<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/mfs9DGd.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Salem Summers | “Cyclops”<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Tennis Court<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>Sept. 3rd, 4:50 pm<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Rogue<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Flirt Tennis, Salem is down 4-3 in the final set of the match<br/><strong>wearing:</strong>Autumn Tennis Clothes (http://i.imgur.com/XrBXtHZ.jpg) --  No more sweater though, this Tank Top is underneath (http://i.imgur.com/g9wXhu3.jpg)<br/><hr/>Salem knew full well what she was doing as the match marched forward. As she got into a rhythm physically, her thought patterns found patterns as well. As she started to get a foothold in and really comete, she also started to gain some understanding of what was really going on between her and Rogue.<br/><br/>Rogue had inquired about Salem’s little squeal. She tried not to respond, but she knew that it would be rude if she didn’t. “I guess -hmph- I like it.” The words were interrupted by one of her backhands and a miny squeal. The ball came back, “Being... -hmph- spanked.”She’d always known that. As the flirtations continued, Salem was learning. She’d never really had this close of a friend, and she’d never been close to anyone romantically before. So, this conflict in her mind was a treacherous gust of wind, she didn’t really know what the right decision was.<br/><br/>She could tell that it felt good to flirt with Rogue. As she challenged herself, the flirt contest continued. Salem took to smacking Rogue on the ass as well, positioning herself so that she would be in range, while keeping her own hiney away from Rogue’s sneaky hands. It was an intense game, and Rogue was fighting harder than she’d ever fought before in a match. It made Salem as eager as twenty-two year old virgin to play in such an exciting game. She was giving it her all, wearing herself out, and taking minor breaks in between points and games. Her clothing had grown sweaty. The wind sneaking up her skirt now felt wonderful.<br/><br/>Salem was burning up. “God damn…” Her breath was painful. Salem was in shape, but this was a grueling gauntlet of a match. Salem expected herself to roll over Rogue in a long game like this, but the competition was tight. “You…” Her breath was getting away from her. They were in between the games, tied two to two, about to start the fifth game of the set. It was one of those moments when the game echoed through itself: Two games each, fifth game. Two sets each, fifth set.<br/><br/>It was the deciding set no matter what, but they still had a few games to go. These were the dog days here, this was when every muscle in your body was vibrating in pain, and quivering with tension. Salem stood her tennis racket up on it’s end and leaned against it with both arms. Salem reached down for the water and splashed a long stream into her mouth, leaning backwards and standing up straight as she did. “Uugh-” The sensation was pleasing. Salem bent over forwards, set the water bottle down, and pulled her sweater up over her head. She had little on underneath, a white tank top that functioned as a sports bra and nothing else. The fabric was tucked into her skirt, and it was difficult to find where one ended and the other begin.<br/><br/>Her sweater flew over to the benches, and she found her hair in disarray. Salem tucked the racket in between her thighs and brought her hands up to her hair. She redid her ponytail, setting this one higher on her head by accident. She had a very eighties vibe to her accidental hair style. Her breath was returning to her. “You’re going down in four sequential Roguey.” Salem added the ‘y’ to the end of her name for fun. With significant energy left, Salem grabbed a few balls and made her way confidently to her side of the court.<br/><br/>"...we’re going out, as soon as we’re allowed to….” There was that awkward Salem again. She hadn’t been on many dates and she didn’t have a leg up on flirting. She just wanted to win this game, learn a little bit about having a friend, and then go to sleep. She knew that the romantic aspect was a difficult angle with Rogue. Salem was setting up for the serve, and waiting for Rogue to get into position. She was stretching, bending in half, off to the side, backwards, splitting, and catering to the eyes of the other girl. Salem was starting to understand that she was sexy, but stretching was still a required practise. She hadn’t learned just how much her body was capable of, or how suggestive she could be with such little on in front of another.<br/><br/>As Rogue prepared to finish the match. Salem bounced the ball and prepped her jump serve. “2-2, game five,” She tossed, leaped, rotated her hips, grunted, and delivered the ball. Her form was still tight, her grunt was louder now, and not much was different about her mechanics. The only difference was that she wasn’t jumping as high, so he was hitting the ball higher on her racket than she was intending. It affect her placement, and she wasn’t sure why. Her serve kept sailing, and she started to fall behind in the first game.<br/><br/>Before long the set was 3-2, then it was 3-3 when Salem wasn’t serving. She went down again 4-3 on her own serve and started to notice a trend. Salem was more exhausted than she was willing to admit. She was running out of chances, and the sun was really starting to go away. She wasn’t ready to stop. Quitting was not an option, even if it was difficult to see the ball. Neither of them could see in the dark, so  it was still fair.<br/><br/>The two girls passed each other at the net, and Salem didn’t bother to try and defend the spank. She was too focused on the game and what she was doing wrong. She’d almost forgot about how sexy this whole tennis match had been. Her sports bra tank top was soaked with sweat. Her heart was pounding and her whole body was flushed. Her chin was up as she walked passed Rogue, her eyes were closed behind the glasses.