by Radclyffe
Then, with a feinting movement to one side that distracted her opponent, Drew dropped to the floor and rapidly swung a leg behind the chief instructor’s knee. The leg sweep brought the woman down, and only Drew’s grip on Janet’s uniform jacket prevented her from landing heavily on her back. With the opposite leg, Drew followed up with an ax kick to the chest that would have broken ribs had it connected full force.
Sean had seen Chris Roma and Janet Cho work out together many times. And she had observed nationally renowned martial artists of diverse disciplines compete in exhibitions. Still, the display of skill and power she had just witnessed left her a little breathless. It wasn’t only Drew’s speed, which was phenomenal, but also the intensity with which she fought. Sean knew it was practice, but only a very fine line separated it from true combat. Janet Cho had not held back on her attacks, and her blows must have hurt. But there was no sign of it in Drew’s reactions—she had bided her time and then counterattacked without hesitation, without mercy. Sean had never seen anything like it. She’d never seen anything like her.
“Oh, that was a good move. Thank you for breaking my fall,” Janet said as she rose. “Now the knife.”
Usually, the students practiced with rubber or wooden knives. The black belts practiced with steel. Even though the cutting edge was not honed, it was a deadly weapon. Once again Drew waited, her eyes on the blade in Janet’s hand. As the thrust came at her midsection, she side-stepped, blocking the knife arm with her own arm, then trapping Janet’s arm against her side, the elbow dangerously hyper-extended. A bit more pressure and it would snap. With the weapon arm immobilized, Drew delivered a vicious snap kick to the midsection followed by an elbow strike to the back of the neck.
As Janet anticipated each strike, she allowed her body to absorb the blows until at last she was lying on her back with Drew straddling her body. The knife was now in Drew’s hand, and the face that looked down at her was fierce, the blue eyes cold. Drew plunged the knife down with a piercing cry.
“I think I see your Aikido in that move, Master Clark,” Janet Cho said calmly. The knife point hovered millimeters above her throat.
Drew leaned back on her heels and smiled. “Yes, ma’am. But on the street, we must use all our weapons.”
“I agree. We shall talk about incorporating some of those techniques into our upper level classes.”
Both women got to their feet and bowed to one another.
“Thank you, Drew.”
“Thank you, Master Cho,” Drew responded. As she turned away, she caught Sean staring at her. When she raised a questioning eyebrow, Sean blushed and ducked her head. Drew wondered briefly just what Sean had seen during those moments when she had been too occupied to keep all her shields in place.
After Master Cho assembled the class and took the other students to the far end of the room for drills, Drew and Sean remained alone at the near end of the classroom.
“Are you sure you’re ready to work out tonight?” Drew asked again. Her voice was thick with an unbidden unease as she remembered Sean’s dazed and bloody face from the night before. “I could just talk you through it for now.”
Sean met Drew’s gaze, noticing for the first time how blond her eyelashes were, and how the fine lines at the corner of her eyes deepened when she bestowed one of her rare smiles. Sean had a quick flash of standing with Drew in the doorway of her home the night before, and how she had had to tilt her head up just a little to see Drew’s face. That was when Drew had smiled—a smile that was like the sun breaking through the clouds. She’s beautiful.
“Sean?” Drew queried, concerned by her silence and the odd expression on her face. “Are you all right?”
Sean jumped. “Yes, ma’am. I feel fine.”
“I expect you to tell me if you have problems during the workout. Understood?”
Sean nodded.
Drew looked at her quizzically, prompting a reply.
“Yes, ma’am. Understood,” Sean said briskly, her consternation causing a faint blush. I’m acting like an idiot. Heaven only knows what she thinks of me.
Drew stood to one side, watching Sean perform the first half of the first black belt form. There were thirty-two separate movements. As she expected, Sean’s technique was excellent, and she worked hard. Drew attributed Sean’s occasional uncharacteristic lapses in concentration to the effects of her injury.
As she performed the intricate movements, Sean knew she wasn’t executing as well as she could, but she wasn’t sure what was bothering her. She just felt unaccountably agitated. One minute she’d be concentrating on the sequence of the movements, and the next she’d find herself staring at Drew’s hands, fascinated by the strength in the broad palms and long tapering fingers. Then she would realize she had missed a command and, blushing, would have to apologize and request that Drew demonstrate the technique over again. Somehow, she managed to get through the hour and a half, grateful when class ended so that she wouldn’t have a chance to further embarrass herself.
Well, there goes any chance you might have had to impress her. That thought brought her up short. And since when did you care about impressing anyone, anyhow? That’s not what this is supposed to be about, right? Right.
“Good work, Sean,” Drew commented as Master Cho signaled an end to class.
Foolishly pleased, Sean grinned before remembering protocol. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Drew bowed and walked away, warmed by Sean’s obvious happiness. As she packed her gear, with Sean silently doing the same a few feet away, Drew realized she hadn’t enjoyed anything so much in longer than she could remember.
*
Within a week, Sean had learned the basic moves and sequences. Master Cho would not let her work with a partner on anything where there might be physical contact, because her nose had not completely healed. For at least part of every night, she worked one-on-one with Drew, refining the first of her several black belt forms. She found she looked forward to class in a way that she never had before. The thrill of conquering each new physical challenge was still there. The satisfaction of feeling her spirit grow calm and clear as she immersed herself in the movement and rhythm remained. The pride in her accomplishments was undiminished. But something had been added—something personal.
With a degree of anticipation that made everything else in her day pale, she looked forward to seeing Drew Clark. Her interactions with Drew were still completely defined by the strict protocol of the dojang. But there were moments each night when a smile would pass between them or Sean would glance up and Drew’s eyes would meet hers, to linger there for a few seconds, warm and appreciative. Sean had a feeling that Drew was unaware of those glances, because there was an intimacy in them that Sean thought Drew would hide had she known. Each fleeting second of connection was a treasure, and each swift smile, a gift. Sean found that she replayed these moments every evening on the drive home.
Two weeks after her accident, Sean had mastered the entire form. She had just finished demonstrating it and stood at attention awaiting Drew’s critique. Her heart was pounding, and she didn’t think it was completely due to exertion. The entire time she had performed the intricate fighting sequences, one part of her mind had been aware of Drew standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, watching her. Far from making her uncomfortable, it had actually excited her. She wanted to be watched—by her.
That’s certainly new. It does make me feel...good. Well, maybe good isn’t exactly the right word. Turned on would be more like it. Jesus—can that be true?
With effort, Sean forced her attention back to the moment.
Drew approached slowly and chose her words carefully. “The spirit of the form is flawless, Sean. That’s something some of us never master. But a form is more than a beautiful blending of mind and body.”
Sean nodded, completely focused now.
“Why do you practice these forms?” Drew asked.
“For several reasons,” Sean replied contemplatively. “O
ne is to learn to incorporate defensive movements until they become natural and reflexive. Another is to refine our techniques so that they will be maximally effective. And finally, we practice forms to help us envision an attack and see ourselves fighting back.”
“Yes, fighting back,” Drew emphasized. “You must never forget that this is a combat skill. As much as the training provides you with a sense of balance and inner harmony, what you learn here is first and always a powerful weapon. I hope you never need to use it in that way, but if you do, your life could depend upon using it well.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sean replied quietly, watching Drew’s eyes grow dark with some vision Sean couldn’t imagine. Whatever it was, it brought the shadows back.
“The timing of your back side kick, for example, needs work. Watch me.”
Drew stepped back a few paces and everything about her changed. The jungle cat emerged, her body and eyes those of a hunter, poised for the kill.
“You have just blocked a face punch from your first attacker, Sean—here.” She punctuated her words with a knife hand block that could easily break an arm. “But, you hear a sound behind you. There is another man—he has a knife—and your back is exposed.”
She moved so swiftly, Sean could barely follow.
“Now, you pivot toward him, your leg up, your knee high—the kick chambered, ready.”
Her balance on one powerful, lean leg was perfect.
“As you come around, he is there, lunging forward to slash you. But you strike first.”
Sean had felt the power of that kick, but seeing it now, full force, she realized how little of its deadly potential she had understood.
“Your leg extends fully at the instant you complete your turn. Not after your turn—because by then he is on you, and you will not have another chance.”
Agile and fluid, her leg drove outward and upward, easily high enough to crush a man’s skull. She held the kick fully extended for a few seconds, during which time Sean could envision the impact of the blow, see the attacker’s head snapping back, see the blood flying from shattered bones. Somehow, she knew that Drew could see it, too. Had seen it.
“But he will not win. You will.” Just as quickly, the images faded as Drew reined in the power and fury that had been at the heart of her demonstration. Taking a steadying breath, she asked fiercely, “Do you understand, Sean? It is not enough to be able to perform each movement in the form, even if you perform it perfectly. There must be purpose to the movements—a deadly purpose. Because the stakes might be your life.”
Each word seared Sean’s consciousness with the passion, and the barely controlled pain, behind it. She understood in that instant that Drew was completely and totally committed to preventing whatever had happened to her from happening to another woman. And she had no doubt that Drew spoke from experience, because Drew, even though she appeared unaware of it, had just relived part of that experience before Sean’s eyes.
“I understand, ma’am.”
“Do you?” Drew asked more quietly now.
“Yes,” Sean answered firmly. “I do.”
*
“How’d it go?” Susan asked when she discovered Sean outside late that evening.
“Huh? What?” Sean had been home for a few hours, lounging on the terrace, watching the few clouds in the moonlit sky float by and relishing the faint breeze on her skin. Thinking about the way it felt when Drew watched her. Remembering the way Drew had looked demonstrating the fight.
Everything about the night seemed electrified—the moon brighter, the air crisper—in fact, even her senses seemed heightened, more alive. Most surprisingly, she registered an undeniable pulse of arousal. It was such a rare occurrence that she’d barely recognized it at first. But there was no mistaking the faint ache between her legs and the heaviness in her pelvis. The low thrum of desire was enjoyable, and as she had slowly relaxed, the insistent pressure had become more apparent until it had eclipsed her awareness of anything else.
“Earth to Sean. Come in, please.”
Sean started guiltily. “Oh, class you mean? It was fine.”
“I still think it’s too soon. You should’ve waited a few weeks to go back.” Susan sighed as if knowing that her words had no effect whatsoever. “Your nose okay?”
“My nose? Oh, my nose. Yes, no problem.”
As she settled into the adjacent chair, Susan peered at her sister carefully in the half-light shining from the house. Her normally grounded, matter-of-fact twin had a slightly dreamy, almost vacant expression on her face.
“Sean, you’re not taking drugs, are you?”
“Drugs?” Sean stared at her sister. “Are you crazy? You know I hate drugs.”
“Well, you look awfully spacey. Where is your mind?”
“Oh, nowhere special. I was just relaxing,” Sean answered evasively. She wasn’t about to explain to her sister that a minute before she had been thinking it might be nice to touch herself, or that when she had looked at her own hand, imagining it between her thighs, she’d seen the strong, long-fingered hand of another. She didn’t want to admit it even to herself, because she had no idea what it meant.
“Ellen and I are fighting again,” Susan said in a small voice.
Sean finally gave her sister her full attention. “Oh, Suse...how come?”
Susan shrugged. “The same stuff.”
“Moving in together?”
“That and...she wants us to have a baby.”
“Holy God. A baby.” Sean sat up straight and stared at Susan. “She’s never said that before.”
“Well, she’s saying it now,” Susan said grimly. “She’s thirty-five, and she wants to have children before she’s too old to be a good parent. You know, the usual biological clock stuff.”
“Well, whoa. That’s a little more serious than cohabiting. How do you feel about having children?”
“I’m not keen on having one out of my own body, but I think kids are neat. It would be really something to have a child with little parts of Ellen in there.” Susan took a deep breath. “But I don’t know. It’s just such a big step...and there are so many ways to fuck up.”
Sean began to understand. “Is that what you’re scared of? That you’ll screw up and make the kid’s life miserable?”
“Well, yeah, why not?” Susan demanded bitterly. “I’m a thirty-two-year-old alcoholic who’s afraid of intimacy. What kind of parent do you think I would be?”
“You’re a bright, funny, loving woman who would make some child a wonderful parent.” Sean took her hand and squeezed gently. “But you have to really want it, Suse—Ellen, the commitment, the child—all of it. It’s too important for you not to be totally sure.”
“That’s the problem—my heart says yes but my head says no.” Susan sighed. “Oh, well, she’ll get over it. She always does.”
Sean didn’t see any point in stating the obvious. Ellen had been looking pretty unhappy lately. “Are you two still planning to come to my party for Master Cho’s birthday?”
“Weekend after next, right?”
“Yes, that Saturday night.”
“Absolutely,” Susan responded. “Ellen can’t stay mad at me that long, and she said she wouldn’t miss it. Besides, I want to meet the other crazy women who are into this torture stuff.”
“Be careful, Suse, or I may be forced to hurt you,” Sean threatened with a laugh, right before she ruffled her sister’s hair.
Chapter Five
The evening of the party was clear and warm. Sean, Susan, and Ellen had set up long tables on the broad stone terrace for the sandwiches and salads, along with an ample bar. The CD player was stacked with dance music, and small lanterns lit the periphery of the large space.
Sean double-checked the ice in the coolers beside the tables, trying to decide if she should put more soda in to chill. It was the first time all of her classmates and teachers would be visiting her home, and she was a little nervous. She’d also been anxious all day wondering if Dr
ew Clark would come. And the fact that she was anxious about it made her even more anxious. By seven o’clock, she was a wreck.
“Sean, come with me.” Ellen, dressed for the party in soft black leather pants that hugged her slim hips and a dark silk shirt open almost to the point of endangering the morals of minors—had there been any present—grasped her arm and pulled her over to the stone banister that flanked the stairs leading into the garden. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“You’ve rearranged the napkins on the buffet table a dozen times already. And you’ve changed your shirt at least twice. Very nice by the way—what there is of it. I get a rush every time I look at you, and then I have to remind myself you’re not your sister.”
Sean laughed lightly. Ellen ignored her, clearly on a mission.
“Besides,” the redhead continued, “it’s not just tonight. You’ve been jumpy and distracted for the past few weeks. What happened to the calm, cool, always-collected Sean Gray whom I know and love?”
Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her white jeans, Sean looked out over the gently sloping lawn below and shrugged. “Just a little anxious about the party, I guess.”
“Sean, dear, this is Ellen.” She shook Sean’s arm lightly. “Ellen—your friend and partner—the one who’s seen you in just about every kind of stressful situation there is, including presenting a paper to an auditorium full of colleagues and hosting a formal dinner party for fifty. You never even broke a sweat. This is not about the party.”
“I’m a little embarrassed about it,” Sean finally confided, carefully not looking at Ellen.
“About what?”
“I think...oh damn, this is hard. I think I have a...crush on one of my teachers.” Sean blushed furiously, grateful that it wouldn’t show in the deep twilight.
“That tall, blond hunky one, I hope,” Ellen said, her voice conveying none of her surprise.
