4 comments/ 18767 views/ 5 favorites A Karate Love Story Ch. 01 By: ynona I know many of you are looking for the "good stuff." I'll warn you, I like to establish the characters, setting, and premise for what happens. Just stick with me! I'll make it worth your while. I crave and appreciate your feedback! Please vote and leave comments. – ynona A Karate Love Story, Ch. 01 "In the Dojo" I stood motionless in a cat stance, sweat pouring down my face and soaking the back of my gi. "Sink in that cat stance!" shouted Sensei. "Green belts and above have no excuse! You cannot progress without a good cat stance!" In the mirror, I could see heads bobbing as people of all belt colors tried to "sit down" better in their stances. I was proud that I already had a better cat at blue belt than some of my seniors, but the drawback at times like this was that I'd been doing it correctly for a minute longer than some of them, and my back leg was burning viciously. I really need to practice this at home more, I thought. I surreptitiously put more weight on my front foot for a moment to relieve the discomfort, then quickly shifted back as one of the black belts roaming the room neared me. I felt a little stab of guilt as I remembered one of Sensei's favorite admonitions: "Do the right thing always, not just when I'm watching you!" I sank more deeply than required to make up for my little transgression. Eat bitter, I thought desperately. Eat bitter, eat bitter, eat bitter . . . "Yame!" Sensei called. "Switch legs!" The entire dojo sighed in relief, then circle-stepped quickly to the other side, everyone striving to make this one perfect. Sensei grabbed his shinai and began circulating around the room with the other black belts. The shinai, a bamboo sword that made a loud cracking sound on contact, was more a reminder than any kind of real threat. Sensei Tom liked to pretend he was hard on us, that one day he might actually take out someone's knee to punish a weak stance, but I couldn't imagine a more gentle-hearted, giving person. Of course, I would not want to be the idiot that tried to mug him on a dark street . . . As usual, Sensei began one of his long, instructive anecdotes as we sweated and fought to maintain perfect stances. "I had a brown belt one time – did NOT want to practice his cat stance," he said as he stepped neatly between two blues further down the second row from me and began to inspect the third line. He tapped a green sharply on the back leg with the shinai, and the woman promptly sank. "Well, he had some other issues too. Wanted to learn a lot of flashy stuff, wanted to go to tournament. Wanted to walk around like a big shot looking for a fight so he could prove how big and bad he was. Got mad because I wouldn't promote him fast enough for his ego." He paused again and spoke quietly to a blue, gently adjusting the man's shoulders to the proper angle. "I held him back because his pride kept him from practicing the fundamentals that are so important to doing kata properly, and he did not exhibit the humility and willingness to learn that should be characteristic of the higher ranks." My back leg started to tremble despite my efforts to remain still, but I refused to let myself give in to the temptation to rest it. After all, I wanted to learn to protect myself, and an attacker wouldn't step back and give me a break to rest my aching muscles. "Yame!" Sensei called again. "Stand in ready position; I won't make you hold that cat all day. Of course, if we were on Okinawa, I could leave you there, go make a cup of tea and a snack, and come back in thirty minutes." We all smiled; he loved to pretend despair over his soft treatment of us. We gratefully stood up straight with our fists held low in front of us in ready position. The white belts up front wiped their foreheads quickly and adjusted their gis, while the rest of us stood proudly motionless, still disciplined despite the easier stance. Sensei continued to walk around the dojo as he told his story. "Yes, this young man did not want to practice a proper cat stance, nor did he want to practice kata over and over and work on the fine details. So he went to another dojo across town; found himself a teacher that would promote him and take him to tournaments. He's something like a third-degree black belt today, but still can't do a proper cat stance." Sensei shook his head in disgust. One of the circulating black belts, Jack, neared me. I subconsciously lowered my chin a bit, knowing it improved my profile, then silently cursed myself for an idiot. Jack had to be the hottest and yet nicest man in the dojo. Amazingly, he was single, having recently gone through a divorce. I was sure he wouldn't remain single for long, though – he's one of those men who just looks married and probably makes a depressingly perfect husband. Well, depressing for us girls unlucky enough not to be married to him. I'm sure his wife would be deliriously happy. It made me wonder what kind of idiot his ex-wife was. Jack was a military man – army, I think, and in good enough shape to qualify for special forces if he wanted to. He wasn't bulky, but he wasn't too slim, either – just a nice, average size with hard, compact muscle from neck to foot. I had often fantasized about feeling his strong arms around me, caressing the back of his neck and losing myself in the warm, passionate, perfect kiss that he must be the master of, considerate and intelligent as he was. These thoughts always made me blush when he was nearby. I pushed those thoughts ruthlessly away and worked on my "stone face" in the mirror as the sleeve of his gi brushed past mine. Focus, I told myself sternly. Sensei finished telling his story, then, since class was about to run over time, nodded to his black belts to resume their positions at the side of the class. The senior brown belt present called for the various bows, Sensei clapped sharply twice to dismiss us, and the dojo broke out in conversation as everyone made their way back to the lockers and water fountains. I pulled my waist-length blonde hair out of its sweaty twist and started to shake it out. "Audra." I turned to see Sensei approaching. I returned his easy smile, bowed slightly, and waited respectfully to see what he wanted. "Let's go to my office for a few minutes; I have something to discuss with you." "Okay," I replied, then followed him back through the locker room, past the bathrooms and into his office at the end of the hall. I have always loved this office. It wasn't very big, but it was decorated tastefully and appropriately in Oriental fashion. I wasn't sure what the heck constituted good feng shui, but I suspected his office had it. Shoji screens with black frames and almond-hued panes lined three walls, and the wall behind his black lacquer desk held an assortment of swords and traditional karate weapons, common Okinawan farm implements turned to a sterner purpose under the Japanese oppression. His desk was much cleaner than mine (I work in a law office and have many precarious stacks), tastefully displaying a few special items the dojo had given him for birthdays and other occasions. He gestured to one of the chairs, then sat down behind his desk with a small sigh of relief. Expert martial artist that he was, I knew his knees weren't what they once were. Not that anyone would figure it out from watching him. Sensei truly knew how to eat bitter. I studied him discreetly as he shuffled through a small stack of papers next to the computer. At 53, I thought he was much more attractive than the pictures I'd seen of him as a younger man. Being older suited him. His hair, a mixture of iron-gray and black, was pulled back into a short pony-tail. With his weathered skin and salt-and-pepper beard, he could make a very convincing "Samurai face" that never failed to make the children's classes giggle. If I were just ten years older, I might wish he wasn't happily married. As it was, he had in many ways filled the empty spaces left in my heart when my father died several years ago. He found the paper he was looking for and handed it to me. "You said you would be interested in watching a tournament, didn't you?" he asked. I shifted forward in my seat. "Yes," I said. "I know you aren't a fan of them, but I thought it would be neat to watch, and to meet people from other dojos." "Well," he said, gesturing at the flyer in my hands, "there's a tournament downtown this weekend. Some of the black belts and I have decided to go because some old friends will be there." He hesitated. "I wanted to talk to you about this in private because we aren't making it general knowledge that we're going. You know that I disapprove of training for the sole purpose of going to tournament, and I'm afraid that most in the lower ranks would find it very seductive if they were to go." I swelled with pride inside at his implication that I was not so easily tempted. Sensei and I had had many conversations about various aspects of martial arts, and he knew I was serious about the art and the personal quest – mind, body, and spirit – and was not interested in showing off and seeking any recognition beyond belt ranking. "I'd love to go!" I exclaimed. "When is it?" "It's a two-day tournament, Friday and Saturday. Since we like to, ahem . . ." he looked around in mock embarrassment and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "indulge in a few adult beverages on Friday night when we go to these things, we generally get hotel rooms in town. Saves some driving, too. Of course, if you prefer, you can drive home Friday and come back the next morning . . ." "No," I replied, trying not to act quite as excited as I felt. "The hotel would be fine. It'll be like the vacation I haven't had in three years!" "Great! Lisa's going, so the two of you can room together if you like. Jack and I will get a room next door so we're all together." We discussed a few more details, then I rose, bowed slightly and left to retrieve my bag of gear. My mind was in overdrive – a tournament! And Jack would be sleeping next door! Of course, that was probably the closest my bed would ever be to his, but still, a girl can dream . . . * * * * * * * * * To be continued – coming very soon, Ch. 2, "The Tournament." A Karate Love Story Ch. 02 I know many of you are looking for the "good stuff." I'll warn you, I like to establish the characters, setting, and premise for what happens. Just stick with me! I'll make it worth your while. If you haven't read "A Karate Love Story, Ch. 01" yet, please do -- the character development is important. I crave and appreciate your feedback! Please vote and leave comments. -- ynona A Karate Love Story Ch. 02 "The Tournament" A confusing, exhilarating din of voices and shouts surrounded me, not assaulting my ears but rather pressing against my entire body, holding me up as if I could float into the arena rather than descend the wide ramp by foot. Sensei Tom reached back and grabbed my hand as we threaded our way through hundreds of closely-packed, slow-moving bodies. I could feel Lisa's hand on my upper arm and hoped Jack was keeping up at the rear, as the four of us tried to stay together in the crush. My heart felt like it was going to pound its way out through my stomach in its excitement. The floor below swarmed in a riot of color as people dressed in street clothes and a wide variety of white and colored gis found their places for the morning's first events, set up their gear, and began warming up with stretches and kata. I could see why Sensei was reluctant to bring younger students -- I found myself yearning to join those gathered around the enormous mats. Not from a desire to show off, I told myself, but as a personal challenge. A quieter, more honest voice inside told me I desired to sparkle and to amaze those around me. "Tom!" shouted a hearty, disembodied voice somewhere to the right. Sensei's hand pulled roughly out of mine, and he strode forward to bear-hug a tall, pot-bellied man who materialized from the crowd. Sensei was grinning so widely I thought his ears would start hurting. He slapped the other man hard on the back and said, "Marcus! I haven't seen you in, what -- eight years? Nine?" "Ten, but who's counting?" said the other man with a smirk. "I thought you didn't come to these things! Change your mind?" Sensei glanced at us slyly, then said, "Nah, I just have some nice, incorruptible students who'd like to watch, that's all." Marcus waggled his bushy eyebrows at us. "Incorruptible, eh? We'll just see about that! Come on, Tom, I've got some front-row seats for you and your choir of angels . . ." A path seemed to open magically before the big man, and we made our way to the floor with little trouble. Squeezing between piles of sparring gear and gym bags, we followed him to a section of seats that faced the center mat. A group of young men and women in gis with matching insignia turned and looked at us appraisingly. As introductions were made all around, I discovered that Marcus was sensei at another dojo, and these were his students -- the best of them, at any rate. It was funny to think of this fleshy man as being not just a black belt, but a sensei, but I knew that appearances could be deceiving. By happy coincidence, I ended up sitting by Jack. I couldn't help examining him furtively under the guise of looking around the arena. It was strange not to see him in a gi. The white uniform and black belt had always conferred a mystical aura of authority and distance on him, and seeing him in regular clothes seemed to make him more human than angel, and tantalizingly more accessible. He looked deliciously fresh-from-the-shower in his dark jeans and crisp, blue polo shirt that complemented his blue eyes. It was hard not to stare at his collar where it brushed against his tanned neck, and I couldn't help breathing slowly and deeply of his aftershave. He turned to me with a pleasant smile and said, "So, this is your first time at tournament, isn't it, Audra?" As always, hearing him speak my name sent a thrill down my spine. "Yes," I replied. "It looks confusing, with all these different things going on at once. It reminds me of my cousin's gymnastics meets." "They are very similar," he said. "Would you like me to explain the rules and point systems?" "Please!" We spent the rest of the morning discussing the various events, critiquing competitors, and applauding everyone enthusiastically. We seemed to be in our own little bubble, surrounded by all these people and the noise, but set apart. This was the first time I had ever had a sustained conversation with him -- his correcting my movements in training didn't count -- and I found myself falling for him more every minute. We had to lean our heads close together in order to hear each other over the noise, and sometimes it was loud enough that we had to practically shout in each other's ears to be heard. Being so close to him, with our arms brushing frequently, felt comfortable and right. We weren't sempai and kohai -- senior and junior, black belt and blue -- we were a man and a woman enjoying each other's company and opinions. A loud, clanging bell that signaled the two-hour lunch break took me by surprise. I couldn't believe we had been there four hours already! I looked around and saw Sensei down the row with Marcus and Lisa at his shoulder, signaling for us to follow. Since the crowd threatened to cut us all off, Jack grabbed my hand and began to sidestep his way toward Sensei. I was a little surprised when we emerged from the arena and turned not toward the parking lot, but toward a nearby intersection. It made sense that we would walk to a nearby restaurant, though: the parking lot was choked with cars trying to get out. It probably would have eaten up thirty minutes going that way. To my disappointment, Jack let go of my hand when the crowd thinned out, but he remained at my side and continued our conversation about the morning's events. Lisa walked ahead of us with two other women from Marcus' dojo, and Sensei and Marcus strolled at the front, obviously recounting old times together. The arena itself was on the edge of downtown proper, so within a block or two, we were walking between skyscrapers twenty to fifty stories high. Even now, with the sun just past high noon, we were nicely shaded. This part of town had lots of trees and wrought-iron accents -- old-fashioned street lamps, balcony bars, and so forth -- that gave it a comfortable, old-world charm, despite the acres of glass and steel towering above us. We turned into an alley that had been transformed into a little paradise of cobblestones and greenery that sprang up on both sides and hung from a lattice that curved overhead. Hidden speakers played cheery big-band jazz, and vari-colored lanterns hung here and there among the vines. I could see that this alley housed several restaurants -- Italian, Greek, and a couple others I couldn't quite see -- and at least one shop that I definitely wanted a closer look at later. Sensei and Marcus led us to the Italian restaurant, and we filed in the door. This was obviously a popular place for lunch. Men and women, mostly wearing business suits, crowded the tables and booths, some chatting animatedly, some with papers and laptops, apparently on a working lunch. Marcus stopped, turned back, and gathered us all together. "Tell ya what -- it's awful crowded, how about you all go out and get us some nice seats outside? I'll order a couple of pizzas and some drinks and meet you out there," he offered. "That's nice of you," said Sensei with a smile. "I'll be sure to save you two seats!" Marcus guffawed and mock-slapped Sensei on the side of the head, then turned to join the line. Grinning, Sensei jerked his head at us and led us back outside. Halfway through the maze of tables, I saw Sensei stop abruptly, and I barely backpedaled in time to avoid stepping on the back of his shoes. His whole body seemed stiff. "Well, well, well," I heard from up ahead. Looking around Sensei's arm, I could see a young man pushing his chair back from a table and standing to face Sensei with arms folded cockily across his chest. "If it isn't my favorite sensei. How's it goin', Tommy-boy?" I couldn't believe anyone would dare call Sensei "Tommy-boy" in that demeaning tone. Who did this guy think he was? Jack and Lisa moved to stand on either side of Sensei, Jack surreptitiously putting himself between me and this rude guy. From the tension in their shoulders, they either knew him or could just tell that he was trouble, whoever he was. Sensei sighed. "Hello, Trey. Here for the tournament?" "Of course!" he said. "This is my year. You're looking at tomorrow's first-place trophy winner." His friends around the table all looked at each other and smirked. "Confident as usual, I see," said Sensei. I could tell he really meant "arrogant," or "jerk-faced," or something much less flattering. "With reason," Trey said, buffing his nails ostentatiously on his shirt and examining them. "So nice to see you again Jack, Lisa." He directed an obvious leer at Lisa, then seemed to notice me. "Oh, I don't recognize this one. What's your name, little kohai?" Coming from him, kohai was less "little sister" and more "little worm that I might consider stomping one day." Sensei half-turned his head toward me and hesitated, then nodded his head slightly. "Audra," I said tersely, not even wanting to give this jerk that much of myself. "Au-draa," he said musingly, drawing it out a little. He stepped around Jack to get a better look at me. Jack looked as if he wanted to grab the guy and throw him back into his seat, but didn't want to start a fight here. Trey lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I'll bet Tommy-boy brought you here just to watch, eh? Too good and righteous to compete? But you look like you'd like to hit the mats. There's still time to sign up for tomorrow's events . . ." Sensei stepped back to stand next to me, and he put his arm around my shoulders. "Leave her alone, Trey. You know we won't agree on this." Trey narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest again. "Yeah, go ahead and protect your little karateka. I'm sure you wouldn't want her to get . . . hurt or anything." Sensei's fingers gripped my arm tightly. "Nice to see you again, Trey. Good luck at the tournament," he said, twisting his lips around the polite words then steering me firmly towards a table as far from Trey and his friends as possible. Jack sat across from me, and I could see him warily eyeing Trey's table from time to time. Everyone seemed subdued and uncomfortable from the encounter. "Who is that guy?" I asked. Sensei sighed. "Remember the brown belt I told you about? The one who left because I wouldn't promote him fast enough?" "The one with the crappy cat stance?" "Yes. That's Trey." He glanced sideways at me with a worried look on his face. "What's the matter?" I laughed a little, trying to lighten things up. "Don't worry, he didn't convince me to enter the tournament." Nobody else laughed. I looked around, and all three of them looked very serious. Sensei put his hand over mine. "Audra, I have a bad feeling about Trey. He left our dojo on very unpleasant terms, and I wouldn't put it past him to try something this weekend." Jack and Lisa nodded their heads in agreement. "I don't like the way he looked at you. Promise me that you'll stay with us at all times, okay?" I looked at Jack. The worry lines between his brows deepened, and he said, "Sensei's right. Trey was never very stable, and he always feels like he has to prove something." "Okay," I said, a little baffled at all this concern. "Don't worry about me, I'll stick to you guys like glue!" Marcus bustled up with a tray of drinks and a funny story about some couple he saw in a booth, but I just sat there, suddenly not hungry anymore. * * * * * * * * * To be continued. Coming next: "Ch. 03, Confrontation." A Karate Love Story Ch. 03 If you haven't read Chapters 1 - 2 yet, please do -- the character development is important. I crave and appreciate your feedback! Please vote and leave comments. -- ynona A Karate Love Story Ch. 03 "Confrontation" The four of us -- Sensei Tom, Lisa, Jack and I -- walked back to the arena with Marcus and his students for the afternoon events. Although I had finally managed to eat some of my pizza, I was still uneasy about our chance encounter with Trey. One of Tom's former students, he had left our dojo a few years ago angry at Sensei for not promoting him fast enough. From what I could see at lunch, he still nursed a grudge. His veiled threat toward me seemed to worry Sensei and Jack, which meant I was definitely worried. I was getting a real "Cobra Kai" feel (a la Karate Kid) from him and his friends. As we settled back into our prime seats up front with Marcus's students, the kata demonstrations began in earnest, starting with the lower belt ranks and moving up. What I found fascinating about this tournament was that it combined several different schools of karate under one roof, so I was able to see, for example, Seisan performed in subtly different ways depending on whether the practitioner was from Shotokan, Shorin Ryu, or Matsubayashi. Sensei animatedly pointed out the variations to us and explained the reasons, the pros and cons, and so forth. He clearly loved every aspect of the martial arts and had not confined himself to one narrow field of study. I could tell he was struggling to stay in his seat and not jump up to demonstrate his points, as he was wont to do in class. I jumped slightly as I felt a hand on mine. I turned to see Jack smiling at me, and I shyly smiled back. Of course, we would never dream of interrupting Sensei mid-lecture, so we simply intertwined our fingers and enjoyed the twin pleasures of learning from Sensei and cradling each others' hands for the first time. I listened now through a rushing sound in my ears. I couldn't believe Jack was holding my hand! His was warm, calloused and strong, large enough to enfold mine securely. His thumb softly caressed the back of my hand, and I reciprocated by lightly squeezing his hand once in a while. It was no "movie moment" -- no music began to play, my heart didn't begin to palpitate, I certainly didn't swoon -- but just as I had felt all morning when we had talked tête-à-tête, this felt right, as if we had slipped easily and without fanfare into a long-accustomed, well-loved habit. I don't know how long I sat there with my brain fogged up, barely paying attention to the tournament, but I realized suddenly that Jack was tapping my arm. When I looked at him questioningly, he grimly pointed at the mat right in front of us. Trey was walking to the center of it. A chill trickled down my spine as I noticed he was staring straight at Sensei, unsmiling. His eyes remained on Sensei's as the official announced "Kusanku!", and he waited almost too long to break eye contact before bowing. From Jack's tighter grip on my hand, I knew he had noticed Trey's challenging stare. As Trey began the first few moves of his kata, Jack, a forced lightness in his tone, explained, "Kusanku is probably the most difficult kata there is. It's very long, and some of the stances -- like that one --" Trey had just dropped almost all the way to the floor, "take a lot of muscle to control. It's definitely a kata to impress -- which, I'm sure," he added wryly, "is why he chose it." I could see what he meant. There were a lot of flourishes that Trey played up to the hilt, though I noticed on a few occasions that he left himself too open as a result. I had the feeling that he was showing off for Sensei's benefit, sort of a look-how-awesome-I-am-you-never-appreciated-my-genius-type performance. However, I was put in mind of Riverdance and the difference between rival frontmen Michael Flatley and Colin Dunne: although Flatley was flashier and better-looking, he lacked Dunne's cool discipline. Whereas Flatley's arms tended to drift aimlessly off-center when he held them out, Dunne's were always rock-solid where they were supposed to be. Trey was definitely more like Michael Flatley. And Jack, I thought fondly, was Dunne. Jack leaned forward a little to watch more closely, then smirked. "Okay, watch here: there's a series of cat stances." Trey moved at angles from one cat stance to another, with accompanying lightning-fast hand strikes. Watching his feet, however, I could see why Jack was smirking. Trey was standing almost straight, with practically no bend to his back leg, and his front heel barely left the ground. I couldn't help giggling. It was kind of pathetic that he couldn't -- or refused to -- do such a basic stance properly, despite his obviously athletic build. After a last mediocre cat stance, Trey stood up and bowed to signal the end of his kata. With an uneasy, squirming sensation in my stomach, I now saw that he was staring me down, just as he had stared at Sensei earlier -- except now he looked very angry. I had the uncomfortable feeling that he had noticed me laughing at him. He bowed to the official, then stalked off the mat to wait for his score. The judges, spaced around the mat at the front and corners, shuffled through their cards to choose scores. 5.4. 5.3. 5.2. 5.3. 5.3. Trey's fists clenched so hard at his sides that I could seem them shaking slightly. He hesitated so long that I thought he was going to walk away without bowing to the judges, but after a few long moments, he bowed to the chief judge and walked back to his group. I was surprised that he didn't hit something -- or someone. I suddenly realized that all the tea I drank at lunch was catching up to me. "Um, I need to go to the restroom," I told Jack. "I'll be right back." Jack tore his eyes off of Trey's retreating form to look at me with concern. "Why don't you take Lisa with you?" I almost objected, then thought better of it. Even though I doubted Trey would leave the arena floor so soon after his performance, it wouldn't hurt anything to have company. "Okay," I said with a smile, then squeezed his hand, let go, and stood up. "Lisa?" I said. She turned from talking to one of Marcus's girls. "I'm going to the restroom -- want to make it a potty party?" I grinned. She laughed and said, "Sure! Let me get my purse." It took a while to weave back through all the seats and up to the mezzanine, which contained all the concession stands and restrooms. The arena was built in concentric circles, with the arena floor in the center, concessions surrounding that, and restrooms, locker rooms, offices, and building operations in a ring around that. I supposed they wanted to keep the restrooms separate from the food, which made sense to me. We found a restroom sign that pointed through a passage between a hot dog stand and a gourmet pretzel place. We walked a little way, then turned to follow a narrow hallway to the left. It was much quieter here: the sounds from the tournament seemed muted and far away, and our footsteps echoed between the bare floors and walls. The restroom was empty, so we had the luxury of performing a stall inspection ceremony before choosing the cleanest ones. "So," said Lisa in a sly tone as she shut herself in a stall. "You and Jack seem to be hitting it off today!" I paused in the middle of hanging my purse up in my own cubicle and blushed. It wasn't like we had tried to hide our hand-holding, but it disconcerted me a little that others had noticed. I shrugged, then realized she couldn't see me. Duh. "I guess so," I replied. "You guess, huh?" she said playfully. "Y'all seemed pretty cozy from where I was sitting!" I giggled a little, then sighed. She let it go for the moment as we took care of our business. I finished first and washed my hands, then dug through my purse for my brush and lipstick. Pausing, I looked in the mirror and tried to evaluate my looks objectively. How do I look to Jack? I wondered. I had never been vain about my looks and didn't think I had reason to be, but I supposed I was reasonably attractive. My hair was definitely my best feature, hanging down my back in glossy golden ringlets. Because of my matching golden-hued skin and green eyes, my mother had always called me her "golden child." (I was grateful she didn't say "golden girl" because I didn't particularly want to be lumped in with Blanche, Rose, and Dorothy.) I had always thought my almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, and long nose combined with my hair to give me a leonine look, which I considered not so much beautiful as interesting. What does Jack think? I wondered. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to believe he could be very attracted to me physically. I supposed it was my personality and the easy rapport we had discovered with each other. "So, how well do you know Jack?" I called to her as I began to refresh my lipstick. "Oh, nice enough guy, but I sure wouldn't go to bed with him," said a male voice from the doorway. I whipped around to see none other than Trey standing inside the door with two of the guys we had seen him with at lunch. They all stood with their arms crossed over their chests. My lipstick dropped into the sink, but I paid no attention. I heard Lisa gasp and hurry up whatever she was doing. I prayed she'd get out in time to help me, though I wasn't sure what even she could do against three black belts. I had no illusions about my own ability to defend against them. I glanced around to see if there was something I could use as a weapon, but didn't see anything. Lisa burst out of her stall, black hair streaming behind her. She moved quickly to my side, her slim form dropping slightly into a front stance. Trey just looked amused. "So, Trey," said Lisa in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "are you lost, or have you finally gotten a sex change operation? I always wondered why you waited so long. After all, I'm sure they gave you a discount because you don't have any balls." His face tightened, and I worried about Lisa provoking him. "Uh, Lisa?" I whispered. "Did you notice there are three of them?" She ignored me. "Aw, shit Lisa, I forgot how god . . . damned . . . funny you are," Trey said through gritted teeth. "Please don't piss him off anymore," I whispered to her. "Piss me off?" he said, turning his attention to me. "Darlin', you should have thought of that before you laughed your ass off at me with your boyfriend." His shoulders bunched up, and he suddenly turned and slammed his fist into a nearby mirror. Lisa and I both gasped and jumped back as little shards of glass flew toward us. I could see blood on his knuckles and on the glass that remained on the wall. Now I was really scared. I didn't think they were here just to intimidate us. "Nobody fuckin' laughs at me," he seethed. It seemed to be a prearranged signal. The three of them darted toward us so fast that I couldn't think what to do. I just froze. Lisa, on the other hand, flew into action. I had never seen her hands and feet move so fast. She dropped the first guy almost immediately, but then Trey's other friend forced her back and away from me. He pressed continually forward in an obvious ploy to leave me alone to Trey's tender mercies. I finally raised my guard and waited, shaking head to foot, for him to make the first move. "There is no first move in karate," Sensei always said, and I was determined that I would do at least that much correctly. But in all my sparring matches, I had never fought a person who truly wanted to harm me, and definitely nobody as aggressive as Trey. He moved straight in as if just to knock me down with his whole body, and I just barely managed to sidestep in time. I punched him in the right kidney as he passed, but since he was moving more quickly than I was used to, I didn't put enough force behind it to really matter. He pivoted and came at me again, this time feinting a punch at my face and then socking me in the ribs. I wasn't fast enough to block or evade him this time, and the next thing I knew, pain exploded in my side and I was bent over, gasping for breath. I had never been hit that hard before. As I blinked hard, trying not to black out, I felt Trey grab my forearm and twist it painfully to the side, fingers pressing hard on my radial pressure point. When my knees buckled automatically, he used my body's motion to slam me against one of the sinks. He pinned me there with his body, then wrapped the fingers of his other hand in my hair and pulled my head back viciously so that my eyes watered. Trey leaned forward and growled in my ear. "I think I need to teach you a lesson, little bitch," he said. "Nobody makes fun of me. I'm going to teach you to respect your seniors." Tears ran down my cheeks, both from pain and my fear of what else he might do to me. If Trey hadn't been pressing me against the sink, I would have collapsed to the floor. His hand released my hair, then, to my horror, began squeezing my breasts roughly. "No!" I choked out, and I continued my struggle with renewed strength. It was in complete vain, because I couldn't budge him. It was like a nightmare where I couldn't run and couldn't scream. I was totally paralyzed by fear. He yanked my shirt up and -- I saw this in the mirror as if in slow motion -- flipped my bra up over my breasts, painfully catching the undersides and making them fall heavily against my abdomen. Grabbing my left breast again, he squeezed it and dug his fingers into my flesh so that I squeaked hoarsely in pain. From my right, I could hear a thump and a gasp, then the sound of a body sliding to the floor. My heart sank as I looked over and saw Lisa sprawled on the ground, out cold. Oh God, please don't let her be hurt bad! I thought desperately. To make things worse, the guy she had knocked out earlier began to stir. Now it was going to be three on one. I had to do something, but I couldn't wrench my arm out of Trey's grasp. Instead, I twisted my body hard in the same direction he was twisting my arm and sank my teeth into his bicep. He jerked back and swore, but unfortunately did not release his hold. "Fucking bitch!" he yelled, then used his hold on my arm to force me to the floor. My head whacked the tile painfully, and I think I did black out briefly this time. Next thing I knew, my jeans and panties were being jerked down my hips. I vaguely noticed that a second pair of hands was holding my arms over my head in an iron grip. He's going to rape me, I thought hazily, struggling with little success to fight off the disorientation from my head injury. They're all going to rape me, and Lisa. I could feel the cold floor against the skin of my back and buttocks. The door slammed open. I could hear many sets of feet running across the floor, and many masculine voices cursing and yelling, the sounds echoing chaotically off the tiled walls. Both sets of hands pulled away from me. I just lay there for a minute, trying to bring my eyes back into focus and make my brain work. Suddenly, I realized that I was naked from neck to knee with a whole lot of guys running around. With numb fingers, I pulled my clothes back into a crooked semblance of modesty, then jerkily pushed myself up from the floor and lurched against the nearest wall. My legs still didn't want to hold me. The room spun around a little and made me feel like I was going to throw up. I swallowed hard and tried to make sense of what was happening. Lisa had made it off the floor too and was propping herself against a bathroom stall. I could see Jack, Sensei, Marcus, and three of Marcus's male students apparently beating the shit out of Trey and his friends. I just stared as Sensei pounded his fist into the side of Trey's head. I had never seen him so angry. Jack had one guy on the floor with his foot jammed none too gently into his back. He looked like he wanted to break the arm he was holding and beat the guy bloody with it. After two confused minutes, Trey and his friends lay defeated on the floor, panting hard. It finally hit me that it was over -- for now -- and that I wasn't going to be raped or killed. I slid slowly to the floor and just sat there. Now that I could stop and think about it, my side blossomed into pain again. I wondered if Trey had broken one of my ribs. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?" Sensei yelled down at Trey. I'd never heard him swear before. Yes, he was definitely mad. Trey just stared sullenly at the floor. Sensei swore again. Marcus turned to one of his students and said, "Go get the police -- and a paramedic from the tournament." The young man nodded and ran out the door. The next hour or so was kind of a woozy mess in my head. The paramedics checked us over (I had a slight concussion, but at least no broken ribs, and Lisa just had some bruises), the police asked a lot of questions, and people generally bustled back and forth. Two people helped me up at one point and gently escorted me out. Somehow, we made it out to the car and drove back to the hotel. I could hear Jack and Sensei talking quietly. ". . . concussion . . ." ". . . can't let her go to sleep . . ." ". . . press charges . . ." Jack sat next to me in the back seat, with his arm around me. I suddenly felt so tired. I just laid my head on his comfortable, reassuring arm and closed my eyes. "Audra." He tapped my cheek sharply with his hand. "Audra, you can't go to sleep right now, honey. Come on, wake up." With effort, I peeled my eyelids back open. They felt dry and gummy. Jack held a bottle of water against my lips and said, "Here, this'll help." I sipped a little of the water and tried not to look out the window at the moving scenery -- it just made my headache worse. We parked . . . walked in . . . foyer . . . elevator . . . room . . . bed. Bed. I wanted to just crawl in and pull the covers over my head for about a week. I didn't want to think about what had just happened, and almost happened. I realized Jack was with me, not Lisa, and we were alone in the room. "Where's Lisa? Is she okay?" I asked. Jack sat down next to me on the bed and brushed a lock of hair out of my eyes. "She's fine, honey," he said quietly, but with a touch of anger still in his voice. My eyes suddenly filled with tears, and a sob choked out before I could stop it. "God," he whispered, and pulled me gently against him, caressing my hair as I cried. He just held me and let me cry as long as I needed to, which seemed like forever. * * * * * * * * * To be continued.