Chapter 2 - A Hot Workout
Casey was still mulling over the idea and starting to do his reading when he got a call from Lani. "Are you ready to go to work?"
"What?"
"I've got a client. Ready and willing. Or at least ready and pretty willing. Her sister is the contact. She has already softened her up a touch. Not actually. This one is no softy. Hard body. Serious athlete. You may have heard of her. Deann Downs."
"Deann Downs? That Deann Downs? You're not serious. That one could get any man on the planet."
He did his research.
He met with the sister, who was definitely a sister and raised an eyebrow when she saw Casey walk into the club where Lani had arranged for them to meet. Discreet waiters in starched linen jackets. Good wine. Plates of cheeses, crudite. The sister voiced her concern.
"How is a dude as white as you going to get my gal to turn on her freak? Hell, marshmallow, you likely don't know what a freak is or what to do if you accidentally bump into it. Oh, I'm not saying you're not cute. You are cute as Lani said you were. Let me tell you, given the right night and I'm out of my teddy and briefs, but Deann. Girl's got serious attitude. The woman is a serious athlete, a sprinter and long jumper and pole vaulter. Always in training. But even though she is at the top of her game and got a body like an Olympic statue and good money in the bank from endorsements she is not happy with what is happening in her bed. She has been so driven to succeed that sex mostly just gets in the way. And men, even other athletes who know the sacrifice and training required, treat her like some dumb bitch who wins by dumb luck or like some Amazon they have to beat with their hands and their dicks in order to maintain their pride. They just do her and move on. Jawbone with their crew. Well, and sometimes she just does them. Over in a couple of minutes. After a while she just gave it up. Didn't even really do herself."
Casey also talked, discreetly to another athlete on Deann's travel team. She told Casey that Deann talked about "losing her edge" and "going soft." Still, she could tell there was something missing. She talked about "feeling like a dried up leaf inside." And what worried her was that it seemed to be affecting her performance. Some women took male hormones to get their freak back on. She couldn't do that without being disqualified.
Casey got all the backstory before he arranged for their first encounter at her next track practice.
They didn't actually really meet. He wanted it that way. He wanted to observe. But he didn't hide. He arrived as the women were doing their stretching and marked out his "patient." She was clearly a very healthy specimen. But then all of them were. There was the lanky Slav with no hips, the short powerful gal with killer thighs and the tight pony tail, the giggly blond, seemingly too soft for a competitive athlete, yet he knew she was a world class 1500 meter runner. But "his" gal, Deann was something to see. He felt guilty because he couldn't help comparing her body to a fine thoroughbred mare, especially in the skintight running outfit that revealed every muscle on her body.
Above medium height. Fine square shoulders and toned arms. Washboard belly, great powerful thighs and graceful though compact calves. Slim ankles. Magnificent buttocks, high, round and separate. It took his breath away to see them bunch and release as she jogged down the track. Light brown skin, full lips, generous nose with nostrils that flared when she ran, big gray eyes, short afro that bounced just a little when she moved. Great shy smile with double dimples when she spotted him in the stands and he gave a little wave.
He said almost nothing to her that day, "Hi, I'm Casey. I'll be giving you a call." That evening he told her sister and her best friend, that he would take the job.
For three weeks he didn't call. But every two or three days he appeared in the stands beside the track to watch her, waved, disappeared while she was busy with her practice. He worked to keep it irregular, to keep her off base. Finally, he noticed her mouth was going down and tight when she saw him. He allowed himself to sit right down near her stretching area at the next practice. After she was warmed up she stalked over to him as he knew she would.
"What are you doing? Whatever it is, it is messing up my routine. Mean seriously. I go looking to see if you are here and I'm not paying attention to my work. Almost walked under a javelin the other day. I don't get it. You are supposed to be helping me, but you are messing me up. If this is how you work, let's just call it off, OK? Seriously, I don't want to be doing that Jr. High school 'will he, won't he' thing. Let's get this thing going, or forget it."
"You're ready?"
"What did I just say?"
"You are a woman of action."
"That's me"
"That could be a problem."
"What? How is that?"
"Meet me for lunch at the Silverside Diner and we'll find out."
"Why should I?"
"Because your sister and your girlfriend want you to, I want you to, and I think you want you to. I am led to believe there is something missing in your life."
"Well it isn't exactly a man. I got plenty of those if I just put on the right tight dress. And what would I want with a white boy like you anyway?" She held her fingers a couple of inches apart. "If the brothers with the serious johnsons don't do it for me."
"It's not about them. It's not about me. It's about you. I think maybe I can help."
"You mean 'help yourself.' Well, I'm not an order of fried chicken."
Casey was getting tired of the banter. He knew it had its place, but he was pretty sure it was one of the tools Deann used to keep men at arms length. So he stepped further away, just ignored the zap.
"Lunch at one o'clock. Will that be alright?"
"Sure. Why not?"
If possible Deann looked better in a pair of sky blue Bermuda shorts and a pink tank top. Simple, straightforward. Sexy. He discovered they were her own design. Really her own, not just something she pasted her name on.
"Here's what it is," he told her, passing the menu across the table. "I am not even going to pretend to be careful of your routine, to make sure you are in training and getting plenty of sleep. I'm warning you now, so you can get full use out of me, because your game is going to suffer. But I'm making a bet with you, and myself, that we can pass through this well before you need to knuckle down for the nationals. And by then I personally think you will be in the best shape of your life."
"Pretty speech. And all just to get my freak on a little louder. I don't know. I reserve the right to bail at any time, any second."
"Of course."
They ate most of the meal in silence.
"So do we go somewhere and you jump my bones now?"
"No, I don't want to do that."
"You don't?"
They were walking out of the restaurant. He stopped and she stopped and he just looked at her, all the way up and all the way down.
"No, I don't."
"I guess you are just some kind of queer who knows all the right moves. I've heard of those."
"I don't fuck men. And I didn't say I didn't want you. I just said I didn't want to go somewhere and jump your bones."
"So what's next?"
"Well, I'd like you to meet me at the stadium tonight. Just before they turn the lights out. That would be about ten, right?"
"They lock the place."
"I have a key."
"You have a key. I don't know. You could be some kind of pervert or creepy rapist. My cousin is a cop, a big cop."
"Bring him, if it makes you feel safer. But I think you can take care of yourself."
"I can."
"Tonight then."
"Tonight."
He wasn't late, in fact, a little bit early. She was wearing a dress. He knew she would be; he had his informants, so he had brought along a pair of running shoes in her size. That's all.
"So what are we going to do? Talk? Make out? Lie on the grass and look at the stars? Make love on the infield?
"None of the above."
He locked the entrance gate behind him and led her through the tunnel under the bleachers. Her steps grew slower behind him.
"What's the matter?"
