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Chapter 40 - Volleyball Master

The following morning, everyone was up early and Tamara and Peter went out for a run.

“Damn, Ah don’t like to run,” Terence muttered when they left. “Ah need to get some exercise, though.”

“Oops,” Barbara responded. “I forgot to show you guys. We forgot to tell you about the little exercise room on the back side of the pool shower block. It has a multi-gym exercise machine thing, a set of free weights and bench, and an elliptical trainer. And I haven’t been doing my tai ch’i forms, so I’ll show you the equipment and then do my forms.”

“Y’all do tai ch’i?” he asked.

“Yeah. Peter and I started with it years ago. That was after they stripped him at school—he wanted to learn self-defense. We both started taking judo and tai ch’i then. My judo’s a bit rusty since I haven’t kept up at the dojo this last year, but I like the discipline that I get from tai ch’i.”

They spent an hour at the exercise room and showered; as they were finishing their showers, Tamara and Peter came in to take theirs.

“Oh good,” Barbara said. “I wanted to remind you that the volleyball clinic starts soon. We have just enough time to grab a quick breakfast.”

After breakfast, they went to the courts. There were three, one sand court and two hard courts. When the event began, a guy called them over to the hard courts.

“Hi everyone. I’m Rick, and I’m on one of the teams that the resort sends to the Naked Volleyball Superbowl. For you newcomers, the teams play others of the same skill level. The top players are ranked ‘A’—but the best ‘A’ players have their own rank, ‘AA.’ Then there are the ‘B’s—some leagues recognize a ‘BB’ level. and then ‘C’s. After them are the novices. The teams are ranked according to the skill levels of their members. Our teams are okay; we’re mostly ‘B’ and ‘C’ players but two of us are ‘A’s; we have a men’s ‘B’ team and a coed ‘C’ team. Not enough ‘B’ gals for a gals’ team, though.

“Here’s how we’ll do the clinic. First, the more experienced players—you know who you are—you guys get into groups of three. The others, any learners or those who want to brush up on their passing, will partner with one of my team members. This is a warmup drill for passing the ball, you triplet groups. Pass the ball to a random person in your group. Newbies, go to one of the people who has their hand up.”

They separated into groups. Tamara joined two other people and introduced herself. She noticed that Barbara had also formed a triplet group, while Peter and Terence went to the team members. They would learn how to strike the ball with their forearms—or brush up on their skill; Tamara didn’t know if Terence had ever played. Soon she was involved with her group, passing the ball between each other.

After fifteen minutes, Rick announced, “Seems everyone has had at least some fundamentals; that’s good. You’re all passing the ball decently. I see some newcomers who are quite good, too. Okay, we’re warmed up, so we’ll start with serving and receiving. Half of you go to the opposite side and make a line. I want the first two people in the line over there to serve to two receivers here. Receivers, when the ball comes to you, try to pass it to JB near the net; he’s the setter. Now, if it’s a bad serve—out of bounds or in the net, that server goes to the back of the server’s line. If it’s a good serve but the receiver shanks the ball or makes a bad pass, then they stay serving and the receiver goes to the end of the receiver’s line over here. Three good serves or three good passes, then those people go to the back of their line. We’ll do this drill for a bit, and then switch around so the servers become receivers.”

The drill progressed for some time as the team members watched and coached the participants, showing them how to handle the serves and pass properly. Then they switched. Tamara was enjoying herself immensely and she noticed that Barbara was doing very well too. Peter was also fairly good, but Terence was struggling. The huge muscles in his forearms were so hard that when a ball hit his swinging arms, it would rocket off them. The coaches were showing him how to hold both of his wrists together with both thumbs side by side and pointing to the ground and his elbows straight, and to just let the ball contact the front of his forearms with minimal swinging. They told him to keep his shoulders loose as the ball made contact, to absorb most of the ball’s momentum, and to allow him to softly loft the ball over in a high pass to the setter. Keeping his body square to his passing target, the setter, was very important, too. When that drill was finished and everyone had gotten multiple chances as a server and receiver, Rick stopped the exercise.

“Again, I’m kinda impressed. We got some good people here, folks; thank you for coming. It makes doing this fun. The next drill up will be setting and spiking. Again, I want you to line up, half of you on each side at the antenna on your left as you face the net. When I say ‘go,’ the first person in line on this side will run to the center of the net and JB will toss you a pass to set for the second person in the line to run up to the set ball and spike it over the net. For the players on the other side, at my word ‘go,’ the first person in that line will run to where the hitter is taking the set and attempt to block the spike. Got it? Then those three, the setter, hitter, and blocker, run around the net to join the end of the line on the opposite side and the other side does the setting and spiking. Ready? Let’s do it. Go!”

This drill was far more active; there was movement everywhere. Balls were flying, being smashed down hard, hitting into the net, flying wild. Some hitters really were trying to kill the ball but they had the least control; the ball would fly out of bounds or hit the net. Some hitters showed very good control of their ball placement.

Tamara’s running had made her legs quite strong; she could jump really high, and her 5 foot-10 inch height worked well at the net. Every one of her spikes evaded the blocker. For some hits, in fact, she faked a hit with her right arm, drawing the blocker that way, and then used her left to smash the ball down in the opposite direction. When she did that, it drew some gasps and applause from the watchers. Other times, she’d fake a smash and just dink the ball right into the blocker’s chest as they jumped.

Rick took her aside when that drill was finished and called to JB, “Hey, set them up for the passing, setting and hitting drill now. Okay?”

“Got it,” JB called back.

“You’re very good. What’s your name?” Rick asked Tamara.

“Tamara.”

“You’ve played before. College team?”

“No, high school P.E. classes. I enjoyed it.”

“Damn... no coaching, just natural skill?”

“Um, I guess so,” she answered.

“Well, the skills I’ve seen so far are at a ‘B’ level, maybe even higher. You’re just about a perfect opposite hitter ‘cause you hit well with either arm and your speed to the set ball makes for a good middle blocker too. Hell, you’re even a good outside hitter as well. Your footwork and body position are almost flawless—and you didn’t miss a single block; it was like you knew where the ball was going.”

“Well, I watch the opposite set and see how the hitter reacts to where the ball’s going. When their arm goes to strike, that shows me exactly where the ball will be.”

“You can react that quickly? Amazing. Well, join back in with the others, but I’d like to have you play in our teams’ practice games this afternoon. Can you?”

“I’m pretty sure,” she replied and he nodded with a smile.

The drill now had a receiver on each side taking a serve, passing it to the setter, and having a hitter run from the antenna to take the set and spike it. On the defense side, three blockers were at the net to block the spike. Then the other side did that play sequence. Tamara joined the rotation and continued to show her skills.

After the workshop was finished, Rick called everyone together.

“Folks, I’m really impressed with all of you, even those who are somewhat new. You all have at least the fundamental skills, and a number of you have certainly impressed us. We on the team know four of you; Barbara’s been playing v-ball at the resort here forever and her brother Peter is pretty good, too. It’s too bad that their school schedules don’t allow them to be on our traveling team. And the other two players I want to name for special mention are Rhonda and John. Very well done, you guys! But we appear to have a new star here now. You all noticed how good a player Tamara is...”

There was a bit of applause.

“...and we’ve asked her, together with Barbara and Peter, to play with our resort teams in the practice games this afternoon. Thank you all for coming and participating. We’re having another workshop clinic next Saturday at the same time. Hope you can make it for that.”

As the group broke up, Peter went over to where Tamara was speaking to Rick.

“Tamara, you’re an excellent player,” he was telling her. “I rarely see a player react so quickly—especially when you’re playing middle and get to the set ball an instant after the setter releases it. And then you even did it once lefty! Those kills are completely unstoppable; you catch the defense flat-footed.”

“I’ve always had quick reflexes,” Tamara said. “I also watch the setter’s body position when they take the pass. Then how quickly they move their arms when they do the setting. Those things tell me where the ball’s going and how fast. With a good set, the arms move smoothly along a path which tells me the ball’s trajectory and that’s when I go to where the ball’s about to clear the net on the way up. Then it’s an easy spike to put away; the defense can’t react.”

“Well, damn. I can’t wait to see you in actual play. We’ll see you later.” He waved as he walked away.

“Yeah, Tamara,” Peter said. “You have any more secrets to reveal? You’re a damn good player.”

“So’s Barbara and you too. I saw some cool plays you guys made—both of you are good.”

“Yeah, but we’ve had coaching here from the team members every summer and play a lot here too. When did you play v-ball last?”

“Ha, yeah. High school, senior year. So three years ago.”“

“And were those games against kids with skill?”

“Nope. Just average kids.”

“I rest my case. You’re damned good naturally.”

Barbara joined them and also praised Tamara’s skills, then suggested a quick dip before lunch.

“Got a text; everyone’s gonna get here between 12:30 and 1:30,” she told them. “Let’s go; we can eat, then meet them, and then get to the v-ball thing at 2.”

While they were in the pool and eating lunch later, their conversation continued about Tamara’s prowess. And at lunch, Terence was holding forth about her.

“It’s real apparent that y’all have great reflexes,” Terence told her. “And y’all sense people’s emotions and read minds too,” he laughed. “So, introducing... Supergirl!”

Tamara blushed. “Will you guys quit it? It’s embarrassing. I can point to other people who have special abilities.”

“So? Who?” Terence challenged her.

Tamara grinned evilly. “Okay. Number one. Terence Dryer...”

“What? Ah’m...”

“Shaddup. Point one. Had a four-point cum and was high school valedictorian as well as getting two varsity letters. Check. Two. Presses 225 pounds for 36 reps. Close to a college record which is 51. Check. Three. Squats, 410 pounds, ten reps. Check. Four. Cock... not goin’ there. Skip.”

Everyone laughed, even Terence.

“... Five. Close to finishing a revolutionary design for a high-resolution telescope detector. Check. Those are superpowers in my book,” she finished.

“How’d y’all know some of that stuff...?” he asked.

“I’m observant and curious,” Tamara retorted. “And Barbara told me,” she giggled.

“Well, those weren’t the kinds of powers Ah meant,” Terence objected.

“So? Let’s do number two. Barbara Winsberg,” Tamara grinned.

“Oh, come on now, Tamara...” Barbara started.

“Shaddup. One. Excellent v-ball player as demonstrated. Check. Two. Four-point high school average. Check. Three. Minigolf shark. Check.”

Laughs.

“Four. Extraordinary super-empath. Check...”

“What? No!” Barbara objected.

“You need proof?” Tamara asked. “Okay. A big tell was how you reacted to Peter in high school. To Amy also. You rescued her when she was abused and stayed with her because you sensed that she needed someone she knew to stay with her. And you came to her rescue when she was being tormented by the other girls. It seems you were always there when they needed support. Am I right?”

Barbara looked at her in shock and Peter’s mouth hung open.

“When Peter—or Amy—needed you badly, somehow you always turned up within a few minutes, as I heard from your stories. Even though you were in different grades and therefore had different schedules. Am I right?”

“Well, yeah... maybe...” Barbara said thoughtfully.

“No ‘maybe’ about it. Next, remember when we first met? At the Student Center? Peter got a cramp and like magic, you appeared out of nowhere and seemed to know that there was something wrong. You weren’t just passing through as you said—I saw you rush through the door to the Student Center and look around. You spotted Peter and made a beeline for him. Remember? I do. I told you once that you’re as much a part of Peter that you two could be joined at the hip. So four. Extraordinary super-empath. Check. Five. Studying psychology. The best ones are very empathetic. Check.

“So we have Barbara, another person with superpowers. Peter also does, and he’s a super-empath too. I know that you guys know that from his Program stories. My point is that we all have special skills and what looks like a super-skill might simply be a small improvement over what you yourself can do. Can you see that?”

They nodded. Tamara was captivating them.

“Do you really see? Everyone is special, in their own special way. Sometimes that specialness is easy to see and sometimes you just have to look for it.”

“Damn, Tamara,” Barbara sighed. “That’s a lecture most psych students should get.”

“Correction.” Terence said, “every student should get.”

Peter’s response to her was a hug.

They were finished with lunch, so they went back to the cabin. There was a car parked next to Barbara’s.

“Mom and Dad’s here,” Peter declared, and they trooped into the house. “We’re back!” he called.

“Be right out,” a female voice replied from a back room.

About a minute later, two people emerged from the bedroom and Tamara wasn’t at all surprised to see that they were nude. Of course they were.

I’m so used to this that if I see a clothed person, I’ll think it’s strange, she mused.

“Hello, kids,” the man called out as he came into the great room.

Peter and Barbara had rushed over to hug the woman. Then they introduced everyone to everyone else. Tamara was told again that their mom’s name was Claire and their dad was Scott. They both insisted on their kids’ friends using their first names.

Claire took Tamara’s hand. “I’m so delighted to finally meet you. You’ve totally captivated Peter, you know. He never stops talking about you...”

“Mom!” Peter objected.

“As you were!” she said in a command voice, then chuckled as Peter clamped his mouth shut. “Hard to break officer habits,” Claire chuckled. “So you’re a physicist like me. That’s really cool, you know.”

Scott broke in, “And an engineer like me. Honey, we’ll never lack for a conversation partner now.”

They all laughed.

“So Tamara, word in the physics community is that you’ve upset some basic theories in electromagnetism. Somehow you’ve managed to build a circuit to allow electrons to flow against a charge gradient. And second, an atomic lattice structure which not only traps free electrons, but sequesters them in such numbers that the Pauli exclusion principle is violated locally,” Claire commented.

“Ha. Guilty as charged. I’m trying to learn enough mathematics so I can figure out how those things can happen.”

Claire laughed. “That actually may even require that some new mathematics be invented to do that. Those problems are fascinating and any theory that arises from their solution may open new research areas.”

“And the things you’ve done with energy storage,” Scott continued. “That has folks at the APL buzzing. The new battery—what you’ve called an accumulator—is so interesting that some engineers have been talking about jumping fields to work in energy. So cut that out! We still need mechanical engineers, you know,” he laughed.

“Yeah, you mechanical types are needed to build the stuff that the batteries power. Motors, transmissions, generators, bearings, all that stuff. We won’t put you out of jobs,” Tamara countered, grinning.

“Well, you’re doing impressive work, anyway, Tamara. And hey, kids, thanks for getting the cabins ready,” Scott told them. “We got some stuff carried in already—the fridge and freezer items, but could you give a hand for the rest of the groceries?”

Once that was done, Barbara told them about the volleyball games later.

Claire looked at Scott. “Let’s go watch. Text and leave a note for the others; when they get here, they can come out to the courts too.” Then she looked at Barbara. “Mark and Jo will be here around 4 p.m. The others’ll be anytime now.”

Soon they left for the games. The standard game is played with six on a side, although there are versions for two, three, or four per side. For the first two games, Tamara was slotted into a team as the middle blocker. Her team members went over their offensive setup. They had one good setter so they used the 5-1 offense with three hitters at the net. In the first rotation, the outside hitter was at the left antenna and the opposite was at the right. Tamara was in the center. The back court had the setter, libero, and another hitter who was also good at defense.

In their play, the libero was almost always the service receiver and passer. She was small but incredibly quick and accurate in her passes. Tamara kept close to the setter as the pass was made and frequently was able to leap and nail the set ball while it was still on its upward arc. If she saw the defenders bunch up to try to block her when she made that move, she made a fake and let the ball go to the outside hitter, who had an easy spike for the point. She had several other chances to attack from deep sets, when the setter was pulled out of position by a mis-aimed pass. Any high ball set within her reach was a target for either of her arms, so the defense didn’t know which angle to block. Eleven of the points were hers, a large number for a middle blocker. On defense, she accounted for eight blocks. They won the first game 25-2.

After the first game, her teammates surrounded her to congratulate her. The second game was closer as that team tried to put together a strategy to contain Tamara’s ability to hit spikes at will. Still, her team won 25-13; they won the next two games too, 25-10 and 25-14.

There were other games going on at the time and both Peter and Barbara were playing on the sand court; that was their preference. The sand made the pace of the game a bit slower but the defensive moves, like dives for the ball, tended to be more spectacular.

They were all quite tired after an hour and a half of steady playing. The resort team members began an intensive campaign to try to persuade Tamara go the Superbowl with them.

One of the resort guests turned out to be on the Hopkins athletic department staff, a woman’s basketball assistant coach. She spoke to Tamara after the games.

“Say, Tamara, I’m Joyce Boyers and a coach at Hopkins and I watched you play. You look like an eighteen-nineteen-year old, so I imagine you’re in college?”

“Yes ma’am. I go to Hopkins, actually. But...”

“Well, you’re seriously talented. We definitely can get you on the Hopkins volleyball team and even as a freshman or sophomore, you’d be playing with the first team.”

Tamara laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s that first, I’m going into my senior year now and second, I have a Hopkins scholarship—the Clarke scholarship, actually.”

The woman looked crestfallen. “I see. You looked so much younger; I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be; that was perceptive. I really am just seventeen. I’ve been jumping grades regularly.”

“Oh my, just seventeen? You could’ve been an NCAA star if you took the college athletic route. I heard them asking you to go to the Superbowl,” she said. “I hope you can do that. Some years, a few brave girls on the volleyball team go, unofficially of course. The resort requires that all players be nude when they play.”

“Have you been there?” Tamara asked.

“Yep. A few times. It’s like a carnival—a volleyball carnival. Games everywhere. They have something like ten courts, I think. Grass, sand, and hard surface.”

Gradually the groups dispersed and Tamara heard how Barbara and Peter’s games went. Barbara’s team had won all four and Peter’s had won three and lost one. They walked over to where Peter’s parents had been sitting; they were standing now and talking to some people as a bunch of young adults rushed over to Peter and Barbara and began hugging them.

Then Peter began the introductions.

“This is Tamara and Terence. My girlfriend and Barbara’s boyfriend. Okay, first, this is JoAnne and Frank Winsberg. They’re in high school. Their sister Susan is still at their cabin—she’s waiting for her boyfriend to call. And this is Mike and Janice Gibson. Mike’s in high school and Janice is a senior like us.”

They all circulated, greeting each other. Then Barbara dragged them over to meet their aunts and uncles, Shelly and Dave Gibson and Wendy and Larry Winsberg. Tamara was filing away all the names in her memory and she thought she had them down. She glanced at Terence and he looked lost.

“Have problems remembering names?” she whispered.

He nodded.

“A trick. Find something on them physically and use it for a mnemonic. Like see how Mike’s mouth curves up in a permanent smile? Mouth—Mike. Like that.”

“Thanks. That’s good.”

“Hey. Don’t pick a body part that clothes cover or else the trick only works naked.”

Terence sputtered, trying not to laugh.

Then he whispered to her, “Y’know, not a single one of them looked. Not one!”

“Your, um, endowment,” she whispered back and he nodded. “See, we keep telling you. You’re just a normal guy. You got a lot of normal, but still normal.”

He laughed. But Tamara could tell that the slight cloud of anxiety and doubt that had been hovering over Terence like an incipient rainstorm was now completely gone.

Peter was talking to all his cousins; they were commenting on his and Barbara’s games.

“Yeah, but did you see Tamara playing? She was on the far court,” Peter asked.

“Oh yeah! Yeah, I did see a really good player. Hot too,” Mike said. “Man, that’s Tamara, the gal you’re dating?”

“You can speak to her—she’s right there,” Peter said, grinning.

Mike turned around and stared, then blushed royally, and finally gasped as he wrapped his towel around his waist.

“Damn. Hi, Tamara... Um, I guess I wasn’t really looking at you when Peter introduced everyone.”

Tamara chuckled. “I know. I saw where you were looking. I agree, those two girls were darn cute, right? And thanks for your compliment,” Tamara waved at his towel, which had a big bulge about midway down its length.

“Shit, sorry. I watched you playing. You’re really an awesome player and so cute too. ... Man, Mike, stop it. You’re making a fool of yourself again,” he muttered but Tamara could hear him.

“Mike, come here,” Tamara said.

He walked closer, tentatively.

Tamara wrapped him in a big hug and kissed his lips. He stared at her, wide-eyed.

“Now Mike,” she whispered to him as she held him, “you’re a really good-looking guy. You don’t do so good with the girls, though, right?” He nodded. “Are you a little shy?” He nodded again. “Okay. Stick with Peter and me for a bit. We’ll help you build your confidence. You’re a good way along on the confidence road, though, since you’re a nudist.”

He chuckled at that and Tamara released her embrace. Then he walked over to his cousin Frank, practically bouncing and beaming with pride.

Aunt Shelly had been watching Mike and Tamara with a broad smile and when Tamara released her embrace, Shelly gave her a thumb’s up gesture.

The group began walking back to the cabins and Shelly came over to Tamara.

“That was really thoughtful,” she said. “However did you know what to do to bring him out of his funk? He’s been depressed all spring; he’s asked girls on dates and they’re always ‘sorry, busy.’”

“I saw that he needed some reassurance—his body language was crying for it,” Tamara responded. “I’m gonna work with him on that. Is he a soph or junior?”

“Junior this fall. God... I don’t know what to say... except thank you. That would be a miracle for him if you could help. Look at him, how he’s walking—smiling, head held high. Whatever your magic, it’s already begun.”

The plan was to have a family barbeque for dinner that evening, so it was all hands on deck now to prepare. When they got to the cabins and Scott looked at his phone, he saw a text from the last group, the Delaware Winsbergs, that said that they would be arriving soon. And Susan Winsberg had come out to greet everyone.

“I was waiting for David’s call or text,” she said. “I wish they’d let us have our phones with us...”

She got a stern look from her father Larry.

“... I know, Dad. They don’t want people sneaking photos. I get that. But I missed their playing—hi, Barbara, Peter,” she said as she hugged them, then hugged Claire and Scott. “And you’re Tamara and Terence,” she continued.

“Oops,” Peter said. “Forgot to introduce you. My bad. Yeah, I had mentioned Tamara and I guess Barbara told you about Terence. We’ll get to...”

Susan’s phone buzzed and she excused herself to answer it. After a minute, she said, “He stopped for gas at the highway exit so he’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

“You check him in?” Larry asked.

“Yep. They just need to scan his license. I gave the office all his details.”

Everyone got to work setting up for the dinner. One group dragged the picnic tables from each cabin together and brought out a few folding ones. Some of the guys cleaned and started the grill up, while others went inside to help assemble the salads, side dishes, and drinks. Then two more cars rolled in and everything stopped for more introductions. Tamara was very happy that she had come here two days early; it did feel exactly like she was welcoming guests to her own little slice of heaven. For that was how she was beginning to think of the place. She hadn’t had a stitch of clothes on in more than two days—and she didn’t even miss it.

The newcomers were Scott’s youngest sibling, Mark, and his wife Jo. Their kids were sixteen-year-old twins, Ernie and Audrey. In the other car was Susan’s boyfriend, David Carter. The introductions were duly made, the newcomers were told where they were to sleep, and they retired to those rooms to strip off.

The Winsbergs returned first and collected a crew to help them to unload the groceries that they had brought. Tamara had wondered how all the cousins would sort out where they slept, but Barbara told her that they had a system. Couples would share a queen bed, the boys bunked together, and the girls bunked together. That system had to be modified if all the grandparents and the fourth family were all at the resort at the same time, which happened rarely. There was a space that a camper trailer could be parked for overflow.

Then Susan came in with a nude David and Tamara’s eyes nearly bugged out. Terence was big, Jay had been bigger, but David was simply enormous. David was about 6 feet-4 inches tall and had a wiry, but not thin, build. His arms and legs were very muscled, but the muscles were sleek, not bulky. His penis, though, was astounding; it was fairly thick and hung halfway down his thigh.

Terence, she noticed, looked thunderstruck, but everyone else seemed not to even notice his size.

Actually, she thought, they must notice, but maybe he’s nothing special? I wonder if Terence feels inadequate now, she laughed quietly.

Terence looked at Tamara and blushed and Tamara simply shrugged back.

Barbara began to mobilize everyone to start setting out the food, beverages, and serving utensils and then the people manning the grills began dishing out the meats. The younger set sat together and mostly discussed the things that they hoped to get to do that week. After dinner and cleanup, it was still fairly warm and still early, so the younger group decided to go to the pool.

On the walk over, Tamara made sure that Mike was walking next to her, with Peter on her other side.

“Mike,” she told him, “you’re a good-looking guy and can certainly hold a conversation—way better than the high-school kids in my school could, in fact. Your girl problems aren’t you, it’s those girls. Let’s see what we can do about that.”

When they got to the pool, there was a group of teens already there, and Tamara realized that she had met all of them. Among them were Marcia and Theresa; they were in the pool with their brothers.

Instantly, a plan leaped into Tamara’s mind.

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