Rick Wright I "Garden of Love" {Slight Angst, Brief Smut}

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Muse: Russian Gymnast, Ukrainian Gymnast Coach, and Nine-Time Olympic Medalist Ludmilla Tourischeva
Musician: English Musician & Keyboardist and Vocalist of Pink Floyd, Rick Wright
Time: Mid to Late Seventies

Muse: Russian Gymnast, Ukrainian Gymnast Coach, and Nine-Time Olympic Medalist Ludmilla TourischevaMusician: English Musician & Keyboardist and Vocalist of Pink Floyd, Rick WrightTime: Mid to Late Seventies

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The sound of her steps were almost inaudible. As the young woman marched down the beige concrete steps of the gymnasium's entrance, the midday sun attempted to seduce beads of sweat onto her lightly tanned face. Despite her heavy feet, her petite body couldn't muster up more sound than a whispering pit pat.

Her chocolate brown pigtails, held in place by extravagant white tulle bows, were as animated as Hoppity Hooper, jumping with each exaggerated step.

The lady squinted her eyes at the deep and glistening brown of her boyfriend's ride. The rich color gleamed tauntingly, and to Mia, it seemed to mock her exhaustion.

With her nearly-empty cherry red duffle bad hanging loosely in her left hand, she yanked open the back door and tossed it in, not even a hint of carefulness in her actions. Spinning on her heels, she opened the passenger door and plopped down without a word.

Rick sighed but kept quiet, pulling out of his illegal makeshift parking spot and heading for the glorified parking lot that is the big city highway.

"Early again." Mia stated as her eyes focused on the hazy view outside of the tinted window.

Rick had a habit of showing up early to pick her up from practice. He also had a habit of getting angry when he had to wait for her to finish up. This resulted in Mia having to hold off on a shower until they returned home if she desired to appease him.

Usually, she didn't.

But, aware of the inevitable routine argument, Mia decided it was best if only one of them was fuming.

The flexible material of her scarlet leotard clung to her supple skin, damp with sweat. She made a habit out of pulling at it through the fabric of her sweatsuit, but the relief was fleeting.

"Why drive all the way home just to have to come pick you up 15 minutes later? This gym's far from our place, ya know." Rick replied neutrally, attempting to avoid the aforementioned argument.

"You know you could just come inside and watch, right?" Her treble voice replied, eyes snatching away from the passing scenery and latching onto her boyfriend of 3 years.

He used to at least come inside to the front desk, but now he just sits outside the entrance and expects her to notice. Towards the middle of practice, Mia has made of habit of checking the gym window every few minutes for Rick's car.

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