Pete was never happier than he was the next six months. Winning the intra-club tournament gave him the confidence he had been lacking and his tennis jumped to the next level. Proving his victory was no fluke, he started to dominate his peers and quickly moved up to the #1 court There was no one at Saddlebrook that could beat him and only a few could give him a good match. Pete looked forward to playing the pros that visited Saddlebrook for rehab or to take a break from the week-to-week grind of the pro tour. Ambre was a constant companion and the light of his life.
More and more Pete practiced with Ambre. His service game was too strong for Ambre to beat him in a head-to-head match, but their groundstrokes were almost equal. Take away the serves, and they were evenly matched. More importantly, Ambre had the knack of working on the area of his game that needed improvement. Conversely, Pete gave her the pace she needed to prepare for the big girls on tour. It no longer was just the Sisters and Davenport that were bashing the ball, it was the teenagers from Eastern Europe with names ending in “ova” or “eva”. Martina joined the drills once a week in preparation for her scheduled comeback.
Ironically, some of Pete’s success could be traced back to the ill-fated experiment with the one-handed background. The experiment had been a disaster, but there were residual benefits. His court coverage had improved tremendously, mostly because of the work he put in on conditioning and footwork drills, but part of his success was a result of using the one-hander when stretched wide to his left. He now had the ability to come over the ball and hit passing shots rather than simply slicing the return.
Another difference was Pete’s sliced approach on short balls. The one-handed sliced approach allowed him to knife his approach shots. The ball stayed low and forced his opponents to hit up as he took the net. The two-hander created more topspin resulting in a high bounce and an easier passing shot for his opponent. That’s one reason why many players with only a two-handed backhand are reluctant to come to the net.
Pete’s improved tennis was only half the reason for his happiness, the smaller half. His relationship with Ambre soared. He had never been happier than he was when they were together. He dreaded the weekends when one of them played an out of town tournament.
“Ambre, what are you doing Thanksgiving?” Pete asked one evening while they were sitting at a restaurant in north Tampa. “Do you have a tournament that weekend?”
“I don’t think so. What do you have in mind?”
“I was hoping you would come home with me for the holiday weekend and join us for Thanksgiving dinner. We could hang out with my family and maybe play a little tennis at our club if we feel like it. It’s going to be pretty dead at Saddlebrook.”
“Sure, that sounds like fun. It’s a date. Do I get a separate room?” she asked with a coy smile.
Pete blushed, despite himself. It had been six weeks since their first night together, but he still had trouble talking about sex. Ambre was not nearly as inhibited and usually was the aggressor. It must be her European background, he thought. Europeans didn’t have the same Catholic hangups about sex that Americans did.
“Don’t even think about it,” Pete replied. “I couldn’t, not in my parent’s house.”
“We’ll see,” Ambre said with a twinkle in her eye.
Groundbreaking for the new Saddlebrook Sports complex was scheduled for September 1st. The land was cleared and we were ready to start construction. It had been a hectic three months.
Marco was all right with the construction schedule as soon as he learned that Saddlebrook had already secured most of the required building permits and the Pasco County building commission had approved the site plan. It had taken only six weeks to review and modify the rough drawings and develop the final architectural plans thanks to a new computerized CAD system that cost over $125,000.
Marco had nine months to complete the project, more than enough time we told him.
“I promise you I will kill the next person that tells me what else you can do in nine months,” Marco said without humor.
Thanksgiving came around sooner than Pete expected. He had just returned from the National Clay Court Championships where he had lost in the semifinals to the top ranked junior in the United States. Pete had served for the second set at 5-4 but had missed two easy volleys and was broken. He eventually lost the tiebreaker and the match. Still, it was a good showing. His Florida ranking had risen to number three and he was ranked #22 nationally, more than enough to get a full tennis scholarship to almost any school.
Ambre returned Monday after competing in the U. S. Open in Flushing Meadows, New York. She had received a wild card into the main draw as a result of her win at the Orange Bowl. She won her first round match in straight sets before losing in a televised match to the thirteenth seed. Her game was almost there. She was ranked number two in the world juniors, 18 and under. Ambre had just turned 16.
Saddlebrook was almost a ghost town by the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. Most of the kids were already heading home including half the Europeans. Those not going home were invited to spend the weekend with a friend or coach. All were accounted for.
Ambre had spent so much time traveling to tournaments that she had three makeup exams to take before the holiday, the last one a 9 AM Chemistry exam Wednesday morning. Her roommates left Tuesday, making it an ideal study environment. About 10 PM Ambre called and asked Pete to come over and quiz her on the elements. Pete quickly learned that Ambre was the teacher and he was the willing student. It wasn’t the first time they had made love, but it was the best. In fact, it was also the 2nd, third and fourth best. Pete had never met anyone that was so open about sex. It was almost 8:30 AM when Pete woke up the next morning with his arms still holding Ambre. “Wake up; you’ll be late for your exam.”
“We still have time, Pete. Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss the test after all the studying we did last night. Let’s take a shower.”
“No, get your pretty little butt moving. You need to pack so we can leave right after. I want to get home for lunch. Get moving.”
“It’s your fault. If you weren’t so good in bed I would be ready,” Ambre whimpered as she kissed him gently before heading to the shower. Pete lay back in bed and thought how lucky he was.
“This is it Ambre, we are home,” Pete said pointing to the four-bedroom ranch home that he had lived in since his parents had moved down from Wisconsin eight years ago.
“It’s beautiful, Pete. I like it. It’s just like you told me.”
“Mom, Dad, is anyone home?” Pete called as they entered the house. “Where is everybody?”
There was a note on the refrigerator; “Pete & Ambre, make yourself at home. We’re at work - should be home by five - Lisa; tennis practice after school - sandwiches in the frig - Love you!”
“Let’s put our stuff away and I’ll show you around.” The ranch house was a split plan with the master bedroom on one side and the three bedrooms on the other including the guest room where Ambre would stay. A fifth bedroom had been converted to an office.
“Why can’t I sleep with you?” Ambre asked as she pressed her hips against him.
“Don’t even think about it,” Pete replied too quickly as he pulled back quickly before Ambre could feel the reaction she had caused. Come on, I’ll show you the back. In fact, let’s get some lunch and eat out by the pool.”
“This is so peaceful,” Ambre commented as they looked out on the golf course and the large rose garden. “It’s so private.” It was indeed private. The house was U-shaped with the bedrooms sheltering the neighbors on either side and waist high hedges provided privacy from the golf course.
“I like to sit outside and read,” Pete answered as he laid back on the chaise lounge, remembering the times he had spent out on the pool deck with his parents and sister. Still tired from last night and content from lunch, Pete was starting to nod off. The 78-degree temperature didn’t help. He must have dozed for a few minutes because he was startled by the loud splash.
; Ambre apparently had other ideas about how to spend the afternoon. Pete jumped up in time to see Ambre come to the surface, her nipples erect from the cool, November water. She was obviously naked. “Come on in, the water’s great.”
Pete hesitated for only a moment before he threw off his clothes and jumped into the water, trying to hide his growing erection. Pete swam to Ambre and lifted her out of the water and held her against him while she purred in contentment.
Fifteen minutes later Ambre was astride him on the lounge cushions that they had pulled down onto the pool deck. Pete wasn’t sure why, but his first afternoon delight was even better than last night; or this morning. It might have been the outdoors or the risk of making love in the house he grew up in, but Pete was in heaven although he didn’t think heaven would be this loud.
Lisa had been looking forward to this weekend for two months, ever since Pete had told her he was bringing Ambre home over Thanksgiving weekend. Lisa was now ranked #14 in the State 16s and was eager to match her game against Ambre’s. They were approximately the same age and Lisa reasoned that there couldn’t be that much difference in their games. Pete had cautioned her that Ambre was very good, but Lisa was confident.
School was over at noon and coach had canceled practice. Lisa couldn’t wait to get home and was happy to see Pete’s car in the driveway. “Pete, I’m home,” Lisa called as she came in the front door and into the kitchen. “Where are you?” she called.
Lisa heard noises and a loud shriek that seemed to come from the swimming pool area. Alarmed, Lisa ran onto the patio just as Pete and Ambre were simultaneously reaching utopia. Lisa, a virgin, couldn’t believe the noises that she heard and the ferociousness that this girl was pounding down on her brother. Lisa was shocked, but seemed rooted to the ground. Her feet wouldn’t move as she stared into Ambre’s eyes.
Ambre looked up and saw Lisa standing, mouth agape. Ambre smiled, and redoubled her efforts and noise level. She was obviously enjoying the attention. Pete was oblivious to everything, lost in his own pleasure. His groans were matching Ambre’s causing a four-some on the golf course to stop and look over at the unseen lovers.
After what seemed minutes, but was probably only 30-45 seconds, Lisa broke the spell and screamed, “Stop it, this is my house too,” and ran back into the house.
Pete immediately sensed what had happened and tried to get up despite Ambre’s attempts to prolong her pleasure. She was still turned on by the audience as well as Pete. “Ambre, get off, that was Lisa, wasn’t it? Did she see us?”
“See us!” Ambre laughed. “She has been watching for the last 10 minutes” Ambre exaggerated.
“Get dressed, this isn’t funny,” Pete said in anger as he hurriedly slipped into his clothes. “I need to go talk to her.”
“You had better do something about that bulge or she won’t be able to concentrate on what you are saying,” Ambre kidded.
“This isn’t funny, Ambre,” Pete said angrily.
Ambre realized Pete was done kidding and began to slip into her clothes, but not before she provocatively rubbed her hand over her still naked breasts and mouthed a silent “thank you” to Pete. His look told her that he was still mad, but she was forgiven.
Ten minutes later Pete came back outside where Ambre had dressed and straightened up the cushions. “Is she okay?”
“I’m not sure. She says it’s no big deal, but she wouldn’t let me into her bedroom. It’s tough talking through a closed door.”
“She’ll get over it, just give her time. Your little sister probably didn’t realize the meaning of big-brother until today.”
Lisa was still in her room when Mary and I got home at 4:00, and begged off going to Chili’s for dinner despite our pleas. “Let her stay home,” Mary suggested, “it wouldn’t be any fun for her with an upset stomach.”
Mary’s family tradition was to serve Thanksgiving dinner mid-afternoon, a tradition we normally continued. This year we pushed it back to 5 PM because all the kids slept until almost 11 and didn’t finish breakfast until noon. Pete and Ambre were hungry and did justice to the waffles, fried eggs and sausage. Lisa was feeling a little better but just picked at her food before going back to her room. Dinner was more of the same, Lisa was still out-of-sorts and contributed little to the dinner conversation. It was obvious that something was bothering her.
“What’s wrong with Lisa?” I asked Mary. “There seems to be some friction going on between her and Ambre, don’t you think?”
“Something is going on, but I don’t know what. Pete said nothing happened yesterday although I’m not sure.”
“Well, let them work it out. They are supposed to hit Saturday morning and I know Lisa has been looking forward to that for some time. Maybe tennis will help break the ice?”
“I just hope Lisa doesn’t think she can beat her,” Mary replied. “She will be in for a rude awakening.”
Saturday’s tennis started on a light note with a doubles match; Pete and Lisa took on Mary and Ambre. I was watching from the clubhouse and it was apparent that Pete and Ambre were holding back while Mary and Lisa were playing all out. Pete was content with spinning his serves to his mother, and only occasionally going for a hard first serve against Ambre. He managed to ace her once out wide, but the other times the return came back hard and low to his feet. The second time Pete netted the volley and drew a “is that all you got?” dig from Ambre. The temperature was starting to rise.
Mary was serving to Pete at 30-40, 4-5 in the second set when it happened. Pete rifled a backhand up the line, which Ambre just managed to get a racquet on, popping the ball straight up and barely over the net. Lisa reacted quickly; “mine,” she shouted as she closed in for the easy overhead. I couldn’t tell whether it was intentional or not, but Lisa’s overhead was struck solidly and caught Ambre directly in the chest from point blank range. The sound of the ball smacking into her chest was sickening. As Ambre fell to the ground people came running from all directions. Mary was the first to reach her and was holding Ambre upright as Pete hurdled across the net. “Are you okay?” Pete asked.
“Wow, if this is a friendly game, I hate to play with you guys when you get competitive.”
“I’m sorry, Ambre” Lisa said unconvincingly. “I wasn’t trying to hit you; I was just trying to close the net before the ball got too low. I’m sorry.”
Ambre was struggling to her feet massaging a bruise below her left shoulder. “No problem,” Ambre replied, “I’ve been hit a lot harder; I’ll be fine.”
“Why don’t you take a break so you can check out your shoulder,” I suggested. “Let’s put some ice on it.”
“No, that’s okay Mr. Simpson. I don’t need a break. Besides, I thought Lisa wanted to hit a little bit with me this weekend. What do you say, Lisa, do you want to play a set?”
It sounded innocent, but something told me that this wasn’t an idle request. I glanced at Mary and could tell she too, was apprehensive. Even Pete seemed to guess that something else was going on here and suggested we go inside. If Lisa knew, she didn’t let on. “Sure, Ambre, that would be fun.”
In hindsight, I should never have let them play. My instincts told me that, but I didn’t listen. It was the longest, most agonizing set of tennis that I ever witnessed. The set only took 20 minutes, but it seemed to go on forever as we watched our daughter get crushed by a more talented and spiteful girl. It was humiliating. Lisa was completely dominated in every aspect of the game. She managed only two points in the six games, one a double fault when Ambre tried to ace her on set point. Even Pete was embarrassed. The girls smiled and shook hands when the set was over but there was no warmth.
Mary later said that sometimes a parent can’t do anything but watch, and this was certainly one of those times. “I feel sorry for Pete,” she said to me as we lay in bed. “He is obviously smitten by this girl and it must have been difficult to watch what she did to Lisa.”
“It wasn’t just getting hit with the overhead,” I
offered. “There has been something going on between the two all weekend. They obviously don’t like each other.”
“I’ll say this for her, she sure can play tennis. I just hope Pete is smart enough to see the anger in her and not just the pretty face and gorgeous figure. There was no excuse for what she did to Lisa today.”
“I just hope it doesn’t destroy Lisa’s desire to play tennis. I think she has a good future if she applies herself. Maybe she isn’t as good as Ambre, but she could be a pretty good college player.”
“We’ll see,” Mary replied thoughtfully. “Lisa has only been playing competitively less than a year. She might surprise you.”
Chapter 19
Carlos Comes to Saddlebrook