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CHAPTER 2
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Though I'd fallen asleep with a gorgeous 18-year-old swimmer flanking me on each side, I awoke in my room completely alone. Glancing over, I saw that my roommate's bed was still perfectly made; Tyler must have hooked up with someone last night and never come home. No biggie, bed-hopping was an unofficial sport at the Olympics.
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I sat up and glanced down at the precious hardware still lying on my chest. I used my thumb to rub it, smiling proudly at the accomplishment of earning my own Gold Medal. And then I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly at just how tired I really felt right now.
Years of preparation, months of hardcore training, and two days of intense preliminary and then final competition had boiled down to a single, spectacular, almost super-human effort. And then on top of all that, I'd engaged in a torrid threesome with Euro hotties that really wiped me out.
Protein. I need protein.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I worked the cricks out of my neck before spotting the note on my nightstand. Printed neatly on official Olympic stationary, Anneke had written in English:
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Good morning, Champion. I know you must be tired, because even Marika's blowjob could not wake you. A pity, because we would have enjoyed another round. This is especially after waiting so long to finally bed you. But you were worth the wait, and I only wish we had more time. But we have now stayed three days beyond our competition, and we must now return home. We both will miss you, but we will never forget our night with our Champion.
Love always, Anneke and Marika
P.S. Please do not kiss and tell. It would make our boyfriends jealous.
---
There were two lipstick kisses at the bottom of the note, and with a smile, I began looking around for my suitcase so that I could keep the note as a keepsake memory. But seconds later, I changed my mind. I held it up, smiling at the paper one final time, and then I began tearing it into a dozen little strips and then tearing those strips into even tinier pieces before scattering them into the trash can.
What happens in the Athlete's Village, STAYS in the Athlete's Village.
****
Fully dressed, my hair perfectly tousled and again sporting my brand new hardware on my chest, I walked into the dining hall closest to the American section and went to pick up my usual selection of food. Inside, I ran into a young friend on the U.S. Swim Team, Asher. He hadn't qualified for an individual event, but had swum the preliminaries for a relay team. And since the finals team had won Gold a few days earlier, like me he was able to strut around the Village with his own spiffy hardware around his neck.
"Hey, what's up, man?" I greeted in a friendly tone. "Haven't seen you around for a couple of days."
Asher blushed and then leaned forward, a glimmer in his eyes. Glancing around to make sure nobody was in our immediate vicinity, he replied softly, "Been buried up to my neck in international pussy, dude. Only now am I coming up for air."
I raised my eyebrows, and he tapped the medal around his neck. "Gold is gold; nobody really cares that it's not for an individual event."
I nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. Inside, I knew I was more proud of my medal knowing that I'd won it all on my own, and not had the victory swum for me by four guys who were faster than me. But that individual pride didn't mean I had to begrudge Asher for his pussy-hunting success. "Congratulations."
He grinned and then gestured to the food. "Load up, man. You're gonna need more energy these next few days than you did for your competition."
I grinned. It was a good suggestion. Sure, I still had plenty of meets to swim over the next few months, leading up to the short course World Championships in December, but my body could afford a few days of letting itself go. I was hungry, and I wanted to eat some stuff I would have usually denied myself. And when I showed up at the checkout line with my heavily-laden tray, I heard a whistle from behind me along with a sarcastic, "Merda, you do not have enough food, bobo?"
I glanced back to see a familiar face. Two of them, actually. Well, scratch that. It was the same face: twice. Let me explain...
Leticia and Larissa are twins β identical twins, hence the single face twice thing. And it was a gorgeous face they shared. The rest of them was pretty spectacular, too. The twins were indoor volleyball players from Brazil, and since the countries from the Americas were roughly grouped in the same area of the Athlete's Village, I'd run into them a couple of times over the course of the past week, neither occasion resulting a very positive outcome for me.
Olympic volleyball players are all built the same, at least the strikers. They're super-tall and super-thin, but without the wide, bulked-up shoulders many female swimmers can develop. The Brazilian twins looked like they could swap their sports uniforms for runway high fashion any time they wanted, and they certainly had the faces for modeling as well. But even more attractive to me, these Brazilian chicks had *fiiine* butts.
The first time I saw them, I'd started gawking at Leticia's ass (or was it Larissa's?) and then promptly walked into a light post. I didn't think either of them had noticed me checking them out, but they certainly turned around and noticed the stupid gringo holding his forehead and moaning in pain while wrapped around the pole. They came over good-naturedly just to make sure I was alright. My sense of machismo kicked in and I insisted I was just fine, but I'd been thrown off-balance enough that I couldn't come up with a single witty thing to say, and the girls had walked off moments later without giving me a backwards glance.
The second time we ran into each other was while waiting for dinner a few days ago when I was still flirting with Anneke. To my chagrin, the twins stopped in their tracks and Larissa actually pointed at me while asking her sister in *portuguΓͺs brasileiro* if I was the guy who'd walked into the light post that one day. Leticia agreed, and they were distracting enough that Anneke asked them politely what they were talking about, and the twins hung around for ten minutes or so to regale Anneke with the tale of me ogling their tight asses and then braining myself on the pole (So I guess they HAD realized I was checking them out).
Their English wasn't the best, and it wasn't Anneke's most fluid language, either, so there were a lot of pauses for the twins to chatter back and forth in Portuguese to figure out how best to explain. The word "bobo" had come up quite a bit, and after Anneke's inquiry, Leticia explained that it meant "fool" or "idiot" or something else equally unflattering. They of course were referring to me.