Game, Set And Match

“I agree. Here is one of our top coaches now.” She waved Lo over like it was the first time she was seeing Lorraine all night. Lo sauntered over like she was walking down a runway. “Mr. Jameson it is my pleasure to introduce Lorraine Whittle of the popular ‘Lo’s Training Club’. She has agreed to be the in house tennis coach here at the county club. She is highly acclaimed and in great demand and we are lucky to have her here. She’s won several gold, silver medals and trophies. The children adore her and so do we.”

Phillip shifted in his seat, he didn’t like the limelight and only took the spotlight when he had to as his partner Steve was even more reclusive that him leaving him to handle the public relations aspect of the company. Like his best friend Steve, he too enjoyed working from home and valued his privacy just as much. He felt like Rosie was encroaching on his territory and he felt himself instinctively go on the defensive.

Phillip quickly made a mental comparison of the two women as they stood beside each other. Both were beautiful women, and it was obvious the country club did wonders for them as they were both in good shape. Seemingly they had exclusive tastes and links as the expensive clothes they wore were hot off the market and probably weren’t out until next season for the common man.

However, Rosie was just a bit browner than Lorraine; her hair was also synthetic while Lo’s was the real deal. Rosie’s make-up hinted that if you were to remove it you wouldn’t recognize her while Lo used hers sparingly. Rosie’s voice was shrill, aggressive and loud while Lo’s demeanor hinted that she would be soft spoken but firm in her beliefs. Next to Lo’s understated elegance, youth and natural beauty, Rosie looked like an overcooked chicken. Her facial features were hardened and the wrinkles of age couldn’t be hidden by makeup, it’s a wonder she hadn’t gone under the knife like other cougars. She literally had no eyebrows, the stroke of her brown eyeliner was bold and dominated her face. All the expensive gold jewelry she wore made her look like a heavily decorated Christmas tree. Everything about Rosie seemed a bit much and overpowering like stale perfume in comparison to Lo who just seemed simple, radiant and fresh. Lo’s eyes twinkled in amusement and he vaguely wondered if she could read his thoughts.

“I can see why.” He murmured while he looked her dead in the eyes. He liked how her eyes sparkled when the light reflected from them. “If I had a coach like you in my youth I would have done well in sports too.”

“Thanks for the compliment, I think.” Then she laughed and her whole body shook which caused her thick wavy black hair to become a bit loose from its notch and cascade past her shoulders and nearly reached her ass.

Rosie cleared her throat, she felt invisible the way these two were staring at each other. He answered with a slow nod and a smile that was as warm as it was telling, he had enough of this conversation now.

Phillip ventured. “Rosie, I don’t know what else to say. Tonight’s Charity Ball was bound to be an unparalleled success with all the work you and your committee put in, congratulations Ms. Pilsner, don’t let me distract you from your other guests.”

“Yes, you are right, I need to mingle with the other guests, but I would be a poor host if I didn’t stop by your side. If there is anything you need, anything at all just let me know, here’s my card, don’t hesitate to call.” With all that said, Rosie flounced off from that seemingly polite dismissal to corner her next victim.

“Don’t worry about Rosie she’s harmless, a bit pretentious at times but she has the kindest heart and means well.”

Lo chuckled to herself as if amused by Rosie’s flagrant play for Phillip. It was clear Phillip was uninterested and rebuffed Rosie’s advances since he just smiled politely at her. Rosie had left Phillip’s side with a look of slight incomprehension on her face. She had been rejected by the much younger man, a first in a long time. Lo had looked at them both in amusement, she was close enough to hear the conversation as it transpired. Rosie felt a bit humiliated and hated that the younger woman had been there to witness the scene but not undeterred. She hadn’t lost her touch, this was just a slight delay to her plans, maybe when Phillip had a few more glasses of wine later she would get lucky, the night was still young, anything could happen. Phillip tried to tamp down the fierce attraction he felt for the lovely young lady.

Clearly the feeling was mutual as her eyes roved over his body. She examined him as if he was one of the expensive ornaments on display on the walls of the country club. His quick assessment sensed that they were suited for each other, his instincts rarely ever failed him. He only hoped when she opened her mouth she wouldn’t say something stupid and disappoint him, like the Rosie’s of this world that were coarser, crude in thinking and lacked substance. But what perturbed Lo the most was the odd, almost calculating look in Phillip’s gray eyes when he stared in her direction. It seemed as if Rosie was all but forgotten as he stared in her direction.

She reached into that tiny flat thing she called a purse and pulled out something flat, small and square what appeared to be a business card and handed it over to him. She must be really feeling him, he didn’t even have to ask her for her cell number.

Armed security guards were positioned near the bar where Phillip was seated. To be exact, in front of the doors to the room where the charity ball was being held. An argument broke out right by the door as a paparazzi in a full black tuxedo tried to slip in past the guards as if he was an important guest but his camera was a dead giveaway as to his intentions. “No cameras are allowed sir, can we see your invitation please?” the guard asked, and crossed his bulging muscular arms over his chest.

“I’m from the Sunday Star,” the intimidated photographer clarified, trying to keep his voice low and still be heard over the ebb and flow of the crowd. Now that the jig was up his voice raised as he grew bitter.

“I’m not interested in the other guests, I’m here to get a picture of Lorraine Whittle, I know she’s here, I took a picture of her entering the building over an hour ago. I‘ve lost all patience, now why won’t you let me in.”

“Sorry. No one but guests with invitations are allowed entrance to this building.”

It was as if an alarm went off in his head as he made the connection with the woman facing him. A deep sense of recognition was immediately followed by awe and then pure masculine admiration as his gaze drifted over Lorraine Whittle. “Where in the world is Lusty Lo?” or “How Lo can she go?” was some of the most titillating headlines to grace the tabloid covers with a picture of a sprawled out drunken Lorraine displayed. Even though she had managed to stay out of the limelight for the last few years. Every now and again someone would inform the paparazzi where she was and they would hound her, once more forcing her to move around often. The full realization of Lorraine’s predicament filled Phillip with a mixture of dismay and empathy. He now had a name to go with her face and remembered that he had seen her on television, she was no longer the cute rebellious teenager he remembered that got into all types of mischief but a beautiful grown woman now. In his mind, he still thought of her as a wild, out of control teenager, it was hard to believe that this calm, harmonious woman in front of him had such a wanton and lurid past.