[ Note: this story is fiction and is intended merely as a token of my admiration and respect for the sporting prowess of the two remarkable athletes who appear in this narrative ]
Every year London is packed for the tennis finals at Wimbledon. I hadn't been there myself, but I was working at a hotel only a few miles away whose name it might be better not to mention. Some of the players were staying there, and on the evening of a grand reception for the Tennis Association a lot of them went out and showed no signs of returning that night, so I was having a quiet night working Room Service. Just before my shift ended, there was an order for a bottle of wine from room 412, so I said that I would drop it off before I went home.
412 was actually one of the suites reserved for the top-rank tennis players, so I was only slightly surprised when the door was opened by one of America's leading tennis champions. She smiled perfunctorily as I brought the wine in, but I heard a giggle from one of the armchairs and turned to see her younger sister Serena draining a wine glass.
"Oh goodie," she giggled, "more wine. Open it up!" She waved her glass, obviously feeling no pain. Her older sister took a seat next to her and they resumed their conversation about the reception they'd just returned from, particularly the large number of Lords and Ladies who'd been present. "Closest we ever got to nobility till now was listening to mamma's old Duke Ellington albums," chuckled Venus.
I opened the new bottle of wine and poured a glass for each of the sisters. They were both in expensive-looking evening dresses, and for once had omitted their trademark beaded hairdo. Venus shivered a little and said "London is cooler than Florida. Think I'll turn the heat up a notch." She stepped over to the thermostat and adjusted it.
I took a quick deep breath as she turned to the thermostat. Her dress was nearly backless and her long naked back shone like polished ebony, the muscles moving slightly under her smooth skin as she raised her hand to adjust the dial. It was all I could do to keep from groaning to myself at the sheer animal magnetism of her.
"I think he likes you, sis" laughed Serena, whose eyes had not missed my glance and the subsequent reddening of my face. Venus turned back towards her chair, then stopped as she was passing me and looked down at me.
I gulped. I was about 5'10" and I could look Serena in the eye, but her sister was at least three inches taller than me, with broad shoulders and arms that rippled with the muscles of a professional athlete. It occurred to me that if she was offended, I could not only lose my job but she might throw me out the door herself. I smiled weakly.
She smiled back and her usually serious expression was replaced by an amused look. "He's sort of cute himself, ain't he? What's your name, honey?"
"Michael, Miss Williams."
"Oh, don't you just love that accent! And why don't you call me Venus?"