‘You bitch,’ he gritted and tried harder but lost4-6. Veronica powered her first serve in and it sent the racquet flying from John’s hand. ‘Bitch,’ he yelled but when picking up the racquet called, ‘Thanks but I have to go. Um I have to meet someone.’ The guy behind Veronica laughed. She glared at him. ‘Go fetch a racquet and make me work.’ ‘No thanks, I can’t afford to have my reputation dented by a female,’ he laughed. ‘Bye Ronica.’ ‘How do you know my name?’ she spat, and only when he waved and jumped the fence at the end of the small grandstand did she realize she’s called out her name to John. ‘What a fucked-up outfit this is,’ she fumed. On Saturday morning Veronica was one of eighteen freshmen at the courts signing up for tennis as a recreational option, watched by other players who were waiting. They had to serve ten times and return ten shots and then were graded junior, intermediate and senior once that brief test was assessed against their tennis experience and any record. He gazed at her with a very telling, seductive smile on his lips as she leaned heavily against the elevator wall, her face flushed, her red lips parted, her bosom rising high with every quick breath. Barely glancing behind him, he reached back and pushed the button for floor 32. Mia felt the floor rise against her feet. She watched him carefully as he moved towards her in a suddenly more deliberate pace. Mia could almost describe it as a graceful swagger. His hands pressed against the mirrored wall on both sides just above her head as he continued to slowly close in on her. She rolled her eyes up to look at him. He stood there in her space, gazing down at her, seemingly inhaling her fragrance. Her heart skipped. She suddenly realized just how big and daunting this guy really was, his raw power surging upon her like a tidal wave. Yet, he managed to control his energy, angling his handsome face and inviting lips towards her in such an easy pace, it was almost cruel. By the time they.
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