Tennis was a good outlet for her physical energies. It gave her a good workout, dashing back and forth to return the ball, tested her hand-eye coordination and even let her work off a little frustration on the rare opportunities she had for an overhand smash. It had been even better for her before they’d changed her trainer. Lars had been a Nordic demigod, tall and blond and incredibly fit. He was a few years younger than she was, and it had always been a thrill for her when he’d stood so close behind her that his body was pressing against hers as he showed her how to improve her grip or her swing. Unfortunately, Boris had seen that and probably reported back to Nicholas. After a couple of weeks Lars had been replaced by a tall, lean older woman named Adrienne who was rumored to have once played tennis professionally. Adrienne was more of a drillmaster than an instructor, though she also made a point of standing close behind Giancarla to demonstrate something. She seemed to enjoy the contact as much as Lars had. Giancarla did not. Adrienne took too much of an interest in her female pupils for Giancarla’s peace of mind. Oh, she’d had occasional fantasies of making love to another woman, but in none of those fantasies had the other woman been a tall, skinny, horse-faced creature with a butch haircut, skin tanned to the texture of fine leather and bony fingers that sometimes strayed.
As she played a couple of sets with some of the other women at the club, Giancarla could see Boris standing nearby, watching, unmoving. He had become such a regular fixture that hardly anyone even noticed him anymore. Giancarla sighed. She wished that she could do the same thing.
The day was warm, the sun was bright, and by the end of her match she was hot and sweaty and pleasantly tired. She thanked her partner, an older woman whose name she couldn’t recall, and congratulated her opponents, twin sisters in their late teens, before picking up her gear and heading for the ladies’ locker rooms. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Boris moving to keep her in sight. She knew that he didn’t like the layout here. From the lockers and showers you could get to the tennis courts, the indoor pool, or the members’ lounge, and none of the exits was in view of any of the others. There was a small gaggle of women heading in the same direction. Giancarla lagged a little behind them by pretending that there was something in her shoe that she had to get rid of. She judged her timing carefully and entered the lockers behind everyone else. No one noticed her bringing up the rear. No one noticed her when she darted to one side, down a short tiled corridor that led to a metal door marked ‘Employees Only’. It led to a tiled room used by the janitorial staff that was also accessible from the men’s side. The door was supposed to be locked, but it wasn’t. She took a last quick look behind her to see if anyone was watching. No one was there. She opened the door and slipped through it quickly, into the strong, waiting arms of Lars.
Instantly, he was holding her close and kissing her fiercely, his hands roaming down her back to clutch her rump. The door clicked shut. Giancarla stood on her toes and put her arms around Lars, kissing him back with fervor. After a dizzying moment, she broke the kiss.
“We don’t have much time,” she panted as Lars’ hands kept doing wonderful things to her.
“We never do,” Lars complained as he tried to kiss her again.
“No… no…” she pushed him away and hiked up her tennis skirt. “We don’t have time for foreplay, and I don’t need it anyway.” She started pulling down her panties. “I was thinking of you all during the match. I’m already hot.” She took his hand in hers and guided it between her legs so he could feel for himself. “See?” she grinned wickedly.
All Lars did was smile down at her and grunt approvingly. He kept his hand on her pussy. Giancarla looked towards the old wooden desk that filled up an alcove. She’d seen it before, and guessed that the janitorial staff used it from time to time.
“There,” she pointed at the desk as Lars slid a finger up inside of her and wriggled it. For a moment, she forgot what she’d been about to say.
“What?” Lars looked bewildered. He wasn’t very quick on the uptake, but he could be a real animal when it came to sex, and that’s exactly what Giancarla wanted right now.
“There,” she pointed again. “Bend me over that and fuck me. Fuck me
hard
!”
At least Lars took direction well. He half-carried, half-dragged Giancarla over to the desk and did as she’d told him to, bending her over so vigorously that he all but slammed her face onto the desktop. She felt his hand on the back of her neck, holding her down. A moment later his muscular legs were forcing hers apart. She couldn’t help squealing girlishly as he rammed his cock deep into her.
Too much noise could give them away. Lars got a grip on her hair and pulled her head up and back. His other hand covered her mouth and he began pumping her, hard and fast. It was only then that she realized that she’d forgotten to ask him if he was using any protection, but it was too late now. She let it go and let herself wallow in the carnal sensations flooding her body. She didn’t usually like being taken from behind, but she’d been so frustrated lately that this felt like just what she needed. She moaned against Lars’ hard, strong hand as his hips slammed into her ass again and again and again.
Chapter Two
Sneaking back out of the utility room required as much care as sneaking into it in the first place. Fortunately, someone had installed a peephole in the door. Giancarla didn’t know why that had been done. It certainly couldn’t have been for spying on the women’s lockers and showers. Those weren’t visible through the peephole. All she could see was the entrance, but that was all that she needed.
Lars had already ducked out back to the men’s side. As one of the staff members it was a lot easier for him. No one would think it unusual to see him coming out of the utility room. Giancarla had to be much more careful. She had come to actually enjoy the subterfuges and risk taking, along with the rush of excitement that it brought. Lars had been pleasingly strong and demanding this time. Giancarla felt happily sated, the more so because nobody knew of her assignations apart from herself and her lover. She was fairly certain that Lars was servicing other female club members as well, but that didn’t bother her as long as he could make her come on the rare times that they could be alone together. So far, he hadn’t failed her.
She saw her opportunity and grabbed it, slipping through the door into the short hallway. A moment later she was in the ladies’ locker room. The atmosphere was steamy, because the showers were nearby. It was also saturated with the scents of all the perfumes, colognes, creams and powders used. She quickly went to her locker and stashed her tennis racket before she began undressing. Lars had not, in fact, used any protection earlier, and while Giancarla had no fear of pregnancy, she had protection of her own, the results were still a bit messy. She tossed her tennis outfit into her locker and took out the huge, fluffy towel. It was big enough that she could almost wear it as a toga. She settled for wrapping it around herself and holding it in place. Some of the women here weren’t overly concerned about covering themselves. Normally, Giancarla wouldn’t be either, but she’d seen Adrienne heading for the lockers earlier, and Adrienne liked to look. She managed to do it without being obvious, but Giancarla would have sworn that she could always feel the bony woman’s eyes crawling over her flesh, so she covered herself up as much as she could when going to or coming from the showers. There were about half a dozen women still around, but none of them was Adrienne and none of them were in the showers. Giancarla shed her towel with an inner sigh of relief.
Getting the shower temperature right was always a struggle. It was always too hot or too cold at first. She fiddled with the taps until the temperature suited her and then stepped under the spray. Closing her eyes, she lifted her head so that the water cascaded onto her face. It always felt good to her. The warm water sluicing down her body also felt good. Still, Adrienne might appear at any moment, so Giancarla cut that part of her shower short and set about washing off the sweat and dirt and Lars. She had her own soap and washcloth for that. It was good that she was the only one in the showers at that moment. Other women might have noticed how carefully she was washing her pussy and start thinking.
Something made Giancarla look up. She saw Adrienne lounging against a row of lockers, watching her, a nasty little half-smile on her face. Some spirit of defiance made Giancarla finish washing her pussy while Adrienne looked on. Screw her. Let her look, and lust, and be disappointed. Once she’d finished, Giancarla turned her back and continued with the rest of her shower. When she turned around again, Adrienne was gone.
Giancarla turned off the shower and wrung out her hair. Naked and dripping, she retrieved her towel from the rack where she’d hung it and started to dry off. She felt refreshed now, and ready for a nice, leisurely late lunch. Boris would be there, of course, but it was pleasant to think of him being forced to just stand around while she took her time. The club had a delicious chef’s salad, which was nicely filling without delivering too many calories. After the workouts she’d had today, first on the tennis courts and then in the utility room, Giancarla thought that she could treat herself and put some of the tangy house ranch dressing on that salad instead of settling for a little vinegar and oil as she usually did.
She had intended to drag out her lunch for as long as she could, if only to keep Boris waiting and waiting. He never complained about being treated that way. He never showed any irritation about it either, which only made Giancarla more determined to keep pushing until he did. As it happened, she was presented with a perfect excuse to dawdle over her chef’s salad. While she was savoring each bite of it, a younger woman approached her. She was blonde, but her hair color appeared natural. She didn’t look like she’d gone in for silicone or collagen either, and she was far too young to be anybody’s trophy wife. She looked vaguely familiar, though. It took Giancarla a moment to remember who she was: Mara Harris, the daughter of a discarded first wife. She’d met her once or twice at parties.
“Am I intruding?” Mara asked hesitantly.
“Not at all,” Giancarla smiled warmly. “Please, have a seat. Would you like anything to eat?”
“Well,” Mara eyed the salad. “Actually, I haven’t had lunch yet, and that looks pretty good.” She took a chair opposite Giancarla and sat down with a sigh. “I’m glad to see a familiar face. I don’t even know why I came here today.”
Giancarla had been wondering herself. Mara wasn’t dressed for tennis, or golf, or horseback riding, or any of the other activities that the club offered. She wore a loose-fitting floral print dress and sandals.
“There are plenty of things to do here,” Giancarla said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you at the club before, though.”
“No,” Mara admitted. “I’ve been away at college. Today daddy had some business meeting and I just couldn’t stand being in the same house as that woman. I didn’t know what else to do, so I came here.”
Normally, Giancarla would have found some way to brush Mara off, but today she was more interested in the possibility of making Boris wait some more. She leaned forward, smiling sympathetically at Mara. “I understand, dear,” she said. “Sometimes you just need to get out. Please, join me for lunch. My treat.” Before Mara could even consider protesting the invitation, Giancarla had summoned a waiter over to the table.
Mara was not a very cheerful conversationalist. Mostly she wanted to complain about her father tossing her mother aside for ‘that gold-digging bitch’. Apparently she did not get along at all well with her stepmother. Giancarla listened just enough to be able to nod or make sympathetic noises at the appropriate points. It occurred to her that if Mara really hated her circumstances as much as she seemed to, what was keeping her from ditching ‘daddy’ and all his money and getting a job? It wasn’t easy to feel much sympathy for the girl, and Giancarla had no feelings of guilt herself because she was a first wife as well as a trophy wife. Still, if the long, boring conversation did nothing else it kept Boris sitting in a corner, sipping at a glass of what was almost certainly water.
There really wasn’t any reason to hurry home anyway. Nicholas was away on business again and wouldn’t be back for at least a week. As Mara went on and on about her problems, a plan formed in Giancarla’s mind.
“Do you know what always makes me feel better?” she interjected brightly when Mara ran out of breath and was silent for a moment.
“No,” Mara frowned. “What?”
“Shopping!” Giancarla smiled. “I have nothing to do today, and it seems that you don’t either. Why don’t we girls go out and get ourselves some nice things? If you’re going to be coming to the club, you’ll really need some new outfits. I can help you pick some things out.”
“Would you?” Mara brightened. Then her expression clouded up again. “Oh… no,” she shook her head. “I really couldn’t impose.”
“Nonsense,” Giancarla responded. “It would be my pleasure. And my treat.”
***
While Mara brightened up a bit during their shopping spree, every so often she’d lapse back into her glum, woe-is-me mode. Giancarla ignored those occasions as best she could. It was one thing to try to cheer up the younger woman, but it got to be a drag having to do it over and over again. She couldn’t quite decide if Mara was normally depressed or just particularly upset about something today. Either way, it didn’t matter. If Boris was upset about having to drive her all over town he didn’t show it, while Giancarla was finding it harder and harder to keep from yelling at Mara to lighten up already. Her attempt to annoy Boris had backfired on her spectacularly, and she suspected that Boris was now enjoying the situation. She stopped the shopping expedition as soon as she possibly could without making it too obvious that she was dumping wet-blanket Mara. For her part, Mara didn’t even seem to notice, which led Giancarla to suspect that she wasn’t all that bright either. The last she saw of her, Mara was standing by her expensive, fire-engine-red convertible sports car, surrounded by her share of the plunder of the shopping spree, smiling and waving goodbye.