Inner Game Of Tennis Novels & Stories

Mrs Smith had to push her inside the car when she requested him to drop her. "You are not into cars, I presume?" asked Rhonda "No, I am a girl." "Nancy, you better watch your mouth or else I will tell mother how you behaved with her," said Emma. "Hey, it's alright. Please don't fight. A lot of people have similar thinking. I don't mind it anymore. I still play PUBG and mortal combat. No one can stop me from doing that." "Wow! I too play them sometimes," said Emma. "Which character do you like to play in mortal combat series?"

Dream on! "I don't need you to make it up to me. "Your mission was only to hurt me, not to utterly humiliate me, nor to have another man violate me, so get lost!" I clenched my fists and shouted. Before Shane could explain, Eugene, furious, punched him right across the face. "You animal! Janine's my greatest treasure! How dare you treat her like that?!" Eugene's eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging on his neck. He punched Shane again and kicked him to the ground.

My son asked, "Daddy, why is that lady crying?" I said, "Everyone is in a poker game. "If we win, we will smile. "If we lose, we may cry." My son nodded as if he understood. "Oh, that lady must lose..."

As he tried to wrap his brain around what he was experiencing, he heard Taylor Swift’s voice call to him, “Are you ready to play?” “Sure,” he said as he marveled at the technology that created the world he was standing in. They saw a racket sitting by the court, so Nate picked it up and stepped onto the playing surface. There was nothing about the experience that felt artificial in the least. “Do you always wear jeans to play tennis?” the virtual Taylor Swift asked with a smile.

I was staring at him as if I have never seen a man before. What has happened to you, Elena? You have never checked out any boy. Then why now? 'Because you never found one worthy of staring longer than 2 seconds' the mini that lives in my brain told me. People call it subconscious mind and I call it mini. It keeps on poking its nose in my every thought. I am not complaining because many a time it is right. "Whatever it is!" I mumble before taking the ball in my hand left hand. And with this, the coach whistled to start the game. In our university's sports week, we generally have five rounds of table tennis out of which one player has to win three rounds to be the winner.

Deliberately, I tipped my glass over, spilling wine onto his pristine white shirt. His brows furrowed slightly, a clear expression of displeasure. "Oops, my bad. Pour me another one, would you?" The veins on his hand gripping the bottle bulged, his jaw tightening as if to suppress a retort. Every slight movement betrayed his frustration. When he refilled my glass, I took a sip of the sharp liquor and, emboldened, grabbed his collar, pulling him closer. At this proximity, I could feel his warm breath against my face.

Well it is damn true that, 'if you get someone as that of your nature, even the smallest of things look interesting' and to these two girls justified the quote very well. "Welcome beautiful ladies, mind letting me know what game would you like to play?" a man of average height, pale brown skin with wrinkles around his blue eyes appeared out of nowhere, suddenly. He smiled politely with his folded hands doing his job alas, the poor guy hardly had the idea that those two girls had only entered his game zone just to mess up a little but play any game! He lightly spread his one arm out in order to lead the two school girls to inside of his shop, "This way ma'am. I think you would like playing wi

She smiled again as she replied, "My pleasure too." Her smiles made her prettier. Believe me, her smiles could weaken the hands of a firing squad and make them defy the orders of their commander. We started our game by tossing hands, for a few minutes before the actual game started. Her Services were dangerously skillful. She flickled the ball with her bat, making the ball roll speedily and swiftly towards me. That made the tennis ball quite uncontrollable for my bat. She was a skillful table tennis player. She surprised me by the way she dished out skills one after the other like a maestro. The hot strokes, dangerous side-spinnings, point-bound loopings and sharp cuttings kept her ahead of

The resort’s staff practically knew her by name now — she’d been charming them with stories and laughter for two weeks. That left Damon, Sienna, and Jordan free to cause trouble. First stop: the tennis court. Damon insisted on warm-up rallies. Jordan, naturally, made every rally impossible by swinging wildly and chasing the ball halfway across the court. “Jordan,” Sienna said, stifling a laugh, “you’re supposed to hit the ball, not see how far you can throw it.” “This is called psychological warfare,” he replied, retrieving another ball. “I tire you out mentally before we even start keeping score.”