Game Set and Match

*** Whoever said, 'It's not whether you win or lose that counts,' probably lost. Martina Navratilova
No one rejoices more in revenge than a woman.
Juvenal

 

*** The character ‘Sheikha Tasnim’ was used with permission from Clare Penne and her wonderful stories ‘My Passage To Womanhood’. This story is dedicated to Clare without reservation! - Irene

Game Set & Match.

Extracts from ‘All Stars and Hollywood’ magazine, the ‘magazine for the followers of fashion, film and sport’.

05.05.2011 By our Sports Reporter Josie Fladden

So here we go again as Fazia Muta, the little rich arab girl of tennis was spotted outside ‘Miss Domina’s’ discothèque in fashionable, central LA with Dave Sharparov. What a couple! She is one of the hot three contenders to take the most silverware in the classics this year. He is ranked 50th in the world, but all of us girls have to admit that he cuts a pretty tasty figure as a fashion model for his own new line of sports and casual ware, ‘Highly Strung’.

The relationship, a match made on centre court, has been rumoured for over a year now but neither of the gorgeous pair have indicated that wedding bells are on the horizon.

08.06.2011 By our Sports Reporter Josie Fladden

So what was Dave Sharparov doing with Sally Freeman in Freeport in the Bahamas? Signed into the resort hotel under the name of Mr and Mrs Herman Strung they shunned the limelight and refused to be interviewed by your enquiring correspondent.

We can all speculate that the tempestuous relationship between Dave and Fazia Muta is all but over, but we were not able to confirm this as she refused to comment on why Dave and Sally are sharing a honeymoon suite for a week in the casino resort.

So it looks like they are only practicing for the nuptials to come, still practice makes perfect!

08.01.2012 By our Sports Reporter Josie Fladden

Now comes the grudge match, but the prize has already been won! It looks like gorgeous Dave Sharparov has chosen which tennis star belongs in his night sky. At last he has served Sally Freeman with a ring that is ace! With no call of ‘out’ from Fazia Muta, that sultry firebrand, the wedding looks set for June, just after the Dubai Classic. Here, we are looking forward to an all star wedding!

Unfortunately the Arabic princess uttered some angry words that we can only paraphrase here! It looks like Paris will be the field of combat that she has chosen to show her former lover that he made the wrong choice. Fazia plans to eject Sally from Paris with a grudge match that most commentators consider to be the upcoming game of the year.

*** Chapter 1. Deuce In Paris.

“Deuce !”

The call from the umpire rang across the court and caused a ripple of applause as the two gladiators sized up against each other across the court. Fazia Muta and Sally Freeman were well matched in both skill and experience, with Sally needing just her service game to win the match.

Of course there was a lot of money at stake, there always is in the finals of a Grand Slam tournament, but what was really at stake were the places in the rankings as Muta and Freeman vied for the top seed.

Sally looked over at her opponent and smiled, she looked exhausted from chasing every ball and now she was ripe for the master stroke. Two bounces of the ball on the ground and the ball was tossed up to be blasted down the centre line for an ace.

This match had been promoted as the grudge match to end all grudge matches.

For a moment Sally glanced up at Dave in the stands and blew him a little kiss. This was so very sweet, the adrenaline left her floating in a sea of heightened awareness. Soon she would be the first seed, the gorgeous Dave Sarparov would be hers and she would have sweet revenge on the Arab bitch that had spent the last months insinuating to all the ‘celebrity’ press that Sally was nothing more than a whore who played second rate tennis.

Sally’s body arched and hammered the ball at her opponent.

Fazia had scarcely moved as the ball swept by her like a bullet to score another point for the increasingly confident Sally.

“Advantage Freeman,” came the call.

The short Arab girl swayed gently. Her face shone with a sweat that betrayed her fear. The fear that she would lose, the fear that Sally had her on the rails.

The fear that she would look the fool.

With match point in Sally’s hands she just had to win one more rally and the title and the prize was hers. She sized up the desperate light in her opponent’s eyes as vulnerability shopwing its face and paused for just a couple of seconds to gauge her defence.

Sally longed to finish the contest with another ace, it would be so sweet to blast her opponent into kingdom come with the whole world watching.

On the other hand this was a delicate matter of tactics!

She made her serve, an aggressive toss of the ball with the left hand and a sweeping connect at the tip of the racquet’s arc. The pace was slow, Fazia reached to return the bouncing ball and then pulled her racquet back as she saw that the ball had missed the line.

The crowd went wild as the umpire announced the result.

“Game, set, match, Freeman,” he called.

Fazia could not believe her ears, surely the ball had been out of play? She raised her hand and spoke to dispute the call, but the umpire looked at the centre line umpire and then simply pointed out that she had used all three of her calls.

He started to call the points.

“Freeman in three sets, six, three. Two, six and six, two”.

Fazia approached the net in a haze of confusion and anger whilst Sally tripped to the net with a little skip and hop as though she was about to jump over it in the time honoured manner.

The noise from the crowd and the announcements over the announcement system filled Fazia’s head with the white noise of sheer anger and frustration. At the ultimate moment she had been robbed of the last point by a line judge who was probably staring at her legs rather than the centre line and now she had to bite down her fury and congratulate the woman who had beaten her by a chance of fate and not a fair call.

A hand extended towards Fazia and a supercilious smile played on the lips of Sally as they shook and walked to the small podium where the silver cup on its blocky base was ready to present to the winner.

“I know that it was out!” whispered Sally with a smile. “It serves you fucking right for insulting me last night in that television interview.”

Fazia almost spat at Sally, the racquet felt like a weapon in her hand. A weapon that she could use to wipe the patronizing smile off that face, but she resisted the impulse with a clench of her hand.

There would be better moments for a settling of scores.

“I promise you that I will have my revenge...” Fazia whispered so quietly that it sounded like a hiss to Sally.

*** Chapter 2. Foreplay In Dubai.

Fazia sat in her hotel room and contemplated the smooth sea that lay so far below the broad hotel window. Several local fishing dhows were setting sail, they looked like red smudges on the azure water with their sails billowing over weather beaten hulls.

With a sigh she glanced over her shoulder at the mute television that was displaying its soundless pictures of reporters and stories from around the world.

Tomorrow was a big match, all the physical preparation had been done now only the careful pre-match diet and mental approach remained to complete before she stepped onto the court against her quarter final opponent.

Then after the quarter final she would face Sally Freeman in the semis.

This was the last chance!

Why?

Because after the Dubai Classic would come the wedding and the sweetness of all that victory would be a sour taste after that shit, Dave, had hitched his wagon to Sally fucking Freeman.

The screen of the giant television flickered and showed a group of sports pundits behind a desk. Fazia switched on the sound and watched the discussion about the coming tennis matches.

“So, Bill, what about the American first seed hope, Sally Freeman, and the quarter-finals?”

“Thanks Mike. Well we have to assume that Fazia Muta will defeat the incumbent Czech champion, Illona Servoanova. Her form looks good, she is really piling on the aces and the double faults have dropped right out of sight. Of course Servoanova is also pretty hot at the moment, after all she is seeded at number seven and at these levels there is little between them.”

“Bill! I’m thinking that Muta wants to get her hands on Freeman in the semis and that will provide the crucial difference in motivation!”

“Right you are, and what a match that will be. After the Paris scandal where the ball was clearly miscalled and out and Muta was not allowed to contest the call, she will be seeking to wipe the slate clean and prove that Arabic tennis has come far enough to provide a number one seed.”

“So, a touch of revenge?”

“Certainly Mike. That’s what it’s all about, on and off the court!”

“Who do you fancy for the Dubai Classic Final, then, Bill? The local girl who has all the support of playing at home or the American rising star whose backhand volleys are like cannon fire?”

“For me, Mike, it’s got to be Sally Freeman again!”

“Why’s that Bill?”

“Well Freeman is three years younger and that means a lot at this level. She has the willpower and the physical staying power to last until the bitter end of the third set. I just don’t think that Muta can find the mental and physical resources and she has no real answer to that backhand that Freeman uses with such confidence.”

“So you think it’ll go to three sets?”

“Yep, Mike. I think that fury and temper will give the first set to Muta before the sheer professionalism of the young american girl will win out and crush her hopes of being the local hero.”

“Thanks for that, Bill. Let’s move on to the Australian open and look at how golf sponsorship...”

Fazia switched off the television with an angry movement of the wrist. It all hurt so much, because it was the truth. She knew that the only person who had no fear to play against her was that cursed Sally Freeman.

Worst of all Sally would beat her in the semis and Fazia would have to hang her head in shame in her own country, beaten by the cursed American slut who had stolen her man.

A laughing stock.

That Dave had chosen to go with some other woman was not even the problem. After all Fazia had already given him the boot, it just had not been announced to the papparazzi! Dave had moved fast and made it look as if he had kicked Fazia into touch and of all the open legged bitches in the world to choose from, he had hooked up with fucking Sally Freeman almost immediately.

Fazia turned to the window and watched the sun gradually setting over the shimmering waters of the gulf. A delicious thought was entering her head, the sketch of a revenge that would be so final that not even the thought of Sally Freeman would ever bother her again.

‘Yes,’ she thought to herself. ‘I’m at home here in Dubai, I understand the rules here and you will suffer a thousand times for the humiliation that you have heaped on my soul.’

There were going to be a few difficulties, but already they were being side stepped in her mind and the delicious chastisement was taking shape. She knew the people who could help her, she knew that she would win hands down in Dubai. At once she felt lighter of mood and ready to act.

“Sally fucking Freeman is going to taste more than just a setback to her professional career,” Fazia muttered as she reached for the telephone. “I’m going to end it and get that Dave back where he belongs. Under my rule! Then I’ll kick him out like the dog that he is, on to the street where he belongs! If I want...”

*** Chapter 3. Breaking News In Dubai.

“The latest headlines from Al Jazeera news in Dubai.”

“The continuing crisis with Iran blocking the straits of Hormuz and attacking an American frigate in International waters has reached a new milestone as calls by Republicans in the American Senate to attack Iran reached a new more serious level. We’ll have more on that report after the strange story of the disappearance of Sally Freedman and her husband to be, Dave Sharparov.”

“Both the American authorities here and the Ukrainian minister for foreign affairs have urged the Government in Dubai to give top priority to solving the strange circumstances that surround what may be a kidnapping. It has been suggested that terrorists have abducted the American number one seed tennis star and her Ukrainian boyfriend for political reasons.”

“But, with the ongoing crisis in the gulf and the standoff between Iranian and American forces in the straits of Hormuz the story is looking to be pushed way down the list of priorities of the Dubai government as it seeks to prevent supporters of Iran from demonstrating their politics on the streets of the capital.”

“So far all that we know is that Miss Freedman was travelling to her match at the Aviation Club for the quarter finals of the women’s classic, one of the biggest single events on the tennis calendar. Unexpectedly she was joined by her husband to be, Dave Sharparov at the last moment. The local police report that they have found the car abandoned and signs of a struggle are clear near the abandoned vehicle.”

“As soon as we have further news we shall be returning to this story. Meanwhile we go over to Abdul Sharif, who is on Kumsa reporting on recent visible signs of the Americans stretching their military muscles in the waters of the Gulf.”

“Over to you Abdul...”

*** Chapter 4. In The Net.

Fazia slipped into the dark limousine and the door cluncked behind her. There were no reporters, no paparazzi and no fans to see her go. Firstly no rumours had been dropped, secondly the press had not been warned and most important, when a higher agent of the General Department of Punitive Establishment in Dubai wants privacy then that privacy is guaranteed.

After a few moments Fazia’s eyes adjusted to the dark leather interior that was lit only through the smoky glass of the windows. A woman sat opposite her, ensconced in the soft upholstery, legs crossed and a slim cigarette in her hand.

“Good Evening Fazia,” she said in English, but with overtones of a German accent.

Fazia was a little puzzled. She had been expecting to meet her cousin Abdhel Mummed, after all he was her contact with the Punitive Police in Dubai.

“Who are you?” asked Fazia as she decided that perhaps not all was going as she had planned with Abdhel.

The woman smiled and pulled back the shawl that covered her long hair.

“My name is Gudrun. You could say that I am a specialist helping the Emirates to solve some of the ‘people’ problems that they have!”

Fazia sat back and tried not to show any concern.

“Well, I guess that you know who I am then!” said Fazia. “So, tell me, what aspect of this business requires the specific help of a beautiful foreign expert from the government?”