Theories of Flight
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Carrying The FlagChapter 4: First Flight free porn video
"Matt, what're you doing here?"
"Long story. Come on, let's get warmed up."
"Warmed up for what? What're you doing here? Didn't you graduate? Aren't you in college?"
"You see before you an abject failure," he admitted, seemingly okay with it.
I found that hard to believe. He'd been as good at boys' gymnastics as I'd been at girls'.
But that was silly, really -- comparing apples 'n' oranges. Different apparatus. Different body types -- doh! He was older than me, and bigger, five six to my four eleven, or so. But he'd gotten the same invite to an Olympics training camp I did, only he'd taken it and I hadn't. I'd lost track of him after he'd left for the gymnastics school/camp/whatever in CornPatch, Iowa, or wherever it was.
Matt and I had been the hardest of hard-core gym rats at the club. Not competitors, obviously, but we'd been paired up for some of the club's shows with our own special stunts. They'd taken advantage of the size differential of course.
I felt an unexpected lift at the sight of him. Sure, we'd been friends, gymnastics partners even, but this was a different sort of feeling. Why was my heart racing?
And my pussy -- uh -- drooling? Failure or not he sure looked good to me.
"Long story," he went on. "Donna said you might be here. Want to try one of our show stunts as an audition piece?"
I started stretching. "Audition? I need to audition? They asked me to show up. They invited me -- Donna did. Nothing was said about an audition. You know Ashley Wilkes?"
"Not really," he admitted, stretching with me. "I worked with her a little bit last week, informal practice. Then I heard she'd quit and yesterday they told me you might be here today. I've been meaning to look you up, and this is perfect."
"But how come you're back? What happened in Iowa?"
"We just moved back here -- dad and me -- I transferred in. I wasn't about to go back to that meat market of a gymnastics club. Since Central High doesn't have gymnastics I decided to try cheerleading. I did some of that, base work, at my last school."
"Last school?" I was getting more and more confused, in a lot of different ways. Why were my palms sweating? I reached for the rosin.
"Like I say, long story. It's been a long, strange journey. Ms. Waldorf and Donna -- nice girl, by the way."
Was that jealousy I was feeling? Why?
"Remember that shoulder stand to handstand thing we did for the last show?"
Same old Matt. Trying to stop him when he's in full flight is like trying to lasso a locomotive, so I just went along for the ride, for now at least. "Sure. What about it?"
"Want to try it? It'll show you off as a flyer and me as a base."
"Jeez, I don't know. It's been a few years. I've grown -- a little -- put on some weight..."
"So've I, all muscle. I'm in great condition. At least camp did that much for me, and I've kept it up. How about you?"
"Yeah," I agreed. "But..."
He dragged me over to Waldorf and Donna. I sorta gazed around. Between Ashley's attack and this guy out of my past I was a bit stunned.
I had to admit seeing him after all this time set my heart racing. I'd had a crush on him. But when he'd left I'd figured I'd never see him again. One more loss to deal with.
Not that I'd forgotten him. Oh no! It hurt, too, but there'd been another, bigger hurt. I'd talked about him with Andrews in one of our sessions, how I'd felt toward him. She'd called it transference, or something, trying to replace what was lost.
No, wait! I'd been talking about Terrell, not Matt, that time. How could I confuse that?
Maybe it was 'cause lately I'd been trying to come to terms that in less than a year I'd lose Terrell.
Maybe my confusion was because now Matt was back this felt like something else, like my world was tilting off balance again.
I am feeling so screwed up! I should be talking with Andrews again.
Waldorf jarred me out of my daydreaming. "I hear you two know each other pretty well. Do you want to try something with him, Judy?"
I mentally rehearsed the moves while I studied Matt. I guess he'd already told them what we were going to do. Nice of him to ask me first!
He was fit. Oh boy was he fit! He'd been awesome back then, just before he'd left. I'd seen him on rings hold an iron cross, drop to swing up into a handstand. A second to kill the swing of the rings and he'd lowered into an inverted cross, held that for what seemed like forever, pressed back up into a handstand and dismounted with a double back. Whatever he'd been doing since had added bulk. He'd matured, and testosterone had done its work and that was having an effect on me as well.
I was remember whole bunches of stuff. Like there's a pretty big gap 'tween a girl nine and a boy twelve. Now I was fifteen, he was eighteen and I'd changed, too. The gap felt narrower and I sure wasn't thinking about him now the way I thought about him then. Different parts of me, parts that had waked up while he'd been away, were doing the thinking.
"Judy?"
I gave myself a mental shake. "Sorry. I remember."
I knew the stunt he was talking about. The gymnastic coaches had put on shows to market their club, at places like Rotary and schools, out-door fairs, and a couple of Matt's and my moves had been real popular. Fun, too. This one was -- challenging, you might say.
"Judy?" Donna prodded me.
I reached for the rosin again. I was gonna need it! "Okay, okay! But we need mats and spotters."
Lots of 'em, I thought.
"No doubt!" Waldorf assured us, looking skeptical. She gave her whistle a short, sharp chirp, pointing to a double layer of mats.
"Spotters over there! The more of you the better," she added.
That brought everyone. Spotters meant something interesting was gonna happen, and everyone likes a train wreck.
Oh joy. If this didn't work I'd be the one doing the wrecking. Perversely, that motivated me. I've always had that "I'll show you I can do it" attitude when someone doubts me. It's gotten me in deep shit more than once.
"Remember?" he asked.
Why did everyone keep asking me that?
But oh the memories!
"You're crazy!" Even then I was moving. The stunt was a bitch, demanding flexibility, balance and strength up the wazoo, along with super coordination between me and Matt.
The only thing missing was speed. Speed was a recipe for disaster. This was not something to be hurried.
But slow made it hard, and gave more time for muscles to give out or to make a mistake that'd bring us -- or at least me -- crashing down.
"Come ON! I already told 'em you'd remember how we did it."
"Okay, okay! But when I break my neck, just remember this was your idea!"
Shit! How do I get myself into these things? How long had it been since we'd done this? Three years?
Stop thinking! I told myself.
We moved over to the mats. The cheerleaders who'd been practicing some dance routine spread out further. The husky bases moved in around us as spotters to catch us if something went wrong.
That was a big if. I figured there was about a fifty-fifty chance I'd need them.
CONCENTRATE!
I turned my back on Matt, drew a deep breath in and let it out. When I felt his hands on my hips I gave a jump. He gave me a boost to get me up standing on his shoulders...
CONCENTRATE!
... And suddenly it felt just like old times. His hands were on my shins steadying me. After some careful adjustments he put his hands on his hips and I got settled enough to relax, even to the point of shaking the nerves out of my hands.
That got us a smattering of sarcastic applause and hoots, so I made a face at 'em. I don't think they had any idea what was coming.
I felt good, but getting up here was the easiest part.
Another deep breath. Trying to forget that damn two-and-a-half I still hadn't perfected, I reminded myself I could still pike tight enough to bite my own kneecaps.
I put everything else out of my mind but what was next.
Bending over I reached for Matt's shoulders.
Of course we could've crashed right there if we'd lost our balance but we didn't. So far so good.
Oh yeah. The balance part was really just starting. The key through this whole thing was keeping my center of gravity directly over Matt's shoulders. His job was to just stand there and take it.
Shit! How did I get myself into this?
Getting a good grip on his traps, the muscles from the sides of his neck to his shoulders, I carefully, VERY carefully shifted my weight from my feet to my hands. Wobbling a little I lifted my feet off his shoulders and immediately went slowly down to a straddle L to get steady and gather my strength.
It's like I was sitting, only my butt was actually in mid air, my legs extended outside my arms. I was carrying all my weight on my hands. That got my weight lower, which was good! I even remembered to point my toes.
Okay, not too bad so far. Now came the really hard part. I trusted him to feel me tensing up so he'd be ready.
Still balancing on my hands, moving my body forward over his head to keep my center-of-gravity -- uh -- centered over him as I did, I split my legs out wider, around outside his shoulders.
Oh shit this was hard! It was using muscles diving didn't, muscles I'd forgotten I had. Now I had to press up into a handstand, keeping everything in line and balanced, and I couldn't do it fast. Trying to do it fast would risk going too far. If I went too far I'd topple over on my back, and it looked a long way down.
On the other hand, if I went too slowly I'd run out of strength and energy before I made it all the way up. I'd fail short and tip backwards off his shoulders.
While at least I'd probably land on my feet, which would be like totally ignominious.
Wobble, wobble, wobble, strain, wobble, wobble, wobble, push up, lift my legs, straighten my waist. I was passing through a planche, my body level, legs still open. Now close the legs and get those feet up! Damn my legs were heavy!
Matt's grip shifting to my arms steadying me helped.
Up, up, upside down! Waaa!
The last few inches were easier, but don't overdo it! Get your body in line! Feel it!
Everything was in place. I'd made it! Shit! Who'd a thunk it? Oh wow! Matt was looking up at me and I was looking down at him.
With me now upside-down he was facing one way, me the opposite. A mutual little nod and he let go of my arms and put his hands on his hips, just showin' off like he was Superman or somethin'. Here I'd done all the work and he was just standing around!
But that wasn't fair. He was working just as hard keeping everything in line over his feet. I was looking straight down into his incredible blue eyes, my pigtail dangling in his face, the cords of muscle I had a grip on standing out on the sides of his neck. I could see the strain on his face.
Okay, I guess he was working, too.
Holy shit! We did it!
But we couldn't relax for a second. A wiggle by either of us in any direction and I'd come crashing down.
The chattering and nattering in the gym had gone silent. Out of the corners of my eyes all I saw was popping eyes and open mouths. Talk about circus acts!
Gritting my teeth I concentrated on simple survival. How long was I s'posed to hold this?
"Remember? Legs? The splits?" Matt asked, his voice strained.
Leg splits in a handstand? That was simple balance beam stuff. Yeah, of course I'd done it, but... ,"You gotta be kidding!"
"Chicken!"
Damn him! He knows I can't resist that challenge. "Do the spotters know how we're going to get out of here?"
I was stalling? That's nuts! Get me outta here!
"Just yell 'down' and let it happen," Matt reminded me. "When it's time, of course!"
"Confident, aren't you."
"In you? Yeah."
That gave me a good feeling.
"I know you can do it. Now quit talking and do it!" he ordered.
"Yessir!"
Still in my handstand I slowly split my legs out, side to side, keeping them in line with my body the whole way. Close 'em up. God help me if I tore a groin muscle!
After I got them back together I scissored them front and back, which is easier, but I was digging holes in Matt's shoulders with every little shift in my center of gravity. Good thing I kept my fingernails short.
Then I decided to go him one better. "Don't move," I choked out so he knew I wasn't quite finished yet.
"I'm not goin' anywhere.
"It's a good thing!"
"What're you thinking?"
"Stag, then dismount."
"Go for it."
Instead of just closing the scissors I bent my knees into an inverted stag position, carefully pointing my toes. I had to arch my back almost painfully to maintain my balance, my gut muscles straining like you wouldn't believe. As a little kid it had been easy for me. This reminded I was no longer a kid. Maybe I was still little, but I wasn't as limber.
A drop of sweat broke away from the tip of my nose and hit Matt's upper lip.
He licked it away. It may have looked like we were grinning at each other but we were both really grimacing.
"I'm dying up here!" I gasped, still holding the stag, him still steadying me the little he could.
His nod was infinitesimal, enough for me to know he was ready for the dismount.
"DOWN!" I yelled.
Matt let go. As he tilted forward I bent my arms to get a good push and pushed off hard as I could, leaving him behind, tucking, going for a front flip, hoping to God either I'd land on my feet or the spotters would catch me.
Yeah, right. I shoulda made sure they got the memo. I didn't have quite enough rotation to stick the landing. My heels hit the mats at an angle and slipped, which meant the spotters missed catching me. I came down hard on my ass about ten feet out from where Matt had been standing, skidding on my butt.
While all this was going on Matt had tucked to do a forward roll, but ran out of space, finishing on his ass, too, his legs straddling me. Like the team we were, we spread our arms, trying to make it look like we'd planned it that way.
Then he wrapped me up in his arms and both of us were laughing hysterically. He lay back, pulling me back on top of him.
We got a standing ovation but we were too pooped to take a bow. We managed limp waves. My arms felt like overcooked linguini, my shoulders protesting mightily, and my stomach muscles ached like someone had jumped on them.
For a while we just laid there. Gee his arms felt good around me, and his hands were flat, low on my torso. Very low. Or was that high on my thighs, very high?
Let's just say his fingers were very close to my pussy. He could've played chopsticks on my mons.
That made me think of Terrell, so I shifted them to my aching tummy, feeling all sorts of good tingly stuff in spite of myself.
And what was that I was feeling prodding me in the ass? It was hard, pushing.
Yeah, right.
Only thoughts of Terrell kept me from moving Matt's hands higher, to the hard sensitive nipples topping my aching pectorals, or lower where he could take up his piano recital and make me sing. At least he didn't show any signs he knew what he as doing to me.
Darn it.
"Okay, show's over. Let's get to work." The rush of our performance fading, Waldorf gave Matt and me a break while she started rehearsing the rest of the cheerleaders. Still on my back on Matt, looking around, I knew most of them, guys and girls, by sight if not by name, 'cept the frosh.
Some were former gymnasts like Ashley and me who'd either outgrown gymnastics or just pulled out of the club. When Matt had called the club a meat market he was right. The owners thought they were the next Karolys. If you couldn't stick a double-back layout four times out of four by the time you were ten they weren't much interested in you. But if you could they marketed you like a prime steak.
Still in his arms I looked over my shoulder at him. "We were nuts to try that, you know. How many years has it been since we did it?"
He laughed. "Three, but who's counting?"
"A lot changed in three years!"
"So what? It worked! We got the job."
"By some sort of miracle. We didn't stick the landing, though. My butt hurts. I think I got blisters."
"Want me to rub 'em?"
Maybe he was aware of his effect on me.
Or maybe not, 'cause he went on.
"Your butt? My shoulders have holes drilled in 'em from your fingers."
"Aawww. It was your idea."
"Just remember, any landing you walk away from..."
" ... is a good landing," I finished for him, flexing my aching fingers. "But we didn't earn any style points."
"You got to admit it was fun!"
"It was that, but don't ask me to do it again right away."
"I need water." He rolled me off him to go for a bottle out of the cooler.
So much for foreplay. I sat up. Matt sucked on the water bottle before offering it to me.
I reached for it and took a long draw. "So give. What're you doing here? What's this 'long story' you keep talking about? How come you're still in high school?"
He was watching Waldorf choreographing a new routine, their yells ringing off the rafters. He nodded along with the beat as if it was familiar. "What is it geezers say about us failures? I'm the product of a misspent youth."
"Get out of here. You're no failure. And gymnastics is not mis-spent."
"Oh yeah? And what are you left with when it's over?"
"Medals?"
"Can't eat medals."
I had to admit he had a point. Where do worn out athletes go? Especially the ones from sports like gymnastics or water polo? Or diving, for that matter? At least figure skaters have some thriving tours. For the rest of us there's not much market, even for the best, no big league contracts.
Dee had pointed that out to me when I'd been considering my chance at the Olympics gymnastics team.
How many opportunities are there out there for Mary Lou Rettons when the music stops? Even if there's money in your pocket what do you do for an encore?
Matt shrugged. "You know I got sucked into that same gymnastics school-camp thing you did."
"And I caught three kinds of hell when I turned down the 'invitation.'" After handing him the bottle back I did the finger-hook thing.
"How so?"
"I was accused of letting the club down, the team down, the county down, the state down. Hell, the whole country. I was called a traitor and a fool, and some other worse things by certain people in this town."
"Why did you turn it down?" Matt asked. "It looked like a golden chance at the Olympics."
"I didn't want to leave home. Because, you know, it wasn't all that long after my brother was killed." I picked nits off the mat, not looking at him.
"Yeah. That was bad."
"I couldn't leave my parents, 'specially Me. You know her and me, we're close. And Cha. Well, you know him, too. Bao was his son -- his only son. I couldn't do that to 'em, and I couldn't ask 'em to move across the country like yours did."
We were swapping the bottle back and forth.
"I didn't ask 'em to move.That was my mom's idea. I could've gone alone. I was old enough. It'd be like summer camp without the mosquitoes. I think she wanted to bask in my reflected glory, or something."
"Did she push you into gymnastics? How old were you when you started?"
"'bout the same age you were. At first she just wanted me outta the house after school."
"Really? Why?"
"I think she was -- uh -- doing some entertaining behind Dad's back. I was too little to understand back then, of course."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Anyway, I didn't mind gymnastics. Loved 'em in fact. I was an only child and the club was fun, 'specially when you got there. What's your excuse?"
"Me and Cha both worked, Bao was at boot camp. The club was my baby sitter."
"I'm glad. Anyway, when I started to show some ability, and Nat and Bud started talking up my golden future, that caught on with my mom. She was always wanting more and saw me as a way to get it."
I handed the water bottle back to him. "Me, I still might have gone, but I talked with Dee Walker. She knew I was having trouble, and why. She warned me off it, I guess you could say."
"Maybe it was sour grapes? She missed her own chance at the Olympics swim team." He dribbled some water over his sweaty head, his curly black locks sparkling.
"Sour grapes? Dee?" I rose to her defense. "Never! She broke her neck on the diving board her junior year. That put her out of diving, and put end to her swimming for the year. She couldn't train. That put her out of the trials."
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