Greetings, readers! Welcome to my submission for the 2018 Literotica Winter Holidays Contest! This story is probably quite different from most of the other contest entries, but I feel it fits the winter category to a T. Instead of being set at Christmas, as some of my previous stories have been, I've set this story during the 2018 Winter Olympics, which is when I got the inspiration for it. It's a simple concept, but one not out of the realm of possibility, and I had a lot of fun with where it led me. I hope you enjoy, and I'd appreciate a 5-star rating for the contest. Thanks so much!
*
The crowds at Gangneung Oval roared with excitement. The Pyeongchang Olympics had so far been a rousing success, and this was one of the most hotly anticipated events of all: men's speed skating. South Korea had experienced great success in the sport in recent years, and the fact that a local boy sat atop the leaderboard had brought the crowd's emotions to a fever pitch. Just two skaters remained, guaranteeing their hometown hero no worse than a bronze medal.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our final pairing for the men's 1500-meter speed skate,"
said the announcer, speaking first in French, then English, and finally in Korean.
"In the inner lane, representing the United States of America, Scott Erickson."
At the starting line, Scott gave a quick wave to the cheering crowd, making sure to keep his mind focused on the task at hand. He was in excellent shape, as one would expect from an Olympian, but he still couldn't believe he found himself in this position. Scott wasn't the greatest speed skater, lacking the explosive power to compete in the shorter events and not being quite lean enough to last in the longer races, but he had found a niche in skating the 1500-meter races. His athletic build placed him right in-between sprinters and marathon skaters, strong enough to get good starts yet still able to last the length of the race.
"And in the outer lane, representing the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, Moon Se-jun,"
the announcer continued.
Though crowd gave Scott a warm reception, their response to the North Korean skater was decidedly more tepid. Most South Koreans were relieved that the games had progressed without incident, thanks in large part to their own government's desire to have many North Korean representatives present at the games, but tensions remained high. Still, most of the athletes received at least polite cheers; everyone realized that North Korea's athletes were fighting for more than just Olympic glory. They were potentially fighting for their lives. Any embarrassment during the games would not end well once they returned home to face Kim Jong-un. Still, one section was almost hysterical in their jubilation as Se-jun stepped up to the starting line next to Scott.
"There they are," Scott chuckled to himself.
Since the day the Olympics began, the American media had fawned over the large squad of cheerleaders North Korea had sent to support their athletes. Wherever they went, the gaggle of young ladies was impossible to miss. They were young, pretty, enthusiastic, and highly coordinated. Of course, Scott knew damn well their devotion had to stem from years of brainwashing. The way the media fell over themselves to praise their routines sickened him; they were playing right into the hands of the North Korean propaganda machine. Shaking his head, Scott forced these thoughts from his mind. After Scott took his mark, the starting gun sounded and the two skaters were off.
To the casual observer, speed skating might seem an uncomplicated sport; the fastest skater wins the race. In reality, there was an enormous amount of strategy to such a simple race. For Scott, he had a strong preference for long track as opposed to the more popular short track. In short track, anywhere between three and six skaters would race at once, confined to laps around a hockey rink. This cramped space created frequent collisions and penalties; a clean short track race was a rare feat, and racers were often disqualified as such. But in long track, only two skaters raced at a time, one in each lane of the larger oval track. On the back stretch of every lap, the skaters switched lanes to equalize their distances, but even with this swap, collisions were quite rare. Scott liked it that way; it meant the most skilled skater won more often than not and minimized the risk of being disqualified due to an accidental collision.
As Scott and Se-jun took off, each displayed their unique strategy. Se-jun was built like a sprinter; the 1500-meter race was his longest possible race. As such, he exploded off the line with as much strength and power as he could muster. Scott, on the other hand, focused on his technique, attaining a full extension of his legs with each push he gave. He was not in the lead to start with, but this strategy had given him great consistency during his short career. Approaching the first curve, Scott began to show off his greatest advantage in the sport: his balance. He was able to get so low to the ground on the curves and maintain a consistently high speed that it sometimes felt to Scott as if he were racing in the Indy 500. The forces on his body as he whipped around the oval sure felt that way. By this time, he had caught back up with Se-jun, though Scott knew the North Korean excelled in the straightaways.
Coming out of the second curve to finish their first lap, Scott and Se-jun were neck-and-neck, forcing Scott to let up a bit as they swapped lanes. In long track skating, the skater swapping from the outside lane to the inside always had the right of way, but this still provided Scott a perfect opportunity to skate directly behind Se-jun for part of the lap, gaining a speed boost from his draft. As long as he was back in his proper lane by the time he reached the curve, this was well within the rules. While Se-jun set up for his turn, the crowd cheered in surprise as Scott zoomed ahead from the draft and rocketed around the curve at breakneck speed. Unbeknownst to Scott, he was demolishing the time of the South Korean who currently led the field, yet the crowd was loving it all the same.
Two laps later, the pair entered their final lap. The crowd watched with baited breath, seeing the American still just ahead of the record previously set by the South Korean. All the while, Se-jun remained just a half second behind. Seeing that their man could defy the odds and win an Olympic medal, the Army of Beauties erupted into a cheer, chanting Se-jun's name. Se-jun started the lap by drafting behind Scott, gaining a speed boost as Scott had done earlier in the race. His speed was incredible, but he still lacked control on the curves this late into a longer race, and he began to fall behind again on the final turn. At last, the two skaters crossed the finish line to the deafening roar of the crowd in Gangnueng Oval.
"And now for the results,"
said the announcer.
"With a time of 1:44.25, Scott Erickson is now in first place and has won the gold medal for the United States of America!"
Scott lowered the hood of his racing suit and stared in disbelief. He had never expected to medal, let alone win the gold, yet the time was there in front of his face. He was an official gold medalist!
"And with a time of 1:44.80, Moon Se-jun is in third place, capturing the bronze medal for the Democratic People's Republic of Korea! Your silver medalist is Kim Sang-han from the Republic of Korea!"
At that point, Scott couldn't have cared less what country Se-jun came from; he had just medaled when every expert predicted he would finish well outside the top five! Turning to the North Korean, Scott smiled and extended a hand.
"
Usuhan jongjog
!" he said, roughly translating to, "Hell of a race!"
Se-jun cocked his head and gave a lopsided grin as he shook Scott's hand. "You speak Korean?" he asked in slow yet clear English.
"I do. My grandmother was born here. You speak English?"
"Yes," said Se-jun. "Dear Leader wants us to be able to communicate our great nation's ideals across all tongues."
"Ah, I see," Scott replied, trying to be as polite as possible. Thankfully, Se-jun's handler arrived at that moment and whisked him back to his coaches. Still, Scott couldn't help but smile at the elation on Se-jun's face; perhaps he had earned a better life for himself and his family back home.
The rest of the day was a blur of activity for Scott. His coach nearly crushed him with a bear hug and his parents couldn't have been more thrilled with his victory. It seemed odd to him that Tom, his identical twin brother, wasn't with them, but they assured him that Tom was just feeling a bit ill and was glued to the TV in his hotel room. As evening drew near, there were interviews and press conferences galore, followed by the medal ceremony itself. As a former member of the U.S. Army, Scott had heard more than a few renditions of
The Star-Spangled Banner
in his day, but this one almost made him tear up. Almost.
*****
As Scott left the final party for U.S. athletes before the Closing Ceremony the next day, he grabbed his phone and typed up a text message to his brother.
"Hey, Doofus. You still playing sick, or can I actually come by and rub your nose in this gold medal of mine?"
"That's not much incentive for me to be well if I'm indeed 'playing' sick,"
came the reply.
"Smartass..."
"But yeah, I'll be up for a while. Stop on by."
