"Shut the F up old man. If I want to win I'll challenge you, you, you, you loser!"

It wasn't the first time, nor will it be the last, that someone mocked my stuttering. I motioned for her to come to the dividing fence.

"When I-I-I win the first set, you you you have to play topless in second set."

"I should have guessed that you're a pervert. You just want to see my tits!"

I smirked "You you you have tits? Did you l-l-leave them at home? What are you f-f-fifteen?"

She was far from flat chested, but one thing I've learned is that no matter the size, you don't diss a woman's boobs.

"Asshole! I'm twenty. I'll be a junior at State, AND I play on the tennis team."

"Apparently a-a-anybody can play t-t-tennis at your s-s-school?"

"Jerk! Make it worth my while. I need a sponsor for the Fireworks Classic. Five hundred bucks every time I win a set from your sorry ass. Make it easy on yourself geezer. How much can you afford?"

"When I-I-I win s-s-second set, what do I get?"

I smirked as I made a point of checking her out, head to toe.

"Dreamer! What do you want? Sex? That's ridiculous and never going to happen. You're not even going to win one set, so what's it going to be pervert?"

"You str-str-strip naked and join me for c-c-coffee while I ex-ex-explain hole in your game."

"How do I know you have the thousands of dollars I'm going to enjoy taking from you?"

I pulled my wallet out, and fanned a series of Benjamins.

"You're on old man. Right here. Right now!"

"Call me Captain."

"I'm Kitty. Prepare to lose your ship Captain. Jimmy, clear off all the balls!"

+ + + +

"You s-s-serve first" I called across the net.

I stood motionless as her first serve became an ace. She lobbed straight up when she served cross court.

Kitty sniped "What? Too fast for you to return?"

I moved, hoping she would serve up the middle. She did, and I let it go. She lobs outside to serve up the middle.

"Thirty love loser! Did you forget to pull up your anchor?"

The next toss was outside, so I hit a backhand winner, making it thirty fifteen.

"Lucky miss!"

Her next toss was straight up, so I anticipated her cross court serve, correctly. Ripping it down the line, it was now thirty all, with no comment. The next serve was right at me, so I hit it to her backhand side, and she was slow to return to the middle. Although she got a racket on my shot, her shot sailed wide, break point. Game point was a repeat of the previous point, and there was fear on her face.

"Sandbagging jerk!"

I smiled.

Kitty eventually won a game, but I won the first set six games to one, including three games at love.

"Ta-Ta t-t-time!"

"NO! You lied, and I don't pay cheaters."

I put the L against my forehead as Kitty stormed out. She flipped me off when Jimmy wasn't looking. I tipped my hat back at her, which drew an L against her forehead. She was pissed.

+ + + +

The following night, Kitty and a woman, almost certainly her mother, showed up at 7:45 Pm. They could have passed for sisters, but for the hint of gray in momma's hair.

"Captain, can I talk with you?"

"Sure, w-w-what's up?"

"My name is Linda, and you can't possibly be serious about the silly bet you made with my daughter."

"N-n-nobody forced her to b-b-bet."

"She says you tricked her. That you hid your talents from her."

"She t-t-tricked herself. Arrogant l-l-little brat needed t-t-to learn a lesson."

"She doesn't want to play you again, but wants your help."

"So you-you-you are here to pay her debt?"

Linda blushed about a dozen shades of red "NO!"

"Too bad. N-n-no ta-tas, no training."

Linda spun away quickly and started an animated conversation with Kitty. After a few minutes, Linda returned.

"Not here. There's too many people around."

"The m-m-manager lets me st-st-stay after hours. Nine fifteen w-w-work?"

Conference time again, and then Kitty approached.

"Alright Mr. PIG, nine fifteen. What should I work on until then?"

"Humility and pre-conceived no-no-notions."

Looking guilty, Kitty finally made true eye contact "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were letting that older woman win. Although that was sweet of you, you could have warned me."

"B-b-but you learned more t-t-this way."

"Yes sir. I did. Tennis wise, what should I work on?"

"Well ma'am, your s-s-serve. You t-t-telegraph location by how you t-t-toss the ball. V-v-vary both."

The hour crawled by as Kitty attempted to vary her toss and location. Changes, in any sport, come slowly. There is no magic elixir, as muscle memory has already been installed, and is slow to adapt to a better way of doing things. All the repetition done doing it wrong, takes an equal amount of work to change it to get it right.

If stares could bore holes in you, Linda would have done it to me. I don't think she took her eyes off of me the whole hour. One by one the courts cleared, and when it was only Kitty and Linda left, I locked the doors and activated the remote control window blinds. No one could see in now.

The three of us gathered around a table.

Linda spoke first "Why would you make that bet?"

"If I p-p-put the fear of losing in h-h-her head, she wouldn't p-p-play her best. Kitty wanted t-t-to beat me, not the game."

Turning to Kitty "Once behind, d-d-did you panic?"

Hanging her head "Yes. I guess I need to work on my mental game. Can you help me?"

"Don't know. W-w-who is your coach?"

"It was my dad, but he left mom, so I don't want anything to with him."

When I looked at Linda, her eyes were red and moist.

"Alright, f-f-first thing is hit your shot a-a-and return to center. Admire your s-s-shot AFTER you are ready for n-n-next shot."

For the next hour, I coached with hand signals. We'd start with Kitty centered. I would hit a shot left or right, and if she admired her return shot, I painted the opposite line for an easy point. About thirty minutes in, I noticed that Linda had unbuttoned her blouse, and her lacy black bra was lying on the table. Although no nipples were showing, seeing bare skin, from chin to belly button, does something to a guy. I was distracted, and Linda knew it. Kitty was oblivious to it, and thrilled that she was scoring points against me.

Around ten thirty, Kitty announced "Game on!"

Linda shrieked "KITTY!"

"I got this mom! What's with your blouse?"

Linda pulled her blouse open, revealing hardened nipples "Oh, just providing a little distraction. I hope that's a sport's cup in your shorts Captain! If not, that sure is a teenie-weenie."

Now it was my turn to blush, as I was wearing a cup, but was aroused and pushing the cup out.

Kitty taunted "Too tired old man?" as she pulled her top off. Her sports bra tumbled away quickly.

"You s-s-serve first."

It was a much improved effort from Kitty. Linda had removed her blouse and was retrieving the balls, seductively. Instead of trying to beat Kitty, I made sure we had long volleys. She won the first, fourth, fifth, and eighth games. We were knotted at four apiece. Kitty got away with some questionable OUT calls, until I put up the L sign. Nothing more needed to be said.

When we resumed, Linda was down to her black lacy panties, which made me rock hard. In the last two games, Kitty screamed at me "You're letting me win points! Quit it!"

Kitty 'won' the last two games to beat me six four.

"Did you let me win?"

I peeled five bills from my wallet "Does is m-m-matter? Here's your entry f-f-fee."

Kitty took the bills as I felt Linda hug me hard from the side. The feeling of her warm body, and tits, caused more lower discomfort. Linda's hands brushed the cupped tent in my shorts, as she broke free from her hug.

"Sweet dreams Captain. I have a hole in my game too!" was whispered into my ear.

Kitty teased "The missus gets a frisky boy tonight!"

There was no reason to put a damper on the evening, so I simply smiled at them. The giggling pair dressed, blew kisses, and left. I choked the chicken before falling asleep.

+ + + +

Marsha caught me first thing in the morning.

"You have someone named Kitty who wants an emergency lesson this evening. Here's her number."

Saturday is normally my poker night, but thoughts of the topless pair had haunted my sleep, so I cancelled poker.

Punching in the number, I got a recording 'This is Kitty. Easier to reach me by text.'

I texted 'Be inside before closing. Nine fifteen start. Captain.'

Rather than feeling the pain against a plastic cup, I chose to wear a cloth cup. Linda and Kitty arrived at eight forty five, wearing shit eating grins, jeans, and sweat shirts. After the crowd thinned out, I locked up.

Turning my attention to the teasing pair, they waited until I was closer before erotically shedding their sweat shirts and shimmying their jeans off. Neither had worn a bra. Kitty, wearing only a pink thong, put her tennis shoes back on. Linda was clad in lacy red panties. My cock was not happy about being restrained.

"I like y-y-your outfit" was direct towards Linda.

As Kitty wiggled away "And mine?"

"I'll enjoy p-p-paddling that ass."

"Not happening Captain" as she put the L against her forehead.

Overconfidence can wreak havoc on a person's game. I let Kitty win the first three games. Linda was licking her lips, while staring at my crotch. Kitty was heaping on the smack talk. She talks a good game.

"Your ego c-c-cuts checks your g-g-game can't cover!"

"Prove it, Captain teenie-weenie!"

"Looks like you you you are sweating between y-y-your legs! You too Linda!"

Kitty screamed "In your dreams!"

Linda made me squirm "Yes I am."

Kitty never got past thirty the rest of the night as I finished off the set, six games to three.

As we approached the net, for the congratulatory handshake "I ought to take this tennis racket to that bulge in your shorts. Fucking sandbagger. What the hell are you doing playing here?"

"Giving l-l-lessons to b-b-brats" brought a playful slap to my arm.

Linda approached "I don't see a coffee machine."

"The f-f-fast food place?"

Kitty shrieked "I'm not about to strut around naked in public!"

I fake wiped a tear from my eye.

Linda saved her naked daughter's ass "Let's go to my house."

"W-w-where's Jimmy?"

"Sleepover at his friend's house. We're good."

It was all I could do to not maul Kitty when she gave me a big hug and kissed my cheek. Something primal about having a near naked woman snuggle up against you.

"Thanks for your help Captain" as we broke our hug.

Linda wasn't about to get left out of the hugging, and I did squeeze her ass. When she brushed against my cup, I thumbed a nipple.

"Maybe you can help me with the hole in my game too?" was whispered in my ear, causing extreme discomfort down below.

+ + + +

Linda waited for me, and Kitty was long gone before I finished closing up. Linda was very talkative, telling me all about herself, Kitty, and Jimmy. I got the feeling that we had just finished a date and were headed back to her place. Works for me!

It was about a twenty minute drive to her house in the suburbs. This wasn't a high society neighborhood. Lots of small one car garage ranch style homes. I parked in the driveway, at Linda's insistence.

"Come on in. Did you really want coffee, or would you prefer something else?"

"Scotch rocks."

"I can do that."

I was impressed with her small house. It had a very warm feeling to it.

"W-w-where's Kitty?"

Handing me my drink, then wrapping her hands around my back "I told her to get lost."

Feeling her hot pussy grind into my crotch, I leaned over and kissed her lips tenderly. Linda responded by moving her hands behind my head, and then pushed her tongue deep into my mouth. I was at a severe disadvantage, holding my drink, but my free hand roamed without encountering resistance.

When our kiss ended, there was a sparkle in her eyes. My heart was racing.

"L-l-linda I-I-I ..." I started to say, before Linda put her finger on my lips.

"Shoosh, I know just how you feel. You're coming with me."

Setting my drink down, on the kitchen countertop, I allowed Linda to lead me to a bedroom. Letting go of my hand, Linda headed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I watched as her jeans, sweat top, and panties hit the floor.

"Come on slow poke, get naked. You're all sweaty and need to rinse off."

You didn't need to ask me twice. I followed Linda's beautiful ass into the shower. She wasted no time in lathering up my cock.

"You have a very nice package sir!"

"And it is o-o-obvious that I'm enjoying your b-b-beautiful body ma'am. Keep doing t-t-that and I'm going to s-s-shoot. The way the t-t-two of you were t-t-teasing me has me ready to blow."

Rinsing off the soap, Linda's mouth replaced her hands. With my cock buried in her mouth, she worked the head with her tongue.

"I'M GETTING CLOSE!"

Fair warning, but Linda never slowed down as I enjoyed a spectacular deep throat blow job. As she stood back up, water dripping off of her head, my fingers found her warm wet pussy. With the bar of soap, I lathered Linda up, then rinsed her off. Her enlarged clit was easy to find and manipulate. I sank to my knees, pushing Linda against the shower wall, and licked the folds of her pussy. Linda put her hands on the back of my head, and ground her pussy into my mouth, before bucking and screaming through her orgasm. I continued licking while she orgasmed two more times. Linda slid down onto her butt, in exhaustion.

"Damn! That was awesome. Get dried off! I'm going to ride that cock all night long."

I know I shouldn't have had sex without a condom, but I did. Again and again. Linda wasn't worried about it, so I enjoyed the passion.