The Dangerous Skirt, and Yesterday I Signed My Death Warrant

Half an hour between lunch yesterday and the next  appointment was enough to allow me to buy a beige trouser suit (nice!) and to stroll into the Nike shop. They had this really cute tennis skirt, which isn't so much a skirt, or not just a skirt, but a pair of black, knee-length leggings with attached, black mini skirt. Plus black top of course.
Had to put it on right away for the tennis lesson with Elena, and when she complimented me on the outfit, I said, "Thanks! I think it's a really dangerous-looking tennis skirt, isn't it, because it's black and threatening."
Elena, whose body had been briefly borrowed by Fate, laughed and handed me my death warrant. "Pinar called me," she said (that's my Turkish counterpart), "and she asked whether I'd be free tomorrow for that mixed double with you and Mr H. I'll be free, what about you?"
Me: o_O
Elena: Well, are you?
Me: *gulp*
Elena: Oh come on, it's going to be fun!
Me: It's going to be a disaster, and I'm going to die from sheer embarrassment.
Elena: But Pinar...
Me: I bloody *know* that Pinar isn't that good. It's him!
Elena: But he doesn't have to play at 100%!
Me: Ha, ha!
Elena: Well, that would be inhumane! I'm sure he won't!
Me: We're talking about the man who shamelessly boasted that he can beat you if you're tired.
Elena: What? Well I never... He never beat me!!
Me: *snort*
Elena: BTW, you know what happened on Sunday? We were supposed to play from 5.30 to 7, and I'm here at 5.30, waiting, and at 5.45 he calls me and says that he can't come because the garage door doesn't open.
Me: What??? He could've walked!
Elena: He could've called a taxi.
Both, unisono: Men are just *useless*!

So we're going to play tonight, the four of us.
*headdesk*