Bouncing (29 page)

Conditioning couldn’t fix academics, though, and that bothered Brit most. The last thing a winning team needed was to lose a player due to poor grades, so Alex had given her the job of keeping tabs on the players’ classroom performance. With a few of them, Brit had her hands full. And of course, because that’s the way it usually happens, the player who struggled most in the classroom was Kelsey.

Brit was working with her, taking the first ten minutes of every practice to go over her class work. They would stand facing each other, bouncing balls and talking about history and literature and calculus. Biology was a delicate subject, and Brit tried not to cross the line by discussing her class in too much detail. It didn’t matter, though. Kelsey was doing well in biology. And in the month since they’d started their little pre-practice ritual, Kelsey’s grades had improved across the board. The time they spent together in the gym was helping her ball-handling skills, too. Brit thought a big part of her success was the confidence with which she moved to the basket. She was suddenly so sure of that ball in her hands that nothing could stop her.

It was wonderful to see the team doing so well, and Brit was proud to be a part of their success. The energy was palpable and put a bounce in all of their steps, but none more so than Alex’s. Alex had been sweating about the team when they first met at the beach, but now she was finally relaxed and enjoying the early success they were having. Reporters had interviewed her for the newspaper and television, and the school and the community were beginning to get excited about the team. On a few occasions when they’d been at the grocery store and the mall, strangers had approached Alex to offer their congratulations on her team’s success. Brit was her biggest fan, but suddenly Alex had a horde of admirers.

Even more pleasing, though, was the love growing between them. In typical honeymoon fashion, they rarely got out of bed. Every morning they awakened together—sometimes at Alex’s, but mostly at Brit’s—kissing each other awake, making love before they went off to school. They’d teach all day, have practice, and then come home and make love again. On Saturdays they squeezed a little shopping and baking into the routine. Brit had skipped two of the Sundays at her parents’, insisting she needed time for shopping and putting up her own Christmas tree, a job she shared with Alex.

They’d ventured a few miles into the snowy woods to find the perfect tree at the farm, then hauled it back to Brit’s on the top of Alex’s SUV. It was like a fantasy, listening to carols and decorating, then making love on the couch in the glow of their first Christmas tree.

Brit couldn’t believe what had become of her. For a woman who’d felt virtually no sexual energy for so long, she’d exploded. Sex was on her mind constantly, to the point of distraction, and even if they made love four or five times on a Saturday afternoon, she could have still found the energy to do it again if Alex indicated the desire. And, most often, Alex did.

Alex had proved to be just a hair shy of perfect. She was a tender and passionate lover, an attentive girlfriend, a neat and considerate roommate, and a fun playmate. Brit could imagine spending her life with Alex, which was just one more reason she had to tell her family.

She had to. Since that first game, Brit had been holding her breath, awaiting the collision of Liz Dalton and Joan Dodge. Thankfully, her parents had made it to only one other game, on the same Saturday the Daltons traveled to New York City to see the Christmas show at Radio City. She’d introduced Alex to her family that day, and they were charmed. But she knew her mother, and it wouldn’t be long before she insisted on meeting the Daltons. It was just good manners. Her parents knew the parents of all her friends. This situation was totally different, though, and a conversation between their two moms would be a disaster.

It wasn’t only the stress of discovery weighing on her, though. It was the lying. How much longer could she make up excuses and pretend to be sick? It was a drain on her energy, and if she told Alex what she was doing, Alex would be disappointed in her. Alex had no hard feelings about her non-invitation to Christmas at the Dodges’, but she’d once again invited Brit to her parents’ for the holiday celebration. Brit wanted nothing more than to spend the remainder of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with Alex, and share dinner in the evening with the Daltons, but her decision to abandon her family hadn’t sat well with any of them.

As usual, Brit had awakened that morning with Alex beside her. Their lovemaking had been soft and slow and sweet, and without even trying Alex had brought her to orgasm twice. They did a yoga workout in Brit’s living room and then watched
The Santa Clause
in bed before parting ways in the early afternoon.

Once at her parents’ house, Brit helped her mom prepare the house and the food for the party, and the entire family attended mass together before coming back to the homestead to exchange gifts. Christmas was a grand celebration for her family, and it was the time of year her parents spoiled them all, showering them with clothing and toys and electronic devices. The boys had too many toys to count, and her parents gave all three daughters earrings and boots and purses. Brit had inherited her love of Broadway from her parents, and she and her sisters had chipped in to buy them tickets and a hotel room for a weekend in New York.

It was a festive time as they opened gifts and sang carols, but Brit purposefully avoided the cocktails that were circulating because she was planning to drive home that evening. When Jordan asked her why she wasn’t drinking, Brit used the opening to complain about the headache she’d had all day. Later, after the invaders had retreated, Brit straightened the house from top to bottom, put away the food, and took out three bags of trash before confessing to her parents that she was going home.

“Why, Britain, that’s absurd! You can’t drive home at this hour,” her mother insisted.

“Mom, I feel better in my own bed,” she explained.

“Honey, it’s such a long drive,” her dad said. “Why don’t you take your medication and go to bed? We’ll be quiet in the morning and let you sleep in.”

Guilt tore at her heart, but she fought it, because all she really wanted for Christmas was waiting at home for her. Alex.

“That’s the problem, Dad. I rushed out of the house after practice and forgot my medicine.”

“Well, maybe I can call in a prescription for you. I’m sure there’s a pharmacy open.”

Her mother scoffed at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. What pharmacy would be open on Christmas Eve? But this basketball all the time is no good, Brit. You need to rest after school instead of practicing all the time. No wonder you get headaches.”

Brit bit her lip to suppress a retort. “I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She kissed them both at the door and smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

“It won’t be merry at all if you get into an accident,” her mom shouted after her.

“Oh, hush,” her father said. “She needs to get her medicine.”

That’s how Brit had left them, and the anxiety about the phone call she’d have to make in the morning, telling them she wasn’t coming to Christmas dinner, was stressing her enough to cause a
real
migraine. But she’d do it. Because she had absolutely no desire to spend her day refereeing her nephews, putting together toys, programming electronics, and cleaning up after her sisters. Her Christmas fantasy involved waking up with Alex, having breakfast in front of their tree, and watching a couple of movies before having dinner at the Daltons’. A simple, calm day with the woman she loved. And perhaps they’d even find the time for a little sex, too.

The drive home was easy on this clear evening, and Brit easily managed to carry her packages to the apartment. It amazed her how much money she’d spent on tiny gifts of gold and silicon, enough to fill an entire room with the toys she’d once loved. Just as well, though, because with Alex’s clothing now resting beside hers in the closets, there wasn’t much room for clutter.

Brit was about to key the lock when the apartment door opened. Alex stood just inside, wearing a Santa hat and very little else. She quickly pulled a smiling Brit inside and into her arms.

“Merry Christmas,” Alex greeted her, feeling as merry as she’d ever been. Brit smiled and kissed her softly.

“Are you my present?” Brit asked.

“Oh, no,” Alex said, motioning to the tree that twinkled a few feet away. “Santa left you some other things.”

“Well, I’d still like you,” she teased her.

Alex kissed her again, more deeply this time, and as had often been the case since the day before Thanksgiving, that initial spark quickly ignited a fire that made Alex want to drag Brit directly to bed. Brit was always willing, and it amazed Alex how well they connected sexually. Of course she’d known immediately they were compatible, with similar senses of humor and the ability to make each other laugh. Her parents had taught her that laughter was the best antidote for any troubles, and although their marriage of nearly forty years wasn’t perfect, they were happy. If Alex could have what they had, life would be good.

Alex nodded toward the bedroom, took Brit’s hand, and led her that way, trembling in anticipation at what she knew was coming. Her. And Brit. Probably twice. Yes, she’d known they were perfect together outside the bedroom, but what she’d discovered between the sheets was absolute bliss.

“Oh, Alex,” Brit said as they walked into the bedroom, and she brought her hand to her mouth.

Alex proudly surveyed the scene. A hundred tea-light candles twinkled in the four corners of the room, casting dancing shadows all around them and onto the ceiling. A larger candle on the nightstand filled the room with the unmistakable scent of Christmas Eve. The thick white comforter was pulled down invitingly, and a single red rose lay on Brit’s pillow, its stem adorned with a green-and-red ribbon. Kenny G belted out a Christmas tune on his sax, a slow, sultry rhythm perfect for romance.

Alex turned to find Brit looking at her.

Brit was overwhelmed.

“This is amazing,” she whispered into Alex’s neck, and she wrapped an arm around her waist and began slowly moving her feet in time to the music. They’d never danced together, and the mood couldn’t be more perfect for their first time. Brit moved her hips, rolling them into Alex, pulling her closer, growing immediately wet at the contact. Shuffling in step with her, Alex followed the movements, kissing her head as they moved together, pulling each other closer. Leaning back, Brit looked into Alex’s eyes and read her feelings. Love, lust, excitement, happiness. Much the same as her own. Even though Alex had experienced many lovers, Brit knew that, like her, this was a first. She’d never really been in love before, either. The relationship idea was new. And this experience was new. Alex had never, ever spent Christmas Eve with a girl. It was a first for them, and Brit knew in her heart it would be the first of many. Alex was the one she’d spend every Christmas Eve with for the rest of her days.

The song came to a climactic end, and Brit pulled her lover toward her bed—toward their bed. Brit quickly shed her own clothing but decided to leave the Santa hat when she began undressing Alex. Sliding a hand between them, she unfastened the topmost of the buttons on Alex’s cream-colored silk blouse. She slid her fingers inside, pushing away the fabric as she kissed the soft skin beneath, then slipped the next button through the fabric, exposing the top of Alex’s breasts. Her bra—a lacy affair so unlike the sports bras Alex usually wore—pushed them up, creating tantalizing cleavage that Brit admired for a moment before devouring it. Clinging to Alex’s waist to support her trembling legs, Brit explored the cleft between her breasts, darting her tongue inside, sucking on the soft mounds, nibbling along the fabric that still contained them. Gulping air, she paused to look at Alex’s face, covered in a mask of desire, and decided to move them to the bed. It just wouldn’t do to fall over and break a bone.

Pushing Alex onto the soft, thick comforter, Brit slid between her legs and discovered silky panties in a color and style that matched the bra. She loved Alex the jock in sports bras and gym shorts, but Alex the Victoria’s Secret lingerie model was equally hot. “Oh, Alex,” she said, slipping a finger into the crotch while she kissed along the lacy band. Alex was wet and accepting, and Brit pushed inside, making Alex buckle. Brit realized she’d gotten ahead of herself; the underwear had thrown her concentration. Cleavage. She’d wanted to explore cleavage.

“You like?” Alex breathlessly murmured.

“I do.”

“It goes with the shirt,” Alex murmured, then moaned again as Brit withdrew the wet finger and sucked it.

“You taste heavenly. I want more.” Brit shifted slightly and began opening Alex’s shirt again, this time from the bottom. “But first, I want to see your breasts. It would appear they’ve been specially wrapped for Christmas.”

Alex’s stomach was all gooseflesh, and it quivered beneath Brit’s hands and mouth as she took her time opening the first of her Christmas gifts. One button popped, and then the next, each revealing more of Alex’s soft skin. Then the final button was undone, and the silk fell away beneath Brit’s fingers, exposing the lace and the tops of the breasts it contained. The sight of Alex like this was overwhelming, and Brit closed her eyes as she rested her face against soft material, her heart pounding, her clit throbbing with need.

Pushing up onto her forearms, Brit licked along the top of Alex’s bra, darting her tongue down to caress the breasts that threatened to explode from the confines of the thin fabric. The shift in her position put Alex’s leg between her own, and she gently rocked her hips for maximum effect. She felt she might explode, and she didn’t want that to happen, at least not until Alex did, too. She willed her hips to slow down even as her hands and her mouth picked up the pace, pushing the bra up, freeing Alex’s breasts. Brit sucked a hardened nipple into her mouth, grazed her teeth lightly across it, noting again how Alex quivered at the contact. She slid her hand lower, across the hot skin of Alex’s belly, across the fabric covering her sex, and found again a way around the barrier, slipping easily inside.