Posted by PK on November 14, 2001 at 17:17:01:
Venus was starting to get just a little bit uneasy. The first set had gone well enough, and she
had only lost the second on a tie-break - and she still felt she'd been robbed on one of the
line calls - but now it was well into the third and she still had no advantage at all. The
prospect of defeat was becoming, if not inevitable, a definite possiblity. And losing this
match, in this event, would be serious indeed.
It had all started, she remembered, with the campaign to make the women's prize money
equal to the men's. Not practical, they said. The men play longer, they pointed out. You just
can't get the sponsorship, they explained. Until some bright spark came up with a sure fire
way to bring attention back to the women's game.
Maybe the change in the standard dress had been the starting point, the thin end of the
wedge. Personally, Venus had stopped feeling self-conscious about it, though it had bothered
her a little at first, and in fact it had driven some of the more timid and modest souls away
from Wimbledon entirely. Not Venus. She always played Wimbledon. She wouldn't miss it for
the world. And after all, playing with nothing on between her ankles and breastbone wasn't
that much different from the way she was used to dressing on court. She had fine legs and
had always liked to show them off, why not the rest of herself? In tennis, anything more than
a sports bra and footwear was superfluous, in a practical sense. Besides, the new style was
cooler and easy to move in. It had also, more to the point, produced the desired effect on
audiences, despite the protests of a few traditionalists who complained that it ruined the time-
honoured sport of trying to see up the players' skirts when they jumped or sat down.
Of course, it helped - if that's the right word - that it had been introduced in stages, and that
some of the women players had started it themselves by playing in their underwear, or
without it. The first player who took to the court minus her panties, claiming innocently that it
gave her more freedom of movement, achieved a public following out of all proportion to her
talents. Soon others followed suit. This had caused some controversy at first, but despite
calls for a ban the officials had ruled it acceptable. When their opponents had complained,
which they did loudly and bitterly for a whole summer season, they had responded by making
it mandatory to wear a standard short skirt, or dress, with nothing underneath. More
complaints from the diehards were outweighed by vast public support and the practice
continued until the officials, tired of hearing that the peekaboo was distracting, decreed that
everyone should play naked from the waist down. Those who didn't like it were free to play
elsewhere. Some did, but more stayed. Most of the other big events had copied the idea
anyway, including the French, who were annoyed they hadn't thought of it first but even more
determined not to be outdone by the British.
None of this, of course, bothered Venus any more. She had more serious matters on her
mind, particularly after her serve was broken at three all. Being a break down at this stage
was going to be hell to come back from, and she was starting to tense up. If she didn't win it
back she'd be five three down and playing on a knife edge. An apt analogy. From there it
would be a short step, the slightest fumble, to game, set and match. And that would be
disastrous. She wouldn't get the coveted trophy, the life membership, or the huge cash prize.
She wouldn't have any use for them. All she'd get would be roasted, and a nice little runner-
up's memorial plaque in the members' lounge.
They really should have stopped at the semi-nudity, she thought now in the few moments she
had time to think. Of course, public nudity wasn't half as uncommon as it used to be, as it
was no longer illegal, but half-naked athletes were still a crowd puller and audiences were
good. The prize money was higher too, if not quite high enough for some people. Greedy,
thought Venus ruefully. The old prize would have been enough for her. She was as wealthy
as she needed to be, all she really wanted was the glory of the win. But no, the demands for
bigger prizes continued, and it had ended here. The loser of the women's final would be
roasted, her 'prize cut' awarded to the victor, and the rest of her eaten by the audience, her
adoring public. No prizes for guessing what that did for the demand for television rights, not
to mention the 'special' ticket price. In fact it had a knock-on effect on all the women's
games. Of course, nobody would play if every loser got eaten, not to mention how it would
deplete the ranks of international players if they did, but all the matches were a lead up to
that final event. The excitement, and the tension, escalated as each player qualified or got
through one more round. Were they getting closer to the big win, or the most devastating
'second prize of all? It made for tense matches and serious motivation..
Her mind emptied of anything but tennis for the next half hour. She clawed her way back,
came to match point, lost it, and had to fight back yet again. Her opponent, Tina, seemed
tireless, a demon, though Venus knew quite well she was neither. She had played the girl
before, win and lose, and knew her personally. In fact, she rather liked her. None of that
mattered now, she was fighting, quite literally, for everything.
And, unbelievably, she was eight-nine down with her opponent to serve. She could not afford
a single mistake or she was out. Fortunately the umpire ordered a rest break, possibly in view
of the fact that the next game would either be the last or the equaliser and the start of a
renewed struggle. Venus expected Tina to grumble, since she might prefer to keep the
momentum, but she didn't.
Sitting down with a towel over her lap - irrationally, the old traditional persisted - she willed
herself not to dwell on her setbacks. She had to relax and find her form again. She smiled at
the camera enthusiasts in the audience opposite, trying to get crotch shots under the towel.
Isn't it wonderful how these fine old customs hang on, she thought. All a part of the game she
loved, had given her life to. Soon, she might quite literally do that.
Funny how you get used to things, she mused. Sometime this afternoon, her opponent would
be eating her private parts, if you could call them that now, or she, Venus, would be eating
hers. The first time that possiblity had occurred to her she hadn't really fancied it. Then, when
she won the French Open last year she had done it and surprised herself with how aroused it
made her feel. Watching that lovely French girl roast....she stared at her own long brown
legs. Well, if the worst came to the worst, at least she'd look good up there.
Time was called and she stood up. feeling just a touch light headed. Her opponent bounced
up, pale legs flashing in the sun. Her shaved pubis glistened, was she aroused or was it just
sweat? Venus had resisted the growing trend towards shaving, she went so far as to trim her
own dark thatch into a neat vee shape. Personally, she thought it classier to keep it, at least
as long as she could...
If the crowd had been vociferous before, and they had, they were near hysteria now. Venus
wondered if they cheered her opponent's points just a little more than her own. Were they
getting impatient, or did they really favour her? If they did, were they really cheering because
they admired Tina's skill, or because they'd prefer to see Venus roast? Maybe she should
take it as a compliment, she thought. She always had been taught to look on the positive
side. She smiled.
For the next ten or fifteen minutes - she hardly knew, time didn't matter - Venus played the
best tennis of her life. Under pressure to close the set and match, Tina made the occasional
slight mistake and she punished them all. Accordingly, the game went to forty all, deuce, and
stayed there for some time. Each advantage was countered, each point fought to the bitter
end. Both women displayed a skill and athleticism that left the crowd breathless from
cheering, it was a display that transcended anything they'd seen. Impatience was forgotten in
the enjoyment of the moment.
Of course, it had to end. After a fierce and brilliantly inventive rally by both players, Venus
slipped while diving for an impossible return. She swung hard as she fell and two things
happened. Her desperate lob went inches wide as the crowd watched in wonder, and her
halter split. The umpire calmly announced her opponent's advantage.
Venus stood up unhurt but exposed as the crowd roared its delight, her full breasts free and
on public view at last. Then she did something very strange. Under the rules, she was
entitled to go to the locker rooms for a change of clothing. She didn't. She stood there naked
and waiting to receive the serve as a ball girl picked up the ruined garment. A fatalistic calm
settled on her as she waited, and the crowd fell silent. Tina looked a question, then shrugged
and prepared to serve for the match.
And she aced her.
Venus rose from her crouch as the crowd went wild. She walked forward calmly and shook
Tina's hand at the net. "Well played," she said, and gave her a brief hug and kiss on the
cheek.
"Good game," said Tina, radiant with victory, and added kindly, "It could have gone either
way. I thought you had me there once or twice. They'll be talking about this one for years."
Venus smiled and nodded.
They both shook hands with the umpire and Tina went to sign autographs. Venus knew that
the two rather large gentlemen approaching were there to escort her to the picnic grounds,
where she would be roasted alongside a couple of overenthusiastic tennis groupies who had
volunteered to accompany her if she lost. She nodded to them as she leaned down to pull off
her shoes and socks, which she tossed into the crowd. After taking a last look around,
absorbing the sights and sounds and smells, the very atmosphere of the place and time, she
lifted her raquet above her head in salute.
The crowd roared.