The excitement of the State Championship buoyed the team and the coaches for several weeks. We all stayed in touch via a group chat even though some of the girls, including Maddie, were busy making plans to start college in the fall. Maddie also stayed in touch with me on Facebook and Instagram. A few weeks after the tournament, she asked if I she could text me privately on WhatsApp. Somewhat against my better judgment, I agreed and shared my information. Our chats began innocuously, with Maddie sharing her angst about college, where she earned a half-scholarship for cheerleading, and me assuring her she would do well and have a wonderful time.
Naturally, Maddie was curious about my college years. I shared some stories, but decided against recounting my more adventurous, some might even say promiscuous, college experiences. Maddie was intrigued by my "secrets," but I succeeded in keeping her mostly in the dark. Still, I was flustered and a little aroused when Maddie texted: "I think Laura was a naughty girl in college π". I responded evasively and provocatively, texting back "I'm just glad that no one had camera phones back then."
Eventually, in the guise of showing how well her hip had recovered, Maddie began sending photos of herself working out in tight, short shorts and a sports bra. It was all I could do to keep my responses focused on how well she was recovering when the truth was that the photos made my mouth water. A few times Maddie mentioned that she was trying on her own to do stretches I helped her with, and she always wrote something like: "Of course, it just isn't the same." Maddie surely knew her comments reminded us both of our times together at the tournament. More than once my husband benefitted from Maddie's flirtations, because her pictures turned me on and I all but attacked him in order to get some sexual relief and gratification.
In mid-summer, about six weeks before Maddie would start college, she sent a text with a sad face emoji saying she felt a twinge in her hip when she was working out earlier that day. The text ended: "Is there any way you can examine me to see if it is serious? Please!" My heart skipped a beat when I read Maddie's text. As a nurse, my instinct was to help my "patient" and say yes. But I knew, and I was sure Maddie knew, that her request had the potential to re-light old, and very hot, flames. Ignoring her specific request, I responded that she need to ice her hip, make sure she stretched well before her next workout, and stop if she felt any more pain. Her response was just "Pretty please," with a heart emoji.
Against my best judgment I replied: "If it still bothers you tomorrow, I'll see what I can do." As soon as I sent the message, I realized that I had all but agreed to see Maddie. All she had to do was say the next day that her hip was still bothering her, and I had pretty much agreed to see her. For now, she messaged back: "THANKS" this time with a "fingers crossed" emoji. I smiled at her ambiguous response. Was she hoping her hip was fine or that it bothered her?
About 6:00 the next evening, Maddie texted that her hip felt fine for most of her workout, but added: "The pain came back at the very end. It was kind of like an electric shock, just like you described at states." I couldn't know if Maddie had really re-injured her hip or her pain was a psychosomatic way to have us meet. She obviously knew I would never turn her away if there was any real chance she was injured.
A little against my better judgment, but also with a touch of excitement, I gave in and messaged: "What is your schedule tomorrow or Saturday?"
Maddie responded quickly: "I am available any time tomorrow. I need to go to see my grandma on Saturday afternoon." I was off the next day, Friday, and knew I would be home alone. My son was spending the summer with family working as a lifeguard, and my daughter was a camp counselor in North Carolina. My husband was away on a business trip and would not be home until Saturday afternoon.
Feeling a little like I was playing with fire, I responded: "How about noon at my house? We can have lunch and I will take a look."
Maddie wrote back: "TY so much Laura. I can't wait. I know you will make me feel better."
I was certain Maddie knew how provocative her last message was. I smiled, but, being honest with myself, I knew it was very likely I would make Maddie feel better, one way or another. Before responding I poured a glass of wine and took a gulp. "I will do my best," I wrote back, playing along with the flirtatious chat. We exchanged a few more messages before signing off. That night, despite having two glasses of wine, I slept fitfully, as thoughts of my time with Maddie at the state tournament ran through my head.
On Friday morning, I was like a teenager preoccupied by what I should wear on a date. I decided to dress comfortably and casually, so I put on jean shorts and a soft coral-colored top, with flat sandals. I went without a bra, telling myself I did that often around the house in summer. I ran out to a nearby bakery to pick up a fresh French bread, and, at about 11:30, threw together one of my favorite summer salads and made a pitcher of fresh lemonade. I also chilled a bottle of rosΓ© wine. As I was making the lemonade, Maddie texted "Be there soon" with two heart emojis. I was keenly aware that the idea of seeing Maddie again excited and aroused me. When the doorbell rang, I took two deep breaths and told myself to relax and to control my emotions.
Doing that became much more difficult when I opened the door. Maddie was simply beautiful, and I took a second to appreciate her magnificence. She was tanned, incredibly fit, and her long blonde hair cascaded just past her shoulders. She wore a white sun dress with yellow and green flowers that reached just past mid-thigh and platform wedge sandals, and her toes were perfectly pedicured and painted white. "Oh Laura, it is so good to see you," Maddie gushed, snapping me back to reality.
"Oh sweetie, it is wonderful to see you," I responded, opening my arms and inviting her in for a hug. She eagerly accepted and we wrapped our arms around each other in a wonderful embrace. Holding each other tightly, my hands ran over her back and hers ran over mine, and I felt that, like me, Maddie had gone without a bra. As her hands ran across my back, she hugged me tighter, pressing my breasts into hers.
"I missed you so much," Maddie sighed. The feeling was certainly mutual, but I just sighed in response.