Off The Court Pt 07

...A Continuation of 'On The Court'...

Off The Court Part 7

by moanalo

~~~~ She is Here ~~~~

I occasionally found myself rubbing my arm at the memory of her strength

pitted against mine. During the basketball game she had trapped my arm and

nearly tore my shoulder with her power. I pictured her tall, muscular body

and remembered how her hard, straining muscles felt against my own. I also

remember how her body felt against mine...and...and I will not think about

those things again. 'Stop it' I tell myself.

I have changed...I am sure she has too. I wonder how tall she is now? 'Who

cares!' Well, wait till she gets a look at me! I don't play basketball

anymore, but I compete in other sports and I attack the weights in the gym,

although mostly I do Cross-Fit to supplement my training. No way she is as

'stacked' as I am; My arms, legs, shoulders...hell every part of my body is

thicker, and more defined than when I was in High School. I am the

strongest girl in this school, and stronger than most guys! 'Just you wait

Monique.'

I suddenly sit-up in my chair. And then stand up. Monique can't get a look

at anything because I am dressed from head to toe in long baggy sweats...

...Well, a quick change of clothes will fix that problem... And then comes

the knock at my door. Fuck! Perfect timing. I look down at my phone, 2pm,

right on time. Of course she is. *Sigh*

I swing the door open, immediately turning my back on Monique... "Come on

in." Giving the most bored greeting possible. Walking back over and plop

right down in my chair, intentionally slumping way down with my baggy

sweats on. This whole thing is stupid. Yes, I am intentionally trying to

make myself look disinterested/disgusted by this meeting, and by her

presence.

Monique walks in like she owns the place, giving the door a swift kick shut

with the back of her foot, even that effort is graceful. Of course she is

dressed meticulous. Of course. And she is stunning! Even more gorgeous then

I last remember her, how can that be? Maybe sitting at my desk with my

sweats contributes to my feeling very...very...awkward and inferior

feeling? I really wish I had on my tight shorts and a tank top, to show off

my body. And I have strong urge to brush my long blonde hair. Oh well, too

late now.

Her eyes glance around my small, sparsely filled apartment. No TV, a small

two seat sofa by the window and table, a tiny kitchen and a tiny bedroom. I

love it. Nothing on the walls. Everything plain, bare, and painted white. I

know she is judging my living quarters, as sparse as they are, before her

dark eyes settle on me. She takes a couple of steps and stands squarely in

font of me, about six feet away.

Now I am getting her full effect. This girl looks like she just stepped out

of beauty salon. Her long black hair, with some glowing sheen to it. Dollar

signs on everything she is wearing. A beautiful brown pleated shorts that

come down almost mid-thigh. Her long ebony legs stretching on forever, just

as I remember them, but even more powerful looking than I recall. Her

button up light, tan vest shows off her ample cleavage. Her arms looking

long and powerful. I am seething jealousy and envy. 'Die!...Die!...Die!'

Feeling more frumpy by the second, and if I slouch any more I will slip out

of my chair and fall on the floor. Her very presence is setting off alarms

I am not ready for. But I detect that Moniques initial air of confidence

and superiority has also slipped as our eyes dance a little around one

another before finally locking in. She is now taking me in, as much as I am

her, and I squirm a little feeling she is undressing me with her eyes. Or

my imagination? The tension in the air is becoming palpable. The waves of

hostility radiating towards one another is damning and I am starting to

sweat. Time does not heal all wounds. Sometimes it makes them worse?

I clear my throat, "You've grown."

She raises her head proudly with a faint smile of arrogance, "6' 2", but I

have stopped growing. That doesn't matter, I can jump higher then any other

girl on the team."

"I'm still 5' 11"." Shrugging, and try to discreetly sit-up in my chair so

I don't look like such a pathetic slob. "Look, can we just get to whatever

it is that you want."

"Did you watch the video?"

"Yes." Suppressing my desire to squirm.

"All of it?"

"Yes." My right foot bounces with anxiety, only a couple of times, but she

catches that. It seems to amuse her. So I stop.

"Then you know it is all there."

I try and force the issue; "So what is this, some kind of blackmail? You

want something, or you start posting it all over the internet, is that it?"

"When put like that, it all sounds very ugly."

"It is very ugly!" I snap.

"I want a rematch."

"A what?"

"You heard me."

"That's it? A rematch?"

"That is it." Her tone is so calm, like this is all a foregone conclusion.

"Well then, you are wasting your time." I chuckle and begin to draw

imaginary circles on the top of my desk with my finger, while shaking my

head. "I have not played basketball in over a year. I can barely recall the

last time I even picked one up. And by now, your skill level is way beyond

what I can compete with. So, even if I did try, it won't be a challenge for

you." I think I have made my case very clear. Feeling very smug even.

And so I so I rest my case...

"So I concede. I guess you win. Congratulations." I stop doodling on the

desktop and clasp my hands down between my legs where I am sitting, slowly

sliding back down into my seat. The back of my hands might appear perfectly

still, but my finger-tips are nervously twitching.

Monique folds her hands in front of her waist all very lady like, in a very

calm fashion. It is hard to imagine this is the same woman I tangled with,

naked, on the basketball court a year ago. It makes me shiver with some

strange sense of fear and excitement. She shifts her weight to her left leg

and I am getting a bad case of the wondering eye. Watching the muscles

along her arms and legs tense with her every movement. She is lean, and

smooth all over, but when she moves, cords of muscle etch-out from under

her skin. It's mesmerizing to watch.

"Then we will have to settle this another way."

No longer distracted by the beauty of her body and muscles, I am snapped

back by that comment. Now my body is tense with anger. My hostility is

pouring out right back at her for making a demand like this. Forcing me

once again into some kind of...what?...another match? Another duel? And for

what, 'Honor?', 'Redemption?', 'Revenge?'. She can't force me to do

anything! Now I want to lung out of my chair and start throwing punches at

her. 'Yeah, wow, that would be a great reaction.' My subconscious mocks.

"There will be 'no other way'." I snap, trying to shut down her

determination for another match of, God-only-knows-what.

"There will be a way, if I say there is." Moniques dark eyes narrow as if

she is trying to force me through sheer will power.

"Wrong again, you can't force me into any competition."

"Then things will get ugly regarding that video, all because you are too

chicken-shit to face me one more time." How can she remain so calm while

saying that.

The arteries along my neck are throbbing. Does she realize just how close

she is to me attacking her? Maybe she does, her arms drop to her side and

her legs seem to posture a little bit. Now she is nervous...as am I.

Then my anger is blindsided by this depressing realization; Even if I

rebuff all her efforts, or argue, or whatever, it will all end up right

back at the same place...her demanding something to sooth her bruised ego.

And what about me? What do I want? Do I want another rematch with this

girl? Scared of answering my own questions I chicken out, and pivot back to

Monique.

"So, what do you have in mind?" Still unable to believe I may be conceding

to her demand. Now my right palm nervously rubs along the arm of my chair.

I've given up trying to conceal my anxiety.

"Something to settle which of us is the better."

More squirming in my chair, feeling very insecure about my chances,

regardless of what she has in mind. But there is a part of me, I admit with

some shame, a part of me that wants to tangle with this black goddess

again, to see what happens.

Clearing my throat..."Better? Better at what?"

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" Monique looks a little peeved now, and

her body language looks uncomfortable for the first time.

"I guess you don't." I sigh and look away, feeling a little embarrassed

myself. 'Uncomfortable', the only common bond we now share equally I guess?

The verbal dance is wearing thin, we both know and feel it.

Who the better woman is. The stronger. The more dominant.

Why me? Why her?

Why us?

"If you win, of course the video will go away."

"Like I can trust you." I even let loose a snort, with a side-of-chuckle,

which illicits a look of anger from Monique. Have I wounded her pride

again? Embarrassed her fanatical drive to 'have it out' with me again?

"You can trust me. I promise."

She is serious now. But I just level my blue eyes into her dark brown eyes

and stare her down for the longest time. She has to speak first or I will

keep staring her into another uncomfortable silence.

"I swear Annika, if you win, the video is gone forever. And...I am gone

forever."

For whatever reason, there was some conviction in her eyes that just pushes

all the right buttons in me. And the finality of her 'I am gone forever.'

part, it struck a nerve that made me almost twitch in pain, from a place I

am not familiar with. There is also some foreign look of sadness in

Monique's eyes that I have never noticed before. I wasn't sure how to

respond, and pause...before finally saying...

"I believe you. And, if you win?" I ask.

"It goes a very long way in making up for my loss in the basketball game."

"That's it?" I feel suspicious again.

"Not unless you want to add something else into the wager?" If I am reading

her expression correctly, there is some deviousness that makes my heart

pound and I can't maintain the stare down any longer. "Not that confident

huh?" She jabs at how I am looking away.

"Depends on what you have in mind." I shrug. "Contest wise, I mean."

"Do you know how to wrestle?" Monique asks and I am not sure I really heard

her correctly. So I give a screwed-up face response like 'what the fuck did

you just say?'

"Not really." My tone is one of boredom again.

"Good, neither do I." She says almost relieved. Or is she lying? Guess I

might find out soon enough.

"Well...uh, why wrestling?" Truly baffled.

"Because, I imagine a lot of endurance and strength would play into the

outcome. What better way to figure things out."

My brain is spinning... 'figure things out'. What 'things'? Dead silence.

Maybe we are both afraid to spell it out? Maybe, sometimes, the words just

won't come, but the images do. And I have to admit the thought of wrestling

Monique was getting to me. And with our basketball game still fresh in my

mind thanks to the damn video, it sent my heart pounding at the idea of

physically crushing this girl, and forcing her to submit, and then her

leaving me alone...forever! That really has my pulse racing.

But I still frown, pursing my lips with much doubt.

"Any other conditions..." Not ready to give in until I have heard every

angle, "...like strip-wrestling?" I give a little snorting-laugh. That was

supposed to come out as a joke! An attempt at levity. Or was it? After all,

that was her idea when we played basketball, so I wanted to throw it back

in her face, mocking her. But now I am the one that feels humiliated for

even suggesting it as a joke. I am blushing red, looking away as I go back

to doodling on the top of my desk.

"If you want." There was no joking in her response.

Damn it. She put it right back in my lap, well played Monique. But this

banter was making me upset. I am hesitating because my mind is drifting and

she is reading too much into that. She has me squirming in my seat and

emotionally unraveling. How can she have this affect on me?

"Or just forgo the stripping part." She breaks the silence, with only a

hint of a smirk. But her eyes are still dead-level serious.

What a cocky bitch to even suggest such a thing. She then struck a pose

while waiting on me. Her left hand on her hip, and a tilt-back of the head.

Admittedly she is rocking the tall queen look of physical power,

intimidating me almost into submission right here and now...But I found

my resistance.

"No. Hell no." Sitting up-right in my chair, leaning forward. "What is

wrong with you? All out nude?!"

Her reaction wasn't what I expected. Her tongue rolled around the inside of

her cheeks like she was very annoyed, and getting impatient and she even

rolled her eyes. And then she shook her head like I was the one with the

problem! Me! I am the one with the problem?

"What?!" I snap. "Whats with that look!"

"You! That's what. Still acting dumb."

"Don't call me that!"

"Then stop acting dumb!"

"Stop calling me that!" Spit if flying off my lower lip I am so mad.

"Make me stop,..." Monique steps in closer and leans forward. "...or prove

me wrong."

How can she appear so calm? More attempts at intimidation, and it is

working. But I didn't give a fuck and didn't back down, or I should say I

remain sitting up and leaning forward like I was ready to get up and in her

face. But I didn't respond, because by now my lips and cheeks are

trembling. I was fighting back the tears. It is like my heart and other

parts of my body are all malfunctioning. My mind won't stop taunting me;

Those waning minutes or our basketball game, where we both fought one

another all-out, totally nude. And another opportunity was right at my

feet, another chance to go at it again with her.

Swallowing hard to find my voice, "I am not sure I want to do it that way."

My voice didn't sound like my own. Speaking was painful. My mouth felt

wired shut by the stupidity of the argument and by how hard my body was

burning up. Does she know I secretly wanted something like this too? She

just had the guts to finally say it out-loud. And now it was out there.

"I'm not sure either." That admittance by Monique struck me as a very true

moment. Whatever is gong on between us is still not settled. And another

moment of silence grew into the uncomfortable. I was still sitting and she

still standing, but it was all different. Everything has changed. By a

mutual moment of silence, we both agree to how the match would go.

"Where?" I ask meekly and swallow hard, and feel this strange fullness in

my chest and throat. A lot of emotions are rising up, new or repressed?

"You pick a place and time, I am free all week." She sounds nervous now.

"No. You pick. You instigated this whole thing, stalking me down and now

blackmailing me into another..." my hands flail around while searching for

something "...competition, contest...or what-the-fuck-ever."

The woman standing before me is becoming very agitated and shifting from

left to right. Do I detect another eye-roll? Monique is feeling some

pressure and she suddenly turns and walks to the door, "Fine! I'll take

care of it."

"Good! You take care of it!" I snap and get up to follow, she still feels

ten feet tall over me, even if it is only three inches.

"You could use some furniture and wall decorations..."

"Don't tell me what I need!" I almost shout.

"So sensitive. You used to be a lot more chill back in High School."

Monique gives me a glance over her shoulder as she walks out the door and I

am almost drifting after her, the smell of her perfume, shampoo, body

lotion is intoxicating. What is wrong with me?

"I'll be in..."

I slam the door in her face and deadbolt the lock, pretending that I am

locking her and everything she just said out of my life forever.

I walk into my bedroom and fall face first onto the top of my bed. "Fuck."

I mumble into the sheets.