19 Walking a fine line

“I’m starving. We should have gone out for lunch,” Andrea bursted out, rushing through the hall.
“How about room service?”
Reaching the door of their hotel room, Andrea turned around and looked at Martina only to face a well-known mischievous grin. The girls had just won their first round doubles match in Luxemburg. No big deal. But still a good reason for a celebration. A private celebration. Passing her tongue on her lips, Andrea raised an eyebrow as she inserted the card on the door to open it.
“Tempting.”
She burst into the small lobby and abandoned her bag on the floor, going straight for the couch. Maybe they could have a bath before ordering food. There was nothing more relaxing and yet spicy as sharing a bath with Martina. As she finally looked up at her lover, Andrea frowned.
“What is it?”

Martina was holding a brown envelope and looked at it with confusion. Shrugging, she gave it to her partner then abandoned her racquet bag on the floor as well. Taking her shoes off at the same time.
“I don’t know, it was on the floor by the door. You walked on it, you big elephant!”
Andrea laughed and casually opened the envelope. From the bathroom where she went to wash her hands, Martina looked in the mirror at the reflection of her girlfriend. Something struck her, an alarmed look on Andrea’s face. Her smile had suddenly disappeared as her eyes were fixed on whatever the brown envelope had contained.
“What’s happening, cariña?”
It was rare to see Andrea so quiet, so still. Actually, Martina had never witnessed it before and she came back slowly into the small lobby. Almost anxious now. Something was happening, obviously.
“That’s us.”
Definitely not getting a word from her lover, Martina sat by her side and grabbed what appeared to be a picture from Andrea’s hands. She froze immediately.

¡Joder!
It was a photo, indeed. Probably taken over half a year ago. There they were in a corridor. Going at it. Not just roughly making out. If only. No, their hands didn’t leave a lot of room to imagination, actually.
“What is that?”
Moving uncomfortably on the sofa, Andrea shook her head then crossed her arms against her chest. She cleared her voice and stared back at the picture her partner was still holding with now shaking hands.
“I don’t know.”
Her voice was shaking too. It looked like blackmail.
“Is there anything else in the envelope?”
After a quick glance, she shook her head at Martina.
“No. It’s empty.”

Martina turned the photo around. No message on it either. Casting a glance at her lover, she repressed a nervous laugh and frowned. She was as taken aback as Andrea. And shocked. Maybe scared a little too, as a matter of fact. She had heard blackmail stories in the past, on tour, but had always assumed that it was only horror stories the girls like to tell in the dark and nothing else. Until now.
“Alright.”
Her comment didn’t make the slightest sense but that was all she could say at the moment. Slowly, she put the picture down on the coffee table and kept on staring at it. A intimidating silence was now floating over the hotel room. Slowly Andrea sat down next to Martina and took her hand.
“Alright,” she also said. “Guess, we have to prepare for the worst.”
Martina nodded pressing Andrea’s hand.
“I’m still hungry,” the Italian said. Martina smiled at her lover, but neither of them moved.

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