MEDALISTS
You’re a huge success in life—
In business, marriage, fatherhood—by every important measure.
How do you stay competitive, keep your edge, and still satisfy those basic urges and needs?
A vignette, after infidelity was declared an Olympic sport.
[Sexually Explicit.]
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Medalists
He noticed her first while on the Stairmaster in the hotel’s fitness room. (In truth, she may have noticed him then, too—or before. Selfish indifference and no eye contact were strict guidelines in these preliminaries.)
She staked herself to a treadmill and removed her Reebok Hipster warm-ups. Nice, he thought. Champion JogBra, Chickabiddy Retro Boardshorts, Nike cross-trainers; athletically stylish. Jewelry. Eye and lip liner. A player.
He’d claimed the spa when she emerged again, after changing. As she busied herself with a deliberate deck shower, he updated the inventory. Black mesh, high-cut Polo tank—Caesarian? Stretch marks? No breast cups; outstanding nipples. Quality salon tan, no lines. Subtle—therefore, expensive—surgical enhancements: nose, lips, gluteals. Breasts? Can’t tell; good contours. Why leave the weaker jaw line? Interesting. Above-average manicure and pedicure.
He feigned interest in the pool rules as she lowered herself into the sanitized froth. Their heads and eyes moved in non-synchronous orbits. Wait. Wait. Now. Discreetly, he tucked in his TYR Heatwaves Male Racers to accentuate his genitals. He stood, grasped the handrail and climbed, hesitating on the top step. Slowly, his eyes moved to her fingertips, lingered at her tennis bracelet, and glided up her arm into her pupils. Violet—real, or lenses?
“Cartier?”
She smiled, holding his gaze, but did not reply.
My contact. Your move.