Chapter 10

"Mr Federer?!" Amy called through the house after her return. "Mr Federer? Sir?"
She draped her jacket casually over the back of one of the sofas and meandered her way around the furniture, glancing down the corridors in the house. Upon hearing her, Mrs White had tentatively appeared from one of the rooms holding a duster and polish. Amy gave her a questioning look but Mrs White merely shrugged.

"Mr Federer?" she called again. Where was he? It was early afternoon and Amy was still technically on shift. She carried her notepad and pen around with her as she checked various rooms. He wasn't in the kitchen, dining room or his bedroom. For a moment, Amy considered the idea that he might still be on the court, practicing his serve or something, but then thought that she might check the study.

She knocked politely on the door, and despite there being no answer, she turned the door handle and went in. Roger was sat tensely at his desk. His hands were clasped in front of him and his head hung low. There was no work around him, he just sat there. He didn't look at her when she came in. Amy noticed that his knee was bobbing up and down vigorously, as if he had some nervous twitch or was on edge somehow. Amy closed the door quietly behind her but didn't move from her spot. His personal bubble was obviously so wide at the moment, she didn't dare invade it.

"Mr Federer? I…uh…I've responded to Gillette to tell them that you're currently unavailable, but Wilson have now gotten in touch. Shall I…erm…tell them you're busy?"
Roger simply shook his head slowly from side to side, his leg still bouncing up and down underneath the table.
"It's no use" he muttered.
"Sorry Sir?"
"It won't go down." He lifted his head to look at Amy and gestured his hands towards his crotch and Amy remembered the game before her and Djokovic had left for coffee. Had he been like this all this time? Poor Fed, she thought.

"Have you tried taking a cold shower?" Roger frowned at her, confused.
"No. Would that help?"
"Erm, it helps lots of guys I think."

Amy watched Roger slowly rise from behind his desk, being careful to try and hide the evidence of the painful erection that was causing him so much distress. He pressed his hand down on his groin but it was no use. Amy could clearly see that it was up, and it wasn't going down without some sort of intervention. Roger blushed as he awkwardly limped past Amy, and she made an effort to avert her eyes, but she followed him out of the room nonetheless.

Since he hadn't asked her to leave, Amy escorted Roger to his bedroom where he closed the door and began to take his shirt off. His use of both hands freed his erection which pressed against his shorts. Roger didn't seem too bothered at this point with Amy being in the room, but the same couldn't be said for her. She stood in the corner of the room with her notepad close to her chest. She rocked backwards and forwards from foot to foot, looking anywhere around her but at the topless and horny Roger Federer.

Roger tossed his shirt onto the floor and looked at Amy, who nodded back encouragingly. He opened the door to the bathroom and went inside.

Amy just couldn't understand it. In her experience, men were so used to daily erections that they knew a vast range of ways to deal with them. The men she had dated could have written a text book on the subject! And here was Roger Federer, the greatest tennis player of all time, practically terrified of the prospect of a bodily function beyond his control.
She heard the water of the shower start to run.
Surely, Roger would have started getting erections at about 13 like most other boys. And surely he would have touched himself like every other horny sex-crazed teenager. But then again, Roger Federer was a very different man. What was it that Djokovic had said? Roger Federer was one of the players on the tour known for not masturbating. Amy could have sworn that she heard once that coaches discouraged it to maintain high levels of focus and tension, except most male players disregarded this, claiming that this was unfounded.

"Amy?" Roger's voice echoed from the bathroom behind the door.
"Yes, Roger?"
"Uhh…it's not going down." Amy giggled. The whole situation was a little funny to her. This was a side that the world certainly didn't know about.
"Erm, I think you're gonna have to take care of it yourself." There was a pause.
"How do you mean?"
"I mean, touch yourself."
"I have touched it, it's really hard." Amy would have fallen over in fits of laughter if she hadn't been leaning against the doorframe with her ear to the wooden door.
"No!" she laughed "I mean…you know…have a wank."
"A what?!"
"Masturbate, Roger"

There was another long pause. Much longer than the first. Amy held her breath as she pressed her ear to the door once again. She couldn't hear much through it, just the sound of the water falling.
"Is it helping?"
No response.
Amy had given up on waiting. She walked through the bathroom door and was confronted by the sight of a fully naked Federer, cock in hand, his hair stuck to his face in strands. He was pumping his arm so awkwardly that it was no wonder why he wasn't achieving his end. He concentrated so hard on moving his fist that he was oblivious to Amy's presence. She put down her pad and pen, rolled up her sleeves and stood behind him.

With all of the subtlety she could muster, she snaked her arms around his back and took his right fist in her hand. Roger flinched at first, alarmed that she had joined him in such an intensely personal moment, his apparently first wank.
"Here…let me show you."
Roger looked her in the eyes. His stare was deep and unknowing. Neither of them knew what happened next. They both waited in the sharp and dangerous jaws of fate.
She started by slipping her long, slim fingers between his and loosening his grip on his shaft. She then moved his hand downwards to clasp the base of his manhood. Roger watched her hand on his cock, which twitched in approval. He rather liked the image of someone else pleasuring him. He had always known he was well endowed, but never knew what it was like to see it at full length in the palm of a beautiful woman.

Amy stepped further into the shower, allowing her blouse to become soaked with the harsh, cold jets of water pelting down onto them both. She quickly took off her tights to reveal little feet with beautifully painted toenails. But that was by the by. She again took position behind Roger and found the hand that he currently had wrapped around his penis. She took this hand in hers, and slowly, and gently began to move it up and down his shaft.

At first, all Roger did was breath deeper and faster, but when she started to move his hand a little quicker, a small moan escaped his lips. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back.
"Look at it Roger"
Roger did as she instructed and looked down at his own equipment. He saw its ever growing length, encased in his own strong and sturdy hands, guided by the skilled fingers of Amy, who was now completely drenched in her outfit.

Amy knew the intentions behind this exercise. It was important that Roger be able to 'sort himself out' if he needed to in future, however, the feel of his hand in hers, the feel of her pressed up against his tight ass was extremely arousing. But back to him. Slowly, she pressed his fingers closer together, so that his hand became slightly tighter around his cock. She showed him to clasp tighter at the base and loosen up as he made his way to the head. Another moan pierced the air and reverberated off of the walls of the bathroom.

"Roger, you're in control of this…this is your body, your moment" she muttered in his ear. His breathing got quicker and heavier, and Amy had been swept along in the heat of the moment, she leaned in and twisted her tongue around his ear before nibbling gently on his earlobe.
"Uhhh" Federer groaned as his pumping got faster. Amy began to release her own hand and suspecting herself of becoming too involved in the moment, she stepped out of the cold stream of water, to stand next to him just outside of the shower.

"You can do this Rog."
Roger used his other hand to brace himself against the wall of the shower. He leaned forward slightly, his shoulders hunched forward and his hair flicked all over as his fist became a blur around his crotch.

"Uhhh…uhhh…uhhh" he breathed, over and over and over again as he allowed the sensations to wash over him.
"Come on Roger." Amy encouraged. His form was good. His eyes were closed to allow for fantasy and imagination. His mouth was open so his breaths could escape.

In a last effort to finish this, Amy leaned in and turned the water temperature to hot. Steam instantly encased them both, coating them in a layer of vapour and sweat.
"Come on Roger!" Amy called again.

"Uh! Uhhh! I think I'm gonna come, Amy…" His eyes were screwed up tight and his brows were furrowed.
"Amy…I think I'm coming!"

"Go on Rog!"

"I need...tissue….uh!...something….UH!"

"Let it go Rog! Come anywhere!"

"Uuuuhhh!" Roger stilled and his whole body stiffened as intense impulses coursed through his body and his first jet of hot, white fluid shot from the tip of his penis and coated the wall of the shower.
"YES!" Amy cried.
"UUhhh!" Another jet of cum squirted across the shower and onto the wall.
"Well done Roger!"
"Uuuuuuuhhhhhh". His third ejaculation landed a little further down the wall this time, but the sensation was still as strong. Three more times he shot his produce before his muscles finally relaxed and he opened his eyes. His eyes were glazed and his limbs looked heavy. Amy held her hand out to him.
"Rog?" she said gently.

Roger's head was hanging low in front of him. He breathed steadily for a minute or two, letting the warmer water cascade down his tired biceps. When Amy took a step towards him, he looked up and around, making sense of reality once more. With a shaky hand, he reached out and turned the water off. His ejaculate still coated the wall. It was then that he turned his head to look at it. His erection had almost instantly subsided and the colour was now returning very quickly to his cheeks. He blushed as he looked from Amy, to the wall and back to Amy again.

"Did I do that?" he asked as he gestured towards the tiles that bore his semen.
"Yep." Amy smiled kindly at him. "You did well, Roger."

As he moved his long limbs from out of the shower, Amy couldn't help but liken Roger to Bambi as he took his first steps. For Roger, this would mean a whole new world and all he needed for it was his hand. She passed him a towel and then left the bathroom. She headed back to her room, deciding the give him privacy for the time being.

Once back in her room, she grabbed her notepad and pen and began making plans to reunite Roger with his children. She had decided that night by the campfire back in Malawi that Roger desperately needed to see them.

After obtaining Mirka's number from Severin, she punched in the numbers and waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello?" It was a girl's voice.
"Uhh, hello…is your mummy there?"
"Yes, I'll go and get here. Hang on…"

Amy assumed she had just spoken to either Charlene or Myla.

"Hello, this is Mirka speaking" said the much more mature voice on the other end.
"Hello, Mrs Federer. My name is Amy Greene, I am currently representing your husband."
"Right." Her tone was icy. Amy wondered if she would have been warmer if a male voice had been on the other end.
"Uh, I hope you don't mind me calling. Mr Federer doesn't actually know I'm calling you."
"What can I do to help you Amy?"

Straight to the point then, Amy thought. She was just going to come straight out with it.

"I would like to arrange for Mr Federer to see his children soon." There was a pause.
"Okay, I'm listening."
"Well…the ball is in your court, so to speak. Roger is fairly free up until the Australian open in January."

Mirka was very to the point. They both agreed on a date where Mirka and the children would come to visit for the weekend and they both agreed to keep it a secret. But there was definitely no love lost between the two of them. All Amy thought was, mission accomplished.