Double Bossed

7

Blaine

I kept my head down on the way back to the village, throwing my hoodie up even though it was scorching hot. The advantage of being inside the Olympic city was the privacy it gave all the athletes. No press. No fans. It was the one place we could all be ourselves. Out here I couldn’t hide. I knew I was one of the most recognizable faces of the games.

In the village, I didn’t have to worry about that bullshit. The other athletes weren’t star-struck. To them, I was just another bloke competing like them.

Some of the athletes were in the zone. They barely spoke to anyone, fearful it would interfere with their concentration before their event.

Then there were the so-called competitors who came to the Olympics to party. I don’t mean any kind of party. I’m talking about the kind you see in American movies, where epic fraternity bashes last for days.

Four years ago, I tried to claim my place on the podium in London. I did what was necessary to cut my time. I fucked when I needed to let off steam. I left the partying to the Germans or the Dutch. Those guys knew how to do it right.

That was one of the things about the village. There were women everywhere. Women who looked like supermodels and had the bodies of athletic goddesses. There were bowls of condoms in the lobbies and in the gym. I heard a report that Rio set a record for ordering the most condoms of any Olympics.

Everyone knew what happened in the village. It was accepted and most of us expected it. It didn’t matter if it was to celebrate a gold medal, or to forget a fourth place finish. There was no judgement.

But as I walked the few blocks toward the high rises, I knew I didn’t want to go back and fuck a soccer star or volleyball player. The only woman I wanted in Rio was Ava.

That kiss was still on my lips. I could feel her tight little ass in my palms. Hear the whimper she made in my ear. Shit. I wanted another taste. And I wanted her.

I knew I had fucked up in Sydney. And now it was costing me.

I waited in line at the security gate to enter the village.

The guard waved me through without making me pass the regular X-ray machine checkpoint. I nodded.

I wiped the sweat from the back of my neck. I glanced across the greenway. There was a volleyball being splashed around in one of the lounging pools. The place looked like something out of a travel brochure. There were palm trees and bright flowers. It didn’t look like the kind of place where the top athletes competed. It looked like a damn singles resort where people met to fuck.

“Blaine! Blaine, come on over. The water’s warm.” The French volleyball players waved and giggled.

“No, thanks,” I hollered. “Getting out of the sun.”

“Aww,” they pouted in unison.

I thought about diving in. I could swim to the other end and have my pick of the team. In less than an hour, one of those girls would be on her back in my bed, but I wasn’t interested. Maybe in London, but not now. I ducked inside and headed toward the elevator, pushing the button for the tenth floor.

I walked in my room, looking for a distraction from the feeling.

I felt caged. I felt trapped. The room was standard. I didn’t receive preferential treatment. I even had a damn roommate from the Australian team. He was out.

I sat on the edge of my bed. Jim was hanging out with the other coaches. I was ready to crawl out of my skin, but it wasn’t from swimming. It was Ava. I pushed off the bed. Like hell I was going to sit here while she was a few blocks away.

I grabbed my keys and slammed the door behind me.

***

5 weeks ago

“Hi there, love.”

“You’re-you—” She spoke in between gasps.

The girl had practically fallen into my arms. I held her tightly against my body, enjoying the feel of her curves. Her long hair fell over her chest, hiding her breasts from my view.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” I wasn’t ready to let her go. She had gorgeous eyes. They sparkled with bits of blue like water.

I set her feet on the floor, giving her a second to regain her balance.