by Rock, Vivie
This was just, like, some kind of weird fantasy or something, brought on by the fact he rescued me.
It was make-believe. It was just my body’s way of saying: Michaela, it’s been a while. Find yourself a nice chap and settle down. You’re not getting any younger. Come on. Get yourself a man and then get on and enjoy your life.
I was almost at the garage. This time I’d come prepared. I had a grey hooded sweatshirt on over my sports kit, and I’d got enough money for a taxi home afterwards.
One thing I hadn’t done, though, was - as Rebecca put it - ‘wear something sensible this time’.
I don’t know. Feeling horny all week, remembering how it felt having Raoul’s eyes all over me, I just couldn’t bring myself to put on a tracksuit, to cover up all that bare skin. I’d looked at myself in the mirror before I came out, pleased to see the muscle tone beginning to change ever so slightly after last week’s session. I just didn’t feel like hiding myself away.
I was wearing baby blue hot pants tonight, and a low-cut white sports top. My hair was still tied back, but in a looser ponytail this time, with blonde curls falling down onto my shoulders a little. I looked good, actually. I looked it and felt it.
I opened the door of the gym, right on time.
CHAPTER NINE
Focus Mitts
Raoul was at the edge of the room, punching a red punchbag, groaning with the effort of each powerful punch. The bag swung precariously back each time, and he slipped left and right to dodge it, then went straight back in for more.
I tried to attract his attention, desperate to make eye contact with him, feeling like we shared some sort of secret now he’d been into my apartment. I doubted whether he’d been into anyone else here’s home.
I looked at the rows of athletic, tough bodies. Snarling girls with short hair, with almost manly-tight bodies, and big butch men, with crooked noses, veins straining out of their arm muscles.
And then I caught myself in the mirror. I felt like a goddess among warriors.
I looked again towards Raoul, dying to wave a hand in his direction, or even shout his (beautiful) name, but instead I held back, left him to his animal groans and brute punches, and I paid my money to a brown belt guy collecting cash in the corner.
I was relieved not to be late tonight, but shocked at how tough the warm-up was. I’d thought a warm up was meant to be for easing yourself in gently, but this was full-on from the start. Bouncing up and down on the balls of our feet, then breaking into a sprint, then jogging, then sprinting, then bouncing again. It seemed easy for the first two minutes, but, ten minutes on and I was already sweating.
Still, I kept bouncing, exactly as we were told, keeping my eyes firmly on Raoul, waiting desperately for him to spot me at the back of the room, for some sort of shared smile between us, a signal that something more than an ordinary class had now passed between us.
It sounds ridiculous, but I was kind of pleased I’d worn such a low-cut top for the warm-up. I knew how good I looked, my breasts bouncing up and down like that, and I knew Raoul would like it, if he’d only look.
Shit, why wasn’t he looking?
He told us to get into pairs, and I crossed my fingers desperately for an odd number, so that I might have to pair up with him, but no such luck. A yellow belt guy with a side-parting stepped towards me.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Ben.’ He reached out for me to shake his hand, which I thought was a bit formal, but I guess he was polite.
Ben was patient with me during the exercises, though I barely knew what I was doing. He was careful not to jab the focus mitts too hard, knowing that I hadn’t yet built up the strength to resist a full-power punch, and he smiled at me encouragingly when it was my turn to remember the drill.
When we came to use the kick pads, and I had to throw my leg across his body, he was good enough not to look me in the eyes, so I didn’t feel awkward, my leg momentarily wrapped so closely around his.
Really, all in all, Ben was a nice guy. And he wasn’t so bad-looking, either. A clean sort of handsome. Well-shaved and smart, even in his nicely-ironed kickboxing gear.
While I was meant to be practising my left-hook on Ben, I snuck a look at Raoul. He was standing behind a girl with short blonde hair. She was struggling to twist properly during the wind-up for her left-hook, and he had his hands on her, guiding her hips this way and that, his palms so large that his hands almost encircled her.
I felt a bubble of jealousy at first, and then one of anger.
How dare you ignore me like this, and then put your hands on someone else?
Last week, I’d thought - stupidly, I guess - I thought I’d been the focus of his attention. This week he didn’t know I existed. He’d had a whole week to forget about me. Probably fucked a hundred girls since our last encounter, had every last memory of me fucked out of him by some sexy Oriental martial arts goddesses. That’s right. They were the goddesses, and not me.
I was just a regular woman. An efficient, hard-working, successful woman, but a mere mortal nonetheless.
I began to hit the focus mitts harder and harder, and Ben was beaming. ‘You’re improving,’ he said. ‘You’ll be a pro in no time.’
I hit the pad again, and was surprised when a hiss escaped between my teeth.
CHAPTER TEN
Live A Little
At the end of the lesson, Ben asked for my number. ‘Listen, I wouldn’t normally do something like this,’ he said. ‘It’s just, I really enjoyed partnering with you today, and… well, if you’d let me take you to dinner, I could share some tips with you if you like…’
It was sweet to see him trying so hard. The dimples on his cheeks looked cute when he spoke, and he was being such a gentleman. I looked over at Raoul, with his back to me, and then again at Ben.
‘Sure,’ I said, ‘why not?’ And I gave him my number.
Come on, Michaela. Live a little.
Ben thanked me and, after making sure I didn’t need a lift or escorting anywhere, he left.
I went over to my rucksack and picked up my shoes, wondering if I’d done the right thing, or if I was using Ben to get back at Raoul.
Just then I heard a gruff voice behind me.
‘Had fun with the yellow belt, did you?’ he asked.
I dipped my shoes and whipped around, realizing that I was the only one left in here with him.
‘His name is Ben,’ I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact, but aware that my anger was already spilling out.
Raoul looked at me, without responding, and then he took off his gloves.
‘And yes, I did have fun with him, actually,’ I continued. ‘He’s a good guy.’
Raoul cracked his knuckles.
I wondered how far I could push this, whether any of it was bothering him at all. ‘He asked for my number,’ I said.
Raoul reached for the red punchbag, hanging by the wall, and he pulled it into the centre of the room.
‘He wants to take me out,’ I said, turning to watch him.
Raoul stepped forward, left foot in front, and put his left fist to his cheek. He pulled back his right fist, and then punched the bag with a groan.
Was this having an effect on him? Was what happened with Ben winding him up somehow?
‘So,’ I said, growing in bravery, ‘I gave him my number. I hope he calls me soon.’
Raoul began punching the bag repeatedly, punching and growling, punching and growling. It was like watching a wild creature rip apart its prey. His taut muscles rippled with each movement. I’d never seen anything like it, such an animal display, someone letting go so completely. Raoul was not all human.
‘Raoul,’ I said, softer now, ‘are you okay?’
He stopped punching, and gazed at me with those steely eyes. Slowly, he began to lift off his vest, up and over his head, and then he threw it to the floor.
I couldn’t believe it. I knew he’d have a six-pack, but this was incredible. That photograph I’d seen on the flyer for thi
s place - that wasn’t Photoshopped. That was real. A deep, thick cleft ran between his pectoral muscles, which were like armour plates at the top of his chest. And then the six pack - so completely defined. Each square of muscle so thick and tough. He was bulging with flesh and yet as hard as rock.
‘I’m going to teach you something,’ he said, throwing another fist at the punch bag. ‘You need to learn some self-defence moves, so if what happened to you last week ever happens again, you’ll be ready for it.’
Okay. He was speaking about last week. I’d assumed he just wasn’t going to mention it. That it would be a memory we each kept, but never spoke of.
‘Come here,’ he said, and pulled me towards him.
I was so close I was almost touching his bare skin; my breasts bulging out in front of me, almost touched his abs. But he quickly pulled me around, a little too hard by the wrists, so that my back was to him. Then he yanked me backwards by my hips, pulling me even closer to him.
‘This is your enemy,’ he whispered into my ear.
He pointed at the red punch bag.
‘Now let’s imagine your enemy is coming towards you.’
He pushed the bag hard out in front of us, and it swung back dangerously towards me, with great force. He swiped us expertly out of the way, pushing my head to the right, and holding me there while it swung back. ‘Punch it,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘Punch it out of the way. Save yourself.’
The punchbag began racing towards me again, but this time he held me rooted to the spot, unable to move. The bag was flying towards my face. I yelped and held out my hands. ‘You idiot!’ I shouted. ‘This isn’t helping me!’
The bag went flying backwards, then swung towards me again. This time I punched it away a little harder, with more conviction. I was furious. ‘Listen, I don’t know if you’re angry at me for giving Ben my number, or what your problem is-,’ I hit the bag again, ‘-but you’re acting like a total dick!’
Raoul’s muscular arms reached out and grabbed the punchbag, and I noticed, as he leant forwards, that there was something warm and hard pressing into my buttocks. He wasn’t - aroused - was he?
He held the punchbag still, and pressed his body harder against me.
Before I knew it, his lips were on me, kissing my ears, my neck, my cheeks, his arms still holding the punchbag just inches from my face.
Then, holding it now only with one strong arm, he grabbed my stomach with his free hand, and pushed me against his erection. Yep. He was definitely aroused. And I couldn’t believe how hard he was, how big he felt. He was enormous. If anything, his penis was even more impressive than his six-pack.
I felt a wetness begin to spread between my legs, just as it had done all those times this week, whenever I’d thought about his name. ‘Raoul…’ I murmured. ‘Rah-ool.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I'm Your Teacher
Raoul’s hand moved from my stomach, up to my breasts, running over the tight white material of my sports bra, and I felt my nipples harden at his touch. His hands felt so strong, so manly. I knew these hands had the power to break me apart if they wanted to, and yet here they were, sliding all over me, gently at first, and then in big, greedy handfuls, like he was desperate to get every inch of me in his palms.
‘You know you’re gorgeous,’ he growled in my ear, with that beautiful (Latino?) twang in his voice. ‘You know how much I’ve been wanting you.’
‘Then why did you ignore me all night?’ I asked. ‘You wouldn’t even look at me.’
‘I knew that if I looked at you, I’d just want to fuck you,’ he said, and pressed his erection deep into my tiny shorts, so that I could almost feel it pushing into my wetness, and the only thing stopping us from actually having sex was clothes.
I grabbed onto the punch bag in front of me, so that Raoul had two free hands. He held my breasts tight in his palms, then ran his fingers down my body, and knelt behind me. As I felt his breath near my shorts, I began to worry. I’d been working out for the last hour and a half. I smelt of salt and sweat. It might put him off me if we did this now.
But I needn’t have worried.
This man was wild for me.
He yanked my shorts to one side, and put his hungry, animal mouth to me. He sucked and nibbled and licked me like I was the first meal he’d eaten in months, and as he did so, he growled, consumed with fiery passion.
‘Yes!’ I shouted, holding onto the punch bag for dear life. ‘Don’t stop that, whatever you do!’
Raoul continued to eat me, and eat me and eat me, and with each mouthful he took I felt like I was being taken inside him, like soon I would melt into his body, that we’d be one person, with the same arms, the same strong body. My pussy had never felt this good. After months of only my fingers and, if it was lucky, the occasional go with a silicone vibrator, my pussy was going crazy.
I felt like a deep well, full of water, like a flower, open and full of dew, like a firework. I felt like a million different things at once, but, most of all, I felt like I was going to come.
My legs were shaking, my nipples pressed hard through my top, desperate to be sucked too, and the blood ran to my head, as well as to my hot, wet pussy.
Raoul licked my clitoris, circling one way, and then the other, like he was moving in on his prey, and then, all of a sudden, I felt him push a thick, hard finger into me. My muscles tightened around it - so much bigger than one, or even two, of my own fingers. The pleasure of having something so big, so strong inside me, something that made up part of a fist that was capable of punching a man to the ground, pushed me over the edge.
I grabbed onto the punch bag and I screamed.
The waves of ecstasy flooded over me. I trembled and I shook, and I dropped, slowly to the floor.
Raoul held onto me tight, pulling me against him. ‘You taste amazing,’ he said quietly, and then, lying me down on my side, as I felt far too dreamy to stand up, he kissed me full on the lips, and then said: ‘I have to go now.’
‘Go?’ I asked, with a slightly slurred voice, the effect of the most powerful orgasm I remember ever having. ‘Go where?’
‘It’s not right,’ he growled, scowling, and I saw that he still had an erection. ‘I’m your teacher. This isn’t meant to happen.’
And then he pulled on his t-shirt and stood up, leaving me lying there in a heap on the floor, thighs quivering, desperately wanting more.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dinner Time
Back at my apartment, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was angry - very angry - but I was also confused. How could he do that to me? Ignore me one minute, bring me to orgasm the next? And, even worse than that, even though he’d given me the best orgasm of my life, rather than satisfying me, it had left me hungry for more. Much more.
I felt like a hole, in desperate need of being filled.
Does that sound tacky? Well, it’s true.
He’d worked me up into a frenzy.
I tried doing normal things. Made a cup of tea, watched some TV, had a cold shower, but nothing could take away this ache. I needed to find a man, and I needed one fast.
At that moment, as if by magic, my phone buzzed, and I saw I had a text message. It was from Ben.
Lovely ‘hooking’ up with you today. Haha. I know it’s short notice, and maybe you’ve already eaten, but I’d love to see you. Up for dinner tonight?
I looked at my phone, almost angry with it for being the wrong man. But then I thought of Ben’s dimples, and how horny I was, and I decided to go for it. It was a Friday night. No work tomorrow. Why not?
Sure. What time shall we meet?
Ben texted back immediately.
Half an hour. I’ll pick you up. Dress fancy!
Well, he was definitely trying to impress. You could at least say that about him. I texted him back my address, and tried to think.
So, I was desperately horny, going out on a date with Ben. Nice guy Ben. This was okay. I was a single woman. I hadn’t even fucked
anyone today - not properly. It was perfectly acceptable to go out on a date.
But what to wear? Definitely not my sensible knickers. This was one of my rare lacy French knicker moments. And I figured I’d really go for it with my outfit too. A sexy red dress, strappy and tight. Stilettos. Some sheer satin stockings and my diamond earrings. Gold necklace. You only live once, eh? Besides, what was all this nice stuff I owned actually for, if not to wear?
I got ready quickly, feeling an excitement building up inside me that I hadn’t felt for years. I’d forgotten that going out could feel like this. God, I’d been boring for so long. I was ready to unleash the real me. And I was going to unleash it on… Ben.
I smeared a dark smoky streak of charcoal eyeshadow over each eyelid, and then applied some crimson lipstick. There. I was dressed to kill.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Privacy Glass
Outside, a car approached me.
But it was a car I’d seen before. A grey four-wheel drive. A Subaru, with huge alloy wheels, a sports grill, and blacked-out privacy glass in the rear windows. It was a car that said: don’t mess with me - you don’t stand a chance.
The car revved and growled along the kerb, up to my front door, and the window hissed down. Raoul was wearing big black sunglasses, a greasy t-shirt and his kickboxing pants. He looked sweaty, filthy, and gorgeous. ‘We need to talk,’ he said.
I smoothed down my red dress, awkwardly, thinking how strange it was that just a couple of hours ago he had been touching me in a grimy gym, his mouth pressed to my most sensitive parts. And now here I was, in a strappy dress, heels and make-up, so obviously waiting for another man. What must he think of me?
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Are you getting in?’
