The Tennis Player

Part 2
Chapter 6

I remembered. Well, more honestly, Clark remembered and told me I had to call my mom Saturday morning. Tell her no one had broken in and done nefarious things to her only son. I’m not sure why Clark was so insistent about calling her like he’d promised I would. But when I was on the phone with her, it became clear.

“Tell her we’re going to work on the paper all day, and you’ll want to stay tonight, too,” he said as she was reminding me to brush my teeth. I didn’t need to listen to her say that as I’d heard it a hundred times before, so I caught what Clark was saying. I passed it on to her convincingly enough that she agreed.

She likes me to get good grades on school stuff. And I know what buttons to push.

But I still was surprised how easy it was to get her to agree to my spending the day, Saturday, with Clark at his house working on our research project, and to another sleepover.

I was still doing a lot of thinking, still a bit unsettled about what was going on with Clark. The fact was, the sex we’d had was amazing and terrific, but I still didn’t know him at all well. I was getting to know him, but it was still early stages.

Ever since I’d been at his house until he’d explained things to me, his whole personality had been different. Bigger-than-life would be a good way to put it. Before the explanation he’d appeared to be acting to me, and I hadn’t been sure what my feelings were for him.

Now I was getting to know the real Clark. Not only was I hoping he’d be a great friend, but also a great partner for learning the ins and outs of sex. He was as eager as I was. But, what about the great friend part? I wanted that as much as a great sex partner. It was still very early in the game.

Okay maybe this sounds strange for a kid of 14 to say, but it was true. I had lots of friends at school because of who I was, how I acted and I was very social. But I didn’t have a very close one, or a BFF as we called it. Wouldn’t it be great if Clark could be both the things I was looking for?

Yeah, that would be great, but could it happen? Maybe I’d figure it out, or at least get an intimation, by spending a day with him doing things other than thinking about sex.

That process had begun over breakfast. Surprisingly, both of us seemed a little more shy that morning. I didn’t test him to see if he could or couldn’t cook an egg. We both had bowls of cereal and toast, just what I had at home most mornings. I thought we’d talk about the night before, but we didn’t. I wanted him to start the conversation, and he kept glancing up at me, then looking down again, and as he kept doing that, I found it harder and harder to break the ice myself.

Finally, when we’d both finished eating and he’d picked up both bowls and taken them to the sink, he spoke. He did it with his back to me.

“We should figure out what to do today. I want us to work on the paper. We have a lot of research to do, and we have two computers, so you can work on part of it and I can do another. We’ll just have to decide who’ll do which.”

“That sounds good to me,” I answered, still wondering about the shyness I was feeling from him. And me, being me and having no shyness at all—well, I hadn’t been!—then said, “Do you want to talk about last night?”

He didn’t answer! He rinsed out the bowls, put the milk back in the refrigerator, then finally turned to me. “Uh . . .” he said, then dropped his eyes again.

I was about to call him on it, to ask how he could be so bubbly and sexy and effervescent yesterday and so shy today, but stopped myself before I could. I’d already decided I wanted to spend today with him mainly so I could get a feel for the real him. Well, maybe this was the real thing, and embarrassing him would be a stupid way to start.

Maybe he wanted to get to know me, too. Actually, he did know me. He’d observed me for the past few years. He knew me. But then, that was pre-sex Ronnie; now I was post-sex Ronnie, and maybe that guy was different. Maybe that guy would suddenly be all sure of himself and boastful and arrogant. Maybe Clark was very unsure of the guy I was now; maybe that’s what I was seeing.

What he needed was to see that I was the same guy I’d always been: happy, easy-going, friendly as a new puppy, that I was just as he’d seen me before. The same kid he’d had a crush on.

“Okay. We’ve already decided to break the paper into his early years, his education, his early military years, WW II, and then his presidency. And we agreed that we should do each section together. I guess that means we each use our computer to find out stuff, then maybe list the things we want in each section, compare those notes and then decide who’ll actually write what. How’s that? What do you think?”

He gave me the biggest smile I’d ever seen him wear. I might have been right. He might have been wondering if there’d be a new and obnoxious Ronnie he had to deal with now.

“That sounds good. Just what we need, breaking it down that way. We can start now and work together in my room. I have a computer on my desk and a laptop, too. You can have whichever you’re more comfortable on.”

We went upstairs to his room. I told him it was his house, his room, and his computers, which meant it was also his choice where he wanted to work. He chose the laptop. That made me happy because I’d never used one of those. We didn’t have the financial wherewithal he did. We had one computer for the entire household. It was in my room because I was the one on it the most.

We got to work. I told him I’d check Wikipedia. I discovered they had a large write-up on Eisenhower along with citations for the things they wrote about. I checked and many of the citations were also online. This was going to be easy from the standpoint of finding information. Putting it together might actually be fun.

He Googled Eisenhower’s name and got a lot of sites. He started picking up info from them and noting where the info came from. This was going to work out really well.

We’d been working for about an hour, hardly speaking at all, when he stopped and stood up with a worried look on his face. That caused me to stop, too.

“I forgot,” he said, and then looked a little embarrassed.

“What?”

“It’s Saturday, and I always have a lesson on Saturday.”

“When?”

“Right now. I should be out there already.”

“What sort of lesson?”

“A tennis one. But I need to explain.”

I laughed. He seemed so uneasy, and there was no reason for him to be. I thought it was funny. “What’s got your tit in a wringer over that?”

“It’s just, uh, well, I told you about my grandmother and her control issues and fears. This is part of that. And you might not like it.”

I shook my head. “Just tell me.”

“Okay. But remember, this was her doing, not mine. I’ve always just done what she wanted. Been conditioned that way, as I explained, both with familiarity and threats. So, I’ve had tennis lessons right from when I began with the racquet, when I was seven. The coaches I had then were ladies, tennis pro women. My grandmother knows lots of people.

“But that was early on. Then, later, as I said, the coaches became young and pretty but still female. That’s who’ll be here today. The girl I’ll be playing with—being coached by is what my grandmother calls it—is a member of a tennis club in town and really good. She’s had the club pro working with her for years. She’s better than I am, plenty enough to coach me. She’s older and taller and more experienced. I do learn stuff from her. She’s, uh, very nice. I like her. But there’s something else.”

He wanted me to ask but I was getting a funny feeling, seeing he was finding it so hard to tell me about her, so I just waited him out.

He gave me a sheepish look. “She’s one of the ones being paid to help me determine my sexuality, how straight I am, or specifically how gay I’m not. The last time she was here, she asked about the pool. She told me that when she came for my next lesson, she wanted to swim afterwards. Swim with me. And asked if I’d ever skinny-dipped in it.”

I wasn’t sure why he expected me to be upset about that. He’d already made it clear he was gay. But, thinking about it, I guessed he didn’t know whether I’d be jealous. I’d told him I was gay, too, but in a tentative sort of way. I guess this was all as new to him as it was to me. He didn’t know how I’d react. Maybe he didn’t even know how he’d react if she got naked and wanted him to, also.

What I wanted to do was talk about it. “You haven’t told her you’re gay?”

“Of course not! I told you, that’s my biggest secret. No one can find out about that.”

“Okay, but what about this: she gets naked, you do too, and you, being gay and all, like what you see but don’t get hard? What about that?”

He could hear in my voice that I wasn’t upset. Wasn’t mad. Wasn’t even being all that serious. And I wasn’t. What I was doing was seeing the silliness of this, and how awkward it might be. I could just picture her being seductive, and him having no idea how to act. He might get hard, he might not. Would she try to fondle him? Would he protest? What would she tell his grandmother? Everything? Nothing? No matter what happened?

It was all so unpredictable. And to me at least, kinda funny.

“Do you want to do this?” I asked.

“Not really. But it’d be awfully hard to say no. What boy my age would say no to getting naked with a pretty girl who’s acting all sexy?”

“Then I have a suggestion. I’ll watch your tennis lesson. I doubt she’ll want to skinny dip with me there, but let’s pretend she does. I’ll be very much into it and tell her I’ll come, too. Like it’d be wonderful to be naked and to be able to see her like that. That could end it; she might back off—or not. If not, if she loves the idea of being naked with two nude boys who are a couple years younger than she is, well, we’ll do it. We’ll all get undressed together. And you and I will spring erections because we’ll see and be thinking about each other. She’ll be sure they’re for her. She can report back to your grandmother you got hard as the Washington Monument seeing her naked. Grandma will be so happy!”

“What if she gets turned on, seeing us, and gets handsy?” But there was eagerness and excitement in his voice as well as some of the humor I shared. It seemed Clark could feel the whimsy like I could, but maybe he was just like me: a young teen where anything involving sex was thrilling.

“That’s easy. Just say you’re uncomfortable, and it would be too embarrassing to do more of that with me there watching. I can say that, too. She won’t push it with both of us against it. We’ll both act really embarrassed. We’ll sell it. So, we’ll just swim with her, all three of us looking at each other, you and I hard at least at first, and that’ll be that.”

He changed into his tennis clothes, and I watched; we both got hard when he was naked. We both grinned. “Later,” he said.

He was right, she was on the court already, hitting balls off a backboard at the end of the court. She looked graceful and athletic doing that. She always switched to a two-hand backhand grip when the ball came to her left side, which she did quickly and automatically. Her footwork was excellent, too. She hit the ball just as hard from both sides.

Clark was right: she was very pretty. Just an inch or so taller than Clark even though she was a couple of years older, about the same number of inches shorter than me. She was blonde and wore a single ponytail. She was dressed in tennis whites, as was Clark, and I doubted she was wearing a bra because no strap showed. I guessed she didn’t really need one: as the tee shirt didn’t stick out very far, she had to have small breasts.

Any girls I’d had crushes on, the few there were, tended to be boyish in appearance, and that was what this girl’s figure looked like, although her face, quite pretty, didn’t look at all masculine. Clark introduced us. Her name was Tammy, and he told her about our research project, explaining why I was there.

They rallied for a few minutes. Wow. They hit the ball hard! Clark had his racquet in his right hand, of course, and hit the ball much harder than he had with me. Both his and her shots cleared the net with only a few inches to spare. Every now and then she’d stop and point something out to him, like that he’d crossed his feet setting up to return a shot instead of sliding and keeping balanced, or not changing to his backhand side quickly enough. Mostly though, they just hit.

Then they played a set. She won, 6-4, but it was a close match and I was stunned by how well they both played.

They stopped for a drink and a rest, and Clark said, “That was great, Tammy. You know, I’m into this project with Ronnie, and maybe that’s enough for today?”

Tammy gave him a look, a look that made it clear she was older than he was. And one that clearly said she was in charge. “We can if you want. But I’m not ready to leave yet. You said we could swim today, and I’m all ready for that. No backing out.”

Clark got a surprised look on his face. I knew his expressions and gestures better now, and knew his surprise was faked. “Uh, swimming like you said? Okay, I guess, but Ronnie’s here, and you said we’d skinny-dip and, well, with Ronnie watching . . .”

She laughed. “I didn’t know you were shy, Clark. I’ve never seen that before. It’s cute.” Then she turned to me. “Clark wanted to see me naked. I had to decide if that was appropriate or not. His idea was for us to skinny-dip today, and I’ve been thinking about it all week, sort of getting used to the idea. I made up my mind to do it; where’s the harm, and it might be good at his age to see what’s in store for him. I guess if I’m going to be naked with him, and him with me, what difference would it make if there were three of us? More for me to feast my eyes on! What do you say?” Then she laughed again. But she was looking at me for an answer. And I had the idea she very much wanted to do this.

I glanced at Clark.

He frowned. “Ronnie hasn’t seen me naked, or vice versa. The whole thing seems embarrassing now.”

“So you don‘t want to?” Tammy sounded disappointed.

Clark looked at me. “Do you want to?”

“Hell, yes! Tammy naked? Sure. I don’t care if you see me naked. Uh, I will probably get an erection, though. I’ve only had fantasies about seeing a girl naked. And one as pretty as Tammy . . .”

“Me too,” he said, grinning. “Although to set the record straight, this was Tammy’s idea, not mine.”

She ignored that. “So, we’re doing this?”

Clark nodded. He grinned. “Let’s strip!”

“Over by the pool,” I said. “I know I’ll bone ukp, and the quicker I can jump in the water, the less embarrassing it’ll be.”

That’s what we did.

We all undressed together. Tammy didn’t dawdle. Clark seemed to, but I thought he was delaying on purpose. But by the time we’d reached our underwear—a jock for him, underpants for me—we were both erect. She was already bare. Both of us were blushing as we took the rest off. Tammy was certainly looking. I didn’t know how experienced she was, sexually. We could easily be the first aroused males she’d ever seen.

I didn’t dally. As soon as I dropped my drawers, I jumped into the water. Clark followed in my wake. Tammy was slower getting in, and in fact walked to the shallow end and then down the steps into the water. I had the impression she liked us looking at her. Well, we liked looking, too. We may have been gay, but this was something that was brand new to us, and we took in the eyeful she was giving us with enthusiasm. A naked girl might not be as exciting as a naked boy, but still, it was a naked girl.

We swam for about half an hour, swimming and playing in the water. By the time we were through, swimming naked with each other no longer seemed to be giving us the sexual thrill we’d had at the beginning. We got out, dried off and re-dressed. She told Clark she’d be back next Saturday, grinned at me, and that was that.

We returned to Clark’s bedroom and worked some more, worked until we decided we had enough information about Eisenhower’s early years. We had lots of time before the paper was due and were already well on our way.

“We’ve done enough today,” Clark said. “We can each write up a draft of this section tomorrow, then go over it and get a final draft done. For today, how about something else?”

“Like what?”

“We could ride. We have three horses, and I know some trails we can take.”

“I’ve never ridden.”

He grinned at me. “First time for lots of things for you this weekend, huh? But we’ll just walk them. You’ll enjoy it.”

We went to the stables, and he had Robert tack up Clark’s favorite horse and one for me. Clark gave me a few pointers, and then boosted me up on my horses back. From the ground the horse didn’t look all that tall. So why did it seem I was so far up when on it’s back?

Clark mounted, and we started off. Part of their estate was wooded, and that’s where Clark led us. The horses walked at a very slow pace, and I got comfortable in the saddle rather quickly. I was athletic by nature, and perhaps that helped.

We got into the woods on a trail that was wide enough that we could ride side by side. We didn’t speak at first, which gave me time to think. Something that he’d said when we were in bed together came back to me. It sounded strange when he’d said it, and I’d wanted to ask about it then, but he’d been on a roll. I hadn’t wanted to interrupt him, but this was about sex, kinda, and so now was the time to ask him about it.

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