"Anita, don't push yourself too hard!" Andersen screamed to the brunette frenetically trying to catch her breath. "Try to run the next interval a couple of seconds more slowly. You should be 15-20 meters behind Mona."
It was not unusual for Mona and Anita to train together, but they would usually not do the same intervals -- Mona being an 800 m runner whereas Anita's favourite distance was 400. This Friday however their coach had decided to let Anita join Mona's session, with 10 intervals à 300 metres.
"A shame they don't compete in 500 m. That would be a perfect distance for Anita. As it stands, she's slightly too slow for 400, but doesn't have the stamina for 800."
"But stamina is something she could work on, right?" Anna wondered. "Can you not turn her into an 800 m runner?"
"Won't work. Look." He pointed at the two girls and they were readying themselves for another lap. "They don't have the same build. Look at their thighs. Anita has different muscles from Mona. She's more of a sprinter type."
He took another puff off his cigarette and smiled mischievously. Anna had an idea what would come next.
"But I guess you don't need to be asked to look at girls' thighs, right?"
"Andersen! Be professional. Do you want me to notify the moral police?"
Now in his 40s, Andersen had once been the great hope of Norwegian track running, but had squandered his talents in an alcohol-soaked decay that showed few signs of ending. His wife having left him for his best mate, the only thing that seemed to hold him together -- apart from having his son over every second weekend - was coaching Mona and Anita.
The blonde and the brunette set off again, Mona holding the pace, with Anita struggling a few meters behind.
"Mona's the biggest talent I have ever seen. She could go anywhere. But," he sighed, "just like me, it's all for nothing. In the long run, the particular Mona-brand of hedonism is not compatible with the lifestyle and sacrifice it takes to be an elite runner."
Anna didn't quite know what to say. She wanted to cheer him up, but deep down she was afraid he was right. Especially now that they would be moving to Berlin together, with all the temptations that fantastic city had to offer.
"At least I hope your parties are great. Mine certainly were. Although that feels like an eternity ago."
He directed his attention to the track again.
"Mona -- keep an even pace. No need to have a great finish every time."
Andersen opened another Redbull-bottle. Coaching was one of those rare occasions when he'd never be drinking alcohol.
"Same problem every time. Mona always pushes herself to the limit, even if it's just training. I always have long arguments with her over that."
"I can imagine," Anna laughed.
"Tell me, is she like that in your relationship as well? So strong-willed and opinionated?"
Anna laughed again.
"Sometimes. But I can handle her. And she's also the most caring and loving person I have ever met."
"Yeah, you don't seem like a person who takes any bullshit from anyone."
The final round had left Anita completely exhausted and she was supporting herself on her knees, trying to regain her breath. Mona and Andersen were already arguing about something. Anna handed Anita the water bottle.
"Thanks," the brunette muttered, "Fuck, Mona is killing me."
"Hey," Anna encouraged her. "You did great. Don't think any other 400 m runner could almost keep up with Mona like that."
"You think so? You're just being nice."
Anita's shirt was glued to her body. The June heat was sweltering. Poor girl, she was so exhausted. Would she even be physically capable of -- ...
"Monday quarter past one?"
Anna was somewhat taken aback. They would usually make their appointments by SMS.
"Eh... Sure. Quarter past one."
Ever since that day a few months ago when Anita had gone down on Anna in the deserted C-wing toilets, hardly a week had gone by without a similar encounter. Anna would receive an SMS, usually consisting of just a time and a question mark. By the time the Ukrainian made it to the toilet, Anita would already be waiting for her there. They would make out for a few minutes, then Anna would tell her to lick her -- usually Anita would start with her ass and then proceed to her by then soaking wet pussy. Few or no words would be exchanged. It was utterly weird but totally addictive. To have someone as gorgeous as Anita totally worship you like that, not requiring anything in return. Anna would of course have loved to return the favour -- to describe Anita as good-looking was a more glaring understatement than calling Smokey Robinson a capable singer. But doing that would turn their meetings into normal sex. It would break the spell. Anna knew she was hot, but something like this, with someone like Anita, was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. According to Marianne, there was a general consensus -- among both girls and guys -- that Anita and Anna were the two hottest girls at school. And now Anita had become ... what? Mona simply referred to the brunette as Anna's "sex-slave". At the same time, she had a very popular boyfriend who apparently adored her and took her on expensive holidays. Mona had a theory that Anita wanted to keep their arrangement like that because it was less like cheating on him than full-on, conventional sex would have been. Maybe... Anita and her motives were a complete enigma. That was also why Anna felt uncertain about the outcome of her and Mona's plan. How would Anita, the ultimate giver, react when it was her turn be on the receiving end, not only of one, but two soft and inquisitive tongues?
"Ok, girls, I'm off, my bitchy ex-wife finally let me spend a weekend with my son. And your plans for the weekend?"
"Going on a boat trip to Tønsberg with my boyfriend," Anita muttered, still struggling to get her strength back.
"Tønsberg? Great. And you two?"
Anna looked at Mona.
