Chapter 13: Like a Seal
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Fifteen minutes later, after downing four Advil and changing into his Speedos, his belief that a training session in the pool wouldn't be such a bad idea was shot to hell when Jordan emerged from the locker room wearing a simple scoop-necked black leotard and black bicycling shorts. Despite the fact she was fully covered, as she climbed into the water, the material seemed to shrink, emphasizing every nuance of her shapely figure, leaving virtually nothing to his imagination. The skin-tight fit immediately ignited his imagination and his body and he was grateful he was already waist-deep in the semi-cool water.
He listened to Whittaker and Dee explain what they planned to do and how they wanted the training session to go, and when asked about questions, received none. Jordan already knew the drill. It would be simple. The lifts would be learned, without the fear of landing on anything harder than the water and the water would aide in supporting Aleksei's weak leg. Everyone had a job to do and got ready to do it.
Jordan stood before Aleksei, the water reaching just below her breasts, teasing her already taut nipples, trying to ignore the fact that Aleksei's gaze kept wandering to her breasts. "Keep your mind on your job, Rocmanov."
"I am," Aleksei growled, his voice deep, husky.
"Put your palms on her hip bones. You're going to have to get wet Aleksei." Whittaker called from pool side. "You have to lift her with your legs which means you're going to have to get under her."
"Christ," Aleksei groaned, doing as he was told and sinking into the water until it reached his neck, placing his palms against her hip bones, his fingers wrapping around the softness of her hips and holding her securely. Her skin felt hot despite the coolness of the water and the two layers of thin cloth separating his skin from hers. It was sheer torture and he was dying.
"Jordan, put your hands on his shoulders, for now. When he gets you up..."
"If he gets me up," Jordan interrupted, ignoring Aleksei's snort of disagreement.
"When he gets you up..." Whittaker repeated, "you can let go of him."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jordan grumbled.
"Don't be a bitch," Aleksei warned.
"Don't drop me!" Jordan shot back, her eyes widening at the suddenly dangerous glint lighting Aleksei's ebony eyes.
"Shall we try it?" Whittaker suggested, casting a look at Dee for any further ideas.
"Looks good to me," Dee replied. "Let's do it."
"All right, children. On the count of two," Whittaker stated and counted off.
Jordan pushed lightly off the pool floor and Aleksei lifted her effortlessly, despite the water pouring off her sleek body. Locking his elbows, he held her steady over his head, nearly ten feet off the ground, his weak leg secure beneath him with the support of the cool, crystal clear water.
"Spread your arms, Jordan," Dee called out and she released her light hold on his broad, muscular shoulders, her hands suddenly cold after the heat of his skin. Automatically she spread her arms wide, arched her back, crossed her shapely legs at the ankles and held her position. Perfect, as expected.
"That's the position, Aleksei. How's she feel?" Whittaker asked, looking to Dee for agreement and receiving it.
Aleksei looked up, the water from her body dripping into his eyes and he shook his head to clear his vision. "Like a seal."
Whittaker smiled at his description and Jordan's snort of offense. "Well that's got to be the prettiest looking seal I've ever seen. Count yourself fortunate you're not having to lift a manatee over your head," Whittaker offered, quickly ducking away from Dee's censoring expression.
"Other than that, how does the position feel? Is your leg holding okay?" Dee questioned, taking over the questioning.
"Yeah, no problems, at all," Aleksei answered, bending his elbows slightly and shifting Jordan forward and backward to get the feel of her weight shifting over his head. He'd been right - she didn't weigh as much as a full keg of beer.
"Good, then you can bring her down," Dee stated, turning to say something to Whittaker.
The sudden shrill scream and loud splash echoed loudly off the high ceilings as the two coaches turned to see Aleksei stepping away from a thrashing Jordan. As she gained her footing on the pool's bottom and stood, she pushed her clinging hair from her face and screamed in rage at her antagonist. Aleksei stood a short distance from her, his arms crossed against his muscular, broad chest, his expression clearly stating he was more than ready to continue the battle of wills between them.
"You moron," Jordan sputtered, wincing when her fingers tangled in her hair and pulled.
"They said, 'bring you down'. They didn't say how," Aleksei offered smugly, his eyes flashing mischievously, his lips twitching as he fought to control his urge to laugh out-loud.
Whittaker wasn't so controlled and laughed uproariously, ignoring the scathing gaze of contempt she directed at him. "You find this Neanderthal behavior acceptable, even funny?" Jordan fumed, wading through the hip deep water until she reached the side of the pool. Her mind whirled madly as she tried to imagine ways to torture Aleksei, without stooping to his level of physical theatrics. She knew there was no possible way to out maneuver him physically. As much as she'd like to push him under the water and sit on his chest - for say two or three hours - the prospect of finding yet another partner and starting all over was enough to slow her urge to maim and destroy. No, there had to be a better way to put him in his place and make him see he'd picked the wrong person to play 'anything you can do, I can do better'. She had no intention of playing his 'male superiority games'. She may only be sixteen but it was time he learned she wasn't going to tolerate his 'macho attitude', he'd made the mistake of picking on the wrong member of the 'weaker sex'!
"Dee, would you take these please?" Jordan asked, wriggling out of the clinging bicycle pants and tossing them up to her coach, winking bravely at Dee's astonished expression. Her leotard may have had a simple scooped-neck, but that's where any attempt of it being conservative ended. The legs were high-cut, fashionably called a French-cut and left much of her skin visible. The shape of her legs and bottom were such that the back of the leotard could have been a thong, for as much of her bottom remained covered. When she glanced over her shoulder at Aleksei, she almost lost her nerve. Never had she seen such a look of hot, blatant desire on a man's face. But it was time to stand her ground and show him he couldn't push her around. If it meant stooping to such measures, then so be it. After all, as the saying went, 'all is fair in love and war' and this was most definitely turning into a war. "Are we going to continue this training session, Rocmanov, or are you not up to it?" Jordan taunted, walking toward him slowly through the swirling, crystal water.
If you only knew how up for it, sweetheart, his body screamed ferociously despite his silence. "Whenever you're ready," Aleksei managed in as bored a tone as he could manage, despite his tongue feeling like cotton and his body hardening painfully in response to her near nakedness. How had the tables shifted so suddenly? How could he be standing in thousands of gallons of water and still feel as if he were about to burst into flames and turn to dust? Why couldn't the water be another twenty degrees cooler? That would take care of any carnal thoughts. But then again, he knew he could be chest deep in snow, naked, and still feel the sensual fire that flamed in Jordan rage through him and set him ablaze. His only chance to survive the balance of this training session was to concentrate fully on the job of learning to lift Jordan and ignore the fact she was a semi-naked, child-siren, set on bringing him to heel. The fact that at the moment it looked more and more as if she'd won this skirmish, didn't sit well with his ego. Thankfully, it made him all the more resigned to ignore the thoughts that urged him toward forbidden territory and prove to Jordan that her body didn't tempt him at all. And if he managed to pull this off, he had beachfront property in Arizona he was interested in selling. Casting a quick glance skyward and silently asking for divine intervention, he walked deeper into the cool water, concentrating on everything but the small amount of fabric that made up Jordan's suit.
Whittaker watched the pair, shaking his head as he watched them come together, glance tentatively at each other, then look away when their eyes met. Definitely time to turn up the burner a bit, he decided and threw caution to the wind. "Okay, kids. Next lift on the agenda is what I like to call the layback..." Whittaker began, ignoring Jordan's gasp of dismay and holding up one hand to stop any additional comments. "Now, Jordan, take your position."
"Whittaker..." Jordan pleaded, casting a frantic look toward Dee, who simply shrugged, the gesture clearly stating you're on your own.
Whittaker wiggled his finger in a circular motion, and slowly she complied. Aleksei watched, a confused frown creasing his brow until he heard his coach's instructions. "Aleksei, both palms on her bottom, fingers wrapping toward her hips. Be sure you get under her again so the water supports that leg and pay attention, she's going to be slippery."
"Excuse me!?" Aleksei croaked in disbelief, twisting to face his coach and casting his own pleading expression.
Whittaker ignored his unspoken plea and again wiggled his finger, indicating he turn around. "You heard me. Positions, please."
Aleksei turned to face Jordan's shapely rear end, barely covered by the shimmering, black clinging fabric. His fingers flexed nervously, their tension climbing up his forearms and toward his shoulders. Seeking to stop the tension that threatened cramps, he rolled his massive shoulders, crossing his arms and stretching the muscles until he relaxed. Jordan remained still and silent before him, her own shoulders working out knots of tension. She could feel the heat of him as he stepped behind her, their bodies mere inches apart.
"Ready?" he asked softly, awaiting her answer.
She nodded once.
Aleksei flexed his hands once more and lowered himself into the water until it reached him mid-chest, his feet braced slightly apart. He placed his hands on her skin, cool against the heat of his palms, his fingers wrapping around her slim hips and holding steady. Jordan grasped his wrists and suddenly she was airborne, water pouring from her sleek body. She tottered back and forth, certain she was going back into the water over his shoulders but he held her firm, adjusting her weight and balance and holding her steady.
"Well?" Aleksei inquired loudly, shaking water from his face where it dripped from Jordan.
Whittaker looked from the pair to Dee and back again.
"Jordan, let go of his wrists," Dee stated, content with the position her arms took and the steadiness of their lift. "That's it," Dee approved, then suggested, "Jordan, try a lay-back."
"A what?" Aleksei asked, adjusting Jordan's weight forward as she straightened her legs forward and lay back as if on a bed.
"A lay-back," Jordan stated, groaning when her weight shifted farther back and Aleksei staggered a step backwards.
"Sorry," Aleksei mumbled, regaining control of her weight and holding the position. "We're going to do this on the ice?" he asked in disbelief.
"Hard to believe isn't it?" Jordan answered, returning to a sitting position and looking toward their coaches. "Well, what dismount are you looking for?"
"I know I'm not going to like the one he chooses," Aleksei mumbled to no one in particular.
"Aleksei, a little pop up, half twist and catch her against your chest, but not too soon or you're going to have her knees in your chest."
Aleksei groaned, remembering the position Gordeeva and Grinkov had used and grimacing as he thought about her warm, silken skin sliding against his own, mere scraps of material separating their bodies from one another, their own will power barely keeping the firestorm that threatened to overthrow them at bay. Aleksei did as instructed, tossing her easily another foot into the air. Jordan lifted her arms, aiding his powerful lift and twisted, sliding down the front of his muscled torso before his arms came around her waist to catch her and hold her tightly against him, her feet a foot off the floor of the pool. Both their breaths caught, whether from the abrupt stop or the sudden flaming of passions as their near-naked bodies met. Their eyes locked; ebony and forest green, searching, questioning, wanting, retreating.
Aleksei relaxed his hold and Jordan slid the remaining inches to the pool's floor, her breath held as she nervously nibbled her lower lip with straight, white teeth. Slowly Aleksei's arms released her waist and she stepped back, running her hands down her slim thighs and finally breaking the trance of Aleksei's gaze.
Tentatively she looked at Whittaker who looked from Jordan to Aleksei and back again.
"It needs work. Again," He boomed, turning to walk toward Dee, ignoring the groans of discontent drifting over the gently lapping water.
"You're wicked!" Dee stated, attempting to keep the smile at bay.
"Yeah, well ain't it a bitch?" Whittaker answered, a wicked smile lighting his eyes.
"How long do you intend to torment them?"
"As long as it takes."
Dee cast a glance at the pair in the pool; the intense vibrations of their ever-changing emotions toward one another filled the air with palpable electricity. "Shouldn't be too much longer," She decided.
Whittaker snorted in amusement. "Not long at all," he agreed. Casting his attention toward the athletes, his loud demand echoed off the high ceiling. "All right, children. Show me something beautiful!"
Aleksei resumed his position beside Jordan, sliding silently into the water and placing his hands as platonically as he could manage on her shapely rear-end, a hiss escaping his lips as his palms made contact with her silken, wet skin. With an easy lift, she was up and over his head, finding her balance quickly as she followed Whittaker's loudly bellowed instructions and slipped into the requested lay-back position. Aleksei cast a quick look upward, ignoring the drops of water that slipped from her shiny black swim suit on to his face and believed there was nothing more beautiful that the dripping wet nymph he held securely over his head.
Text Copyright © 2000 by Constance E. Moynihan
