Monday, May 31, 2010

An encounter with a tennis gigolo

I had heard about these guys. We all have. I’ve seen them in movies, putting the moves on bored wealthy housewives at country clubs. But the last thing I expected when I signed up for this weekend of tennis was to find myself on the receiving end of an offer from my very own tennis gigolo.

I remember years ago watching a movie called “Jagged Edge“ in which a tennis pro appropriately named “Bobby Slade”, has an affair with a wealthy woman who later turns up dead. At first we are not sure if the tennis pro had killed the woman because she had threatened to go back to her husband, or if the husband had killed his wife in a fit of jealousy for getting it on with the tennis pro. At the very end of the movie, when the murderer gets killed by his defense attorney, we’re still not sure whose face is unmasked.

This is all by way of saying that I really never saw myself as the kind of woman who would attract the amorous attentions of a Bobby Slade. Although to be fair this one would have been better off being named Bobby Jindal since he actually was from India. (No, I did not get solicited by the Republican governor of Louisiana, but the experience was just as unnerving.)

It all started quite innocently. I went to the pro shop to buy some stuff. Because I had paid for the weekend of tennis, I was entitled to a sweet discount. So there I was, minding my own business, picking out tops, skorts and other pretty but practical outfits (not made of black lace, ha ha), when an Indian instructor came in and asked one of the instructors I had worked with if she could give him a ride. My instructor replied that she wasn’t leaving for another couple of hours and asked if he could wait that long. He replied that he could not as he had agreed to meet someone at the other tennis location. I recognized the address as across the street from my hotel so I  joined their conversation to offer the Indian man a ride. He smilingly accepted, and waited somewhat impatiently as I finished my purchases. He carried the bag to the car for me.

He commented right away on the amount of money I had just spent at the pro shop. And to be honest I had treated myself to the new Head YouTek Three Star racket, along with sundry head and wrist bands resulting in a $200. tab. I guess when you’re a poor-assed tennis pro, a woman who spends $200. of her hard-earned money must look like she’s rich.

I can’t think of any other explanation for why he started putting the moves on me before he had even fastened his seat-belt. He wondered if I was staying by myself at the hotel or did I come with my husband. I told him that I was alone. He wondered what I was doing later. There was a nice bar near the waterfront where he liked to take his special friends. He wanted me to know that he was mature for his age. He could meet me for drinks or dinner. Which floor was my room located on?

Bobby Slade this man was not. Not with such inept moves. He lacked the grace of a skilled gigolo. And he certainly didn’t look the part. I mean I don’t want to stereotype as I am sure that there are gigolos in all races and cultures, but the last thing I expected of a putative gigolo was that he would turn out to be a short, somewhat stocky young man with a heavy Indian accent. Really, he was not the stuff of latent fantasies.

But what my Bobby (not his real name) lacked in skill he more than made up for in enthusiasm. At first I was taken aback and wondered for a few moments whether I had made a mistake in offering him a ride. After all, he was a complete stranger and I didn’t know him from Krishna.

But then I remembered that other people had seen and heard my offer. And besides, the place was so overrun with tourists that it would have been very difficult for him to abduct me in broad daylight without attracting much attention. But just to be safe I turned off the A/C and rolled down the windows. And then I decided to have some fun.

I told him that I was really good at making curries. He got so excited he practically came. He clapped his hands enthusiastically and shouted “Ho! Ho! Ho! Why didn’t I meet you before?” I continued playing with him like this all the way to the center. Then I dropped him off at his location and sped off. 

3 comments:

Kim at TennisFixation said...

Omg! I love it! I did not think these guys really existed but obviously I'm just not looking hard enough - hope you got some fun tennis in.

Anonymous said...

What makes you think he is a gigolo? He is just another sex starved Indian guy.

tennischick said...

1. Yes I had a lot of fun.

2. Possibly. And he probably still is. lol