A Hot Night in July

Now, of course you know what I'm talking about, don't you?




It was a hot night in July. I had the windows open, because I still could not afford an air conditioner to fight the Tokyo heat. That meant I had to keep the TV volume low, so as not to disturb the neighbours. On the screen, I watched the two young, european girls; blond, athletic bodies sweating in the sun, playing with, - no, against each other. Sweat dripped off both their bodies, groans were exchanged, intermixed with grunts, as they pushed each other to the limit, only to stop and rest, then start again. The tension was palpable. Every so often they swapped positions, and the watching crowd would adjust their gaze. Tension rose gradually to a climax, and they all gasped in unison as it came to an end. The two girls embraced, thanked and congratulated each other, and the crowd applauded as they went to take a shower. 

Now, of course you knew I was talking about Wimbledon, didn't you?


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