"Yes! Good Svet, very good!" Svetlana Khorkina lifted her leg into the air, resting her weight on her back heel, and hopped into a flip gripping the bottom of the balance beam half way through. She had learned to control her breathing at an early age, taking in each lung full calmly. The tight gray and white leotard clung to her sweating form as a warm bead of salty perspiration slid down her cheek. Staying in one position looked easy from the audience or even on the sidelines, but in reality it was tough as hell. Her arms tensed, and then slowly relaxed as she completed the rest of the roll, straddling the beam.
"Perfecto! Lovely!" Peter Albeck stepped up from the thick blue mat covering the inside of the large room. "You need a break? We've been going since about.." Peter looked at his watch. "About five this morning.."
Khorkina swung her legs over and sat on the edge of the beam with a tired smile. "I've been going at it since five, you've watched." Albeck smirked lightly. "Look, why don't you grab a shower, get some lunch and we'll meet back this afternoon. Dah?" Svetlana smiled and dabbed at her forehead with a moist towel, appreciating his attempt to speak Russian. "Dah, lets start tomorrow around noon though, I need the rest."
lbeck had woken her up early that morning, they had arranged the previous night to do a few laps around the track, but hadn't even got that far. Both of them were world class gymnasts, she was a veteran compared to Albeck, but they had become friends at the winter games in Australia a few months prior. It wasn't anything romantic, they were just two people who were good at what they did and enjoyed it. She strode to the back of the gymnasium, just as two others girls were entering to warm up, giving a friendly smile to both as she passed them by. Stepping into the hallway leading down to the shower rooms she gave a light tug on where the leotard met her ass cheeks, adjusting it slightly, it always seemed to ride up anytime she worked the balance beam. She recalled the games in Atlanta a few years ago, dying from embarrassment of nearly giving one judge an up-close of her ass accidentally. The last thing she thought herself to be though, was shy.
Posing for Playboy many had thought was a stunt to get attention or create controversy. The simple facts were that the money was good, she was far from offended by nudity, and she knew herself that she had a nice body. She absent mindedly rubbed the back of her neck as her bare feet touched the cool tile floor of the washroom, a comforting chill rushing over her as she passed under a fan in the ceiling. The white tiled surface of the room was countered by the dark cedar walls, the only window was a small opening near the ceiling that streamed in light from the hot afternoon. The sound of running water echoed through the numbered stalls, and the sight of steam rising from the stall furthest from the door had caught her attention. Few were starting, and barely any were just finishing up around now.
