Page 8 of Going for Gold (Sweet Cravings 3)

She whispered something to the DJ. He nodded and then turned down the volume on the record and jumped over the side of his equipment with a microphone.

"Alright, alright people!" screamed the DJ. Everyone stopped dancing and looked up. "Tonight we're joined by another gold medal winner. What's your name, man?" He held the microphone over to Chris.

"Chris Hamilton."

"Let's give it up for Chris!"

The people on the foamy dance floor cheered.

"Any song requests?" The DJ asked.

"Hmm...how about the thong song?"

The thong song was the first song we danced to the night we met in college. At first I thought it was sweet that he would choose that song tonight, but then I realized it meant Chris was going to want to dance with me in that horrible pit of sweat and foam.

"Excellent choice, my man." The DJ jumped back behind his booth and hit a few buttons on his laptop. He turned the volume up and waited for a spot to blend the beats. After a few seconds I heard the familiar sound of Sisqó sounding creepy talking about "the finer things in life." The bumping and grinding immediately resumed on the dance floor.

"Shall we dance?" asked Chris.

I sighed. Do we r

eally have to? "Okay, one dance."

The dance floor was even more disgusting and loud than I had imagined. I just kept telling myself that all I had to do was hang in there for one dance.

Chris spun me around and pulled my ass back onto him as I moved to the rhythm. The warm foam on my legs was repulsive, but I tried to ignore it. It didn't take long before I started to feel his erection push against my ass. That combined with the vodka I had drank and his fingers digging into my hips gave me a familiar pull in my stomach. One of his hands wandering up to my breasts just made it even worse. I dipped low and then pushed my ass up against him hard. God, I'm so horny.

Chris kept one hand on my back to keep me bent over while his other hand slid down and pushed the hem of my dress up over my ass. I put my hands on his to stop him.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"You can't just pull my dress up in front of all these people!"

"No one will notice. Come on." He grabbed at the bottom of my dress with his other hand.

I pushed him off playfully. "Sorry, babe. You know that I can't until after the tournament." Shit, he just wants sex tonight. I had to find a way out, and I couldn't just suggest we leave or he'd try to come back to my dorm room and bang me there. I looked around the club for ideas. After a second I spotted a group of guys from his swim team. I pointed over at them. "Hey, did you see that Bill and Adam are here?"

"Nope. And I'm not interested in them." He grabbed my hips to try to get me to grind on him some more.

"Come on, let's go say hi to them." I pulled him off the dance floor towards their table.

"Yo, Chris!" yelled Adam over the music as we approached. He scooted further into the booth to make room for him.

"Let's see that gold," said Bill. "Maybe that's what we need to get some girls over here."

"First we need to do some shots!" Adam stuck his hand up to try to get the attention of a waitress.

I leaned over and talked into Chris' ear. "Hey, I think I'm going to get going. I'm starting to get a headache and it's kind of late. Congrats again on winning your race." I kissed him on the cheek and walked toward the exit.

Chapter 4

Sunday

Alina

Eight years ago, the genius marketing team for the company that produces Kinesio tape had decided to donate it by the truckload to the International Tournament of Athletes. The results were exactly what they wanted - athletes covered themselves in the colorful tape in all sorts of fun patterns, creating a buzz on social media. The copy cat effect of lesser athletes was nearly instantaneous. Amateur athletes all around the world started plastering the tape all over their muscles in an effort to look like their heroes. Kristen was one of those athletes. For years she thought it was purely a fashion accessory until our trainer in college told her that there were specific methods to apply the tape that would aid blood flow and help muscles heal after workouts. She didn't care. The tape had become part of her pregame ritual, and she wasn't about to change that.

Other girls on the team had different pregame rituals. Some prayed. Others did their hair in a certain way or wore a special headband or blocked the world out with oversized, colorful, noise cancelling headphones, listening to the same playlist of five or six songs that they've listened to before every game since middle school. One girl I used to play with would tape each of her fingers and then rip the tape with her teeth, finger by finger mutating from a sweet teenage girl into a hungry wolf ready to rip the other team to shreds.

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