A Winning Combination

"Not this guy. I mean, that's TOO personal and I respect your right to privacy." He paused to take a few sips. Then: "So, what ABOUT your sex life?"

She guffawed and shook her head. "I had a feeling you were going to pull that. Not this guy, my ass." She watched him laugh, thought he looked so cute the way his mouth turned up and his face reddened. "What about YOUR sex life?"

"No time for that. I'm training all the time. You know the drill. Lifting weights, running, sparing. Too tired for sex."

"Huh, huh, I bet," she said, keyed into his rascally look. "Well, me too. Wrestling season doesn't leave a lot of time or energy for that sort of recreation." She shot him a rascally look of her own. "And then living with my parents. Speaking of privacy."

"Or lack thereof. I can relate. Parents, yeah."

Sitting by a window, they paused to watch shoppers pass by. The Starbucks stood next to a strip mall, though it was detached from the mall itself. Like them, the majority of patrons were young, mostly students, high school and college. While watching, she thought that when the time came to end her virginity, she hoped that Evan would be the one. He didn't yet know that she hadn't gone "all the way." She had come close with Clyde, that ex-SERIOUS boyfriend of hers, before she had turned eighteen. The day she turned eighteen, just a few short weeks ago, she had been "ready," at least in her mind. But Clyde was history—she never wanted to go that far with him anyway—and she hadn't been seeing anyone else. Now she found herself sitting across from this guy who she sensed could become more than just a sparring partner.

Then she heard this: "Kenzie, you still with me?"

She turned from the window. "Ah, yeah, of course. Just thinking is all."

"I could tell. You looked lost in some daydream."

She smiled and took a sip. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"Us, actually. I mean, not to push the envelope, but..." She drew a bashful grin.

He took her hand. "All seriousness aside, to quote you, what about us?"

"I like you."

"I figured you did. And guess what? I like you, too. You're a rare breed of woman, one with the three bees."

"Beethoven, Brahms and Bach?"

"Beethoven, Brahms and...Uh, no. More like brawn, brains and beauty. And not necessarily in that order."

She tucked a hand under her chin, elbow on the table. "Well, thanks for that. And I think, for a tough wrestler, you're quite a sensitive guy, a guy not afraid to show his feelings. Macho jock types never appealed to me." She reached out and brushed aside a lock of his hair. "Evan, we've known each other for just a short time. But so far, I really enjoy being with you. Even with you on top. Well, so long as we're practicing."

"Or maybe doing something else. Off the mat. Not to push the envelope."

"Evan, correct me if I'm wrong, but today, I think we both pushed the envelope, at least a little. Wouldn't you agree?"

He broke out in song. "'Wouldn't you agree, baby you and me, we got a groovy kind of love.' Sorry. I just heard that line on a Sirius oldies station."

"It sounds ancient. Just from the word groovy alone."

He nodded. "My grandfather was driving and he had the station on. 'A song from my youth, when I was in high school,' he told me. But I kind of liked it."

She chuckled. "Okay, then I'd say we've got a groovy kind of something going on."

"I'd say you're right."

*****

During wrestling practice the following week, Coach Gabe Patterson was curious about what Evan had wanted when he pulled Mackenzie aside after their match. "Oh, nothing much," she said. "He just extended his congratulations. No big deal."

"Well, don't get too chummy with him. We're going to be wrestling Glenelg again in a few weeks, and you and Evan Corday will most likely tangle again."

Mackenzie hadn't counted on this. "But we already wrestled Glenelg. What gives?"

"Unusual, I know. The schedule got re-arranged somehow, extending wrestling season two weeks longer than it normally runs."

She didn't dare tell coach that she and Evan were now romantically involved, for she and Evan had decided to keep their relationship private, at least until the end of wrestling season. Because they wrestled for rival schools, they sensed that their respective coaches might think there was a conflict of interest. Now, per what coach had said, there was no question about it. There were minor conflicts of interest and major conflicts of interest, and this one, in Mackenzie's mind, was about as major as you could get.

Evan beat Mackenzie to the punch in calling with the news. At first, he joked about it. "I knew I shouldn't have showed you those moves."

"Very funny, Evan," she said, "but I really don't feel like wrestling you at this point, other than in practice. And it has nothing to do with being afraid to lose."

"You sure?"

"Evan..."

"Okay, okay, I get where you're coming from. Look, I feel the same way. Well, I could always forfeit."

"You know I wouldn't want you to do that."

"Okay, YOU could forfeit."

"Yuk yuk. Can you be serious for a minute? What the hell are we going to do? I want you on top of me. But at some place other than on a wrestling mat as you had alluded to." She began to tear up. "Evan, I wish you were holding me so bad right now I could cry. And not in a half-nelson or cross-face and not on a mat."

"How about on a sofa? Preferably one in a room with plenty of privacy. Not the case at my house. But if you have those accommodations, I'll be right over."

"I do! Are you serious?"

"I am."

"That would be groovy."

*****

It was close to a half-hour's drive, but Evan didn't care. He missed Mackenzie terribly. Ever since their match, thoughts of her overwhelmed other concerns in his young life. His household might have lacked the sort of privacy he needed, but his dad was usually accommodating about one of the two family cars, even on a school night, so long as Evan's homework got done.

He knew the area, a more upscale place than where he grew up. Older, too. Mackenzie, her parents and her kid sister Grace lived in a 1940s-ea brick colonial, furnished with two sofas, one in the living room and one in the basement, as Evan learned within minutes of his arrival. Moments after Mackenzie greeted him at the door, wearing loose-fitting pink sweat pants and a white pull-over top, she introduced him to her parents and Grace. Stanley, her dad, wearing a green polo shirt and tan slacks, was on the thin side and just a couple inches taller than Evan. Mackenzie's stocky build mirrored that of her mom Francis. She wore a house dress which revealed her thick ankles and calves. Thinnish, fifteen-year-old Grace took after her dad in body type.

Stanley shook Evan's hand. "I don't like to see my daughter lose, but I'm glad you didn't forfeit the match. She would have hated that."

"I know," Evan said. "She's a fierce competitor." He and Mackenzie traded smiles.

"Kenzie tells me that you two might wrestle again," Frances said. "True?"

"That's what we've been told," Evan said. "But now that we're friends..." He hesitated to say more.

Francis drew a sympathetic smile and nodded. "I understand. Must be quite a dilemma."

"Mom, other than in practice, we don't want to wrestle each other again," Mackenzie revealed. "But neither of us wants to forfeit."

"Or tell our coaches our situation," Evan chimed in.

"A double dilemma," Stanley said. "So what ARE you going to do?"

Mackenzie shrugged. "Right now, we're going to relax in the basement and listen to music."

*****

"Your parents must really trust you," Evan said, "leaving you alone down here with a boy you barely know."

"Yes, but it's you too they trust. Or, more precise, they trust my judgement in boys. Even boys who have the audacity to wrestle girls like me."

"Let's face it," Evan said, "we're two audacious people. You've heard of a match made in heaven. We're a match made in the Mid-Atlantic High School Wrestling Conference."

"You might be on to something. Listen, can I get you something to drink? I could go for a beer but that would mean more work to burn off the calories. Gotta make weight, you know."

"I hear ya. Iced tea would be nice. Unsweetened of course."

When she went to fetch the drinks, Evan looked around, admiring what he saw, from the flagstone pattern linoleum floor to the walls covered in a fine burlap material. The big screen TV, flanked by two tower-type speakers, sat about fifteen feet from a black Naugahyde-covered sofa, with matching chair off to the side. A rack holding an A/V receiver and CD player sat behind the TV. There was also a pool table, a miniature hockey game setup and three tall bookshelves. Washer-dryer appliances were tucked into a small unfinished room, divided by a wall and narrow door. Track lighting, with adjustable brightness levels, covered the middle part of the drop ceiling.

"Here you are," Mackenzie said, handing Evan a glass and placing hers on the coffee table. "Now for some music." She stepped over to one of the bookshelves lined with rows of CDs, neatly cataloged according to the type of music. From Rock to Bach to Coltrane, it was quite the eclectic collection. She preferred classical in light of what she anticipated. "Any requests?" she asked, turning toward Evan.

"Oh, I don't know," he said, holding his glass. "One of the three bees?"

She laughed. "Well, I think Brahms is the most romantic of the three." She held her chin, thinking more about it. "But you can't beat Chopin's first piano concerto for romance. Yep, I think we'll go with that." She popped the disc into her Sony machine, dimmed the lights and then joined Evan on the sofa.

"Man, you really know your stuff when it comes to classical music," he said.

"Thanks to mom and dad. I didn't like it much when I was younger." She paused to take a sip. "But then the more I listened—more like I had to listen because they played it a lot—it kind of grew on me. It's an acquired taste, I guess. This piece is one of my faves."

He nodded. "Pretty stuff." He took her hand. "Romantic, like you said."

She put her glass down and snuggled close. "Then let's go there."

Mackenzie felt her body tingle the moment her lips met his. This hot-looking guy she was growing very fond of was kissing and holding her, while Chopin's lush, melodic work played on. It doesn't get any better than this, she thought, at least it hadn't so far in her young life. She wasn't on birth control and she had no idea if he had prepared to take care of that issue on his end. Right now, it didn't matter; this was wonderful just what they were doing. Was she even prepared emotionally to lose her virginity tonight, assuming he would even try to go that far? Somehow, she felt an obligation to tell him. After one long kiss, she pulled away. "Look, Evan, I think there's something you should know. I'm a...virgin."

He stroked her hair. "Well, that's great. Or maybe not so great, depending how you look at it. Because, so am I."

She giggled. "Come on. Really?"

"Really. Oh, I've slid into third base a few times. But, for one reason or the other, that's as far as I got."

"Are you looking for your first home run?" She swung an imaginary bat.

He laughed out loud at that line. "Um, sort of," he said, "though not necessarily tonight. I'm presently condomless. Are you, that is, prepared for—"

"No, same as you. Unprotected. Guess we'll just have to take a rain check."

"Guess we will. Meanwhile..."

Passionately, he resumed kissing her, getting her so hot that moments later, she felt compelled to say, "You know, Evan, I wouldn't mind sliding into third base myself tonight. Are you with me?" Before he could answer, she slipped off her top, then unsnapped her bra.

"One-hundred percent," he said, and then began licking her boobs. Until now, he hadn't paid much attention to her endowment in the boob department. Like many athletic women, hers were on the small side but firm.

While he was doing this, her insecurity over her body image emerged. "God gave me small boobs and big legs. I hope size doesn't much matter to you."

He looked up. "You're a beautiful girl, Kenzie, inside and out. What matters to me is being with you like this."

"Thanks. Guess I'm still somewhat insecure when it comes to my body. Well, at least during times of intimacy. On the mat, I couldn't care less. If I did, I wouldn't be able to wear those revealing wrestling singlets."

"I love your body, Kenzie. How about showing me more of it? As in all of it."

"I will if you will."

He didn't hesitate in striping down to his underwear, and that prompted her to follow with her sweat pants and pull-over, leaving on just her panties. "We're okay down here like this?" he asked.

She threw her arms around him. "Yes sir, quite okay. Our privacy is assured. Now kiss me some more."

He did, and things began to escalate. When two people madly attracted to one another strip down to their underwear and begin to kiss, things usually do. Mackenzie was prepared to make good on what she had said about sliding into third base with Evan. Not only was she a virgin, she had had only limited experience on third base in that she'd never received oral below the waist. Her more experienced girlfriends had raved about how good it felt, and now was the time to see for herself.

Evan was on his stomach, his face an inch from her crotch, his hands hooked around her "big" legs. "Ready?" he asked. When she nodded, he nudged the crotch of her panties aside and began to stab his tongue over her clit and into her pussy, already soaking wet from what came before, the passionate smooching and the silky, sensuous feel of Evan's tongue on her breasts. But what came before paled in comparison to this. Her girlfriends had not exaggerated in their praise for oral from a guy who knew what he was doing—and Evan apparently did. "Ohmygod!" She cried out that well-worn superlative quite a few times before even THAT became an understatement for the way she felt, and her speech devolved into moans and groans and then shrieks of pleasure when she climaxed.

The next thing she knew, Evan was on top, kissing her and rubbing his hard cock, still in his underwear, against her pussy. Although near a state of delirious pleasure, she was clear-headed enough to think of the possible consequences of going further. She wanted to, all right, wanted to throw off her panties and consummate what they began. If what he just did took her to the moon, she could just imagine where he'd take her with him inside her, pile-driving his organ into virgin territory. "Evan, oh Evan, damn it, I want to but..." She began to tear up.

"Kenzie, it's okay," he said, planting soft kisses between her breasts. "We've got time. No rush. And one other thing. I adore you."

She drew him the warmest smile, then held him in close to a bear hug. "I feel the same way, Evan. It's kind of scary because I didn't think those kinds of feelings would come on so fast with me, but they did."

When they sat up, she noticed that the bulge in his underwear hadn't gone anywhere. "Let me at least help you with that," she said. She pulled down his underwear and then did, using her hand and mouth to give him what he had given her.

By the time they cleaned up and dressed, the concerto had gone into the Rondo third movement. Mackenzie snuggled against Evan listening but also thinking about the approaching match between their respective schools. "So, what are we going to do, Evan, about, you know what."

He did know what. But, like her, he hadn't come up with an answer he was fully comfortable with. "Well, barring forfeit, one of us could feign injury and wrestle a second-stringer. Or, we could do what those pro wrestlers do, set up a pre-conceived outcome. In our case, we'd wrestle to a draw."

She chuckled. "I can hear the audience now, yelling 'fix! fix!' No, I don't think that would work. Besides, I'd be laughing my head off."

Evan picked up on the comedy. "Oh, come on, Kenzie. They'd buy it after the first body slam."

She doubled over in laughter. "Well, maybe if we wrestled in a ring and I could jump on a turnbuckle beating my chest like a gorilla after throwing you through the ropes."

Now Evan doubled over picturing Mackenzie doing that, her hair dyed orange or blue, wearing one of those ridiculous looking outfits, including leather boots that laced up to the knees.

When the laughter died down, she said, "I think your feigning injury idea sounds the best so far. Not a perfect solution but it sounds plausible. You realize that you'll need to be the one to fake an injury because Upperco no longer has a second-stringer. I was it until Brian Dunlevy got hurt."

"Okay, me then. You'll probably be wrestling Colin Taylor, a guy I'm not real crazy about. I'll be cheering for you all the way. Subtly, of course."

They listened to the last bars of the concerto, holding each other. "I'm so glad you came over, and so excited about us," Mackenzie said.

Evan stroked her hair and planted soft kisses on her neck. "Me too. And don't worry, it'll all work out with the match."

*****

Evan and Mackenzie narrowed it down to one of two solutions. Either Evan would feign injury, letting Mackenzie wrestle Colin Taylor, or they'd do what they did before, wrestle each other. Legitimately. No holds barred. No preconceived outcome. May the best guy or gal win.

Mackenzie didn't think she could beat Evan. Yes, she now knew his style of wrestling, and he had showed her moves that might have served her well in their first match. But he was stronger and faster, and his technique was at least equal to hers. She still felt she had a fighting chance. But did she really have the heart to wrestle a guy who she was falling in love with? No, she finally decided. It just wouldn't work, and she'd be doing her Upperco teammates a disservice to even try.

Evan felt the same way. He had little doubt he could beat her. Yet he could also picture himself on top, seconds away from a pin. But then, instead of completing the move, he'd begin to kiss her, as if they were someplace else. He laughed out loud, thinking that kind of move was more absurd then the pro wrestling scenarios that had he and Mackenzie howling.

Evan didn't like the idea of lying to his coach. On the other hand, he relished the thought of watching Colin Taylor lose to a girl. He knew Colin's strengths and weaknesses, his style of wrestling, and he was all too willing to pass on this "inside" information to Mackenzie, thus increasing her chances of winning. Yes, it would be a betrayal of sorts to his team and that bothered him. But Colin could be somewhat of a dick; he needed humbling, and Evan couldn't think of anything more humbling—not to mention humiliating—to a male wrestler than having his clock cleaned on the mat by a girl.

Shortly before Upperco and Glenelg met, they practiced moves at the Y, moves that Evan hoped would help her win. It wouldn't be easy. Taylor might be a second-stringer, but he was no pushover. "He's vulnerable to take-downs because of his long legs," Evan revealed. "But be careful when you go to the mat because he can tie you up with them. Then it's like trying to escape from a spider's web. Another thing. He doesn't have the greatest stamina. Do extra roadwork and you'll be way ahead of him there."

The next step was the one that Evan dreaded the most, lying to Charlie Puckett, long-time wrestling coach at Glenelg. Charlie was old school, believed in wrestling through injuries if they were minor injuries, sore muscles, even pulled muscles, depending on what muscles and how serious the pulls. He'd tell coach he got a pulled hamstring doing roadwork. Or, strained his back doing power cleans or deadlifts. Whatever the "ailment," he had to make it look good.