Daylight flowed through the bedroom window, which looked mostly west toward the mountains glowing in the sunrise. Trinity squinted, remembering she'd forgotten to lower the shade. The lump under the covers next to her shifted, an arm slid across her breasts, fingers searching for a nipple. The blonde lay back, content to let it happen. When the hand moved to her cock, she stopped it.
"Sorry, no more nookie for you. I have to be hard and eager in the evening." She pulled back the covers.
Melanie blinked rapidly, putting a hand over her eyes. "Yeah, I know, Trin. Can't fault a girl for trying. What time is it?"
Trinity peered at the clock on the night stand. "After eight. Damn the sun comes up late around here. Winter in the mountains, huh?"
She slithered out of the bed, feeling cum leak down her thighs. "How many times did you come last night, Mel? You're a one and done kind of girl, usually. This doesn't feel like just one."
"You got me excited--first time in a long time," Melanie said. "I know it was at least two, maybe three times. You want to go again?"
"Sounds nice, Mel, but I do have to save myself. I'll make coffee, though."
She fumbled through the unfamiliar coffee maker, determined not to ask for help. Much longer than she expected, she brought two cups to the bed, where Melanie was talking to Willow, all thought of sex forgotten. The brunette took the coffee automatically, eyes never leaving the tablet. Trinity sipped her own cup--not bad--and went to the bathroom for a shower.
Melanie was still talking when Trinity emerged, properly shaved--except for the crotch, hair slicked back, other parts brushed or plucked. She dressed in ancient, comfortable sweats, taking her cold coffee to the microwave for reheating, then sat at a window looking at the mountains to the southwest and the ski lift car passing at regular intervals.
Waking to Melanie had been a bit of a shock, though she remembered the night in great detail, which made her sad. Instead of being a relaxing time, the sex turned into a mutual mercy fuck neither really enjoyed. Melanie asked for more because it would have taken her mind off Willow. Had Zenova done any better, found willing company after the dinner? Part of her hoped she had. Another part hoped she hadn't and was cross and out of sorts. It would make her more vulnerable during the fight--no, test, not a fight, no winners or losers. Ha.
She must have dozed. She awoke to hear the door close, the suite quiet in the empty sense of the word. A note lay on the table, telling her Melanie was out shopping for the baby, she'd be back later. Trinity decided on a walk. Sitting in the hotel would only make her think of Zenova. She dressed and bundled for the day, forecast to be low thirties--1 Celsius, she corrected herself, which made it seem even colder--and clear.
Outside, the air was more brisk than she expected with the sunlight. The initial shock of feeling cold seep through her coat, gloves, jeans, and hat evaporated as she walked, creating internal warmth from the welcome exercise. She made two circuits of both hotels, striding with arms swinging, only the concentration on keeping her pace foremost. Passing the main entrance of the Grand Hotel, she kept her head straight, refusing to look or think about who was inside. After the second circuit, she made two rounds of a soccer--football--pitch to the northeast, stopping to watch people on the south end of the lake. Done, slightly sweaty, she decided she needed air.
The ski lift ride was pleasant, rocking, crowded. The jostle of skiers and their gear pushed all else from her mind. At the first stop, which wasn't actually the top, but was as far as she wanted to go, Trinity sat on the patio of a casual restaurant, sipping an outrageously expensive mug of mulled wine, scanning St. Moritz below, with both hotels in plain sight. From the distance, she couldn't recognize any people, they were barely moving dots along the river, which suited her fine. She didn't need to think about who they might be.
She was back in the suite by early afternoon after a light meal in the hotel restaurant. Melanie was still out, no sign she'd been in. Trinity sat on the couch watching the day crawl by. Eventually, she went to her bedroom, all signs of the previous night gone. She lay on the bed, seeing shadows and patterns on the ceiling. She was asleep when Melanie came in, an uncomfortable dream of Zenova and her trying to talk, but each unable to understand the other.
------
At nineteen hours, Trinity walked into the foyer of the Presidential Suite. Nothing had changed. Guests milled about, eating and drinking--she'd do that later. Eric waited, dressed impeccably. She wondered if he owned anything but bespoke suits and handmade shoes.
"First floor, room to the left. It's best if you don't look behind the tarp. A robe is on the bed. Someone will come for you. Where is your manager?"
"Sorry," Melanie said, not quite skidding to a stop. "I was speaking with people about next year. Which way?"
Trinity led, remembering that in Europe the first floor was the one above the ground floor. The room was partially furnished with a chair and a bed with a tarp.
"Lovely place," Melanie said, wrinkling her nose. "Makes you wonder about family sometimes."
Trinity undressed, laying her clothes on the tarp, taking time to examine herself in a mirror leaned against a wall without a tarp. Was this the look she wanted? Tall, svelte, broad shoulders, handful-sized breasts with pale nipples, nearly washboard abs--with moderate definition of her six-pack, hips wide and muscular enough to give her a defined waist, legs to match her arms--taut, but not ripped or shredded. Above it all a sharply defined face with blonde hair slicked back, giving the blue eyes dominance. Yeah, this is the bod that drives Zenova crazy. She dabbed something behind each ear from the small bottle Yelena had given her discreetly before donning the thigh-length robe. It was silk and fit well, even if it did allow the tip of her cock to poke beneath the hem. Melanie noticed, shaking her head.
"It's a sexfight, Mel. Ain't nothing to hide."
Ten minutes before match time, a woman led Trinity down the stairs to the foyer. It was empty except for staff hustling between the main area and the kitchen. Eric stood at the double sliding doors, hand up. Inside, Zenova was being announced. He gave Trinity a faint smile.
"Alphabetical by last name," he said. "Do not read anything into it. Tomorrow we do it in reverse order." He gave her slight push on the shoulder. "Your turn. Good luck."
She heard her name, home--no mention of The Hurricane this time, which was good. She sauntered into the main room, now lined with a mat she estimated to be fifteen feet on a side, chairs all around, six to a side. Every guest had a seat, none stood. Bet they paid through the nose to see this, she mused. Bunny sat in the middle along one side, with a half-empty flute and a big smile. The woman who spoke only Czech was nowhere to be seen.
Trinity stood face to face with Zenova, their robes open, cock's rubbing together. The brunette looked stunning. She had more curves that Zenova, but it was all sculpted, nicely defined, eminently fuckable. Her hair was in cornrows tight against her scalp. Hard nipples scraped against her own, the duel of breasts and cocks a slow dance, prelude to serious, rowdy sex. Trinity gazed into the deep brown eyes set in flawless olive skin and found everything she ever wanted.
Trinity felt the silence like a warm blanket. The guests watched as if struck dumb. Why did she feel so good? Why did she want to jump on Zenova and fuck her until no one could tell there were two people? Unless ...
"You're wearing that stuff Yelena gave you, right?" Trinity said in a low voice.
"Oui," Zenova answered, a lecherous cast to her face. "As are you. I can smell the sex rolling off you."
"We're in a lot of trouble," Trinity grinned. Pheromones, Trinity decided. Ronja and Yelena were more devious than she originally thought. Which was probably why the pair of enhanced fighters was explicitly disinvited from the match.
"The best kind," Zenova grinned back.
A woman in a white shirt and bow tie stepped between them to restate the rules. There was nothing new from the previous night, the recitation was for the guests who hadn't been invited to the earlier meeting. As she let the woman's words flow around her, she considered her cock. It was harder than she'd ever felt. Seeing Zenova lick her lips at it made the erection almost painful in a way Trinity wanted to last forever. She didn't want to come, but knew if she did, she'd spray the brunette from chin to crotch with enough cum to fill several shot glasses. From the way her lover's cock twitched she felt much the same.
"Any questions?" Trinity heard the woman say, breaking her image of Zenova's cock filling her mouth with warm cum. She shook her head; Zenova did as well. "To your corners, then."
As if with one thought, each woman grasped the other's cock, stroking it slowly. The touch was electric, making Trinity tingle from pussy to nipples, and almost to her knees. Despite it being cold out side, both women were coated in a thin sheen of sweat, which no doubt made the pheromones more potent.
"Bon chance, salope," Zenova purred. "You will need much of it to avoid crawling away humiliated."
