“You cannot be serious. Dean Bradley wants me to partner him? But he’s the world number 6.”“Yes, but he was number 1, remember. He’s slowing down now, he’s started playing more doubles, and he’s looking for a new partner. Apparently, he’s seen you in action and his coach thinks you two might just work well together.”Jennifer still couldn’t quite believe what her coach was telling her. Okay, so she’d been doing better on the circuit during the past 18 months, reaching the finals of a couple of smaller tournaments and getting through to the second round at Wimbledon, but she hadn’t played much doubles during this time.“But I thought you wanted me to concentrate on my singles?” she said.Her coach nodded. “And you’ve been doing well, and you can get even better, believe me. But think of it. The chance to play alongside Dean Bradley. Your styles aren’t that different, and you can learn a hell of a lot from him. Look, his team and me have talked a lot about this: I know, I’m sorry I haven’t mentioned it before, but I needed to make sure they were serious. But they are.”Jennifer sat back and took a swig of water, trying to get her head round the bombshell that her coach had just dropped.He looked at her.“You’re not going to say no, are you?” he said, sounding worried for a moment.Jennifer smiled. “No, of course not, I just can’t quite believe it,” she admitted. “Do you really think it could work?”“Yes, I do, really I do. We’ve got a plan too. We’re going to start slow, enter you both in a couple of smaller tournaments first, but Dean’s team want to aim for the US Open in August.”Jennifer bit her lip.“You’re not kidding me, are you?” she said, suddenly afraid that it was all just another stupid dream. She felt a few tears starting to well up. This could be just the break she needed, the chance to go beyond being the perennially under-performing British women’s number 2: liked by the home crowds but really only because she was just another not-quite-good-enough British underdog, who’d never really achieve anything very much.As the reality of it hit her, she burst into tears. Her coach hugged her.“No, it’s for real,” he said, laughing. “But now we need to start being serious. I’ve got a new training plan sketched out, and we’re meeting Dean and his coach next week, just to give you a chance to get to know each other. He’s in Brazil for the Rio Open, so we’ll fly down and meet up there.”Jennifer gulped and wiped her eyes. Flying down to Rio just for a meeting? That wasn’t what she was used to, not on the money she was making.But then there was a pause. There Erenköy escort was a large elephant in the room that one of them was going to have to mention. Her coach gave a wry smile.“Yes, there are the stories of course. He has got a bit of a reputation for making passes at his partners – well, any other players, really, as long as they’re female.”“Is it really true that he and Nadja Nebtrenko got caught together after the Wimbledon party that year?” asked Jennifer.“The handcuffed-to-the-bed story?” Her coach shrugged. “All true, and the rest. Does that bother you?”Jennifer blushed. “I guess not. I suppose I’ll just have to deal with it if it happens.”“That’s the spirit. Come on then, Miss Holmes, on court in five. I’ve got Greg and Sue to come over, and we’ll see if we can’t take a set or two off them.”……That night in bed, Jennifer took quite a while getting to sleep. When she was a junior player in the 16-18 age group, Dean Bradley had been her idol, the superstar she’d watch over and over again, trying to work out how he managed to make those impossible backhand returns. And even then she’d sometimes masturbated while thinking of being seduced by her hero, imagining it was Dean’s erect penis, not her fingers, that was buried deep in her vagina, or ejaculating over her breasts. Her first ever orgasm had been achieved in this way, and she knew that if Dean ever made a pass at her, she wouldn’t resist.All these thoughts revived her old fantasies. She slipped off her nightie, took her favourite vibrator out of her drawer, lay back, and parted her legs. Her firm thigh muscles contracted as she began to rub her vibrator to and fro over the hard little bud of her clitoris. She stroked her round pink nipples, feeling them harden under her fingers. Sliding her vibrator down to her slit, she slid it between her labia and into her hole, sighing as she felt it fill her. Pressing the button until it was on maximum vibrate, she began to pump it in and out, imagining once again it was Dean’s cock.“Oh yes, Dean, fuck me, yes, fuck my cunt,” she gasped as she came, her juices squirting out over the clean sheets.……The next few weeks and months passed in a whirl. First the meeting with Dean and his team, which went really well; then the press conferences, and the first couple of tournaments. Jennifer had been forced to bury all her sexual fantasies and concentrate on her game. Her coach worked her even harder, and the sessions she spent with Dean forced her to really step-up her game: she was determined not to blow this opportunity.At içerenköy escort bayan first she found it tough. Off the court, Dean was friendly and supportive, and they found they shared a similar sense of humour as well as tastes in music and films. But on court, he was totally dedicated and unforgiving, not letting Jennifer get away with any little slip, any missed return or botched serve. Determined not to let him down, every week Jennifer genuinely felt herself improving, pushing herself further than she’d thought possible. And slowly she felt Dean starting to treat her as more of an equal partner; leaving tricky returns to her; trusting her to be in the right place at the back of the court when he was at the net. She remembered one glorious moment when she saved a shot that Dean had missed, and the high-five they shared was one of equal partners.During their first tournament, at which they reached the quarter-finals, the press commented that Dean seemed to be making all the running. But soon Jennifer’s contribution started to be noticed, and articles began to suggest that playing with someone younger than himself seemed to be rejuvenating the older player, and maybe he wasn’t past it after all.But through all this time, Dean never once made any sort of sexual pass at Jennifer. He would often compliment her on her hair or her dress, but it was always totally gentlemanly and above board. At first, she’d been expecting some sort of move on his part, but as time went on and nothing happened, she forgot even to think about it.……Despite their successes, Jennifer was surprised when her coach announced that things were going so well that they had decided to bring forward plans for the pair’s first Grand Slam tournament.“There’s no point waiting for the US at the end of August when you’re already playing so well together,” he announced. “We’re going to make it Wimbledon in June. You’ll have the home crowd on your side, which should help. Dean’s still going to do the singles, but we’ll rest you up this year. But I think the two of you can make the quarter-finals of the doubles easily, and after that, who knows?”All too soon, the last week in June arrived, although the mixed doubles didn’t get under way until the end of the week. For Jennifer, it felt odd even to be still around on Middle Saturday: as an adult player, she’d previously never made it beyond the first Thursday. Dean had a third-round match in the singles that morning, so it would be a tough day for him.In the event, he lost that match Escort Tuzla in a very tight five-set marathon against an unseeded Chinese player. Jennifer was worried that this would put him off his stride for their match, but he turned up at the warm-up court looking fairly relaxed, announcing with a wry smile that it was now time for the important part of the Tournament.The first match went to three sets, and Dean was flagging slightly by the end, giving Jennifer the chance to make several game-winning shots. But they made it through, and the next two matches on Tuesday and Thursday were over in two sets. Suddenly it was the quarter-finals, and they faced a couple of Scandinavians who had won a few years previously: and on No1 Court too. That one went to three sets as well, but in a third set tie-break Dean broke their opponents’ serve, and suddenly they were in the semis. The atmosphere behind the scenes became tense, with no-one quite wanting to think about what the next day would bring.On Saturday, back on No1 Court, they were on fire, and after a tight first set that went to another tie-break, they won the second 6-3. As they left the court to the sound of tumultuous applause, Jennifer felt surprisingly calm. She was playing well, tomorrow was just another match, and Centre Court at Wimbledon was just another patch of grass, not so different from the lawn at home where she hit her first tennis ball at the age of four.Dean hugged her, smiling that self-deprecating grin that made him so popular with British tennis fans. “Great game, Jenny,” he said. “Let’s show them tomorrow, okay?”……Sunday afternoon. Centre Court, Wimbledon. The British Number One had just demolished his opponent in three sets to carry off the Men’s Singles trophy, and suddenly it was their turn. The crowd, already fired up by a home victory, was in the mood for more. And they got it. Their opponents, the French pair Rigaud and Giradon, never really got their game together, and the Holmes/Bradley duo saw them off in two sets 6-4, 6-2. As Jennifer saw her final backhand return bounce neatly the right side of the line, the crowd rose to its feet, and Dean ran over and hugged her.“Thank you,” he whispered. “We weren’t too bad, were we?”The trophy ceremony, the BBC on-court interview, the congratulations from the team, the autographs for the young fans: all of these passed in a whirl. Jennifer was pleased at last to be able to close the changing room door behind her and take a deep breath. Her head was still spinning as she sat on the bench. She’d asked to be left alone, and had arranged to meet her family and friends in a couple of hours. She always liked to have some time by herself after a match, successful or not, and more than ever today she needed that personal time to relax, collect her thoughts, and prepare for the attention she’d no doubt be getting over the next few days.