The Tennis Instructor

A fun one… I hope you enjoy.

I watch your form and can’t help but admire it.  Perfection isn’t what I’m looking for because I know what counts is largely mental but my eyes skim over your uniform like a predator waiting to pounce.

The irony is that I want you to be the predator.  Yes, your job is to strengthen my backhand but can’t we skip right to the good part?

Throughout our time together,  I continue to mention just how sore and out of shape I am, hoping there will be a bonus for struggling through this lesson.  By the end, I think I have you just where I want you.  You reward me by showing me to a remote cabana.   What starts out as a massage quickly becomes your weight on top of me.  The only thing between us the massage oil.

In that moment, feeling your weight on me, all I want to do is submit myself to you.   Perhaps it is the momentum of being pinned down or maybe its just how empty my mind feels in that moment.  My limbs act on reflex.  As the one hit wonder song from the 80’s goes…” I melt with you…”

Oh and do I melt with you and into you and on you and through you.   What did I learn from our lesson today?  My backhand needs more practice.

Music mood:  Bob Marley “jammin'”

Neurally yours,

your A+ student xo


I'm a writer and a lover not a fighter, except if I really want something.

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