by Kerri Sharpe
Seated at a table underneath a gently ticking fan, Tessa enjoyed the feeling of sweat evaporating from her face. She allowed her head to drop back on to the soft padding of the cane chair and let her eyes fall shut. All she could hear was the pounding of her horse’s feet through the dust and the thwack of mallet on ball in the day’s relentless heat. The practice sessions had gone well and she was sure that her all-female team would easily hold their own in the initial games of the tournament.
Jack Wentworth soon returned with two tall gin and tonics and unexpectedly seated himself directly next to Tessa on the small Colonial-style chair.
‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ He took a long draft of the icy drink and plucked out the chunk of lime. Jack was sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, his upper body angled round to confront Tessa.
She stared hard at his sun-browned face and noticed his southern-hemisphere accent. She drew upon all her remaining resources to place him but simply couldn’t. The way his face broke into a series of laughter lines around his white teeth stirred something within Tessa but she finally convinced herself that she was merely responding to his fierce good looks. She shrugged and picked up her drink. ‘Sorry, I don’t.’ She didn’t want to flatter the stranger with too much interest and so gave more thought to sipping her drink and admiring the sunset.
Jaipur was certainly a stunning place and, as if he had read her mind, Jack Wentworth interrupted her thoughts. ‘Indian sunsets are like no other in the world.’ He gestured towards the west and the accumulating cirrus clouds hanging over the distant hills. ‘There’s a storm brewing. Tomorrow, maybe the day after.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Tessa said, thankful for the change in conversation. ‘I’ve heard that the –’
‘Melbourne 2001. Our team won, yours lost. We got the prize.’ Jack Wentworth’s clipped tone coupled with the look of absolute triumph and smugness he now wore as he sipped his gin and tonic shattered any feelings of tranquillity or enjoyment the sunset held for Tessa. The man was clearly trying to suppress his laughter.
‘Melbourne … prize?’ Tessa stammered. How could she ever forget that match? Simply the worst game of Polo her team had ever played; totally and utterly the most humiliating three days of her life. After leading her team to defeat on the field during the mixed-team match, she then had to lead three of her best players to the beds of the opposition. Having made the bet with the cocky, self-assured captain of the all-male over-35s team, it would have been dishonourable not to keep to their side of the bargain.
Tessa wasn’t sure if it was shame or an involuntary reaction to the memory that caused her top lip to curl into a smile as she sipped her gin. The memories filtered back like the gathering clouds on the horizon. She recalled agreeing to such outlandish sexual frolics because she hadn’t known any of the men in the room and had convinced herself and her teammates that they would never encounter any of them ever again. It was an anonymous orgy – a sweating mass of nameless bodies hungry for their prize and never to be seen again. But here he was, Jack Wentworth, veteran Polo player, veteran gambler and, if it was truly him four years ago in that hotel room, then expert lover too.
‘I barely remember it,’ she said, almost choking on her drink.
As if sent by the gods, an Indian boy interrupted the pair with a tray of fresh drinks and a dish of spiced nuts. Tessa took a large mouthful of her drink and closed her eyes for a second. Suddenly, she felt something fiddling with the top of her breast and recoiled, sloshing gin and tonic on her jodhpurs.
‘A mosquito was about to crawl down your shirt.’ Jack held up the insect and burst it between his finger and thumb.
‘Gosh, you’re brave,’ Tessa said, reaching for a handful of nuts.
Jack gripped her arm and pulled her even closer. ‘You were the best,’ he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and spicy from the snack. ‘I had a go with the other girls but, if you remember, we finished up together for hours.’ Jack continued to crunch in her ear. ‘Look, you’re all wet.’ He made to wipe the spilt gin from Tessa’s inner thigh but she swatted his hand away.
‘It was nothing to me. A casual fuck with a bunch of strangers. We were simply honouring our bet. And no, I don’t remember you especially. It’s all long forgotten.’
‘Really?’ Jack smirked. His pupils dilated and his breathing deepened.
Tessa noticed the dew of sweat across his forehead and top lip, somehow magnifying the roughness of his face and similarly the country from which he came. This lot were a tough team and Tessa knew they were in for a hard ride when they played the mixed games tomorrow.
‘Hold still again.’ Without considering the tenderness of her breast or even that her nipple had drawn up into an angry peak, Jack flicked the back of his hand across the front of Tessa’s grimy shirt. ‘Little bugger was after your tit.’ A flash of white teeth again as, instead of plucking off the insect, Jack firmly took hold of Tessa’s upturned nipple and refused to let go, even when she shifted uncomfortably.
‘I’d like to make another bet with you.’ He kept a firm grip on Tessa through her shirt. ‘And given that you’re so confident about your team’s ability you needn’t be worried. But if you should lose to us then, well, we’ll see.’ Jack smirked at Tessa’s near inability to speak. But words weren’t necessary. There was an unspoken agreement between them as palpable as the looming storm.
‘Like I said, my team is –’ Tessa grimaced and fought the sudden stab of heat that rocketed through her lower belly and between her legs.
‘Your team is what?’ Jack laughed as he rotated the nipple between his fingers. His body concealed Tessa’s increased writhing from any onlookers, although he wouldn’t have cared if anyone had seen him tormenting the woman’s sensibilities.
‘My team is up for any hollow bet you may toss our way, Mr Wentworth.’ Tessa begged her body to be still because, with every uncomfortable twist that she made, the wretched man pinched her further. Shamefully and unable to suppress a large moan, her back suddenly arched and her head dropped back on to the cushion. She simply did not know if this was nice or not. The fire between her legs told her one thing and the pain in her breast told her quite another. She had an enormous desire to touch each end of her body, thrusting her flattened hand between her legs to build up the tiny pulsing waves as her unfolding lips blossomed from within her tight jodhpurs and also an infuriating desire to press Jack Wentworth’s gin-drenched mouth firmly around her burning nipple. She did neither.
‘It’s not the rest of your team that we want. It’s you. Tell me it’s game on.’ Jack was serious, his face reflecting the pleasure that only one half of Tessa was enjoying.
She abruptly swung her head away and took an eyeful of the bulging disc of fire as it finally dismissed the day and dropped out of sight below the horizon, turning the Polo field, the site of tomorrow’s battle, into nothing more than a dull patch of brown wasteland.
Mustering all her inner strength and pride, Tessa wrenched herself free from Jack’s grip and stood up, convinced that every other person seated on the veranda could feel the heat radiating from between her legs. ‘Oh, definitely game on, Mr Wentworth. Prepare your teammates for a thrashing.’ Tessa added a satisfying whine to the end of her speech, mimicking Jack’s heavy accent. ‘When we win, I will take pleasure in flaunting what you can’t have. Melbourne was a one-off. It can never happen again.’
Tessa left the table and heard Jack laughing as she walked away. She felt his stare burning her arse as she pressed through the crowded clubhouse and vowed that, despite the now incessant tingling in her knickers, she would fight to win tomorrow.
She’d hoped that she’d be alone in the hotel room. God knows, she needed the room to herself and was overcome by a wave of disappointment as she saw her teammate step out of the shower as she entered the small suite. Any privacy was out of the question.
‘Boy, was I ready for that.’ Sophie winked as she allowed her towel to drop to the floor. Judgi
ng by the pink glow on her skin and the skim of silver juice on the tip of her clit, Tessa figured that she’d done more than wash in there. ‘It’s those damned Australian players.’ Sophie wiped her hand across her brow in a dramatic display of approval. ‘I’m going to have to disappear to the loos after each chukka tomorrow. What with this heat, being in the saddle all day and those horny buggers from Down Under.’ Again, she swiped her brow but stopped when she saw her filthy and worn-out captain. ‘Hey, what’s up with you?’
Before Tessa replied, she suddenly felt relieved. Sophie was right. It wasn’t Jack Wentworth who had made her feel so horny, causing all rational thought to frazzle with the desire for sex. As usual, a day in the saddle, the relentless pounding from the well-worn leather had sent her level of desire and need for immediate relief spiralling out of control. Coupled with the heat and humidity, the exotic colours and smells of India, Tessa’s senses were on fire. She couldn’t wait to delve beneath her jodhpurs and find what awaited her. She just wasn’t sure what to do about Sophie.
Tessa fixed a drink for them both from the mini-bar and settled on top of her bed, trying to gather the energy to shower. She watched as her unabashed and naked friend stood in the full-length window of their first-floor room and stared out at the twilight city beyond. Sophie sipped her drink, the only barrier between her and passersby being the thin whiff of voile that billowed in the evening breeze, occasionally offering a glimpse of European breast or thigh to anyone lucky enough to be looking up.
Tessa took her chance. She couldn’t wait any longer. Trying hard to obliterate her encounter with Jack Wentworth and the undeniably tough Polo she and her team would face the next day, Tessa raised her hips from the bed and slid her jodhpurs down her legs like she was peeling off skin. She knew she didn’t have much time while her friend’s back was turned and so, after hooking her panties aside, she drove two fingers up inside herself while her thumb beat against her saddle-ravaged clit. She was thankful when Sophie continued to gaze out of the window and began to talk about the day’s events. It covered the mess of sound that came from her drenched pussy, literally like the floodgates had been opened now her jodhpurs were removed.
Tessa was only able to answer her friend in broken sentences and breathy gasps. She could hardly stand her fingers on her juiced-up lips, let alone when she caught the blossoming tip of her clit with her thumb. The temperature between her legs was surely a good ten degrees higher than the rest of her body, and as she worked on herself she caught a whiff of her own sweet musk mingled with saddle soap plus the reek of nighttime Jaipur flooding in through the open window.
Another few seconds and Tessa was unable to prevent the hot rod of orgasm from choking her sex in strong waves of contraction, surging up into her belly, her breasts, her shoulders and throat. And it was only another second or two before Sophie finally turned from the window and saw her friend lying supine, several fingers still resting between her swollen lips, virtually passed out on the bed.
‘Those Aussies get you all hot too, huh?’ Sophie giggled and began to dress for the evening’s social events. Slowly, Tessa pulled out of her delirious and exhausted state and realised that Sophie was staring at her sodden panties. ‘I said, did that delicious team from Down Under do that to you, too?’
Tessa shook her head a little before pulling up her jodhpurs. She knocked back her drink, a frown creasing her brow. ‘No, of course not. In my experience, they’re uncouth convicts without any morals, on or off the Polo field.’
Shortly afterwards, when Sophie had dressed and vacated the hotel room, Tessa pondered just how serious Jack Wentworth had been about his wager. With the consequences of a defeat firmly in mind, Tessa stepped into the shower and began to work herself up all over again.
The heat was more intense than the previous day, despite the absence of sun. The distant cirrus clouds had matted to form a rosy-grey blanket of steamy cumulus that swelled and churned overhead. The conditions cast an eerie light over the Jaipur Polo Club as team captains from around the world gathered in the clubhouse. The afternoon’s sport was set to include four games of mixed-team play, which was until recently a relatively unheard-of occurrence in the traditional and ancient game.
When Jack Wentworth tipped his cap and grinned in her direction from across the clubhouse, Tessa ignored him and ushered the rest of the Ashlea Ladies Team outside to the veranda. She wondered if Jack had been right yesterday about the impending storm. Certainly the sky was fleshed with layers of dense cloud and the air itself seemed to be saturated with anticipation. Tessa briefly looked to the skies and prayed for the rain to hold off. A downpour and a sodden pitch would certainly thwart the game against the Australian team, and in turn would scupper the result Tessa desired.
‘Right, girls,’ she announced, gathering them around her. ‘Here are our tactics for today’s play …’
The Ashlea Ladies won their first game against the female team from the USA six goals to four. Tessa urged her horse back to the stable yard, her expression a tight knot of anticipation and excitement. Tides of sweat and salt decorated the horse’s black coat and, instead of allowing the stable boy to attend to the animal, Tessa set about cleaning him up and feeding him herself. She found the action therapeutic, despite the perspiration that poured off her own body as she worked hard to groom him. He would need several hours’ rest and a big feed before the afternoon’s game against Jack Wentworth’s team. Tessa filled up Nitro’s feeding trough to the brim and left him to rest.
The first chukka of the game against the Australian male team was a resounding victory for the Ashlea Ladies. Tessa scored a goal within three minutes of play, her mallet dangerously skimming the kneepads of Jack Wentworth as he thundered past trying to block her shot. She smirked as he pulled his horse around, a patina of sweat already visible underneath his faceguard. Tessa spoke softly to her horse as she steered him centre field again, patting his shoulder. Nitro was nervous and filled with untamed energy, fuelled and eager like his owner.
Sophie and the other two women supported their captain as the game continued but, within minutes of play resuming, Tessa could see that a win against the male team would be near impossible. Nitro was behaving devilishly, not at all like the highly trained animal she knew. Before she could think further about tactics, the Australian team scored a goal and when Tessa protested that there had been a foul she was slammed into silence by the umpire. The horn sounded and the teams swapped ends and during the next chukka two more goals were scored against the Ashlea Ladies.
Within three more chukkas, Tessa could see that the game had become virtually irretrievable and, in under an hour of play, the Australians rode off the field in victory seven goals to one. Tessa led her frenzied horse back to the stable yard, a dangerous glow decorating her cheeks.
‘You girls go back to the clubhouse for refreshments. I’ll settle the horses.’ She patted her team on the backs as they trudged by, saddened by defeat. ‘Tomorrow’s another day and another match,’ she offered as consolation.
Instead of attending to the horses immediately, Tessa tethered them and dropped down into a pile of fresh straw. She was exhausted and closed her eyes, allowing the straw to engulf her aching body. She wrapped her arms across her chest and was considering the delicious consequences of losing to Jack’s team when she was suddenly startled by his resounding voice. She sat upright and took a moment to focus on the sight before her. Standing against the bruise-coloured sky in the stable doorway were the four members of the Melbourne squad. Each wore full uniform, including their boots and spurs, and firmly gripped their Polo whips. They formed an indomitable barrier, the sight of which sent Tessa’s heart into arrhythmia.
‘Prize-giving ceremony,’ Jack announced with a smirk, stepping forwards from the group. Tessa made to stand but Jack easily lowered her back into the straw with one hand. ‘Uh, uh. You’re not going anywhere until we get what’s ours.’ Jack tapped his crop against the side of his boot.
Tessa
hung her head, showing her shame for having lost and, in spite of her humility, she felt all her peripheral muscles tighten, sending a surge of heat and tension to the pit of her belly and beyond. ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘You deserve your prize.’ She sat limply and waited, while adrenalin seared her veins.
‘Take off your shirt,’ Jack ordered, distracting Tessa’s gaze with a sharp thwack of his riding crop against the dusty leather of his boot.
Tessa swallowed and did as she was told. She crossed her arms and pulled the hem of her red and blue team shirt over her head. Instantly, she felt a breeze on her sticky skin but this was overshadowed by the heat coming from four pairs of eyes. Her full breasts, choked within her sports bra, were being studied from all angles by the other three players. Jack seemed untouched by the sight of her bare skin and sent the tip of his crop flicking across the sweat-soaked patch of white cotton between her breasts.
‘Get that off too,’ he said, disdain lacing his words, although Tessa detected a shudder in his voice.
She fumbled with the catch behind her back and allowed her bra straps to fall forwards. Before she could remove it completely, Jack had the leather end of his crop hooked under a strap and pulled the plain garment off completely. Tessa’s shoulders instinctively drew inwards as her large breasts fell free but, when she saw three looks of approval from the others, she leant back on her hands and sank into the deep straw in order to better display her naked breasts. Her raspberry-coloured nipples had contracted to tight pink discs and her pale English skin was shimmering with sweat. Tessa waited with both fear and excitement as the other three Australians drew up by Jack’s side. The men were clearly straining beneath their jodhpurs, the combined amount of eager cock a both frightening and delicious prospect for Tessa, who had now dropped completely back into the scratchy straw. She was surrounded by the team, with Jack very much in control of his players as he told them to flick and tease her with their crops.