SSMM Ch4

Ava takes a moment to put herself in order. She’s tempted to change clothes, but that feels like a cop-out. She stays in her slutty maid costume and ventures out, her hair and makeup more or less presentable.

The big house just feels empty. She knows there are people around, but it’s an unnecessary amount of square footage and like the maid said, the weather must be keeping some of the guests away.

Nobody likes Vivien Corbin, but she has good taste. The art on the walls is incredible, the Hollywood stuff is even better, and Ava appreciates the big, open house. Probably because of her tiny apartment and the way that her job at FUTA has a way of stuffing her in closets and other small spaces. She can breathe in here, and the soft rain on the windows is lovely. It’s a sprawling, curly house, but it’s not as complicated as it seemed at first. The upstairs is divided into two parts: the master bedroom, which is like a whole apartment—and the rest. It’s separated by the main stairs in the foyer.

Vivien must be in her quarters; Ava can hear music coming from in there.

Rather than her ears, she follows her nose to the kitchen, which is about twice the size of her apartment. There, she finds pastries, fresh coffee, and a brunette around Annette’s age.

“Hey,” the lady says, spotting her at once. She’s messing with the French press. “Have we met?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Ava says, impressed at how cool this lady is playing it. She doesn’t seem bothered by Ava’s costume at all. She’s slim, seems a bit sporty, and her jeans and henley project a lot of confidence. Her short hair gives soccer vibes to Ava, but Ava watches a lot of FUTA, so she’s biased. “I’m Ava. I’m with FUTA.”

“Yeah? Coffee?”

“Please.” This is nice.

The lady pours and hands over a steaming mug. “I’m with FUTA too.”

It takes Ava a second to realize that this lady is somebody. She narrows her eyes.

“I don’t want to be rude,” she says.

The lady snorts. “Cristy. I used to be a tennis player.” Tennis. Not soccer.

Ava blinks a few times. That’s a modest understatement. This lady isn’t Serena Williams, and Ava doesn’t follow tennis, but she’s the real thing. Like a Grand Slam winner. A serious pro athlete, not like the wannabe wrestler from a few minutes ago.

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry. I’m not into tennis.”

“It’s OK. Really. Which section are you with?”

“None. I’m Annette’s servant.”

“Oh.” Cristy’s expression becomes suspicious, although only for a second. “She tell you to wear that?”

“No, that’s me being a dumbass.”

“You want some free advice?”

“Don’t be a dumbass?”

“Don’t sleep with Vivien Corbin.”

Ava takes that in. “People keep saying that. My self-image is not in a hooking up with famous movie stars place.”

“It’s not just any famous movie star. It’s one who’s notorious for going after girls your age.”

“Is she really so amazing at seducing everybody?” Ava asks.

“I don’t know. She was beautiful back then. She’s beautiful now.” Cristy rolls her eyes. “Yeah. She’s good at it. But it’s not worth it. Seriously.”

“I was not planning on doing that,” Ava assures her. “You’re speaking from experience, aren’t you?”

Cristy just smiles bitterly.

“Wow. Literally nobody wants to be here,” Ava says.

Cristy takes a deep breath. “First-world problems, kid. So, what are you up to? What are you doing?” she asks, taking a sip.

“Just fucking around,” Ava says honestly. “This place is crazy,” she adds, giving the kitchen a sweep with her eyes. “I’m not really sure it aligns with my politics.”

Cristy snorts. “I know what you mean.”

“So, you’re here to pitch FUTA Tennis?”

She nods. “Now I feel like I have to explain myself.”

“For what? Everyone wants to get paid. I’m only here because Annette’s giving me a hundred bucks an hour.”

“Nice.”

“Right? Is it just you?”

“No, I had to bring a player with me. I don’t know where she went. I warned her to stay away from Viv too, if you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t, but sure. Sounds like an easy pitch. Girls in short skirts. It’s smaller, more personal. Easier to do rivalries. Ladies tennis already has some cred with pervy guys,” Ava says, counting on her fingers. “Sounds like an easy layup.”

Cristy looks impressed. Then she sighs.

“Easier than FUTA wrestling? Oiled-up girls in fancy costumes with storytelling, special effects, and somehow, even more psychosexual undertones?”

“Why not both?”

“That would be too easy. And Annette doesn’t want to oversaturate the market. Did you hear about the F1 team?”

Ava nods. “I thought we were doing pretty well. Why are we begging this lady for money?”

Cristy laughs. “I’ll give you some time to figure that one out for yourself.”

“Does Annette think she can use her?”

“Does Annette think that FUTA can use a notoriously horny, conventionally attractive woman with a high entertainment profile? You tell me. It was nice talking to you, kid. I need to go find my girl before Viv gets her. She’s kind of…” Cristy grimaces. “Delicate.”

“Do you not know her very well? You aren’t her coach or something?”

“No, I just brought the idea to FUTA, and they scouted some players that they thought were hot enough. They ended up picking Karina. She’s not a great tennis player, but she’s hot. Perfect for FUTA. Not everyone can be Riley Jameson, you know?”

“Yup. Can I tag along? You’re now my only friend at this party where I don’t know anyone, so I would like to chain myself to you.”

“Sure,” Cristy says, laughing. She finishes her coffee, puts the mug aside, and stretches with a yawn. “Gonna be a long weekend.”

They stroll out of the kitchen. The quiet house feels like a museum, and the gentle patter of rain on the windows is deceptive, given the weather warnings that have already messed up Annette’s plans.

“She said something about wanting to work out. She’s pretty intense.” Cristy wanders into the hall behind the foyer and opens a door, revealing a linen closet. Up ahead, she finds the stairs down to the basement.

“No way,” Ava mutters as they pass a gorgeous swimming pool. It’s not Olympic-sized or anything, but to have this indoors is bananas.

“Hmm,” Cristy says with a frown, like she expected to find this Karina girl here.

There’s muffled music ahead. They go curiously around the corner to find a lovely little workout area being used by two women in flattering, designer leggings and sports bras. A lithe, delicate strawberry blonde is on her hands and knees, being guided by an equally streamlined girl with mocha skin and hair that is frizzy perfection. There’s so much polish in their appearance, even for a workout. These two are doing maximum effort.

“Ooh, yoga,” Ava says, impressed. One more thing she’s never had time for.

“That’s Pilates, sweetie,” Cristy mutters.

The two women are oblivious to their presence. The blonde is the one working out, and it seems like the other one is coaching or something.

No, this is more than coaching. Ava sees the way the Coach’s fingertips stroke and linger on the blonde’s body as she corrects her form and encourages her, going pose to pose.

“Is this porn?” Ava whispers to Cristy, who has clearly come to the same conclusion. It’s a fully clothed workout, but that sensual touch is unmistakable and intense.

“We probably shouldn’t be watching,” Cristy murmurs.

Agree with her?

Or disagree?