Squash with Savannah

You find yourself pacing by the squash courts under the gym, feeling the heft of an unfamiliar racquet in your hands. You’ve played a couple matches of squash before, but when Savannah asked you to hit with her, it was only your lowkey hots for the varsity athlete that led you to accept. Now, though, you’re wondering if she’ll totally make a fool out of you.

“Hey Alex, looking sharp,” Savannah smiles, giving you an excited wave as she comes down the corridor. “I booked court two, ready to play?”

“You’re looking good too,” you reply. “Love the backless dress. Is that what you roll up to tournaments wearing?”

“Only when competing among friends,” she laughs, twirling around. The motion hikes her short dress up just enough to give you a glimpse of her cotton white panties beneath.

“You should consider competing in that,” you say. “I wager you could score a few points by distracting your opponent.”

“Some of the other girls in the league are real stunners. Maybe this’ll turn their heads. I wouldn’t mind that,” she smiles. “You ready?”

You nod, and the southern girl casually serves the ball with a step and a flick of her wrist. It zips by you, hugging the wall more tightly than you anticipated, and you swing and miss, scared of hitting the wall. Geez. She’s got some control over the trajectory of the ball.

“It takes a minute to get used to the wall,” she smiles. “You haven’t got that in soccer, I guess.”

“I’ll get the hang of it,” you grin back at her.

The next serve comes slower—probably her easing off—and you return her drive with a clumsy boast, the ball bouncing off the side wall before making contact with the front wall. She volleys the ball back effortlessly, striking the nick with pinpoint accuracy, and the next point slips away with your failed lunge for the ball.

“Here, try hitting the ball like this,” Savannah laughs, demonstrating the technique with a whip of her racquet.

You imitate her, practicing a few shots, and she gives you a few more pointers.

“Alright, I’ve got the hang of it,” you say.

Unfortunately, you have not. The next few points are a shellacking, proving that you’re well and truly overclassed. In fact, while you’ve been running all across the court, struggling to return every shot, Savannah seems to hardly move, taking a few steps back and forth and always placing her shots just out of your reach.

You’re left panting and without a single point to your name when you hold your hand up.

“Give me a minute. I need to grab some water,” you say.

You head for the water fountain at the end of the hall. After you gulp down a couple mouthfuls of water, you look up to see Val standing there, an amused look in her eye.

“Getting your ass handed to you by Savannah?” she asks.

“How’d you know?” you laugh, stepping aside to let her get some water.

“Been there, done that,” she smiles. “That gal sure knows how to play. She’s a girl after my own heart.”

“You looking for an angle on her?” you ask, half-jokingly, but to your surprise, she nods.

“Sure. I mean, only if you’re not interested yourself,” she says, ribbing you.

“We’ll see how far I get first,” you say, and she smirks at you.

“Atta boy, Alex,” she winks at you. “Here’s a hint for your benefit. Be upfront with her. Savannah’s a non-nonsense gal.”

“You’re not pulling my leg?” you ask.

“Try it out,” she laughs. “I might join you later, depending on how things are looking. Got to finish up my own game first!”

With that, she heads into the adjacent court, leaving you to face down Savannah again.

“You ready for round two?” she asks.

“Always,” you smile. “Hit me with it.”

Her serve comes fast as ever, and you’re barely able to return it. Your shot arcs high, a lob off the wall, and Savannah’s straight drive wins the point without difficulty.

Undeterred, you pick up the ball and serve it, imitating your practice partner’s technique. The brunette athlete is beautiful in motion, her lithe body extending gazelle-like as she delivers a textbook shot, sidewall, backwall, barely enough height for you to make a recovery afterwards. Your hit is weak. She’s already on the ball, a drop shot sending you to the front of the court, and though you manage to keep the rally going for a moment, it ends in her favor soon enough.

You play for another twenty minutes, not scoring a single point in the process, the radiant smile on Savannah’s face and her immaculate play making her seem all the more alluring and irresistible. How is she darn talented and hot at they same time? The answer—countless hours of practice mixed with some good old genetics—barely has time to register, as you realize that you’re about to lose another point. You dive for the ball, missing it, and your racquet goes clattering as you sprawl across the ground, an inelegant mess compared to her form-perfect stance.

Savannah immediately runs over as she sees you fall, a concerned look on her face.

“You okay? How are you holding up?” she asks, helping you back onto your feet.

“You gave me the real runaround there,” you say, struggling to catch your breath. You appreciate the arm that she’s slung around you, and you do the same, your palm resting against the bare skin of her back. “But damn you are good. Thanks for coaching me today. I don’t know if you got a whole load of practice in.”

“You’re getting better,” she smiles. “You almost had me in one of those last points. Shall we cool down?”

“You know,” you say, suddenly remembering Val’s words. “I know a pretty good way to do it.”

“What’s that?”

“Pair stretching,” you say, running your hand down her back. “I hear it works best when both of us have got our clothes off.”

“Oh really?” she asks, a sparkle in her eye. “Care to demonstrate?”

“Here’s a taster,” you say, giving her ass a good squeeze and knead. “Got to stretch out the gluteus maximus, you know?”

{if Savannah > 100} “Mmm… that feels real nice,” she says. “I’ve been feeling gosh-darned tight between the legs lately. Maybe you could help stretch me out?”

“It would be my pleasure,” you smile, giving her ass another playful squeeze.

“Lovely! Let’s head over to mine, and you can show me how it’s done,” she smiles.

As the two of you head out of the court, you spy Val leaning by the watercooler, giving you a sly thumbs up.

{else} “Mmm… that feels nice,” she says, “but I think we’re still working towards that. Why don’t we just do some regular stretches first?”

“Sure thing,” you say, nonchalantly removing your hand.

The two of you separate, and that’s when you see Val raising her eyebrows at you through the glass. {endif}

Savannah +25