Olympic Village (closed)

[ArcticAvenue]

On the best gear, standing on the pedals, doing everything he can to push the breakaway ahead; Charlie Blackwood knew his redline was approaching. His mouth agape, sweat pouring from his brow from under the helmet, he did everything he could to pull the last of his stored energy to come to the front. He unzipped his top, the red, white, & blue of the United Kingdom’s colors striking compared to the usual orange stripes of his race team colors he wore in his professional career, but that is what makes the Olympics different. Goodbye sponsors, hello love of country. It was a tough day in the saddle, and the breakaway looked strong enough to stay out in front if they stayed steady. He climbed four Class 1 mountains in this breakaway and as they neared Copacabana Beach, the once group of 11 were now down to just 3 race leaders. It didn’t help that the Dutchman & Belarussian just couldn’t keep up the pace when he staggered to the front of the breakaway. It didn’t help his chase care dropped his last water bottle at the last exchange. As they slipped under the 2km to go banner, Charlie looked over his shoulder, and there was the peloton pumping away.

Dropping his head, he called ahead to the other bikers, “we’re caught boys.” Charlie coasted, and let his pace slow.

Ten seconds later, he was engulfed in a pack of nearly a hundred riders.

Ten minutes later, as his bike was getting packed onto a trailer and he was running some cooldown miles on a stationary, his mechanic handed him a cell phone.

“How you feeling Charlie?” Yancy asked on the other end.

Between breaths, Charlie did his best to reply. “Spent.”

Yancy laughed as only the egotistical American would. “I bet, ya dumbass. It was an aggressive strategy. You’re good on the mountains, but comeon, you don’t got anyone behind you holding back the guttsy asswipes. Strike out on your own in the first couple of kilometers, you were damn lucky you didn’t get caught on the first real climb.”

“It was … my only …. Chance.”

“I know I know,” Yancy replied. “But you kinda fucked yourself for next weekend, didn’t ya.”

“Yeah.”

Yancy was his team manager. Manager for his professional team that is. For the last two years, Charlie had been working hard to bring the American based team to glory on the Grand Tours; and along the way did well enough to earn a spot on the UK’s Olympic team. If it was the Le Tour, or the Giro, or Tour of Spain; he would have held back and been the good soldier; save himself for another day. You can do a breakaway like that, but will be shit for the next couple of days. Going out like that meant his legs would be shot to support the team at a one-day event in France.

“So … I am out?” Charlie asked as he slowed his pace, feeling his wattage fall.

“Sorry buddy,” Yancy replied. “But hey … how about this. You promise me you will do go on training rides, and I’ll let you hang out down there for the rest of the Olympics.”

“Really?” One of the things that bugged Charlie is that the road race, while a once in a lifetime opportunity, was on the worst day of the whole Olympics. The first day. He had to miss the opening ceremonies; and he would miss the rest of it to get back to the team.

“Yeah, why not. You got a spot there at the Olympic Village right?”

“Yeah,” he replied excitedly. “They have me in the British dorm, with all my mates. They got a proper pub with none of your shit beer.”

“Dude, no wonder why you let the peloton catch you, drinking that warm-ass shit last night!”

“I never,” he laughed.

“Okay,” Yancy chuckled, “but get yourself some of that Olympic strange. I hear those places are a fucking orgy.”

“Come on, Yancy.” Charlie slowed his bike to a rest and stepped off grabbing for a towel.

“Seriously, dude. When you get back here, I am going to stick you on rides in milkmaid country. So get yourself one of them tight, firm gymnasts from Nigeria or China or whatever.”

“Gymnasts are like, twelve, you pervert.”

“Whatever … those volleyball girls would be fun to climb.”

Charlie rubbed the towel over his face and pushed the last of his sweat away. Being one good in the mountains, he was a little taller and broader than the standard slim cyclist. His close cut brown hair was matted in sweat, and only seemed to enhance his tanned freckled complexion. Burning thousands of calories a day on the bike left him lean, strong, and trim; but he was already feeling ravenous for some of that food from his homeland back at the village. “No promises, Yancy, cause you know my luck. I would get some slapper weightlifter from fuck knows where.”

“Dude … what’s a slapper.”

Tossing the towel over his shoulder Charlie laughed. “Never mind mate, catch you in a week. Cheers.”

Charlie shut down the phone and slipped it back to the mechanic. Then the concept really crossed his mind. Two weeks in Rio, just up the road from the beach, surrounded by the most fit women in the world. Maybe this will be a once in a lifetime thing.

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[CarnivalBarker]

Kristie Borreal hit serve after serve after serve, the volleyball arching low and curving just over the net into the coffin corner. It was her specialty, the one thing that was perfection, the thing she had mastered since she was young, knowing that if she did one thing better than the rest of the world, she could make her way in the sport that she loved. And it was that serve, that sounded like a rifle shot and was good for six to eight points a game, that carried her to college at UCLA and eventually here, onto her first Olympics team, at the age of twenty, and despite her height of only 5'8", with the prospect of two or three more games in her future.

In her first year in college, she had been termed the Jennifer Lawrence of the NCAA, her soft golden hair and clean features comparing favorably to the Oscar winner who happened to live in the same city in which Kristie played. Despite the attention in volleyball circles, or because of it, she not only excelled but became the school's first freshman All-American selection in school history. After that, she got an invitation to try out for USA volleyball and the national coach, who had seen all of her that he wanted in the NCAA regional semifinals, selected her during the first round of cuts. Now, she was ready for the second qualifying match which, if won by a wide enough margin, could get the women's team in the tournament round for only the second time in the last six games.

"Hit 'em just like that," Coach Clayton Banks said, walking the baseline and watching his top service ace warm up. "In fact, hit 'em like that and we'll medal." Kristie sighed. She didn't need that pressure just yet. She obviously knew the stakes. Ten more minutes of warm-ups and she toed the line ready to get the match underway. She took her standard two step set, tossed the ball high in the air before springing upward, her lean body arched and powerful, her arm firing through the striking zone and the clap of contact echoing through the gym as the ball sailed fast toward the Portuguese team, awaiting their chance to return it.

"Net! Side!" The chair judge pointed the flag toward the Portuguese side of the floor as the ball smashed in the center of the net. She shook it off as best she could. First strike jitters. She couldn't believe she didn't get it over the net and, now she would have to wait for the rotation to come back around to her. She prayed she hadn't lost the game. An hour and a half later, a fifth and deciding game went to a tie breaker and it was her redemptive serve that flew helplessly to the side as Team USA got the victory by only two points in the final set. One of the girls smacked her on the butt as the team celebrated, but she knew it was probably not enough. And, here, on the day before the official opening of the games, the national team was already on the ropes and her Olympic dream probably over. She took in the coach's words and showered, before going to her dorm in the village where she stayed with Angela Jacks, one of her teammates, a graduate of Georgia, four years her senior.

"Let's go out," Angela said.

"I don't want to," came Kristie's reply.

"Come on," Angela urged. "We have two weeks here, the opening ceremony is tomorrow night, but the village is full already and there are things we can do."

"I want to go watch South Africa-Cameroon," she said, kicked back in a chair, in some short white shorts and a baby blue tee shirt.

"Nobody wants to watch South Africa-Cameroon," Angela said. "Besides, if the winner of that match knocks us out, you will forever have that as your Olympic memory. Fuck that." Kristie knew the experienced veteran wasn't wrong. "Let's go have drinks."

"I'm only twenty," the girl said. Angela laughed.

"You don't get ID'd in the village," she said. "And if we go into Rio, you're blonde." Kristie raised an eyebrow. "Trust me. They'll serve you anything you want and maybe some things you don't." Kristie rolled her eyes. "Come on!" Angela urged again.

"Okay," Kristie said, standing to walk across the room and slip on some wedge heels. "One drink. We may have to play on Monday." Angela grinned and shook her head.

"It's Thursday!" she said. "Let's have fun tonight, see what happens with the draw later, go to the ceremony tomorrow, and party if we're not in the tournament tomorrow night. We can worry about Monday later." Kristie nodded and couldn't argue. The two women made their way into the village and to an outdoor pavilion with food trucks featuring as much healthy, or not so healthy, fare as an athlete could want. Angela ordered two tequila sunrises and a bowl of popcorn, which made Kristie smirk. Even her friend was hedging her bets that they had been eliminated earlier and wasn't ready to kill a pizza or burger. The began wandering the streets of the village, taking in the people, the buzz, and the excitement in the air. Kristie wondered how the week would go, annoyed that their sport forced them to actually begin qualifying before they could enjoy the opening, leaving them both anxious. Two hours later, and a couple more drinks behind them, their phones both erupted at once.

"You look," Kristie said. Angela pulled her phone out and looked at the screen. Her eyes grew wide. "What is it?!" Kristie asked.

"Cameroon won," she replied.

"How much?" Their phones buzzed again. Then again. And once more. They didn't need to see the score to know something was happening. But Angela looked anyway.

"15-12.....17-15.....and 15-4!!!!" It was Kristie's eyes that grew wide now.

"FOUR?!???"

"Four!" Angela confirmed. Kristie dropped the popcorn on the ground and together the two girls let out a scream and started jumping up and down, there in the middle of the village. They had made the tournament's top 32 teams by virtue of a nearly unheard of blowout, giving them enough of a margin to get in with a 1-1 record. Other athletes in the area no doubt saw them, and their mini celebration. The girls texted the rest of the team, responding to the messages they had received. Thirty minutes later, the entire team was mingling together, back at the food pavilion, huddled around a single table, a mini celebration before the games could now, in earnest, truly begin. Tomorrow would be opening ceremonies, then they had two days off, then their first game against Australia. Kristie was fired up as she had never been before on this long Olympic journey.

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[ArcticAvenue]

Never had Charlie sat in any club on a Saturday night and found it to be dead. Not in the way that hipsters walk into a crowded club and bitch that the place was dead anyway; the place was Dead with a capital D. The DJ was doing his thing, and he had all of seven people grooving along with it on a floor meant for a hundred. You could lay up about twenty people along the bar, and get a drink with the five bartenders working back there, but they practically had to climb over each other to reach Charlie. That and all he asked for was a scotch on the rocks.

Charlie was feeling pretty good, actually. He started in on the brown liquor by the time he reached the village, and three or four later the buzz was high. But the Argentinian beef in his belly was sobering him up, and making him a little tired. He had, of course, just tried to outrace the world’s elite over nearly 250 kilometers that morning. Charlie, though, had spent the last six months training at the highest of levels. While that means that he can enjoy a drink now and then, four or five glasses of scotch made his brain fuzzy.

Still, it was like a big weight was off his back. Two weeks in the olympic village with only the need to do some training rides for the next couple weeks was just as much of a vacation as Charlie had since he was a boy. As much of an ass that Yancy was, the thought that he could shag him an Olympian put Charlie at half mast since the time he stripped himself of his gear. It was the village though, so he still wore team colors. A thin cotton shirt with British Union Jack blazing across the chest, like sporting his gang colors, whatever that means; and a pair of khaki shorts to keep the heat of the day off his stiffening legs.

As luck would have it, however, Day 1 of the olympics meant that everyone still had their moments ahead of him. As much as you can argue that athletes are as human as anyone, they also want to be at their best. So, the only athletes letting their hair down were like him, those who finished up already. Like he predicted, half of them are weightlifters. Broad shouldered Eastern European women who are just as interested in hiding their excess body hair as they are in grinding their strangely enhanced female parts against other females with equally enhanced parts.

It didn’t help that his mates were in bed early too. Charlie only qualified for the road race, and was about the only cyclist at the games that was so limited. The rest of them had a time trial, or were focused on sprints or team events at the velodrome. Not just of his countrymen, but the fellow cyclists and all the boys he got to know through his professional career. They are all off sleeping away knowing tomorrow is just another training day or race day; and here he was .. sitting at a bartop stool along the edge of the dance floor … alone. No stange, no teenager gymnast, not even a hairy weightlifter.

Sucking on a chunk of ice soaked through with scotch he watched the crowd in the flickering lights and sounds. The buzz in his head made him start to wonder strange thoughts. Like if he wandered to the Chinese dorms, if he could ask for a massage (complete with a happy ending). Like if the Brazilian team walks around topless. Like if the mid-Eastern girls, who do what they can to seem chaste, are nothing but when you get them alone.

Trying to get some clarity in his head, he noticed a couple of girls come into the club. One of them really caught his eye. Lean, yet curvy and cute, her blonde hair suggested something Scandinavian, but easily could pass as something more Western, maybe even Australian.

Take a chance he thought. Give it a go. What’s the worst that can happen.

He waved down the bartender, pointed the girl out and waved to the posse she was with. “Whatever they are drinking, it’s on me.”

 

[CarnivalBarker]

"Stacie, over here!" Angela shouted in the bar to the third girl that would be in their party. Some of the team had called it an early night to make sure practice suited them at 10am the next day. But with a 1am curfew, Kristie, Angela, and Stacie had chosen to hit one of the bars in the village with a Brazilian theme. "Can you believe this place?" Angie asked, turning to Kristie. "We're in Rio and we are in a Rio themed bar, run by the IOC, that prefers to take American dollars, and has a guy covering Beatles songs on stage." Kristie shook her head. "The Olympic village seems pretty contrived."

"Yeah it does," Kristie agreed as Stacie stepped forward with a friend, a not-so-tall dirty blonde with soft, pretty features.

"Hey!" Stacie said, bouncing into the other two girls' space. "This is Justine. She's from New Zealand." The girls said hello and quickly became fast friends, learning that Justine had a solo room across from Stacie and they had met in the dorms, as well as learning that she was a backup on the New Zealand women's soccer team.

"Do you know Alex?" Justine asked, eventually. The girls looked at each other. "Alex Morgan?" She clarified. Kristie, Angela, and Stacie laughed. There were about 500 American team members and Alex Morgan was not only not in their sport, but was an international star, looked up to by little girls world wide.

"We don't," Angela said. "She's pretty famous though." Justine's face showed disappointment.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know any famous volleyball players. But the men are beautiful." The girls giggled again.

"It's okay," Kristie said. "The entire New Zealand team looks pretty great!" They all giggled again and toasted the upcoming efforts of each of themselves at the games. As they did, the bartender, a nice enough German employee, stepped forward with another round of drinks for all four of the girls. "Oh, we.....we didn't order these," Kristie said.

"Nope. Someone else did," the bartender said. "Welcome to the Olympic village," he continued, a clear veteran of such events. "Where you fish or are fish." He sat the drinks in front of each of them.

"Fish or are fish?" Stacie said, as three of the girls, except Angela, looked curiously at the bartender. Angela grinned and just asked another question.

"Who was it?" She asked. The bartender made no move to identify the buyer, but said simply, "Admiral Lord Nelson of the far West." He then walked away. Angela looked over her shoulder to the far side of the bar and saw a man in understated, though clearly British gear. She then turned to the girls and picked up her beer. "I'd better not see any of you around a guy until our games are over," she said, but turned to lift her glass toward the cute stranger from England as a thank you, before taking a sip. "But if you're not getting laid by the closing ceremonies, you've missed the point." Kristie and the others giggled. And Kristie rolled her eyes. She hadn't come here to hook up. But as she lifted her glass as did the others, to also thank the man, she noticed that he was cute and she also reminded herself that her body had never been in any better shape.

"He's cute," Kristie muttered. Angela forced her to look her in the eye.

"Not until after the games and not before," Angela said. "If we've won a medal or been eliminated, then I do not care if you let the entire Puerto Rican team run a train on your pretty little ass." Kristie blushed.

"Oh my god!" she half squealed, hiding behind a long pull of her drink.

"But not before then."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

The German bartender sauntered back and filled Charlie’s glass again.

“What do you think they are?” Charlie smirked.

“Three Americans and a Kiwi,” he responded while refilling Charlie’s glass.

“I could tell that,” Charlie replied. You would have to be blind to, actually. Nearly everyone in the village was walking around with national colors on; even if they are understated at times. He clearly saw three had the unmistakable USA flag stitched into their gear, and the fourth walked around in the trademark all black clothing that it seems only the New Zealanders wore. “I mean, what sport?”

The bartender shook his head and walked away. Whether he intended to be an ass or not, it seemed if he had any hope tonight, Charlie wouldn’t have a wingman.

So he gave himself his own peptalk. “Look at you, mate. Just this morning you went out on your own, and almost got a medal. Couldn’t hurt to give it another go.”

He started to move down the bar, and realized that would be tougher than expected. His recovering body now was coming to the conclusion that it missed the post-race massages that were common on the pro series, and his quads were starting to seize up. Not just that, but the scotch was making his feet unsteady too. It had become a long day, it was starting to become a long night, and as fit as he was there were limits.

“Just another redline, Charlie.”

He closed the short distance, his eyes really starting to focus on the blonde American that originally caught his eye. Partly the way her hair seemed to be pulled back to be controlled, but not made up like she intended it to be overly sexy - like she was out for a good time, not to present something that wasn’t true about herself. Like everyone in this village, she was fit but she was fit in all the ways that make a guy want appreciate. She was shorter than the others around her, just about his own height, but didn’t stand out as outside of her element. It was more the way she smiled that stood out to him. Sweet curl of her cheeks to accent what seemed almost a natural ease to show her happiness.

He approached the small crowd and raised a glass. “Welcome to Rio, ladies. I trust the games find you well?”

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Kristie stopped laughing, smiled at the man who had sent the drinks, and raised her glass once again in thanks.

"Stop that!" Angela said. "None of you," she addressed the entire group, "need the temptation right now." Kristie knew she was right. They had all trained and worked too long, too hard for the dream before them, and forty eight hours before, it had almost slipped away before the opening ceremonies. They had gotten a gift from Cameroon, and they need not squander it. Kristie watched the bartender speaking to the man across the room, and then listened to the girl from New Zealand recap the stunning opening ceremony they had all witnessed first hand. Kristie had enjoyed the march with the rest of the team, being fortunate enough to walk near the men's soccer team and ahead of the men's basketball team, who seemed to tower over her, and pique her interest knowing they were all multi millionaires and worldwide celebrities. The displays of light and music were unlike anything of any scale she had seen, and when the torch was lit and the stadium fireworks launched, she couldn't help but shed tears. She had made it all this way, and she didn't want to screw it up now, nor would she want her teammates to. The reminders were why Angela was the captain of the squad.

"He's coming over," the Kiwi girl said quietly, breaking Kristie's reverie. She looked past Angela before darting her eyes back to her captain, as if seeking instructions. A second later, as Angela turned to see him, the man stepped near, just to her right, and directly across from where Kristie sat in a tall chair at the table they had chosen.

“Welcome to Rio, ladies," the man said, glass in hand. "I trust the games find you well?”

"They do," Angela said, running interference. "But you know, my girls here are playing on Monday," her voice pleasant but with a touch of condescension. "You should probably check back after the medal ceremony." Kristie looked at the non-American and gave a look as if to suggest she was apologetic for Angie's tone, before looking back at the guy whose intentions were, if not entirely pure, not nefarious either.

"Angie, be nice," Kristie said, standing up and talking the captain down a bit. "She's a veteran," she said to the man. "It's her job to look out for us." Angie stepped back a bit and watched the national team rookie make her own bed. "I'm Kristie," she said. "This is Angela, this is Stacie, and this is...." her voice hesitated and she felt ignorant forgetting the girl's name.

"Justine," the girl chimed in, grinning her white, gleaming teeth through her pretty tan smile. "I'm not with them," she said in her accented voice, sounding like she was distancing herself from the Americans, though doing so being far from her intent. She then offered the man her hand, prompting Kristie to feel a touch annoyed when she did, before telling herself there was no reason to be jealous. "I'm from New Zealand," Justine continued. "Backup striker. We don't play again until next Thursday."

http://www.mynewhair.info/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/blonde-hipster-hair-side-braid.jpg

Of course you don't, thought Katie, who felt it was time she interrupted the chat-fest once more.

"What do you play?" She asked, her hand unconsciously playing with the end of her hair as she listened to the man's response.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Play. He almost chuckled at the word, but had to remind himself where he was. Plus the American blonde, Kristie, was just too cute to really get too caught up on a word. Besides, the motherly one they called Angela

“Cycling,” he responded without taking his eyes off of Kristie. “Sadly though, the medal ceremony today didn’t include me. Charlie. Charlie Blackwood.”

The kiwi, her brown eyes growing wide and sparkling. “Oh, you know Chris? Chris Froom?”

“Right,” Charlie smirked, “Only he passes me on the road. We’re not on the same team. I mean, we are here; but he ain’t me mate like that. Rest of the year, he’s on Sky, and I’m on CSX.” Seeing a bit of confusion on some of the girls he shrugged and added. “The professional tour. I ride with a different team than him.” Charlie felt a yawn fighting to come on, trying his best to hold it back. This was the first group of actual olympians (and not service workers) he talked to all night. He wasn’t going to let them think they were boring him.

“Bradley Wiggens then?” the Kiwi asked, clearly more star-struck then interested in him

Charlie laughed and shook his head while taking a quick sip of his scotch. “Footballer, are you? Girl after me own heart.” Turning back to the Americans he smiled to each of them, unsure if they fit the same mold as the smaller Justine. “Don’t tell me the rest of you are footballers. It’s an aweful long way to that medal round.” On his last words, his eyes were on Kristie, and he gave her a little wink before taking another sip of his drink.

 

[CarnivalBarker]

“Cycling,” the man said, his eyes locked on to Kristie, who made a face to suggest she was impressed. She had little knowledge of the sport, but recalled that she always thought Lance Armstrong was hot when she was growing up. “Sadly though, the medal ceremony today didn’t include me." The man proceeded to introduce himself. Before anyone could respond, Justine asked about the name of some famous cyclist. Kristie looked at Angela and shrugged, neither of them were up to speed on modern bikers. The man prattled on about the professional tour and the Olympics and Kristie found herself wondering if, as a pro, the man - Charlie - actually had some money. As a college student, she had none. She and the others were simply happy to have dorm rooms this week. Justine asked about another cyclist and Kristie noticed Angela's eyes grow wide, first mocking Justine where she could not see it, and then suggesting that Kristie do something to retake command of the interaction. Before she could, Charlie did it for her.

“Don’t tell me the rest of you are footballers," he said, addressing the others. "It’s an awful long way to that medal round.” Kristie grinned when she thought he had winked at her, though she thought little of it apart from the idea that he was simply friendly.

"Volleyball," Kristie said. "Angela is a captain, and a former medalist....years ago." Angela grinned and her jaw dropped in fake incredulity.

"Oh, so I'm old?" She said. "Thanks a lot, bitch."

"Not that old," Stacie chimed in, making the girls giggle. "But you better get what you can in the village this year because in four years," she paused. "Olympic Village Old Folks Home." Kristie laughed again. Angie mocked being upset once more before cozying up to Charlie, putting one arm around his neck as her other hand held her drink.

"Do you think I'm old?" She fake pouted, flirting with Charlie. Kristie's eyes turned to his to watch for his response. Charlie wasn't that old himself, Kristie thought. But he's young enough to think that Angela was older than what he probably liked. Kristie thought she herself would be more of his target demographic, or perhaps Stacie, who was the same age. Between herself and Stacie, she liked her chances, assuming Charlie was even into any of them. She told herself to slow down with the drinks and worrying about men...they still had to play this week, and she knew that distractions could cost them a medal. At the same time, she found the man before them undeniably attractive. She crossed her thighs where she sat, her shorts making them appear smooth and muscular, though still soft and feminine. She listened as Charlie began to speak back to the captain of her team, hoping he noticed her instead.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

As much as his attention was being pulled to the captain, he was trying to turn it back to the blonde American he noticed from the beginning. It just was really tough with the needful Angela at his side. As she put an arm around his neck, he instinctively slid his around her side until it found her hip right at the edge of the curve of her bottom.

“I don’t think you’re old,” he replied. Turning his head he noticed movement and caught Kristie crossing her legs. “But I haven’t seen you girls in them cute shorts you all wear either.” It was almost like he spoke out of his subconscious, nearly picturing the way those volleyball girls in the Euro leagues wore shorts that looked painted on. With a quick look up at Kristie, he gave her a quick smile.

“So, you won’t know until I am in shorts?” Angela huffed. She stood up, detaching herself from Charlie and turned slightly to the side. She started swaying her ass back and forth next to him, clearly starting to let the drink do her decision making for her. “These shorts not good enough for you then?” She even gave it a bit of a pat on her bottom, showing off how firm it was.

He laughed, and leaned towards Kristie to at least try to talk to show he was more interested in her but spoke loud enough for all of them. “Your captain good at protecting you like that often? If I have to wait to the medal ceremony you girls up, then she tries to leave me all full of temptation. It’s not fair, you know.”

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Kristie rolled her eyes at Angela's games. The captain of the squad talked tough, but nobody was any longer acting like she couldn't party as much as any other in the village, or that, in the past, she had. But Kristie was here for the first time and had only heard stories of Angie's exploits. And, looking at Stacie, she decided then to save Angie from herself when she slapped her own ass, teasing the British guy of whom she had just warned them. But it was the Brit who spoke first, leaning toward her.

“Your captain good at protecting you like that often?," he asked before playfully complaining of Angie's requirement that he wait until their games were over to appeal to their less competitive interests.

"Well she's engaged," Kristie said, throwing water all over Angie's fun and games. Angie mocked anger.

"You bitch," she said, now more drunk, fighting off a laugh at the truth of the situation. "He's not here and since he's not in the village, he won't know what I'll be doing," she said before turning to her drink and then turning away to talk to the Kiwi girl, bailing out of the flirt with the Englishman.

"She....really is engaged," Kristie said to the man, now only the two of them within earshot of the conversation as the others moved casually to chat with some nearby athletes from other nations that had taken up at the table next to theirs, but without moving far away. "But Stacie is single," Kristie continued. "She might be interested in a fun time after we're done," she smiled and teased. "But we plan on medaling, so it could be a while for you." Her eyes never left his as they chatted, and she felt good about him in a way she had not expected to feel about any other athlete before their games were through. She reminded herself to focus on the reason they were there, which was not to hook up with guys. Her defenses came up slightly, though she found the man's demeanor, dress, and roguish accent to be hard to dislike in any way. She found him appealing. "Cameroon is eliminated," she said, still grinning. "They have some cute girls," she concluded, knowing that was not the case at all. "You should find them," she winked, returning his gesture from before.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

She was hard to turn away from. Mostly it was her smile, that fetching way that her cheeks turned upward and brought out soft dimples. The way her lips blossomed into soft curves. Not like them cutesy girls in the clubs back home would try to get you to notice them long enough to turn you down for a shag. No. Her smile still reminded him that she was an athlete first, a fit one at that; so whatever she tried to present to him was more honest, more real.

And the dang girl seemed to be lining him up with all her mates.

He leaned closer to Kristie and placed a hand on her bare knee. “My lady,” he chuckled. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want me to pay attention to everyone else in the games other than you. And that, I must say … is Quite Impossible.”

With a tilt of the head he continued, “Besides, I’m quite knackered already, sadly. My legs are rubbish from the race, and I miss the rubdowns I get back on the circuit the team gets us. If not for me muscles knotting up at any minute, another scotch and I may find myself falling asleep on top of whatever Eastern European girl you hook me up with.”

Slipping his hand from her knee, he took his glass for another sip. “So I am quite alright with respecting you ladies and just sharing a nice drink with new friends tonight. Of course, once you win gold, I am more than happy to help you celebrate.” Before stopping he thought of her words prior and had to ask, “Unless you too are engaged, or … otherwise ..”

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Charlie's response was instant and charming, she thought. She grinned gently when he leaned in, a tingle beneath his hand rested on her knee. She listened as he spoke.

“If I didn’t know any better," he said. "I’d say you want me to pay attention to everyone else in the games other than you. And that, I must say … is Quite Impossible.” Her grin widened. “Besides, I’m quite knackered already," he continued. "My legs are rubbish from the race, and I miss the rubdowns I get back on the circuit the team gets us." The word rubdown alone made the hair on the back of her head, just atop her neck, stand up. If there were no games to be played, she would happily offer him a friendly massage and be willing to see what came with that. But two days out wasn't the time, she knew. Maybe after the medal ceremony, she teased herself, knowing likely this cute Brit would not be around that long, and if he was, he'd find plenty of things he could.....get into, so to speak, and he would likely forget about her or any of the others. His attention seemed to turn back toward the group as a whole.

"I am quite alright with respecting you ladies and just sharing a nice drink with new friends tonight," he said. To that the girls lifted a glass and clinked them with his and each others in a solidarity show of concurrence. "Of course, once you win gold, I am more than happy to help you celebrate.” Kristie smiled at the thought. It was then that he turned in her direction once again. "Unless you too are engaged, or … otherwise ..” She gave yet another tight smile, eager to not lead him on, but knowing full well she was young yet of age, in the best shape of her life, very available, and easily identifiable by him as having no ring on her finger. She sipped her drink.

"I could possibly be persuaded," she said, cryptically.

"Kristie's a good girl," Angie chimed in. "You'd better be good to her," she continued, now showing signs of inebriation. Kristie took another sip and made her interest level clear to both her captain and Charlie.

"Like I said," she smiled. "I could possibly be persuaded." At that, each of the girls giggled.

"I'm sure you could," Angie said, playfully. "But we have games beginning on Monday," she turned to Charlie. "So.......stay away until Kristie has a medal to take to bed." With that, Kristie blushed. Angie always proved to be a step too forward compared to the more demure, younger girl. But Angie didn't let her weasel out of the uncomfortable aspects of the very flattering conversation, as she leaned in to Charlie once more, this time where only he and Kristie could hear. "And believe me, you'd like Kristie in nothing but her medal."

"Oh my god!" Kristie said, stifling a laugh.

"It's true!" Angie said. "Trust me," she patted Charlie. "She's a good girl though," she said. "She might need some advanced Olympic training," the captain teased. Kristie just brushed her hair from her face, unsure what to do, favoring a repeat of what she had said before.

"As I say, I could possibly be persuaded."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

“Well, you heard the girl,” Angie said, sliding a drunken arm around Charlie looking on to her teammate. “Persuade her.”

All of a sudden, Charlie felt like he was being put on the spotlight. Now he was under pressure to try to put the finishing moves on Kristie to win her over, and to do so in front of her. Which was fine, sort of. Charlie, as much as he liked to think with his penis, liked to charm a girl rather than say a bunch of pick-up lines. Still, he was feeling a bit amused by it.

“Well,” he started, “you know us riders, we come in different types. Sprinters, time trialers, all-arounders; I’m more of a climber meself. I am not no Sprinter, sitting back all selfish, just so a bloke can finish it off in a few seconds. I’d rather they go sprint by themselves. Time trailers, wierd boys they are, all about the pain thinking that they need the pain to get off … the bike that is. Most of the time I support me teammate. Help carry the water. Make sure they get their needs taken care of. Make sure they are fit and ready; and I rather see them finish if you know what I mean. But when it comes to the mountains … ohh ladies …” Charlie raised his hands up, palms forward, spread wide. “I like them nice and right in front of me, so I can really take them on. I know that if I pace meself, and watch my mates I can be strong and steady up the whole thing. I know that sometimes its nice to set down a steady stroke.” He began swaying his hips, as if dancing with the air, his eyes watching the girls for affirmation of his effort. “I know if I keep that rate nice and even, we will get there. But then … you attack, you give it a go, you really get into it.” His movements became faster. “Then rest for a moment, then attack again.” He animated the words, but far from seeming like he was on a bike. “You read their eyes, those underneath you, know when they are close to breaking, and then you really give it to them. Until you reach the top, and there ain’t no feeling like that.”

With a cheeky grin he looked over at Kristie, and calmly said, “Or I could just give you my number and we could have a chat over coffee.”

There was a brief pause then Stacie chimed in sarcastically, “or so he can send you a picture of his dick.”

Justine quickly chirped with a cheeky grin, “Oh, dick pick? I’ll have one. Give me your number.”

Angela quickly chimed in, “I want a dick pick.” She flipped out her phone and stuck it at him, “let’s have the number boy.”

Stacie was quick with her’s as well, then Justine … and a red faced Charlie looked to the girl he was trying to get with a look of shock and fear above the smile.

 

[CarnivalBarker]

“Well, you heard the girl,” Angie said, startling Kristie. “Persuade her.” Kristie gave an embarrassed grin.

"Oh my god, would you stop?" She said just before Charlie spoke. He launched into a long-winded monologue about cycling with clear and not very subtle suggestions of something more, even moving his hips in a suggestive way, to which Kristie could not help but feel her body respond with a chill along her spine and a tingle in her most private places. She felt her nipples grow hard as diamonds and took a self conscious sip of her drink, waiting for him to finish, her eyes taking in his body from top to bottom and wondering if he might really be just as good as his story foretold he might be. He had told the story of orgasm from start to finish as one of a mountain race and Kristie felt herself a bit flushed, a light sheen of sweat forming along her forehead, which she hoped could not be seen. It was then that the Brit addressed her directly.

"I could just give you my number and we could have a chat over coffee.” She smiled and caught Angie's eye before responding. In that moment her teammate jumped in, then did the Kiwi, the two girls giggling and warbling about receiving a picture of the man's dick. And as the three girls with her practically begged for his attention, or his phone number, she turned the tables, if ever slightly, taking control of the moment and allowing him to choose his path carefully when he looked her direction before reacting.

"You going to give it to them?" She asked, one eyebrow perched high, as if warning him about what to do. She wished they didn't have games to play. She already knew that if their games were over, she could easily find herself in his dorm. And she wasn't so naive as to think they would fall in love or have a relationship or that he would wait for her or he would not find someone to meet his needs before the medals were awarded. But she wouldn't compete with those close to her on her own team. Or this thing from New Zealand. It was up to him to solve the puzzle, and she was offering him the code.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Charlie really wasn’t sure at all how to handle the situation. It had gotten a bit out of hand, and he almost hoped Kristie would throw him a way out that would still give him some chances here. Things were clearly not heading that direction.

So he just turned the route of the coward, and owned it. Still redfaced he looked away from Kristie to the other girls. “Come girls, you really think I have the bullocks to do that? It took me two drinks to be brave enough to come talk to you girls. I’d be high to start taking snaps of me willie.”

This got a uniform moan of disappointment from a couple of the girls. Only Justine seemed authentically upset at the news, but at the same time it wasn’t quite clear if that girl was genuinely mature enough to know what to do with a willie if she saw it.

Charlie continued. “Besides, what you don’t need is to be staring at your phones during your big games now. Wouldn’t you girls rather focus on winning than whatever I got in me trousers?”

“Trousers,” Angie answered.

“Trousers,” agreed Stacie.

Justine was about to make a comment directly it seemed when Charlie let out a big yawn, no longer able to control it back. “We boring you,” Justine instead complained.

Charlie shook his head, his eyes starting to slit. “Just knackered, really.” With a more tired smile he looked at them all, but his his glances lingered longer on Kristie. “I hate to be the odd one out, but there’s not much left in me tank.” The gutting thing to the situation was that he hadn’t gained anything from Kristie. She was pretty, she seemed funny, she was incredibly fit, and he would have given his eye for some time with her. It’s not like he was hoping to marry the American, but he could really go for just a proper chat (or a shag, whatever). Walking away from this table now would likely mean not only would he’d have to start all over again to win her over the next time he saw her, the reality was he probably would lose any chance he had - or more likely he wouldn’t see her again. But he was so damn tired, and falling asleep on this chair could be worse in many many more ways. Almost knowing the hard situation he was left in he turned to Kristie sheepishly. “I really am sorry, but I just can’t stay awake any longer to talk.”

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Kristie found it endearing when Charlie mentioned he had needed to work up the courage to simply come say hello. She was perpetually single, having an occasional one night stand here and there, amidst a few, disappointing, short-term boyfriends since she had been in high school, so it was flattering that a guy like Charlie, who seemed worldly, moneyed, interesting, and certainly attractive, might find her too intimidating. She bit her lip and listened to him more, melting inside and wishing she could sneak away to his dorm. If only they didn't have games still. She found the other girls to be both amusing and a bit off putting at how easy they were willing to be. At the same time she felt it necessary to compete a bit, choosing to do so by sitting back and giving the man a look that said he could have her, but only if he didn't entertain the other three, hoping to make her intentions clear without the need for any words.

“I hate to be the odd one out, but there’s not much left in me tank,” he said, his eyes now meeting only hers. “I really am sorry, but I just can’t stay awake any longer to talk,” he continued. Kristie batted her eyes and took the simplest opportunity to finally make her presence as a woman and sexual being known.

"A girl needs a lot more stamina than that," she grinned, gaining hoots and giggles from the others in the group as she pressed her tongue between her teeth in a gesture to suggest she was, of course, just kidding and yet holding back her own laughter. She put her arms out for nothing more, it appeared, than a friendly hug, an apology between mates, and leaned into the man to force the issue.

"1445," she said, quietly as she hugged him, revealing herself to be on the fourteenth floor of the dorm where the Americans were known to be staying and also the extension number of the room where she was staying with Stacie for the next, hopefully, two weeks. She pulled away and looked at the man, her eyes meeting his, making it clear she had just given him the information he would need to find her, without making it clear to the other girls that she had done just that. "You should come," she paused for effect and to lay the double entendre. "Tomorrow....to see us play," she concluded, as the other girls' giggles began to thunder down. "Should be a good match."
__________________

 

[ArcticAvenue]

As a man whose profession was to push himself to a red line constantly, he knew what would happen if he tried to keep himself going the rest of this night. That didn’t mean that the prospect for tomorrow were going to be incredible, and that didn’t mean his blood wouldn’t boil one last time this night either.

When Kristie whispered her room number, Charlie grinned wide. Better than getting her phone number, getting where she stayed. The prospect of what that meant almost made him want to carry that girl right up to that room now. With her ‘innocent’ hug still wrapped around him, he let his hand away from the other girls slip down her slide to her bottom to give a little suggestion that the message was received and tried to hide the lingering fingers as she pulled away.

“Tomorrow would be grand,” he replied to her. “You can be sure I won’t forget, I am good at remembering …. Good matches.”

He looked at the rest of the table, “Ladies, good luck to all of you. And Goodnight.” They all gave a smile, a good night, and a sparkle of giggles and smiles, but released him from further embarrassment.

He turned to the front of the club and started to leave. Feeling a bit of the scotch start to weighing on his bladder, he turned to make a quick stop at the toilet hidden down a long hallway near the front. As he opened the toilet door to go home, the Justine was standing there. The door closed behind them and they were in the dark.

“What’s your number,” she demanded.

Without thinking he gave the number to her and she quickly tapped it into her phone. Shortly, a vibration in his pocket told him he had a text - her’s number with a simple ‘hiya charlie, its Justine’ as it’s content.

“You don’t need to send me dick picks,” she said mysteriously and then moved through the women's doorway.

Between the scotch in his head and the deep need to sleep, the ambush by the Kiwi left him slightly stunned. Not that the girl wasn’t cute, not that he didn’t mind her attention, but there was something genuinely off about that girl. Besides, Kristie just had something about her that was infectious. While there was no need for him to be committed to the American, Justine hadn’t really done anything to draw his desires as far as he was aware of. So he turned towards the door, and tried to make his way to dorm.

That’s when his phone buzzed again. Again from Justine. This time with a picture. Camera close to her body at chest level pointed downward and into the shorts he had pulled open. He could clearly see the smooth curve of her hairless mons, and the beginning of the split of her sex. At least he assumed it was her sex. Simple and quick, the picture was immediately erotic. It came with the text

“I think I could use a rubdown too.”


Closing the phone, he slide it into his pocket. Chewing on his lip, he began to wonder if this Olympics just might test his stamina afterall.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

((moving the story forward))

Somehow, Charlie had recovered enough to be on a bike before sunrise. Which was good, since he could practically re-run the road course before they start closing it for the women’s race. Though it was a bit heart breaking to cross over those same mountains that snapped the break-away and cost him a chance of a metal, it would be crazy to think that his chances were anything more than slim. He kept it easy, his legs still thin from the race the day before, but when you do this for a living it is a pain you know and expect. What was great was running down Copacabana Beach as the sun rose, seeing the golden sky across the peaceful beaches, clean and ready for the day ahead. The smell of the ocean, the cool breeze from the sea, all of it was a reminder how lucky he was to be in such a place at such a time.

Though what sucked was his luck from the night before. Well, maybe not that he was out of luck, just that he could have been much luckier. Charlie could count on one hand the number of times he picked up a girl in a bar, or for that matter take a shot a number of them. Maybe it was the liquor, maybe because he was completely exhausted, but it seems like the night ended in more confusion than good fortune.

Somehow he got the phone number of the crazy one of the bunch. By the time he hit his room, Justine the Kiwi already sent three more pics of different parts of her anatomy. Charlie replied just once, and with nothing more than a ‘nice’. Granted, they were nice, more than nice, but …

Since the moment he left that bar, Kristie found a place in Charlie’s mind. Her voice danced through his head, her smile brightened in his eyes, her perfumed hung on his clothes. He lay in his bed, imaging how it would feel to move his hands along her fit torso, to feel her breath on his skin, to lie with here where he lay in that bed. Sure he had her room number, but what good was that when it was creeping over past midnight, and his legs were tightening like a rubber band. Too exhausted to move, but too smitten to forget her. Yet, if he went to her place after last night, it would probably be too creepy … to just show up out of the blue now.

The nice thing about finishing a training ride so early is that it leaves the day to be had. The question was what to do, and it wouldn’t hurt to catch some of the games. The British dorms had this room where they had all these tickets for events lying about, when they have extras not used by the officials or families. Going up to the guy running the ticket booth he got right to the first thing that came to mind.

“Got any volleyball tickets, mate?” he asked.

The guy tapped away on his keyboard and nodded, “womens. And it won’t be our girls, they don’t play today.”

“Just a fan of the sport, my friend,” Charlie shrugged.

The guy smirked, “have you seen the shorts they wear?”

With a wink, Charlie had a ticket and a ride to the arena. He had a pretty low seat, and sitting right behind the service area instead of being behind or across from the bench. He wore his british colors on the t-shirt and jacket, but relaxed blue jeans; and got there just as the first set in the American game was wrapping up. With a little luck, it will be a good game. With a little luck, the girls … or specifically Kristie will see him. With a little luck, he wouldn’t be such a creep if he showed up at her flat now.

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Sweat dripped from the edge of Kristie's temples out of her hair and down her face as she brushed the hair behind one ear and listened to the coach shout about ways the front line needed to rotate and to which girls the plays would run. The object was always the same, set, then set, then attack, and keep the other side guessing who would be attacking.

"Guys! Get the first set off the serve. Don't let it hit the ground!" The coach whisper screamed as she dotted the dry erase board with a purple marker making no real point in general. "KB!" Kristie's attention piqued. "I want you to handle the second set every time unless it's just out of your reach," the girl nodded. "But if it is, and the set comes front line, I want you to take the attack." She nodded again. "Everyone got it? KB sets every time. If she doesn't, she's attacking." Kristie didn't quite agree with the tactic. It would be transparent from the first two or three rotations what was going on. "Now! When we serve, if it's coming back at us, then reverse it. KB attacks every time. If she can't get the attack, then it's an open shot, but," the coach turned to Kristie. "I want you decoying every time." The girl nodded once more. "Got it?" The girls agreed they did before breaking the huddle with a united chant of "Team!"

Kristie stepped across the court to take her typical place at the front right, facing the net. She looked at her right foot, then her left, simply idle and thinking about her assignments. She looked up at the scoreboard and bit her lower lip. They were down a set, one they should not have lost, but did by a score of 15-13. As she looked down again, Angie stepped toward her just before the referee called the teams to take their final positions, leaving them a forty second warning.

"Looks like Charlie is here to collect his golden ticket so that he can play in the candy factory," the captain said, smirking before giving Kristie a swat on the ass. The act looked like any other teammate interaction that happened a hundred times in a game to any viewer, but her words were clearly pushing further innuendo.

"Huh?" Kristie said as Angie stepped away, her eyes pointing her snarky grin into the stands, causing Kristie's own eyes to follow. There she saw the man from the bar. She had thought after giving her room number that he would call. She was certainly not inviting him over. But he had neither shown up nor dialed her yet, and as a result she had allowed herself to make out with a nice boy from Canada after the opening ceremonies. But it was a nice surprise seeing him, though she blushed ever slightly when realizing he had seen her interaction with Angie. She gave a simple smile before turning her attention to the game, as any player of her caliber would. An hour later, she was exhausted, and found her team victorious, though barely, winning the match 13-15, 15-12, 12-15, 18-16, and 15-13. Sixteen teams were left, and they had two more days before they played again. The coach talked them up and released them for the afternoon, requiring them to be ready for practice the next morning. Kristie made her way past the other girls standing near the bench and watched as some of them went to greet family in the stands.

"Where you going, Golden Ticket?" Angie asked, giving yet another smirk. Kristie gave a laugh and grinned back.

"Shut up, bitch!" She said, before stepping farther toward the stands, now away from the team and over to where Charlie was. "Hey stranger," she said as she approached. "Sudden interest in volleyball?" She smiled a bit more. "I told you that Angie is engaged," she teased, waiting to see what he said in return.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

It was a cracking match. Not that he knew all that much about Volleyball, but it’s hard not to like something that is so close and so much back and forth. Both sides seemed to be on it, and neither let the other get too far ahead or let themselves get too far behind. Of course, he was biased today. Home country be damned, Charlie was all into every point for the Americans, now seemingly attached to the girls who he shared the drink the night before; and he even found himself joining in the chants and cheering along with the other Americans in the stands.

What was just as exciting was how good Kristie was. Thousands of athletes walked the streets of Rio this week. Hundreds of those are Volleyball players. Even on her own team there were tens of girls. Yet Kristie was the start of the show that day. Every moment she was on the court, she was the center of attention. Whether setting, attacking, or decoying it almost seemed every play started or ended with Kristie. She was brilliant, a radiant star on the floor. There was no other he had eyes for, but it would be hard pressed for anyone else to do so other.

When the match finished up, Charlie stuck around. Had to. Had to take his chance. He intended to wait until the crowd thinned and tried to call her. That was the intent at least. But as soon as they broke, she beelined it right over to him.

He couldn’t hide his cheeky smile as she mentioned not only Angie but his sudden interest. “How could I not be interested in a match like that, bloody brilliant it was. Besides. How you girls can even breathe in those shorts, I don’t know. I”ve seen girls get pregnant wearing less. It is all that I have to keep my eyes above neck level on you, Kristie.”

Charlie slid his hand through his hair, and pulled back on the playfulness some. “Sorry I knicked out on you last night. I was utterly gassed. If I would have known I could have stopped by the room of the star of the team, I would have found me my second wind, or third or fourth. I’d would be sitting here saying to me new American mates, ‘see that bird who is single handedly winning the match? Well, I spent last night disappointing her.’”

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Kristie listened to Charlie's accent as he rambled on, clearly misreading her intentions. She was certainly glad he had not showed up at her room...that would be weird. And creepy. Though it was the Olympic Village and she could see how her efforts could have been misconstrued. Nevertheless, she had hoped that maybe he would have called. And she found it to be at least something that he had made his way to their match.

"Well, I didn't expect you'd come by," she said, perhaps a bit stern, matching her level of natural defensiveness. She wasn't that kind of girl. At least, not this soon. "So there's no need to apologize." She glanced back at the girls clearing their gear from the bench and heading toward the locker room. "But there's no need to disappoint me more tonight," she said, turning her eyes back to the cyclist with his funny and charming accent. "I think you owe me a drink."

"We're going to the Flamingo!" Angie called in their general direction, before laughing.

"Oh my gosh," Kristie said, nearly beneath her breath. "NOT at the Flamingo," she said. "Not with them at all." She wondered if it would be safe to meet him somewhere in town. Deciding to be safe, she decided it wasn't just yet. "Pick a bar in the village," she said. "I'll meet you there later."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

It was later, and Charlie sat at a hightop table constantly checking his phone. Per her request, he picked, and spouted out the only place that came to his head. So there he sat at The Bulldog, the proper English pub with all the proper English beer, and proper English decor nestled into the bottom floor of the proper English dorm building.

It was only after he left he realized he basically asked her to have a drink at ‘his place’. Just what he needs to amp up the creepiness; have a drink with the cute American just a couple floors below where his bed is.

But he made the suggestion, she didn’t seem to mind, and then she scampered off with her teammates to the locker room. As she did, Charlie took full advantage of watching her go in those incredibly tight shorts. He did what he could to memorize the curve, the shape, even the dimples that lay just inside that fabric; if for any reason but to feel incredibly lucky to have met such an attractive athlete.

It was probably a mistake to arrive early at the pub, but an easy training day and the anticipation of their date couldn’t keep him sitting in his room much longer. He sat in the pub wearing a pair of cargo shorts, a loose fitting polo with the Union Jack emblazoned on the chest (seems every piece of clothing he brought with him this week was patriotic to a certain extent) and loafers. He had his hair combed as best the short cyclist could comb it, and went easy on the cologne. He had a pint in front of him, but only took a few tastes choosing to be as sober as possible, and not repeat the drunken stupidity of the night before.

He had a chance with this girl, a real chance, he just had to be on his game.

And wait for her to show up of course.

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Kristie found it amusing that Charlie picked a place in the heart of the British team's comfort zone, on the base floor of the building where the dorms were. She also liked his style, assuming he was cocky enough to know what he was doing. She entertained the idea of hooking up with him already, before blushing to herself as she fixed her hair and forcing that idea out of her mind. She threw on some casual, cute, khaki shorts, and a simple royal blue Polo shirt with a larger than usual red rider on the chest, before regretfully putting on some perhaps-too-casual summer sandals that were cute, but not what she would have on back home. She hadn't packed for dating, but for business. She tugged her hair into a cute, loose ponytail, and set off to find the guy she had become enamored by during the brief interactions they had. She texted Angie to let her know she was going to the Bulldog, in case anything happened.

"Oooooooh!!! Fish and Chips, huh?" Said the return message. Followed by another one, "Or maybe some British beefsteak for your mouth?" Kristie rolled her eyes and grinned.

"Shut up," she replied. Moments later she was across the village and pulled a seat up where Charlie already was, appearing to be a drink or two in.

"Hey you," she said, leaning in for a short, half-hug just before sitting down. "Miss me?" She asked, in a friendly, yet appealing way, with a smile. She planned on enjoying the afternoon, and then the following day with an easy practice and another afternoon to rest before the next match. But aside from that general idea, her plans were fluid and she was willing to see where things with Charlie went.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Nothing wakes a boyo up like the surprise intimate contact of another; especially when it is the soft warm features of a woman. Kristie nearly shocked Charlie with her half-hug, but it was as welcome as a warm breeze on a spring day. Charlie half returned it, letting the gentle smell of her perfume waft over him and sink into his clothes to keep.

He half-teased her to go along with the half-hug. “Of course I missed ya,” he replied with a grin he couldn’t quit. “It had been a whole couple of hours, hadn’t it? Surely seemed like forever.”

“Ya have a match tomorrow, do ya? Can I get ya anything or do ya have to keep it clean tonight?” Just in case, he waved towards the Brazilian waitress dressed in a uniform that was a poor attempt to look british. “Found this place pours some proper pints, if that is your thing. Not that I have been drinking meself into a stupor again. Seeing as I pretty much felt like a wanker last night round you girls. I’m probably lucky your mates didn’t tell you to tell me you are doing your hair tonight or something.”

He could feel himself babbling and talking to quick. Nervous. Nervous about a girl. As unsettling as it was, it had been a while he felt like a schoolboy around a girl … and that felt quite good.

 

[CarnivalBarker]

"Nope," she said. "Day after tomorrow. I have the entire morning free." Kristie hoped she hadn't slipped and sounded too forward. In the village, suggestion of an open morning could be meant to be an invitation to breakfast as a holdover from the night before. "I mean, we have practice at noon," she corrected things. "So I can't go home with you or anything," she said, joking but not joking. She felt herself blush a bit. "I just mean I can't stay out super late."

“Found this place pours some proper pints," Charlie said, appearing to let her off the hook. "if that is your thing."

"I'd love one," she said before he explained he wasn't as drunk as he always, in his lackadaisical manner, appeared. She laughed at his concern about her teammates warning her off. If he only knew the things they were encouraging her to do, especially the veterans who didn't take this so seriously and were here for a medal no more or less than they were here to celebrate the time they were in the best shape of their lives and ready to party. "You don't have to worry about them," she assured him, giving no hint of their debaucherous advice. The waitress returned and delivered two beers, before noticeably taking a glance at Charlie just before leaving. Kristie felt a bit of an annoyed, territorial feeling of perhaps jealousy. No way was this little Brazilian college girl in the kind of shape she was and no way Charlie would be interested in that....was there? At the same time, she knew she was on the shelf until they lost a match and were eliminated. She decided to let it go, knowing Charlie wasn't the only guy in the village who would or wouldn't be around when the team lost. IF they lost. She was, however curious. "So.....what about you and Justine?" She asked. "Was that a thing?" She giggled and sipped her drink. Perhaps she was giving herself a reason to be prudent or cautious. Perhaps she was trying to run him off before he could hurt her. "I mean....she seemed into you," she continued, awaiting his response, which when given she found perfectly reasonable.

The drinks continued coming for the next couple hours and she really enjoyed the man's company. She wished the tournament was already over. She felt herself grow damp at the idea of what was right here for her but that she could not seemingly have. She had a brief thought. There's no reason she couldn't get....something, perhaps at least a kiss.

"We have a curfew," she said, suddenly looking at her watch. "Walk me to my room?" She asked, hoping he'd say yes.