Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply.
This is story inspired by Tess 4 5's sporting series. Essentially I suggested a sport but she politely declined suggesting I write it myself. So I hope this slight parody meets the requirements of your genre Tess!
Detective Inspector Tommy Lynley was standing delightfully close to his sergeant, Barbara Havers, as they listened to their boss wax lyrical about the prestige to the unit if The Met could win back the Homicide Cup. "Manchester have held it for twenty-nine years," Assistant Commissioner Hillier bemoaned, "they WILL not have it for thirty!"
"I am not sure how we can help Sir," Tommy responded with smooth irreverence as he tried to focus on identifying the citrusy perfume Barbara was wearing, "it's a sporting cup. I know Smyth and Borthwick have been in training for months." He dreaded what Hillier might have in mind.
"Yes but this year the rules have changed. Manchester has better sportspeople; they have that Olympic cyclist and the steeplechaser for a start. No this year I've outsmarted them. The two partners with the highest clear-up rate will represent the two forces. That'll be DI Yates and Sgt Ball from up there." Hillier laughed somewhat evilly and Barbara kicked Tommy's foot. "Ball is nearly sixty and obese! And Yates is smart but hardly a physical woman. Also we have the higher clear-up rate so it's our choice of sport. You two will wipe the floor with them."
"Us?" Barbara cried, "oh no Sir, count me out." She looked desperately at Tommy imploring him to fix the situation. She hated sports.
Tommy was no happier about the idea. "What Sergeant Havers means Sir is that sport is not her forte. I really think you should select another set of partners."
"Spirit man! You're an Old Etonian. A hundred years ago over a thousand men died fighting for the good name of that school. They never gave in."
"With respect Sir, they were officers of the Crown fighting for England not Eton and you can hardly compare their sacrifice on the Western Front to a sporting contest against Manchester CID!"
"Yeah, and if Eton lost that many they couldn't have been much chop as soldiers," Barbara chimed in. Tommy and Hillier both gave her withering glares.
"No, it's you two and I'll hear no more. You have until tomorrow to select a sport from this list. Pick something you think you can win. Remember Ball is fat and Yates has glasses and asthma so high exertion is in our favour."
"Not in mine Sir," Barbara stated flatly.
"Off you go. You don't have a case now so unless world war three breaks out on the streets I'll keep you free until next Friday. Then we can let the games begin! Now go to the pub, pick a sport and start practicing."
Having being summarily dismissed, the detectives left the Hillier's office and walked down the corridor towards the squad room. "Let the games begin! Who the hell does he think he is?" Barbara grumbled, "some Roman emperor overseeing Egyptian chariot races?"
"I think you mean gladiatorial contests," Tommy corrected her.
"Were the Roman's ever in Egypt?" she asked savagely.
"Well yes between..."
"Right then, I rest my case. Romans would have overseen Egyptian chariot races! Anyway it was only a figure of speech. Push me down the stairs and break my leg, then we will able to get out of this ridiculous contest."
Tommy could see Barbara was spoiling for an argument. "Hillier was right. Here's not the place to discuss it. Let's grab that pint."
They were on their second beer before Tommy dared pull the list of sports from his pocket. He glanced over it and groaned. "Water or land?"
"Neither," she said petulantly. It was not Tommy's fault so she relented. "What choices do we have?"
"Swimming, one hundred and two hundred metre sprints or eight hundred metre distance."
"No dog paddle?"
Tommy chuckled despite wanting to appear serious. "Can you actually swim?"
"Yes!...Not really, not well enough to race anyone." She briefly imagined her boss in speedos standing on the block then gliding effortlessly through the water. She shook the image from her mind. It was very tempting to agree to swimming though just to see him in a skimpy piece of lycra. Perhaps I can agree then nearly drown and have him save me...
"Okay, that's out. We have rowing, sailing and water-skiing too."
"I didn't go to Eton remember. I can't do any of those." The disgust in the voice was undisguised.
Tommy took a sip of his beer. "Land based then. Equestrian events?"
Barbara snorted and Tommy wondered if the horse imitation had been deliberate. He tried hard not to smile. "Tennis, golf, fencing, discus, javelin and shotput - they're grouped together, two per side indoor soccer, squash, 1500 metre steeplchase, 400 metre hurdles, 100 metre sprint, table tennis, 20 mile orienteering hike, 50 kilometre road race - on a bicycle I presume, gymnastics..."
"...gymnastics? Who wrote this list?" she demanded as she plucked it from his hand. She read through the rest of the options quickly. "See! The only one on that list I've ever played is squash."
"You played squash?"
"At school. For one term. I was hopeless at it."
"Hmm, but that fits the bill. It has exertion."
"Exactly why I want something else. Is chess on here?"
"Chess is not a sport," he retorted.
"It is for me."
"Do you play chess? We could play sometime," he suggested hopefully.
"Badly. I'm not playing against you Sir. I'd be too embarrassed!"
"Nonsense! I'd like to play with you."
Barbara looked up a bit too quickly. And I'd like to play with you too but not chess! "Not likely."
Tommy watched as her ears turned red and wondered why chess would evoke such a reaction. Her brilliant green eyes seemed to be seeking an answer to a question he did not understand. She was having that weird affect on him again and he had to look away. "Squash then. I used to play too, years ago. I still have some racquets at home. I could try to book a court for this evening and we could practice."
"Must we?"
"Then we could perhaps have dinner afterwards and I could take you to that new Bond movie you were planning on seeing." Tommy stopped speaking. He had made it sound much more like a date than he had intended and now she would know he had eavesdropped on her conversation with Winston about the Bond movie. He smiled at the memory. At least he knew she preferred her men tall and dark with deep brown pools for eyes rather than blonde, blue-eyed muscle men. He had gone straight to the gents afterwards to examine the liquidity of his eyes. They seemed to suit the criteria and he had then looked for an opportunity for her to notice. Now he had asked her out for something that was obviously not work related. Calm down. We are just friends. Friends eat together and watch movies.
Barbara's quick glare and raised eyebrows told him she had realised his secret. Then, when he expected a verbal tirade, she surprised him. "Only if you win," she said cheekily.
"Oh like that is it?" Tommy wondered if she would fight not to go or let him win. He was determined now that he would win. "I like a good challenge Sergeant."
"And I intend to give you one." Oh, if only that were possible. Barbara tried to keep her face neutral but her eyes were glinting wickedly.
Tommy saw her look and felt a lump develop in his throat. I intend to give you one too one day! Tommy was astounded at his own crude thoughts. This nagging tension he had felt for weeks was developing into something dangerous. Until today he had tried to keep his feelings for her noble; a deep and loving friendship. Now his lust for her was surfacing and Tommy guiltily recognised that he loved his partner as much more than a friend. "Bring a change of clothes. We can shower at my place before dinner."
They drained their beers silently, neither knowing they were both fantasing about the other in the shower. Both fantasies eventually moved to a shower together.
Tommy was dressed in standard white shorts that were perhaps a little tighter than they used to be. A matching white polo shirt, white-soled squash shoes, a white sweatband around his wrist and short white socks completed his outfit. He had a headband in his bag but he doubted he would raise that much of a sweat. He waited nervously at the entrance to the courts. He had booked a court that did not have a glass back nor a viewing gallery above. He imagined Barbara would have been too embarrassed if she thought anyone could see her.
Surprisingly she was early. He had expected her to be in runners and some other mismatched outfit but she was actually dressed for the sport. He was so used to her body hidden under dowdy coats that he had never noticed how shapely she was and now he swallowed hard and tried not to stare. Her light blue tee-shirt was a size too small and pulled tightly across her rather magnificent chest. She's your sergeant. She's Barbara. Don't objectify her! Her navy tracksuit pants had a thin white stripe that ran up the legs and seemed to point to her delightfully shaped tail. As she bent over to put her bag on the ground Tommy took the opportunity to admire the view. He wondered how he could possibly get through the game without pushing her against the wall and kissing her. The thought sent wonderful electric shivers through him. His shorts were definitely too tight for these thoughts. He turned away and started to count to one hundred in Latin.
Barbara sensed Tommy was watching her so she pretended to search for something and wiggled around much more than was necessary. Over the last few weeks since the Thompson case she had sensed a change in Tommy. He kept staring into her eyes unnervingly but with a hint of mystery that she found incredibly sexy. She knew he was simply lonely and needing comfort but after years of secret adoration she wondered if maybe...one day...perhaps if he were drunk? Nah, you wouldn't do that to him but no harm in letting him know you are a woman.
Tommy handed her a racquet. It was an old bamboo one from his schooldays. "It's got a small head in comparison to more modern ones but I still prefer the older ones," he told her, "they have a much whippier action."
Barbara smiled mischievously. "Nothing wrong with a small head if you know how to hit the target and I've always been partial to a whippy action myself." She took the racquet and swung it through the air. It gave a satisfying swoosh.
Tommy did a quick double-take. Did she mean what I think she meant? He needed to reassure her that his racquet was not a metaphor for his attributes. "Mine is actually more modern, a very large head and a strong followthrough."
Barbara had to turn away or she would have laughed at the indignant look on his face and his statement. When she turned back he pulled out two balls from his racquet cover and frowned as he squeezed them. "My balls have gone hard."
"I can imagine...they look like they haven't been used in a while," Barbara sniggered. She watched the colour rise in his face as he realised the implication. She was enjoying this game.
He excused himself to go to the court shop. He detoured via the gents and splashed cold water on his face. Settle Lynley! Everything said was innocent. You just choose to revert to schoolboy smutty interpretations.
When he returned he seemed composed and focussed. Barbara knew she would lose unless she could find a distraction. They spun the racquet and Tommy won the right to serve first. "Ready?" he asked, "first to eleven."
"I thought it was nine and only points on serve?"
"It has been a while for you hasn't it? Now it's first to eleven."
Barbara smiled. Oh far, far too long! "Okay let the games begin."
Tommy laughed then looked across at her. He was calm now and looking forward to the game. Barbara smiled at him then turned to the front waiting for his serve. She was gripping the racquet correctly but the way she was unconsciously running her other hand up and down the shaft was highly erotic. He turned away and inhaled deeply. Unus, duo, tres, quattuor, quinque, sex...oh that doesn't help!
He limbered his shoulders and served but his mind was still on Barbara seductively stroking the racquet. He glanced over. She watched him carefully not taking her eye off the ball. He was holding in front of an area he did not want her staring at. He elevated his hand and dropped the ball. He hit it badly and it went low, thundering into the tin below the board.
"Bit of a misfire Sir," Barbara chuckled. She knew exactly why he had lost concentration. What she lacked in skill she would make up for in guile. He would win of course, she wanted her shower and dinner but he was going to feel he had earned it. "My serve and under the new rules my point I believe."
She retrieved the ball and prayed she could hit it. She did and it bounced relatively gently off the front wall and legally back over the service line. She tried to position herself on Tommy's shoulder to crowd him but he reached the ball in one stride and hit it hard against the front wall. It angled back to the left side wall and she had to race around him. She could not reach it before it bounced twice. "One all, loss of serve," he announced smugly.
He did not miss his second serve and it came at her fast. She managed to swing her racquet and by an unknown miracle hit it. It bounced off the right wall, onto the front and dropped. Tommy skidded across the floor but could not reach it in time. "Impressive drop shot," he said begrudgingly, "two one, your serve."
"It's all in the wrist action," she replied cheekily, "I have a good grip and wrist action I've been told."
Tommy spluttered then coughed. "Not too often I hope."
"No, I haven't played for years. Not since I've known you." It was a bold statement but if nothing else gave him a hint that should.
Tommy felt his heart race. "Well it's going to get a thorough workout over the next week if I have my way." He grinned with satisfaction at her shock.
They exchanged serves for the next three points as they sized each other up. Neither of them wanted to lose. Barbara tried her distractions by wiggling and bending but now Tommy seemed focussed only on the game. On the next point they exchanged blows in a surprisingly long rally. Tommy eventually won the point with a desperate hit against the back wall that reached the front and ricocheted to the left. Barbara had anticipated right and was too far away to reach it.
They took a breather. Barbara rested her hands on her knees. She was sweating hard and drops ran down her neck and soaked her shirt. Tommy stood hands on hips and sucked in the air. He watched her chest heave up and down. The damp patches outlined the placed he wanted to kiss and lustful thoughts wandered back into his mind. He had seen sweaty women before but he had never wanted to lick the sweat from their neck like he did right now. For goodness sake man!
Tommy's hair hung in damp strands and that one lock that he always flicked was hanging over his left eye. She smiled then used the grip of her racquet to reach over and push it up behind his ear. She was amazed at her audacity but rewarded by his wide eyes and low moan. "Come on Sir, your serve."
Tommy took a minute to compose himself. He took a long deep breath and then served hard into the wall, the stroke angled to bounce off the side wall and land near her feet. Barbara watched the ball and guided her return off the wall. Tommy had anticipated her shot and raced to the front. He caught the ball just above the floor and hit it deftly against the wall just above the board. Barbara ran directly at him but just missed the ball. She tried to slow but crashed into him. Limbs entwined they crunched into the tin with a loud bang.
Tommy was briefly stunned and lost his racquet. Their legs were pressed together. Their wet shirts left nothing to the imagination and Tommy could see every contour and ridge of her body. He tried counting but it could not stop his body betraying him. He knew he should move away but when he reached over to grab his racquet their centre of gravity changed and he involuntarily rolled Barbara underneath him. Now there was no hiding. He felt his face redden. Barbara's was also scarlet and her breathing ragged. Their eyes locked and he was close enough to kiss her. He wanted to; he was going to then he felt her body respond. This is ludicrous! We can't make love on a squash court! He knelt up quickly and grabbed his racquet. "I should take a point for obstruction."
"No need, you won that point," she said. "Quite spectacularly," she added under her breath. She had no idea how she had stopped herself from kissing him when he had been on top of her. She had seen that look in his eyes before, with Helen. At that moment he had wanted her. He actually wanted me! She did not care if it was an involuntary reaction to a rather bizarre afternoon; it was a look she could hold onto forever.
They both focussed on the game and banished all other thoughts from their minds. Tommy won the first game but Barbara took the second. "You're really quite good at this. We might actually stand a chance. Best of three."
"Nah, I'm knackered Sir. Seeing it was a draw we could still go to dinner and that movie and go dutch," she said boldly.
Tommy had always assumed that the evening would continue. He did not want to be alone with his thoughts. "Of course. Did you drive?"
"No I caught a cab."
"Come on then, my shower awaits."