I, Lance Biggs, am not bad looking -- but I was justifiably suspicious when a woman who was a younger version of Elizabeth Hurley by the name of Alicia Spears started to take an interest in me. Based upon looks and intelligence alone she should be with someone like Brad Pitt, George Clooney, or Tom Brady -- not someone like me. It took me a while to figure out what was going on, but fortunately I did before shit hit the fan.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
At the time that I met the Elizabeth Hurley look-alike I was 29 years old and had been married for four years to Jaycee Biggs nee Swanson. Although I was a trust fund brat I was also working hard as an entrepreneur running Biggs Alternatives, LLC, a company I started that employed about thirty people and provided socially productive products. Because of my trust fund I had a pre-nuptial agreement with Jaycee. It included a morality/cheating clause that had heavy penalties if either of us violated that clause. My finances were pretty well insulated by the prenup unless I violated the morality clause.
Jaycee is a very attractive woman, 28 years old at the time that Alicia started paying attention to me, although not in Alicia's class (but then again I had never met anyone live before who was). Jaycee also works -- although only part-time as a travel agent. She is a little more materialistic than I thought that she was when we got married, but I enjoyed keeping her happy so I didn't bitch too much about her excessive spending or her values. She was never mean, great in bed, and easy-going so that was all that I really cared about.
One of my major joys in life is playing competitive tennis. I played Division III (non-scholarship) tennis in college and am pretty good for a club player. I use tennis, weightlifting, and an elliptical if poor weather or jogging if decent weather, to keep in shape, which is very important to me.
Jaycee doesn't play tennis, although she loves to socialize at the Tennis Club that we belong to. The club has a number of social events each month, a decent restaurant, and a nice swimming pool. Jaycee never goes to the tennis court, however, even to watch me play in the tournaments that we seem to have every couple of months.
I play in singles, doubles, and mixed doubles tournaments. My doubles partner is Jay Feeley, a fifty-something banker who played Division I (scholarship) tennis in college and though when younger was much better than me now is at about the same level that I am and the second ranked over forty male player at the club.
My normal mixed doubles partner is Misty Granger, a thirty eight year old attorney who is usually the fourth ranked under forty women's singles player at the club (I'm the third ranked under forty male singles player). Misty apparently only does transactions as an attorney, no trial work. Misty is a really special person, cute, friendly, and effervescent. She also has a spectacular ass, but since I was happily married and she seemed to be too I never dwelt on that particular aspect of her persona.
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I met Alicia, the Elizabeth Hurley look-alike, with a DD rack, a gorgeous face, flat abs, and thighs and an ass that defied description, at the tennis club that I, Jaycee, Jay, and Misty belong to. Alicia was a recent addition to our club; I never was sure if she was a new member or what we call a tenured-sponsored-guest. Regardless of her exact status most of the times that I was at the tennis club she was there too.
Alicia, who was 28 when I met her, is at almost at the same level in tennis ability as Misty, although she does have one significant handicap. Her big boobs sometimes get in the way of her stroke. Nobody comments on it.
I really don't know how it happened at the time but for what sounded like a bullshit reason Misty didn't just bow out of teaming with me in a tournament but in Alicia's presence suggested that I substitute her as my partner. It would have been embarrassing for everyone if I said "No, Alicia is distracting because she is so hot so if you can't do it Misty I'll get someone else." Therefore I went along -- apparently outwardly warmly but inwardly upset -- because by then Alicia had increased her attempts to seriously play up to me.
Things got weirder when Misty teamed up with Roger Turner for the tournament. NOBODY ever wanted to play doubles with thirty-something Roger because he is the club asshole. I was as confused as a goat on Astroturf.
Alicia wanted to get in as much practice time as I would agree to. I don't know what Alicia did for a living but she was essentially always available. She also constantly wanted to socialize afterwards, go to lunch, or some such thing.
I complained to Jaycee about Alicia trying to monopolize my time at the club, and also talked to her about how perplexed I was about Misty teaming up with Roger. Jaycee didn't seem to take me seriously; she just smiled and said "I'm sure it's just because you're nice to everyone and not everyone at the club is nice to Alicia."
"Why, what problem do people have with her?" I earnestly inquired.
"Well -- just between us -- a lot of women are jealous of her, and to other women she isn't as nice as she is to you," Jaycee replied with a smile.
"How do you know that?" I asked.
"Because I'm tuned into all gossip at the club," she laughed.
"Then do you know why Misty dropped me and then hooked up with Roger?"
"That I have no clue about," Jaycee smiled.
I generally went along with the flow as far as Alicia was concerned, but when Alicia started calling me at work I knew that something wasn't kosher. That was confirmed in spades when after a practice session on a hot day she insisted that we go to the pool to cool off. The bikini she "almost" had on left nothing to the imagination; fortunately there were no children around. Her body would make any hetero male salivate; there were a number of tented swim trunks there. It was then that I finally determined that I needed to be proactive to find out what the fuck was going on.
I tried to confront Misty about why she dropped me for Roger, but she was strangely hard to get to. It wasn't until after the third round of the tournament that I cornered her. Alicia and I had beaten her and Roger 6-2, 6-1 and she was scurrying out of the club shortly afterward. I was on to her, however, and rather than showering after the match or joining Alicia for lunch -- which she begged me to go to -- I caught Misty in the parking lot.
I was sitting on the fender of Misty's BMW 8 Series Convertible when she tried to sneak away. She sighed when she saw me, and her shoulders drooped. She was not smiling when I approached.
Misty is in remarkable shape for a 38 year old. Her face isn't beautiful but it is extremely interesting and refined, she is as smart as anyone I've ever me, and she always dresses classy. Her tennis outfits are the most elegant at the club (and intentionally or not really show off her perfect ass). She and I had known each other for five years before that day, and had been mixed doubles partners in six previous tournaments including two at other clubs.
"OK, Misty, what gives?" I sternly asked as I rose to my full height of six feet three inches and peered down at her five foot six inch frame.
"Uh...what...what do you...uh mean, Lance?" she stuttered. That told me something right there -- Misty is as articulate as any woman I have ever met so if she was stuttering she was nervous.