Inside the Athlete's Village

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CHAPTER 3

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Asher and I left the twins mostly naked and unconscious, although we were gentlemen enough to put them in bed and cover them with blankets. We then left the bedroom and collected our gold medals to wide-eyed looks from the four Brazilian volleyballers who had been listening to every scream and orgasmic shriek within.

One of the girls was bold enough to curl a finger in invitation for me to go into HER bedroom, but my teammate and I were rather wiped out at the moment. Training for the Olympics? No problem. Screwing Brazilian twins in all their orifices until they passed out from pleasure overload? Much harder. I was hungry again, and I honestly needed a nap.

Unlike some athletes, who go home soon after their events, I had nowhere to be and I was scheduled to stick around through the Closing Ceremonies. And we weren't even halfway through these 17 Days of Glory.

"Pace yourself, man," Asher advised with all the accumulated wisdom a 19-year-old athlete could muster.

I nodded, and then we headed back to our own rooms.

Plenty of time left.

****

After snacking, napping, and eating lunch with some friends, I found myself with a wide open afternoon. It seemed as good a time as any to take advantage of our Athlete access into other Olympic events, and I met up with my roommate Tyler to cruise around.

We took in a beach volleyball game, always fun to watch smokin' hot girls diving around the sand wearing the skimpiest of bikinis. We both had hooked up with beach volleyball girls a time or two, although not with any of the competitors we were currently watching.

We watched a few gymnastics events, making rude comments to each other about how such and such girl would probably be amazing in the sack due to her ability to put her legs behind her head. I whistled in amazement when Tyler pointed out a sweet-looking blonde Aussie doing the uneven bars. Last night while I was in bed with Anneke and Marika, he hadn't come home because he was busy cumming between her spread thighs, doing exactly the legs-behind-the-head move I had just mentioned.

"How the hell did you get her to put out the night before her event?" I wondered.

Tyler grinned. "She's just here for the ride. No chance at a medal. Might as well enjoy herself these next couple of weeks."

"Sooo just like you?"

"Fuck you, man." Tyler shoved me in the arm while I laughed, then gave me a resigned shrug. He was finished with his events, and going home without any hardware.

After that, we got some dinner and flirted with a couple of South African badminton chicks, but we didn't seem to really connect until they found out I'd won a Gold Medal, and then all of a sudden they wanted to go home with me.

For some reason, that reason now turned me off. I mean, I LIKED getting laid, and knew that the golden disk would be the ultimate aphrodisiac for the next week or so. But I figured I could actually afford to be picky at this stage of the game. Sure, the South African badminton chicks were sure things at this point, but was it so much to ask for them to show a real interest in me BEFORE knowing I'd won Gold? And besides, they'd made it clear that they both wanted to go home with ME, not with me AND Tyler, and I just wasn't in the mood to abandon my friend and roommate.

So I turned them down and Tyler and I made plans to catch the USA Basketball game against some African cannon fodder team. But as we were heading out of the restaurant, we ran into two more guys from the swim team, our apartment mates in the Village.

"Hey, a bunch of us are hitting up this club downtown. Wanna come with?" Preston suggested.

"We were actually going to watch the b-ball game. It's our best chance to watch Kobe, LeBron, and all the rest up close and personal," Tyler replied. "Besides, we've been to some of the sponsors parties this past week already."

Jacob shook his head and then wrapped an arm around Tyler's broad shoulders. "This ain't no sponsors party. You WANT to come to this club tonight. It's *choice*. TRUST me." Jacob put an extra wiggle into his eyebrows for emphasis.

Tyler winced. "I'm not even 21."

"Legal drinking age in Great Britain is 18, didn't you know that?" Preston scoffed. "Or what, you can't drink because you're training for the *Rio* Olympics?"

Tyler glanced at me. "What do you think?"

I shrugged. "I'm game. It's not like we can't go see the Lakers and Heat when we go home. And there's lots more Team USA to come, unless you think they won't make it out of qualifying."

"No chance. And while YOU can probably get laid any second you want, I'VE probably got a better chance at this club."

"A thousand percent," Jacob promised.

I nodded. "Let's roll."

Preston held up a hand. "First, we gotta go to our rooms to change."

"Change?" I arched an eyebrow.

Jacob grinned. "You'll see."

****

You remember what I said about all these hot female Olympians looking at me differently once they noticed the Gold Medal around my neck? Well, pretty much any NON-Olympian hot females looked that same way at any male once they realized he was an Olympian, period, whether he had a medal or not. And since this downtown club Preston and Jacob took us to was full of hot female NON-Olympians, and since the guys had made us all change into our Opening Ceremony uniforms... well... let's just say the four of us were pretty popular.

And then Preston reached into my Ralph Lauren Team USA jacket and hauled out my Gold Medal for the girls to gawk at.

Yeah, getting laid wasn't going to be a problem.

Choosing which one (or more) to go home with? THAT was going to be a little more difficult.

One problem: All these club-hoppers just wanted to bang me for my Gold Medal. And as I'd already learned from the South African badminton chicks, that reason just... well... it didn't turn me on.

Blonde, brunette, redhead... Big-boobed, small-boobed, medium-boobed... White, black, Asian, Latina... I had my pick. I could probably be greedy and pick more than one. It was a nice club; really, it was probably the nicest club I'd ever been in. It was a high-class joint without feeling stuffy, and the eye candy was some of the best I'd ever seen. And yet, I felt like I was stuck at a Hometown Buffett – I had all the selection you could ask for, and it all LOOKED appetizing, but I instinctively *knew* that at the end of the night, I wouldn't really be all that satisfied.

Thankfully, I was saved by the arrival of a couple of rock stars. Not that they were actually rock stars – these guys were BIGGER than rock stars. Seriously, the boys of One Direction could probably walk into the club and receive less attention.

Think my gold medal was an attraction? These guys literally blew me out of the water. You know who they are: two American swimmers, both multiple Gold Medalists from the previous games, multiple Gold Medal winners at THESE games as well. These guys didn't need uniforms to tell anybody they were Olympians; every human being within a hundred mile radius would recognize them on the street. In two weeks, the world would go back to paying more attention to movie stars, musicians, and Kobe and LeBron. But for now, NOBODY in the world was more famous than these two.

And the club went NUTS.

You've heard about Moses and the parting of the Red Sea? This was the exact OPPOSITE. Every human being with a pair of boobs - and more than a couple of guys - suddenly interposed themselves between me and the newcomers. Slowly – *very* slowly – they made their way across the club, waving off invitations to autograph somebody's breasts or someone else's forehead. They got a lot of well-wishes and back slaps and a butt-pinch or two, but eventually the pair rendezvoused with us, the other (now ignored) American swimmers in the room.

We exchanged greetings, handshakes and fist-bumps and the like. Mr. Incredible himself congratulated me on my own success and Tyler wondered aloud what they hell the pair was doing here when there was still a relay to be swum tomorrow. But they waved off Tyler's worries and turned to face their adoring crowd.

I figured it was a good time to make my escape.

Quietly, I slipped away toward the back of the club. Tyler saw me go and gave me a questioning look. I waved for him to stick around. Even if the superstar pair decided to take half of the wannabe groupies home with them, there would still be plenty of leftovers for him. But I was done with that whole scene for the evening and felt like my eardrums could use a break from the deafening roar of adoring fans that drowned out any music the DJ could attempt to put out.

Fortunately for me, there was a bar at the back of the club. With most of the attention center stage, I caught a bartender easily and ordered a 007. Hey, I was in London, after all.

"The same for me," a female voice added with just a hint of an accent.

I turned to look and popped my eyebrows in recognition. You probably would too. Female tennis player. Blonde. Last name ends in "-ova". I realize that only narrows it down to about twenty women, but you get the picture. I won't mention her by real name, but for now, let's call her... Karolina. Yeah, she looks a little like a Karolina.

She smiled politely and jerked a thumb back at my swimming teammates. "What's wrong? Can't handle the competition?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Not a matter of not being able to handle it. Just not interested is all."

"Not interested?" Karolina frowned before giving me a sly grin. "You prefer the company of men?"

I barked a laugh and shook my head. "No, no. Not gay. Just... not interested. Little too loud over there. Flirtation a little too impersonal. It's quieter over here. Better chance of meeting somebody who doesn't want to get into my pants just because of my hardware."

"Hardware?" she asked curiously.

I shook my head. "Nevermind." While I recognized the world-famous tennis player, I was pretty sure she didn't recognize me. Swimming is a pretty obscure sport for facial recognition without the cap and goggles, and I'd run into more than a few Olympians who didn't know I was even a swimmer, let alone that I'd won an event.

At first, Karolina looked like she was going to press me about my "hardware", but the bartender returned with two 007 martinis, setting down one each in front of us.

I fished out my credit card and handed it over, saying, "The lady's drink is on me."

"That's not necessary."

I shrugged. "It's the gentlemanly thing to do."

"Depends on the gentleman's intentions. Usually, a man buys a drink for a woman to put her in a position of feeling... obligated."

I laughed and shook my head. "No obligations. Call it professional courtesy for a fellow Olympian."

She sighed. "Not any longer. I lost my match today."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she replied while staring down at her drink, stirring it gently. "While it would be nice to bring home an Olympic medal for my country, this isn't the most important tournament for me. Wimbledon felt like only yesterday, and the US Open is coming soon."

"Perhaps, but for now and forever you will always BE an Olympian. Hence, the courtesy." I gestured again at her drink.

"Well in that case, I thank you." She held up her glass.

"Cheers." I clinked drinks with her and we each took a sip.

That started off a very pleasant thirty minutes or so while we quite deliberately talked about everything BUT our chosen professions. I was sure Karolina had heard every polite question that could be asked about tennis, and I was equally sure she had no clue what sport I was in, only knowing I was an Olympian by the Team USA uniform the guys had gotten me to wear.

Instead, we talked about the weather, the venues, and the other events we'd gotten to see. I was quite candid in admitting I'd checked out beach volleyball and gymnastics primarily to ogle the girls. Karolina pretended to be peeved that I hadn't included women's tennis on that list, and I flirtatiously told her that it had been on my to-do list, but lost interest after finding out she was no longer in the competition.

It was easy to talk to her. Having grown up in Florida tennis academies since childhood, her English was almost perfect. I didn't have to worry about American slang going over her head or choosing my words carefully to avoid uncommon vocabulary. One round of drinks led to a second: mojitos at the lady's request. The second round led to a third: some fuzzy peach concoction that earned me an amused comment about whether or not my manhood could handle consuming such a fruity drink.

"What, like my buddies are around to give me crap about it? Even if they were, I'm sitting here with a woman as gorgeous as YOU. Trump Card. Done."

She blushed and giggled, loosening up more and more with each passing drink.

Eventually, though, Karolina then swiveled her barstool around so that she could face me, kicking one of her super-long legs over one knee and leaning an elbow on the counter. She gave me a funny look, and then flashed me a perfect smile before taking one more sip and asking finally, "So tell me, how DOES it feel to be an Olympic Champion, especially in swimming?"

I gagged halfway through my next sip, choking for a moment and then thumping my own chest a couple of times to clear my airway. Upon catching my breath, I looked back at her with slightly bugged-out eyes, replying, "You knew I was a swimmer?"

She gestured over to Mr. Incredible and his eternal rival. "Obviously. But even before your friends arrived, I knew. You all have that... delicious... swimmer's physique."

I coughed, more from the compliment about my physique than any residue from the drink. "Uh, never sure I've heard it referred to as 'delicious'."

She sighed dreamily, "But it is true."

"Okay, so you recognized that I'm a swimmer. But how did you know I'd won anything?"

"You mean BESIDES the comment about your hardware? BESIDES that moment an hour ago when your friend reached into your jacket and pulled the medal out?"

I coughed again, "Oh... yeah... that."

She giggled mirthfully, her enjoyment carrying up into her blue eyes. "Actually, I was at the Aquatics Centre that day. I WATCHED your event. Victory by 0.12 seconds, was it not?"

"You SAW me?"

She nodded. "I also seem to remember a rather attractive German girl who was draped all over you that day."

I coughed once more. "Oh, yeah."

Karolina didn't ask a question, but merely gave me an inquisitive look.

I shrugged. "Anneke and I are just friends. Nothing more."

"Of course."

"She has a boyfriend."

"I'm sure." Karolina smiled and then turned back to her drink, stirring it a moment before glancing back at me once more with a new smile. "Of course, what happens in the Athlete's Village, STAYS in the Athlete's Village."

My blush was answer enough.

"Speaking of which," Karolina began, sliding her latest drink away and gathering up her purse. "I think it is time you told me your room number."

My jaw dropped an inch. "Uh... pardon?"

Karolina fixed me with a devastatingly intense gaze – I believe the term is 'Blue Steel'. With a predatory smile, she explained, "They say MAGIC happens in the Athlete's Village. But you see, I have been staying at an off-site hotel, so I have no Athlete's Village room to go to."

"Uh-huh." I was a little slow on the uptake.

"If you were to fuck me in MY room, I would not have the same guarantees for privacy. Paparazzi and all that hanging about my hotel, not to mention my coach and various other people who wouldn't approve of what we're about to do. Also, you should know that we cannot walk out of this club together."

"I see..."

"So... room number please? And then I will see you in half an hour."

****

It was actually more than thirty minutes, and as the clock ticked on, I found myself getting more and more nervous. I'd given Karolina my room number, true, but we hadn't exchanged phone numbers and I really had no way of knowing whether or not she'd really show up.

Tyler and I shared a two room apartment with two other guys from the swim team, Garrett and Daryl. All of them were still at the club with the others, and I'd let Tyler know before I left that I was expecting company tonight and didn't want to be disturbed. Only Olympians and their official support staff were allowed into the Athlete's Village, so my teammates wouldn't be able to bring their townie hookups back here. And with the entire apartment to myself for the evening, I found myself puttering around trying to tidy up and make sure everything looked presentable.

(Why? This is a hookup, nothing more. What, like you think she's going to come all this way and then reject you if the apartment isn't totally clean?)

But I cleaned up anyway. Perhaps I was just keeping myself occupied rather than feel even more nervous. Perhaps I felt some need to impress Karolina, or at the very least felt increased self-interest in putting my best foot forward.

(But why? What's so special about this one?)

I LIKE her.

(You're star struck. This is your first time with someone REALLY famous taking an interest in you.)

Yeah, so?

(Fiiine. Clean up if it'll make you feel better.)

But then it was too late. There was a knock at the door, and I dropped what I was doing to hustle over and answer it. She was only six minutes late.

"Hi..." Karolina greeted me warmly as she stood outside my door, one hip jutted out to the side with a hand resting on it. You're going to think this is crazy, but only now did I notice the dress she was wearing. The club had been rather dimly lit and I'd been distracted by the awe of recognizing a quasi-celebrity to really scrutinize her outfit before. But now I noticed it, a quintessential LBD (little black dress) that hugged her athletic torso and was cut exceptionally short to show off her long, slender legs.

"Hey. Glad you made it," I replied with obvious relief. Backing into the living room, I gestured her inside and pointed toward the table where I'd set out what alcohol we kept in the room. There was rum, vodka, and soda for mixers, and an unopened bottle of champagne we'd been reserving for the end of the swim meet (but which I'd be perfectly willing to open for such an occasion as this). "Feel like a nightcap?"

Karolina stepped in, and I noticed that even though I was well above six feet, in her heels she was nearly as tall as me. She took one look at the alcohol on the table before shaking her head and coming to a stop right in front of me. Her face was only inches away, and she practically looked me straight in the eyes. With a mysterious smile, she reached out her right hand and pushed on the door, letting it swing shut. And then raising that right hand up to my face, she traced my jaw, got a firm grip on the back of my head, and then pulled me to her while shoving her tongue down my throat.

Oh, HELL YEAH.

My cock had been completely flaccid with nervousness as I'd puttered around the apartment cleaning up. But Karolina attacked me with such passion and vigor that she had me from six to midnight in about two seconds flat, making an obvious lump beneath my baggy boxers and white Ralph Lauren pants before trying to crawl up and above my belt. Still holding my head with her right hand, she pressed against my chest with her left hand, pushing me backward until I felt myself slammed up against the wall. And then holding her hand on my chest, she backed away and gave me a sultry grin before glancing down at my bulge and commenting, "I'll bet you have a really big cock, don't you?"

I chuckled. "One way to find out."

She nodded as if that was what she'd been planning all along, and reached down to unbutton my navy blue jacket before digging into my belt, opening that up and then going to work on my slacks. She then dropped to her knees, bringing my pants and shorts with her, and she actually had to dodge her head as my erection swung upward, coming mere centimeters from hitting her in the face. No matter, she made contact with it quickly enough, using both hands to clamp down on my firm, sculpted butt cheeks while gaping her mouth open to suck my cock inside without any additional assistance.