Part 6
Finally, the heat's gone away and I can run the PC for more than ten minutes without turning the room into a sweat box. Apolgies to anyone that's been waiting for this, hopefully part 8 won't take a month to write.
*************
Sunlight streamed through the open curtains, illuminating the three figures hunched before the large bank of computer equipment. The remains of a hasty dinner lay forgotten on the end of the desk, an empty coffee pot balanced on top of the plates. The only sound in the room was the click of computer keys and the occasional squeak or groan from the furniture as the three people concentrated totally on the data in front of them. One after the other the slowly pushed their chairs away from the desk and stood, stretching and blinking as they realised just how long they’d been working.
“You know,” Tim yawned, reaching back and cracking each joint in his right arm in turn “we are definitely getting too old to be doing all night data crunching sessions like this. Can’t we hire someone a little younger to do this? ”
“Of course, no problem.” Steve replied as he slowly rotated his head to ease the cramps in his neck. “You find me someone that’s as good as us at this, and who you can trust not to screw us over first chance they get, and I’m all for it.”
“Yeah, yeah, god you’re hard to please sometimes.” Tim grouched, looking around blearily for his jacket and keys.
“Tell me about it.” Fiona grinned, balancing on her left leg as she brought her right out to her side and rested it on the bed, stretching the muscles after their long period of inactivity.
Steve turned quickly to Tim and pointed warningly at him. “Not a word, understand, not a word.” Tim simply shrugged, putting on his best ‘who, me?’ look before shuffling his way towards the front door.
“I’m gonna head home, grab a shower and sleep till I’m sixty, if that’s alright with you lot?” He said, only half joking.
“The shower’s fine, but you’ll have to settle for six tonight rather than sixty. We’ll let this data set finish crunching and bring the results with us, say about eight in the Black?”
“Twenty hundred hours, Black Lion, got it. Now can I please go and get some rest?” Tim asked, wondering not for the first time why he put his body through nights like this.
“Get going before you fall asleep on my doorstep.” Steve replied, trying and failing to keep his own grin from his face. Tim threw a wave of his hand back towards the two as he exited the flat, and a few moments later there was the dull thrum of his bike starting up and pulling away down the driveway.
Steve turned to Fiona, suddenly very aware that they were alone and that the same awkward questions of the previous night might arise. “You know, I think he had a point, you feel like freshening up?” he asked, trying to stick to the role of gracious host.
“That sounds like a superb idea.” Fiona replied, “mind if I borrow your shower for a while?”
“Go right ahead, I’ll go lurk in the living room so you don’t have to worry about being caught in an undignified position.” He smiled as he said it, a small part of his mind insisting that it wouldn’t mind in the least finding her in a position that was less than dignified, even going so far as to suggest a few likely poses before the rest of his brain managed to beat it into submission.
Fiona walked towards him and slid her arms around his neck. “By the way, thanks for last night.”
“Umm, sorry if I seem a little slow lass, but what did I do exactly?”
“You trusted me.” She said, reaching forward to kiss him once, briefly and tenderly, before pulling back and heading for the bathroom.
Confused, Steve walked into the living room and dropped heavily into a chair. The tiredness that had been covering his body like a blanket seemed to have lifted, most likely as a result of having Fiona that close to him and his mind was racing over her last statement. In a rush he found himself bursting with energy and felt a need to move, to work some of it out. Standing up he headed over to the bay window and pulled a set of dumbbells out from their storage box. Putting as much weight as he had on the ends he did a few quick sets with each arm before moving on to slightly harder lifts. Normally this would help him wind down, but today it just seemed to fuel his energy and, five minutes later and soaked in sweat, he put the weights down he still needed some form of release. He prowled around the room, fingertips touching the shelves and their contents until his eyes fell upon the sword in its display cabinet.
Fiona felt like she was in heaven, the simple pleasure of standing beneath a stream of hot water and feeling it caress her weary skin was intoxicating, more so when she considered what she’d done, what she’d accomplished in the night. A feeling of control, of power swept over her and she felt her knees buckle slightly as something very similar to a sexual release coursed through her system. “Probably just the adrenaline” she thought to herself as she ran her hands through her hair, easing out the knots the last 24 hours had left. Finally, as the water became hot enough to be uncomfortable she twisted the shower off and grabbed the large, fluffy towel from beside the cubicle, luxuriating in its softness as she enveloped herself from shoulder to knee in the warm fabric. Drying quickly she reached into the airing cupboard and pulled out a simple sweatpants and t-shirt combo that would do as temporary slobbing clothes until she managed to find a bed to sleep in.
As she exited the bathroom she heard something strange coming from the living room, a kind of rhythmic shuffling and grunting, overlaid with an occasional dull whistle. Moving carefully she stepped to the door and gently pushed it open. As with everything else in the place the door was well maintained and swung silently inwards, revealing a sight that made her forget all about her own problems.
Steve had his back to her, the sword she’d seen earlier in his hand as he moved through a slow series of motions that she recognised as some form of Tai Chi, though obviously tailored slightly to accommodate a long metal object with a razor sharp edge as part of the routine. He’d obviously been working hard at something before hand as his t-shirt was still damp with sweat and clung to his body, highlighting the motion of his muscles beneath the skin. Suddenly he exploded into a blur of action, the sword moving seemingly of its own volition, sweeping through an intricate pattern of stabs, curls and twists, pausing for a second in positions that were intended to block an attack rather than be an attack themselves. So absorbed was she in the sight before her she completely missed the shift of weight as he swung around on his right leg, the sword raised over his head as it curled down towards what should have been an empty space, except that she was now standing in it.
She didn’t even have time to react before the sword stopped barely an inch above her skull, held perfectly still as she gazed past the blade and the arms that supported it into the closed eyes of the man wielding the blade. As she watched the brown eyes flickered open and one eyebrow went up in a question, a smile pricking the corners of his mouth as he saw her try and process what had just happened. He lifted the blade up and away from her head, spinning it in a quick figure eight pattern before sliding it smoothly back into the sheath attached to his back. Steve started to turn away and, acting on instinct she leant forward and grabbed his arm.
“Wait, could you, I mean, if you wouldn’t mind, could you teach me how to do that?”
Steve turned back to her, a troubled look passing over his face before he could hide it. “Why?” he asked, staring straight into her eyes, and she realised that he was looking for the honest answer.
“Because I don’t want to be a victim again.”
Steve paused, holding her gaze for a long moment before slowly nodding. “Alright, but you realise you’re not going to learn how to do what you just saw overnight, yes?”
“Yes, of course, I just want to be able to defend myself if I have to.”
Another pause, this one longer than the first as Steve seemed to think that one over. “Tell you what, you want to learn to defend yourself, let’s forget about swords. Or for that matter anything with an edge to it. Unless you’re actually carrying it, finding something you can use with that sort of training is virtually impossible, and if you want to defend yourself we can probably do a bit better. Wait here for a minute would you?”
He walked out and into the bedroom, and a few moments later she heard a rustling and a faint clack of wood on wood before he returned. In each hand he held a white wooden pole, each about two and a half feet long and he offered the one in his right hand to her. She took it dubiously, wrapping her hand around one end and moving it around a little, surprised at how little it weighed. “Umm, I don’t wish to be rude, but what exactly am I supposed to do with this?” she asked, still trying to get a feel for the short pole in her hand.
Steve’s reply was a simple grin as he brought his left hand up. He started twirling the short-staff like a drum major’s baton, letting it dance over his fingers as if it had a life of its own. Fascinated Fiona moved forward slightly and, in one quick motion, Steve ducked down, bringing the pole sideways behind her right knee and across the front of her left, twisting it forward as he slid a hand behind her back and lowered her gently to the ground. It all happened in the blink of an eye and she found herself facing the ceiling trying to piece together how she’d been taken down, Steve hovering over her with a slight smile on his lips, his right hand extended to help her up.
Once she was back on her feet she nodded towards him and backed off until there was a good six-foot of room between them. “As we’re slightly pushed for time, I’ll skip any sort of formal training.” Steve said, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Forget about form, forget about strength and power and just hit me.”
“Umm, I don’t want to hurt you you know.” Fiona said, weighing up how much damage even a light chunk of wood could do if swung at speed at a human body.
“Don’t worry, you won’t.” Steve replied. That was all the invitation Fiona needed and she took a hefty swing at the left side of his head, putting all her weight behind the blow. There was a thwok as Steve easily parried the blow away from it target, moving forward a step as he did so to bring his right hand up to her armpit and tickle her through the t-shirt. She laughed and jumped backwards, looking up at him with an expression that was equal parts affection and annoyance.
“As I said lass, don’t worry about power, that’ll come in time on its own. Look for an opening but don’t get yourself into a position you can’t defend from.”
Fiona nodded and set herself again, this time moving slowly forward before lashing out to the right in a feint that had Steve moving to block it almost before she’d started moving, only for her to reverse direction and aim downwards for his thigh. In a movement so fast it was almost a blur Steve changed his own direction and came down to block, sending her staff off at an awkward angle, but resisting the temptation to launch a follow through attack as he saw her step backwards to recover.
“Better, much better. Though, if I can make one observation, I’d suggest you try and relax. You’re concentrating too much, just treat this like a VR sim and see what happens.” She grinned at that, feeling the same sort of determination as she had when she’d faced Nick and launched herself full force into the attack. The staffs cracked together at about chest height, Steve pushing her off and back a step before she turned and jumped sideways, aiming a shot at his ribs which he barely managed to block in time.
As her confidence grew she started to string together longer attacks, her mind seemingly coming alive as she started to understand the rules of this particular game, her body relaxing into the ebb and flow of the fight as the staff danced and twirled in her hand, lashing out seemingly at random with every part of the pole, alternating between long sweeping blows and short stabs with the tip. But no matter what she tried there was always the sound of wood-on-wood as Steve moved to block her, matching her own enthusiasm with a grace and precision born of long experience.
Suddenly she saw an opening and went for it, ducking right then left, leaving the staff out to force Steve into a block before coming up behind him, her arm wrapped around his right side as she brought the staff to his throat before grabbing the other end with her left hand and holding it against his windpipe with just enough force to make sure he knew it was there.
“Now if this had an edge, you’d be in real trouble my dear.” She purred. “As it is, well, maybe you’re in trouble anyway.” With that she brought her right hand around to place her thumb against his throat, tucked the left side of the staff under her armpit and used her now free left hand to goose his ribcage. Steve squirmed under her touch, but the wood across his throat kept him in place as she sped up her playful touch, forcing laughter from him as she gleefully played with his ticklish side. Suddenly she felt something hard press in-between her legs and she gasped, feeling a shudder pass through her body as she momentarily lost her grip on her victim. Steve spun away and she caught a glimpse of his staff between her thighs before it was pulled away and up in salute.
“Very good lass, but you really shouldn’t have done that little stunt. You see there’s two things you should have thought about. Number One, I’ve only been defending, not attacking. I think it’s time to change that.”
“And number two?” she asked, her voice full of defiance and challenge, confident she could still take him down even if he had been holding back.
“I’m not left handed.” He replied, tossing the staff over to his right hand and performing a complex figure eight motion with his wrist that seemed, in some eye-watering way, to make the wooden pole pass through his arm. Fiona swallowed as she realised she may have just over-reached herself.
Steve took a step forward and shifted to his right, bringing the staff up towards her side, forcing her to bring her own weapon down to block the blow. As the sticks touched he shifted his weight and flipped the staff back so it was flat against his arm, bringing it up inside her defence and forcing her right arm up and away from her body. In that moment of vulnerability his left hand reached out and goosed her ribs and stomach, loosing a stream of giggles from her mouth as he danced away to face her once more, his own weapon held up and back in a loose salute waiting for her to come at him.
Annoyed he’d managed to reach her on his first attack Fiona moved forward quickly, starting a swing that looked like she was swinging for a home run with his head. As soon as she saw him start to move to block the blow she copied his previous move, flipping the staff back along her forearm and pivoting on her left foot, the wooden staff blocking his counter blow perfectly as she spun through a full circle, bringing the staff in low towards his knees in a perfectly timed move that gave him no chance of blocking the impact, only to find herself hitting empty air as Steve jumped upwards, his feet just clearing the end of her staff. Her own momentum forced her round a little too far and as she tried to recover and turn back to face him she felt hands running rapidly down her back and sides, causing her to wrench away chuckling as she realised this could end up being a long training session.
Finally, the heat's gone away and I can run the PC for more than ten minutes without turning the room into a sweat box. Apolgies to anyone that's been waiting for this, hopefully part 8 won't take a month to write.
*************
Sunlight streamed through the open curtains, illuminating the three figures hunched before the large bank of computer equipment. The remains of a hasty dinner lay forgotten on the end of the desk, an empty coffee pot balanced on top of the plates. The only sound in the room was the click of computer keys and the occasional squeak or groan from the furniture as the three people concentrated totally on the data in front of them. One after the other the slowly pushed their chairs away from the desk and stood, stretching and blinking as they realised just how long they’d been working.
“You know,” Tim yawned, reaching back and cracking each joint in his right arm in turn “we are definitely getting too old to be doing all night data crunching sessions like this. Can’t we hire someone a little younger to do this? ”
“Of course, no problem.” Steve replied as he slowly rotated his head to ease the cramps in his neck. “You find me someone that’s as good as us at this, and who you can trust not to screw us over first chance they get, and I’m all for it.”
“Yeah, yeah, god you’re hard to please sometimes.” Tim grouched, looking around blearily for his jacket and keys.
“Tell me about it.” Fiona grinned, balancing on her left leg as she brought her right out to her side and rested it on the bed, stretching the muscles after their long period of inactivity.
Steve turned quickly to Tim and pointed warningly at him. “Not a word, understand, not a word.” Tim simply shrugged, putting on his best ‘who, me?’ look before shuffling his way towards the front door.
“I’m gonna head home, grab a shower and sleep till I’m sixty, if that’s alright with you lot?” He said, only half joking.
“The shower’s fine, but you’ll have to settle for six tonight rather than sixty. We’ll let this data set finish crunching and bring the results with us, say about eight in the Black?”
“Twenty hundred hours, Black Lion, got it. Now can I please go and get some rest?” Tim asked, wondering not for the first time why he put his body through nights like this.
“Get going before you fall asleep on my doorstep.” Steve replied, trying and failing to keep his own grin from his face. Tim threw a wave of his hand back towards the two as he exited the flat, and a few moments later there was the dull thrum of his bike starting up and pulling away down the driveway.
Steve turned to Fiona, suddenly very aware that they were alone and that the same awkward questions of the previous night might arise. “You know, I think he had a point, you feel like freshening up?” he asked, trying to stick to the role of gracious host.
“That sounds like a superb idea.” Fiona replied, “mind if I borrow your shower for a while?”
“Go right ahead, I’ll go lurk in the living room so you don’t have to worry about being caught in an undignified position.” He smiled as he said it, a small part of his mind insisting that it wouldn’t mind in the least finding her in a position that was less than dignified, even going so far as to suggest a few likely poses before the rest of his brain managed to beat it into submission.
Fiona walked towards him and slid her arms around his neck. “By the way, thanks for last night.”
“Umm, sorry if I seem a little slow lass, but what did I do exactly?”
“You trusted me.” She said, reaching forward to kiss him once, briefly and tenderly, before pulling back and heading for the bathroom.
Confused, Steve walked into the living room and dropped heavily into a chair. The tiredness that had been covering his body like a blanket seemed to have lifted, most likely as a result of having Fiona that close to him and his mind was racing over her last statement. In a rush he found himself bursting with energy and felt a need to move, to work some of it out. Standing up he headed over to the bay window and pulled a set of dumbbells out from their storage box. Putting as much weight as he had on the ends he did a few quick sets with each arm before moving on to slightly harder lifts. Normally this would help him wind down, but today it just seemed to fuel his energy and, five minutes later and soaked in sweat, he put the weights down he still needed some form of release. He prowled around the room, fingertips touching the shelves and their contents until his eyes fell upon the sword in its display cabinet.
Fiona felt like she was in heaven, the simple pleasure of standing beneath a stream of hot water and feeling it caress her weary skin was intoxicating, more so when she considered what she’d done, what she’d accomplished in the night. A feeling of control, of power swept over her and she felt her knees buckle slightly as something very similar to a sexual release coursed through her system. “Probably just the adrenaline” she thought to herself as she ran her hands through her hair, easing out the knots the last 24 hours had left. Finally, as the water became hot enough to be uncomfortable she twisted the shower off and grabbed the large, fluffy towel from beside the cubicle, luxuriating in its softness as she enveloped herself from shoulder to knee in the warm fabric. Drying quickly she reached into the airing cupboard and pulled out a simple sweatpants and t-shirt combo that would do as temporary slobbing clothes until she managed to find a bed to sleep in.
As she exited the bathroom she heard something strange coming from the living room, a kind of rhythmic shuffling and grunting, overlaid with an occasional dull whistle. Moving carefully she stepped to the door and gently pushed it open. As with everything else in the place the door was well maintained and swung silently inwards, revealing a sight that made her forget all about her own problems.
Steve had his back to her, the sword she’d seen earlier in his hand as he moved through a slow series of motions that she recognised as some form of Tai Chi, though obviously tailored slightly to accommodate a long metal object with a razor sharp edge as part of the routine. He’d obviously been working hard at something before hand as his t-shirt was still damp with sweat and clung to his body, highlighting the motion of his muscles beneath the skin. Suddenly he exploded into a blur of action, the sword moving seemingly of its own volition, sweeping through an intricate pattern of stabs, curls and twists, pausing for a second in positions that were intended to block an attack rather than be an attack themselves. So absorbed was she in the sight before her she completely missed the shift of weight as he swung around on his right leg, the sword raised over his head as it curled down towards what should have been an empty space, except that she was now standing in it.
She didn’t even have time to react before the sword stopped barely an inch above her skull, held perfectly still as she gazed past the blade and the arms that supported it into the closed eyes of the man wielding the blade. As she watched the brown eyes flickered open and one eyebrow went up in a question, a smile pricking the corners of his mouth as he saw her try and process what had just happened. He lifted the blade up and away from her head, spinning it in a quick figure eight pattern before sliding it smoothly back into the sheath attached to his back. Steve started to turn away and, acting on instinct she leant forward and grabbed his arm.
“Wait, could you, I mean, if you wouldn’t mind, could you teach me how to do that?”
Steve turned back to her, a troubled look passing over his face before he could hide it. “Why?” he asked, staring straight into her eyes, and she realised that he was looking for the honest answer.
“Because I don’t want to be a victim again.”
Steve paused, holding her gaze for a long moment before slowly nodding. “Alright, but you realise you’re not going to learn how to do what you just saw overnight, yes?”
“Yes, of course, I just want to be able to defend myself if I have to.”
Another pause, this one longer than the first as Steve seemed to think that one over. “Tell you what, you want to learn to defend yourself, let’s forget about swords. Or for that matter anything with an edge to it. Unless you’re actually carrying it, finding something you can use with that sort of training is virtually impossible, and if you want to defend yourself we can probably do a bit better. Wait here for a minute would you?”
He walked out and into the bedroom, and a few moments later she heard a rustling and a faint clack of wood on wood before he returned. In each hand he held a white wooden pole, each about two and a half feet long and he offered the one in his right hand to her. She took it dubiously, wrapping her hand around one end and moving it around a little, surprised at how little it weighed. “Umm, I don’t wish to be rude, but what exactly am I supposed to do with this?” she asked, still trying to get a feel for the short pole in her hand.
Steve’s reply was a simple grin as he brought his left hand up. He started twirling the short-staff like a drum major’s baton, letting it dance over his fingers as if it had a life of its own. Fascinated Fiona moved forward slightly and, in one quick motion, Steve ducked down, bringing the pole sideways behind her right knee and across the front of her left, twisting it forward as he slid a hand behind her back and lowered her gently to the ground. It all happened in the blink of an eye and she found herself facing the ceiling trying to piece together how she’d been taken down, Steve hovering over her with a slight smile on his lips, his right hand extended to help her up.
Once she was back on her feet she nodded towards him and backed off until there was a good six-foot of room between them. “As we’re slightly pushed for time, I’ll skip any sort of formal training.” Steve said, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Forget about form, forget about strength and power and just hit me.”
“Umm, I don’t want to hurt you you know.” Fiona said, weighing up how much damage even a light chunk of wood could do if swung at speed at a human body.
“Don’t worry, you won’t.” Steve replied. That was all the invitation Fiona needed and she took a hefty swing at the left side of his head, putting all her weight behind the blow. There was a thwok as Steve easily parried the blow away from it target, moving forward a step as he did so to bring his right hand up to her armpit and tickle her through the t-shirt. She laughed and jumped backwards, looking up at him with an expression that was equal parts affection and annoyance.
“As I said lass, don’t worry about power, that’ll come in time on its own. Look for an opening but don’t get yourself into a position you can’t defend from.”
Fiona nodded and set herself again, this time moving slowly forward before lashing out to the right in a feint that had Steve moving to block it almost before she’d started moving, only for her to reverse direction and aim downwards for his thigh. In a movement so fast it was almost a blur Steve changed his own direction and came down to block, sending her staff off at an awkward angle, but resisting the temptation to launch a follow through attack as he saw her step backwards to recover.
“Better, much better. Though, if I can make one observation, I’d suggest you try and relax. You’re concentrating too much, just treat this like a VR sim and see what happens.” She grinned at that, feeling the same sort of determination as she had when she’d faced Nick and launched herself full force into the attack. The staffs cracked together at about chest height, Steve pushing her off and back a step before she turned and jumped sideways, aiming a shot at his ribs which he barely managed to block in time.
As her confidence grew she started to string together longer attacks, her mind seemingly coming alive as she started to understand the rules of this particular game, her body relaxing into the ebb and flow of the fight as the staff danced and twirled in her hand, lashing out seemingly at random with every part of the pole, alternating between long sweeping blows and short stabs with the tip. But no matter what she tried there was always the sound of wood-on-wood as Steve moved to block her, matching her own enthusiasm with a grace and precision born of long experience.
Suddenly she saw an opening and went for it, ducking right then left, leaving the staff out to force Steve into a block before coming up behind him, her arm wrapped around his right side as she brought the staff to his throat before grabbing the other end with her left hand and holding it against his windpipe with just enough force to make sure he knew it was there.
“Now if this had an edge, you’d be in real trouble my dear.” She purred. “As it is, well, maybe you’re in trouble anyway.” With that she brought her right hand around to place her thumb against his throat, tucked the left side of the staff under her armpit and used her now free left hand to goose his ribcage. Steve squirmed under her touch, but the wood across his throat kept him in place as she sped up her playful touch, forcing laughter from him as she gleefully played with his ticklish side. Suddenly she felt something hard press in-between her legs and she gasped, feeling a shudder pass through her body as she momentarily lost her grip on her victim. Steve spun away and she caught a glimpse of his staff between her thighs before it was pulled away and up in salute.
“Very good lass, but you really shouldn’t have done that little stunt. You see there’s two things you should have thought about. Number One, I’ve only been defending, not attacking. I think it’s time to change that.”
“And number two?” she asked, her voice full of defiance and challenge, confident she could still take him down even if he had been holding back.
“I’m not left handed.” He replied, tossing the staff over to his right hand and performing a complex figure eight motion with his wrist that seemed, in some eye-watering way, to make the wooden pole pass through his arm. Fiona swallowed as she realised she may have just over-reached herself.
Steve took a step forward and shifted to his right, bringing the staff up towards her side, forcing her to bring her own weapon down to block the blow. As the sticks touched he shifted his weight and flipped the staff back so it was flat against his arm, bringing it up inside her defence and forcing her right arm up and away from her body. In that moment of vulnerability his left hand reached out and goosed her ribs and stomach, loosing a stream of giggles from her mouth as he danced away to face her once more, his own weapon held up and back in a loose salute waiting for her to come at him.
Annoyed he’d managed to reach her on his first attack Fiona moved forward quickly, starting a swing that looked like she was swinging for a home run with his head. As soon as she saw him start to move to block the blow she copied his previous move, flipping the staff back along her forearm and pivoting on her left foot, the wooden staff blocking his counter blow perfectly as she spun through a full circle, bringing the staff in low towards his knees in a perfectly timed move that gave him no chance of blocking the impact, only to find herself hitting empty air as Steve jumped upwards, his feet just clearing the end of her staff. Her own momentum forced her round a little too far and as she tried to recover and turn back to face him she felt hands running rapidly down her back and sides, causing her to wrench away chuckling as she realised this could end up being a long training session.
