by Alison Ryan
“Good. Is it weird that I want him to win a medal more than I want to win one myself?” Logan couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud. But crazy enough… It was true.
“Maybe a little. But it doesn’t matter. We’re winning one with or without you, so you might as well jump on board the Medal Train now. Choo-choo!” Savannah danced around the room making train noises while Logan collapsed on the bed, laughing. She wished she hadn’t forbade Solomon to visit. She missed him terribly. With his event wrapping up the next morning, she hoped they’d have more time together, preferably alone.
The USWNT had a light practice session in the morning, with Logan going full bore, no restrictions. When the trainer commended her on following all the protocols he had laid out for her recovery from injury, Logan giggled, recalling the unique “physical therapy” she’d received, courtesy of Solomon.
The fact was, she felt great and ready to return to action. Her ankle had healed as much as could be expected and she felt like she had her normal burst of speed and change of direction back. All she wanted was to get done, get cleaned up, grab lunch, and go root for her man.
Chapter Thirty-One
Solomon
Solomon had taken a morning jog on Copacabana Beach, letting the sand and surf take him back to his carefree childhood. He hadn’t told anybody where he was going, and when he strolled back up the beach he found his phone full of texts. Gavin had sent several urgent messages wondering where Solomon was and imploring him to return to the Village. Evidently, Solomon had an important visitor who wanted to meet him for lunch.
All of Solomon’s relatives who could afford to travel were already in Rio, so he couldn’t begin to imagine who it was that it was so important he rearrange his schedule to meet. He’d planned a light lunch and a nap before heading to the venue.
After a shower, Solomon met Gavin downstairs, where he walked him over to the parking area, where a limousine sat. As Solomon approached, the door opened and out stepped a regal middle-aged man in a smart blue suit.
None other than Frank Bainimarama, Prime Minister of Fiji.
“Ratu?” Solomon asked, in disbelief, a title reserved for great chieftains.
The PM smiled warmly and extended his hand, which Solomon shook.
“Bula, Solomon. I had to be here to witness such a tremendous moment in the sporting history or our nation. Would you and your uncle join me for lunch?”
Solomon stared at Gavin, who shrugged and smiled back. The limousine took the group to a restaurant overlooking the city, an exclusive steakhouse, or churrascaria, frequented by Rio’s movers and shakers.
“I was recommended this place by a friend from our embassy in Brasilia. I’m sorry you can’t enjoy everything they offer with such an important match this evening, but I hope there’s a little something here to give you the energy you need,” Ratu Bainimarama offered. “If you like it, come back anytime you like during the rest of the Games, when you can eat your fill. Just give them my name and it will be taken care of.”
Solomon really did wish he could gorge himself, and out of respect Gavin and the PM ate light meals despite the outstanding quality of the food on offer. Solomon had never tasted several of the dishes, but one was better than the next.
Gavin and Solomon were both impressed by the PM’s knowledge of sports in general and judo in particular, and it was clear he’d been following Solomon’s progress closely. If it wasn’t clear enough to him before, Solomon now knew without question that the eyes of an entire nation were upon him.
Hours later, with the venue jammed to capacity, Solomon performed his final warmups with Adonis DeCarlo standing across the mat. Logan was in the crowd, Savannah at her side, a section over from the DeCarlo family. One of Logan’s new Fijian friends, a cousin of Solomon’s, had pointed out to her the Prime Minister of Fiji seated in a box overlooking the crowd with other dignitaries. Little did she know; Solomon had dined with him earlier that afternoon.
Gavin took Solomon’s hands in his own as they met for last minute instruction before the referee summoned both judoka to the center of the mat.
“I love you, Solomon. I’m incredibly proud of you. I can’t even imagine how proud your dad would be of the fighter and of the man you’ve become. This is what you’ve been waiting for. Don’t do it for me, don’t do it for Fiji, do this for you. This is years of your hard work distilled into five minutes. You may never have a more important five minutes. Most people don’t. Take this moment by the throat.” Just when the emotion and magnitude of the moment, the intensity of his uncle’s words threatened to overwhelm him, Gavin leaned in close.
“Now go kick his pompous ass.”
Solomon broke into a wide grin and approached the referee, bowing to him and to his opponent.
The two fighters circled one another, on the balls of their feet, ready to pounce. Both wanted to do more than win, they wanted to hurt, embarrass, and destroy.
Logan squeezed Savannah’s hand so hard that Savannah had to ask her to loosen her grip before she drew blood.
The DeCarlo contingent were poised on the edge of their collective seats, prepared to explode when Adonis ended the match and claimed his medal.
The minutes ticked by, and each time the pair came together, they were like children touching a hot oven, and they’d spring back, neither wanting to make the mistake that would end the match. As the clock struck four minutes, the two men clinched hard, and the pushing, pulling, and strategic stepping, foot over ankle over foot began. They crashed to the floor together, neither credited with a throw or takedown, and began to grapple in earnest.
Adonis took Solomon’s back, sinking a forearm across his throat and pulling back, hard. With legs wrapped around Solomon’s waist, escape looked impossible. The match would end when Solomon tapped out or passed out. Adonis gained position and applied the hold perfectly.
Solomon refused to tap, although white spots began to appear in his field of vision and his lungs screamed at him to find a way out. He pulled feebly at Adonis’s arm, but to no avail.
Things seemed bleak, but just then, he heard something, something far away. A female voice, the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard, or actually never heard, was speaking. Not to him, exactly, but out loud, to herself, and he was there somehow.
“Hang on, little baby. Just hang on a little bit longer. We can do this together. Please don’t quit on me. I’ll never quit on you. Together. You’ll always be my baby. I love you so much.”
The voice, though desperate, was beautiful and melodic. It compelled him to fight. To battle. To struggle. To persist. To survive.
It was the voice of Karalaini. Solomon’s mother. As she clung to a piece of wood, floating in the exhausted aftermath of a storm. From the deepest recess of Solomon’s subconscious, when he needed her most.
The round ended, to the disappointment of Adonis. He couldn’t believe the choke hadn’t ended the fight. It was as deep as could be, and there was no earthly reason Solomon was still awake.
Solomon bounced up off the mat, invigorated. The crowd buzzed. The knowledgeable judo people among them knew how deadly effective such a choke was, and they couldn’t fathom the grit it took to withstand it.
The two men were called back to the mat after conferring with their coaches, and action resumed. Any sort of takedown or throw at this point would lock in a medal. There was no circling, no hesitation. They came together immediately, and almost as quickly went for the same trip, crashing to the floor together. This time, however, Solomon gained top position first, sinking in a choke of his own. Adonis kicked and tried to spin into Solomon, but failed. When Solomon felt him begin to go limp, he realized he’d won.
And he let go.
He didn’t want Adonis to lapse into unconsciousness. He wanted to force him to submit. To tap out or to say “maitta” indicating he’d given up. Solomon bounced to his feet and waited for Adonis to regain his senses. Again, the arena buzzed, and Gavin looked flabbergasted.
Adonis took his time returning to his feet, shaking the cobwebs loose in his skull and sucking in air through his nose. When next the two men clashed, Solomon twisted Adonis into a standing submission hold, twisting an arm up and behind his back while wrapping a leg around Adonis to prevent escape. The move was risky, the counter a throw that would finish things, but Solomon’s grip was like iron.
Adonis flexed, pulled, tried to kick, all to no avail. He hung his head and said, just loud enough for the referee to hear, “Maitta.”
The match was over. Adonis collapsed and Solomon could not hide his glee. Tradition called for bows, and they were given, but once decorum was satisfied, the party began. Prime Minister Bainimarama applauded wildly in his box, and Logan screamed and wept for joy.
Gavin hugged his nephew, but was never one to miss a teaching moment, speaking directly into Solomon’s ear over the din of the crowd. “Let’s never do that again, okay? Squeeze the choke until the fight is over. There are no points for degree of difficulty. Nice job, by the way.”
Solomon smiled. “Sure thing, Uncle.”
He’d won. Solomon Kano had risen.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Logan
The USWNT handled Canada by the same score as the last time the two teams met, 2-0, advancing to a quarterfinal date with the host nation. Logan had much to look forward to.
Most of Solomon’s family and teammates left for home once judo and the other various events in which they competed were over, but Solomon elected to stay and support Logan in her quest for gold. He and his bronze medal were prominent deputized members of Uncle Sam’s Army for a tense semifinal victory over Brazil that took overtime before Leah Beierle’s goal from a corner kick broke a 2-2 deadlock and sent the United States to the gold medal game, a rematch with France.
Solomon and Logan became inseparable over the weeks in Rio, and unless Logan was attending a team function, she could be found with the 90 kilo judo bronze medalist.
“I feel like going swimming,” Solomon said one night as he lay on his bed with Logan, the two of them tangled up in each other’s arms and legs.
“The pool here is gross,” Logan replied. “It’s always packed and by now I don’t even want to imagine what might be in that water with all the hooking up that’s been going on since events have started ending and people have been down for more fun.”
“I know; I wouldn’t go near that pool. I was actually thinking of another pool. The Olympic pool. Where we watched the diving,” Solomon answered.
“Just how are we supposed to get in there?” Logan asked.
“Think about it; Brazil is playing in the soccer semifinal in a little while. Do you really think security at the swimming and diving center is going to be anybody’s top priority? Besides, I have a skeleton key to get into any venue in Rio, remember?” Solomon lifted the ever-present bronze medal from his chest and dangled it in front of Logan.
“You’re crazy,” Logan said, looking into Solomon’s eyes. “But I like it. We ought to at least try. Let me go back and get my suit.”
Solomon rose to his feet. “Who said anything about swimsuits? The only thing I’m wearing into that pool is my medal.”
Logan laughed. “You and that medal. Are you ever planning to take it off?”
“Nope! Wait until you get yours. You’ll see,” Solomon teased. “Now let’s go. I can’t wait any longer.”
After some major league eyelash-batting from Logan and medal-flashing from Solomon, the pair flirted and snuck their way into the darkened Olympic swimming and diving venue with the promise that if they were discovered they’d claim they broke in completely on their own. As Solomon figured, the eyes of all Brazilians were on the Maracana Stadium, site of Brazil’s soccer semifinal match. Nobody was paying attention to an empty pool.
Alone in the venue, Logan and Solomon admired the expanse of water, so still it could have been a pane of glass. They walked over to the diving boards, three meters above the pool, and platform, which looked even higher than its actual ten-meter height.
“Want to?” Logan asked Solomon, holding onto the railing for the ladder leading to the platform.
“I don’t love heights, and there’s no way I’m jumping, but I’ll go up and have a look around, sure,” Solomon replied.
Solomon climbed behind Logan, both as a safety net and to enjoy the view of her toned calves rippling each time she extended her legs. When they reached the top, they held hands and slowly approached the edge, peering down into the water.
“Yikes.” Said Logan. “This makes all the stuff we watched even more impressive.”
Solomon looked down again and then all around, imagining being up on the platform in front of a packed house, imagining the adrenaline rush that would come with a perfect dive.
Lost in his daydream, he didn’t even notice that Logan was stripping down to her swimsuit, or to be more precise, her birthday suit.
“Wow, Logan, I…” He stammered.
“Aren’t you the one who suggested skinny-dipping? And now you’re all bashful? Don’t worry, you can keep your medal on, champ,” she joked.
Solomon didn’t need an engraved invitation. He pulled off his t-shirt, and kicked off his shorts, standing stark naked across the platform from an equally bare Logan Lowery.
“I would be so dead if Coach P could see me now,” Logan said, her hands strategically placed to cover as much of her nakedness as she could.
“Yeah, I don’t think this is exactly what the Prime Minister had in mind when he told me how ‘proud Fiji and her people were’ of me. But who cares? They’ve all enjoyed themselves at our expense, right? It’s time we had something just for ourselves.”
Solomon stepped across the platform, placing a hand on Logan’s face, and kissed her deeply. Logan’s bashfulness receded as she returned the kiss, feeling Solomon’s medal swing and come to rest atop her breasts. Their hands explored each other’s sides and backs, fingertips dancing on bronzed flesh.
Breaking the kiss, they exchanged a smile and then a deep stare. “Winning this medal, I thought, was going to be the greatest thing that I’d ever done. Or had ever happened to me. But I was wrong. Nothing could make me happier than you. You’re driving me crazy, Logan Lowery.”
Logan kissed Solomon again, and his arms enveloped her. She reached down and felt his ample manhood hardening against her. He gasped at her touch.
Squeezing his cock to emphasize her point, Logan looked Solomon in the eye. “If you want this anywhere near me, meet me in the pool.”
With that, Logan took two steps and leapt from the platform, slicing through the water as straight as a pencil, surprised that even jumping from three stories up, she didn’t touch bottom.
Solomon was stunned, but despite his protestation that he couldn’t possibly jump, Solomon smartly ditched his medal onto the pile of clothes and he took the plunge. Logan had resurfaced off to the side, and after recovering from the impact, Solomon joined her there.
Solomon put his back to the side, holding himself up with outstretched arms. Logan wrapped her arms around his neck and they kissed, hungrily. Their bodies slick in the water, Logan swung first one leg behind Solomon and then another, reaching down to position him accordingly. Satisfied that he was at her entrance, she sank slowly down, pulling herself tight against him as she accepted inch after seemingly endless inch. Solomon’s head rolled back onto the edge, and moaned softly toward the night sky. He had to remain virtually still in order to keep their heads above water, and after some trial and error, Logan found a good position and rhythm.
Her feet ran up and down his legs, her hands exploring his muscled torso, at times her entire weight held up by a combination of natural buoyancy and Solomon’s powerful cock. The sensations were indescribable for both of them, and Logan settled on placing her hands on Solomon’s broad shoulders, using them to pull herself up and then driving her hips back down.
Sometimes, she’d leave him buried inside and just let him throb,
her heartbeat struggling to match the invader filling her so well. During one such interlude, Solomon lifted his head and whispered to Logan.
“I love you. You mean everything to me.”
Hearing those words, Logan kissed her man deeply, climaxing as she ground herself against his torso.
Solomon could feel her trembling, and he encouraged her. “That’s it. Come for me. Come all night for me if you want to. I love you so much.”
Logan began rutting frantically, wanting the reward of Solomon’s orgasm. She wanted it so badly, to give him even the tiniest portion of the pleasure ripping through her body.
Solomon placed his heels on the side of the pool and thrust forward, reaching down to cup Logan’s ass with one hand and force himself deeper inside. Trying to hold her in place was like trying to lasso a cyclone, and Solomon could feel her climaxing again and again. The spasms came from deep within her, and each one massaged his length and drove him closer to the inevitable.
“Keep fucking me, Logan. I’m close. I’m going to let go and hold you with both hands and let us sink under the water while we come together.”
“Yes! I need you to come, please come let me feel you come!”
Hips still churning violently, Solomon pulled Logan tight against him and pushed off the wall, emptying his lungs into the pool as they sank. The lovers squeezed each other in an embrace unlike any had ever known, so tight they became one, Solomon flooding into Logan as they sank deeper into orgasmic oblivion.
Solomon thought he’d never stop coming, his lack of oxygen amplifying the climax tenfold. He never stopped to consider asking if Logan was using any protection, but he didn’t care. As they sank nearer the bottom, into water that got darker by the inch, both of their eyes flew open and they nodded their agreed need to return to the surface. Logan exploded out of the water first, gasping for air. Solomon arrived seconds later, gulping in breaths of his own.