Teresa was waiting by the Sport, Sports and Sporting Activities Centre tennis courts seated in a plastic chair with her feet on the rails in front of the tennis clubhouse changing rooms. She was wearing the regulation green top t-shirt and her white shorts made only a half-hearted attempt to cover her lovely long legs.
Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore an amused and questioning smile. It suggested she was interested to find out how well I could play but as a pro was completely confident that she would easily be able to overcome my amateurish attempts. I hoped to prove her wrong.
I changed into my tennis gear in the tennis clubhouse. The showers in the men’s changing rooms looked functional so I was glad that I’d brought a towel. It would make going back to work after the tennis match much easier knowing I was fresh smelling.
“I have already been on the courts with clients today but you may like to give yourself a bit of a warm-up jog and stretch,” smiled Teresa.
“My goodness,” I said. “You sound as if you’re taking it very seriously.”
“Whether tennis is taken seriously or it is just for fun, it is always better not to get injured,” said Teresa primly. “Now jog and stretch,” she commanded.
“OK, chief,” I said. “Are you always so bossy on the tennis courts?”
She fixed me with a quizzical smile, as if to say ‘why are you arguing … you know it’s pointless’ and gestured to the tennis court. I gave up procrastinating and sprinted around the tennis court a few times, then stretched one way and the other to flex my back and waist muscles.
Teresa eventually joined me on the tennis court and I was glad to see she had some tennis balls with her. In my current ex-student debt-ridden state, even to buy tennis balls was a tall order.
“Rough or smooth for service,” she asked, spinning the racket as she spoke.
“Rough,” I said. It was smooth but she decided to choose ends and let me serve, presumably to get an idea of how strong I was before she unleashed her full range of shots.
I took position at the service line, sighted down the middle of the court, tossed the ball in the air, flexed my back muscles and slammed the ball down the line for a perfect ace.
I was just recovering my balance after the shot, when the tennis ball flashed down the line and passed me for a clean winner. Teresa smiled at my consternation and called out the score – love fifteen.
As I crossed over to serve again, at least Theresa complimented me on my serve.
“Not a bad serve,” she said.
“I was just warming up, “I riposted. “Although your return was pretty good.”
“I used to play at National level in New Zealand when I was younger, “said Teresa. “In those days, I was very good.”
I had not yet thought about her accent but just accepted it as a cute part of her very pleasant package.
The fact she had played at National level in New Zealand in past years suggested to me that she probably had a few years on me, age-wise.
Well, you know what they say about every man needing to experience an older woman, I thought! If Teresa was much older than me, although I doubted it it was by much, she was wearing well.
Over the next hour, Teresa proved exactly how well she was wearing although I have to say I gave her a good game.
After one set each, we called it a draw. She won the first set and I won the second. It crossed my mind that she might have gone a bit easy on me during the second set but I knew I’d won her respect.
We retired to the tennis clubhouse to drink tap water and cool down.
“You’d better get under the shower,” said Teresa.
“Do you fancy joining me then,” I suggested, with my best lascivious smile.
Her New Zealand accent suddenly broadened.
“Maybe one day,” she said, with a blush. “You never know you’re luck. Now get under the shower before you get stiff.”
Then she realised what she had said, blushed again and threw her tracksuit top at me.
Tactfully, I ambled off to the shower. It was fun to ask but Teresa looked as if she could be a good friend and I didn’t want to spoil our developing relationship.
As I washed myself down, I kept up our conversation which was easy to do because the walls of the tennis hut were quite thin.
“I got a look at the accounts for the Sport, Sports and Sporting Activities Centre this morning. The sports centre tennis club didn’t seem to be turning over much money.”
“It isn’t,” confirmed Teresa. “There is a tennis club in town that is more local for most of the population around here. It already has a tennis professional who does coaching and also links with the Lawn Tennis Association.”
“So you would sum up the tennis facilities here as being good but without sufficient customers to make it a decent sport business?”
“That’s about the measure of it, ” said Teresa. “I’ve done my best but I don’t really know much about sports businesses and, to be honest, the sports centre management here don’t seem to know much either.”
“Which is a shame,” I said, emerging from the showers, all spruced up and clean. “Because the facilities are great and all that is needed is more customers.”
“Well, if you got any ideas about setting up a sports marketing campaign for the tennis side of the sports centre, I for one would be very glad to hear about it,” said Teresa.
I stood close to her, staring down into her beautiful baby blue eyes. She looked gorgeous and glowing.
“Perhaps we could get together some time and talk through some tennis marketing strategies? I can’t say I’m an expert but marketing is an area in which I would like to specialise, once I get past being an intern.”
“Deal!” said Teresa and gave me a high five. “Let me know when you’re free for the tennis marketing meeting and we’ll play some tennis afterwards to celebrate.”
“Deal!” I said, touching the palm of her hand with my own for the high five. I could practically see sparks flying between our hands and wondered if she’d noticed too.
Just before I disappeared round the corner to return to the Sport and Sports Activities office, I looked back and saw Teresa watching me with a quizzical smile on her face.
Maybe she didn’t think I was too young after all.
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