Текст книги "Epilogue"

Автор книги: C. J. Roberts

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

“I won’t forget about this,” I said half-heartedly.

In all honesty, the only thing I was truly thinking about was slippery Livvie and how easy it would be to slide into her. Some days it seemed as though the only time I felt firmly connected to her was when I was literally inside her. I could imagine myself as her Prince Charming. I was not a monster. I was worthy. My heart was not an empty husk—it was engorged with blood and feeling.

“Hey,” Livvie whispered against my mouth. “Where’d you go, Sexy?” She was worried. I could hear it in her voice and memories threatened to invade. I hated how familiar her worry was to me. I made eye contact with her.

“I’m here, exactly where I want to be.”

She smiled.

“Me too.” She kissed me slowly, passionately, and inherent within the press of lips there was an undercurrent of gratitude. It was difficult for me to accept given our circumstances, but the void consumed it nonetheless. It had the gall to demand more.

“Tell me you’re mine, Livvie.” The past intruded.

“I’m yours, Caleb.” Her lips traveled across the side of my face and down my neck. Our attentions had gone from slow and passionate to fast and hungry. She sucked the flesh of my neck into her mouth, marking me. I already bore her scratches on my back. “And you’re mine. Only mine.”

I hated where Livvie and I had started. I loathed that I had ever wounded such an incredible person. However, the past was not without its comforts. It had been a time when I labored under the illusion of purpose and strength. Livvie unabashedly proclaimed her love for me and I held all the power. For all the horrors of my past, I took comfort in my understanding of the darkness in my soul. Livvie had let in the light and it blinded me. I groped for purchase within my new world. With Livvie at my side, I clung to her, powerless and oft times petrified. Moments like the one in which we found ourselves were sweet succor.

I undid the three tiny pearl buttons at Livvie’s nape with care before I forcefully pulled the zipper along the back. She made a startled but eager sound against my neck. I spread the fabric and let it slide down her arms, pinning them to her sides. Livvie whimpered as she writhed against me. Her hips made little thrusts as she chased her pleasure.

I put my mouth against her collarbone and sucked. I had left my own marks on Livvie: I’d scraped my teeth along her hipbones. I’d left my handprint on her ass. There was a bruise near her nipple where I’d pinched her while she came. Her pussy still had my come in it from the night before. What more did I need? What more did I deserve?

“You make me feel so good,” Livvie panted. Her knees dug into my hips and her hands tugged at my shirt in search of more contact. The long line of her throat, naked shoulders, and exposed cleavage were offered up to my mouth freely while Livvie’s head was tossed back. I let my lips brush against the purple mark I’d left on her collarbone.

“Only good? I must not be trying near hard enough.”

“Mmm… try harder then.”

I gripped her hips and ground her down hard against my erection. She pulled her arms free of her dress and wrapped them around my neck as she attempted to ride me. I canted her hips back and held her in place, feasting on her hungry little sounds.

“Again with that mouth. So saucy.”

“Caleb,” she purred. “Stop fucking around. You know what I want.”

I grinned.

“And what would that be?”

“You. Inside me.”

My cock gave a little leap of excitement.

“You want to feel me?” I put my hand beneath her dress, skimming the sensitive flesh of her thighs where her stockings squeezed. I decided I would buy her garters, like a French girl would wear. I continued my exploration, lifting the trim of her lacy panties so I could graze her with my fingertips.

“Yes… please.” I heard Livvie swallow. Her hips tried to guide my fingers. My finger pulled the scrap of fabric forward. Her panties were damp where her pussy had rested.

“Do you really think you deserve it? Am I the sort of man who appreciates a saucy mouth?” A memory: “I like your saucy little mouth. I don't want to hurt it.”

“I—” She pressed forward, cunt seeking. “I hope so.”

I touched her with the back of my fingers.

“I do.” I whispered and took her mouth, both of them, at the same time. She shuddered. I pumped my fingers into her heat as I collected her moans in my mouth. Livvie’s pleasure was short lived. I withdrew my fingers slowly.

“But it doesn’t mean you get to speak to me however you’d like.”

She frowned.

“Caleb.” I pressed my wet fingers to her mouth. She pulled back. She was shocked and a little disgusted. She’d licked her lip before she thought about it.

I brought her mouth to mine and licked her lips until she opened to me again. I liked the taste of pussy in her mouth. It drove me wild with lust. A familiar part of me enjoyed her horror and always would. I felt like myself. I felt powerful.

I pulled away from the kiss. I stood, carried Livvie toward the bed, and tossed her on it.

“Turn around and lie flat on the bed. I want to fuck you.” Livvie sat, chest heaving, with her rumpled dress pooled around her waist. She reached for it, to take it off I assumed. “I didn’t tell you to take it off,” I snapped. Fear ignited behind her eyes and quickly burned down to an ember.

“Yes, Caleb,” she whispered. Slowly, she turned and crawled toward the top of the bed. Once there, she lifted her dress to uncover her panties. The lacy fabric didn’t cover her completely—it left the bottom of her cheeks exposed and framed her ass. She made eye contact, caught me looking. She smiled coyly and finally lay down on the bed.

“Yes, I like what I see. I would have thought that much was obvious by now.” I palmed her ass with a loud smack. “No need to be smug.” I reached for her panties and slid them down her legs. I stood up to remove my belt.

Livvie visibly tensed. Her hands fisted in the comforter. To her credit, she didn’t move. She didn’t turn to see what I was doing. She didn’t ask what I was up to. She simply waited. Patient. Trusting. Submissive.

I was tempted to swat her with my belt. I pictured her gasping in surprise, her cheeks flexing and red. I imagined the way she would struggle to remain still. I visualized the raised welts my belt would leave. Another mark. Another brand. Another claim. My fist tightened on my belt. I let it go. I didn’t want to remind her any more than I already had.

I undressed slowly. I took the time to hang my pants in the wardrobe. I set my other clothes aside to be sent in for washing. I watched Livvie the entire time, letting my lust build with every minute she patiently waited for me to return.

Or issue a command.

I riffled through the luggage to retrieve a bottle of oil I’d brought. I really did want that damn massage, but it could wait. I had different plans. I let my mouth nip and lick the backs of Livvie’s legs on my way back up to her sexy ass. She trembled. A small squeak escaped her lips when I drizzled the oil in her cleft.

“Is this okay?” I asked. I didn’t need an answer to my question. I simply enjoyed listening to her answer. She was slow to acquiesce. It wasn’t until I rubbed the oil into her crack with the head of my cock that her lips opened.

“Y-y-yes?” I rubbed harder. “Oh… wait… please…” Livvie propped herself up on her elbows and tried to drag her body higher up on the bed. She couldn’t. She was pinned beneath me.

“Shhh.” I held her elbows and urged her back down. “Do you trust me, Kitten?” I unfastened her bra and massaged the red marks it had left. She liked that. “Do you believe me when I tell you I wouldn’t hurt you? Not like before. Not ever.” My thumbs pressed on either side of her spine between her shoulders and pressed forward to the base of her neck. Livvie sighed.

“Yes. I trust you.” Her mouth went slack and her muscles loosened beneath my hands. “Just… be gentle.”

I sported a sad smile Livvie couldn’t see. The first time she’d said those words to me, she’d thought I was about to make love to her. Instead, she’d told me she loved me and I’d been cruel. I wouldn’t make the same mistake.

I settled the length of my body on top of her. I kissed her shoulder.

“I promise, Kitten. I’ll stop if you don’t want it.” I pressed my cock against her. “Spread your legs.” There was no hesitation this time. Livvie’s thighs spread on either side of me in invitation.

I watched the side of her face intently as I moved my hips. My dick was slippery. I knew she could feel the heat and weight of it sliding between her cheeks. Penetration could not happen, and having removed the threat of it, I knew the temptation would be planted.

Livvie’s eyes were closed, only opening occasionally when accompanied by a shy moan. Her teeth worried at her lip and already her fingers were near her mouth. The pink stain of arousal painted her cheek.

I kissed her cheek, the back of her neck, her shoulder—faint little kisses that offered comfort but did nothing to soothe the heat of arousal. I wanted her delirious with desire. I wanted her pulsing with lust. I wanted her to beg.

I adjusted my angle and for the first time let the tip brush against her opening. It was an implicit suggestion, but only that. I wanted her to crave my domination as much as I desired her submission.

Triumph!

Livvie let out a pleading sound. Her hips made little thrusts before she could help it. I went back to rocking against her. I treasured Livvie’s sigh of disappointment, the way she forced her hips to stop moving.

“Tell me what you want,” I said hotly in her ear.

She frowned, resisting.

I pulled my hips back and brushed her hole with an oiled finger. I pressed inside slowly, only to the first knuckle. Livvie was moaning loudly. I withdrew.

“Tell me.”

“Please, Caleb.” She lifted tail.

“Tell me.” I held the tip of my cock against her and pushed gently.

“Oh god!” She fisted the sheets and arched her back. “Please, Caleb. I need you.”

That was certainly good enough for me. However, having suddenly gained the submission I desired, I wondered if I was perhaps wrong to accept.

I kissed Livvie’s shoulder.

“Thank you for that. I know I’m a difficult man to trust.” My fingers found her wet flesh and slipped inside. It was familiar territory. It did not require me to be overly gentle or careful. It did not require her to bend her will to mine. It was safe.

Livvie hissed in arousal. Her hips moved as much as they were able beneath my weight.

“What are you doing?” Her voice carried on little more than breath.

I curved my fingers downward, pressing against the front of her inner walls. I knew I could make her come that way.

“I thought it was obvious. First, I’m going to make you come and then I’m going to fuck you until you do it again. And maybe once more after that.”

She whimpered. I lived for that sound.

“But… I thought… oh god… right there.” A series of moans and incoherent begging filled the small, intimate space between Livvie’s mouth and my ears. A wet rush escaped around my buried fingers. Livvie’s body was rigid, hijacked by her orgasm. And then she went limp. I slowly withdrew my fingers. I was eager to replace them.

“No, Caleb,” she murmured into the bedding. “Not like that.”

“Not like what?”

“I know what you want.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I want it to hurt,” she whispered.

Her hair was matted to her forehead. Her body was flushed, and her eyes were closed. She didn’t acknowledge my tense reaction. She didn’t open her eyes to take in the moment. She seemed afloat in her bliss despite asking me to hurt her. Who the hell are you?

“You want me to hurt you?” I whispered.

She was quiet for a moment.

“I trust you, Caleb.”

“But…”

“Shhh,” she cooed. “Don’t analyze it. Just do it.”

With more than a small amount of trepidation, I did. I pressed into her ass in miniscule degrees. I could hear her breathing, deep breaths, in and out. She was willing me into her body through her submission. She kept herself open and ready.

My heart beat with enough force to leave a bruise in my chest. I didn’t understand. She wanted me to change. She wanted someone different. Didn’t she? Why was she baiting me? Part of me didn’t care. I wanted it too much to care. I focused on my shallow thrusts. I focused on the pressure surrounding me and the dull scrape of every hard-earned inch I buried.

Livvie whimpered. It was a sound born of pain. I held myself perfectly still.

“More,” she whispered. I obeyed.

There were tears in her eyes by the time I was fully inside. I was almost afraid to move, but equally as determined to take what Livvie had so boldly offered. My mind was befuddled—my body was not.

“Last chance,” I said. I pressed my lips to her cheek and they came away wet. I licked my lips to ingest her tears. I had tasted her sadness. I had tasted her joy. I wondered what kind of tears I tasted in that moment.

“Please,” and her rocking hips were her response.

I was so tangled up inside, it was a relief to let my body take over. I let myself fall: into a rhythm, into the void, into Livvie. I let her moans, whimpers, and cries into my ears. I answered them with groans, grunts, and hisses of breath. As my pace increased, the sound of our bodies slamming together joined in the chorus.

Livvie writhed beneath me. Sometimes she urged me deeper, harder, and faster. Other times, her sounds and movements begged me to go slower and pull back. There was no stop. Stop was unacceptable to us both.

When I couldn’t take the heat, I pulled Livvie up onto her knees. She pushed back against me, burying me inside. She cried out, coming and riding me hard. My world tilted on its axis. Mine!

“I’m going to come,” I warned.

Livvie was panting hard.

“Tell me you love me,” she said.

“You first!” I yelled and spilled inside her.

We didn’t discuss any of it afterward. Neither of us was willing to cede any further emotional territory.

CHAPTER TEN

By the time early January reared its head, Livvie and I were starting to settle into being a couple. Granted, we weren’t your average couple, but we were getting comfortable with who we were. The nightmares became less frequent and we attacked each other less often. Livvie let me put it in her ass sometimes (grin).

Naturally, I had to try my best to fuck it all up.

Okay, before I even go on, please let me say I am not proud of what I did next. I was bored and insatiably curious. Also, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not your typical boyfriend material.

It was the first time I’d ever been in Livvie’s apartment alone. She had classes during the day but didn’t have to work in the evening. She asked if I’d be there when she came home and I said yes because it beat being in my hotel room.

The sun flooded Livvie’s apartment. I lay in her bed, smothered in throw pillows of various colors and shapes (Seriously ladies, what the fuck with all the pillows?). I felt especially dirty jerking off in her frilly bed. I was sure to wipe up my come with a fuzzy pink pillow. I hoped it would prompt Livvie to throw the damn thing away.

Afterward, I took a shower, made myself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, and perused the stack of movies Livvie had rented and left on the coffee table. I’d never been the type of man who liked to eat cereal, let alone kid cereal, but Livvie loved the stuff and it was often the only thing I could find in her kitchen. I knew she could cook when she wanted to, but it seemed the mood rarely struck her. Some nights we ate cereal for dinner.

I decided not to watch the movies without Livvie since she seemed to enjoy regaling me with random movie factoids as we watched. I made the mistake of asking why we were watching “Episode IV” instead of starting from the beginning, and what followed was a diatribe about George Lucas and how he ruined Star Wars when he released three prequels. I didn’t much care, but I enjoyed watching Livvie rant about things that weren’t me. What I didn’t much enjoy was the way she stared at me the entire time I watched the movie to gauge my response during “awesome” scenes.

As I sat on the couch eating my cereal, my eyes landed on Livvie’s laptop. It was just sitting on the coffee table—daring me! Livvie was on the thing whenever she had time. I desperately wanted to know what Livvie had been writing and why she was keeping it from me. I remembered the way Livvie had snapped at Claudia to be quiet. Then the way she’d avoided the topic in Paris. It only made me more curious. I determined fairly quickly it had to be about me, us, or better—her.

I shoveled the remainder of my cereal into my mouth and set the bowl on the table. I scooped up the laptop and opened it. A smile curved my lips when I saw her screensaver. It was a picture of me asleep on her couch on Thanksgiving. I was wearing pants, but the photograph focused on my face and naked chest. What a little pervert, taking pictures of me while I’m helpless.

I was prompted for a password. Why did she need a password? Didn’t she trust me? I hope you’re smiling, because I know I am.

Anyway, it took me the better part of the morning, but I finally gained access to Livvie’s laptop. Her password gave me mixed emotions: Survival. If you’re horrified, please consider that I was fully aware Livvie would discover what I’d done. I wasn’t trying to hide my actions. I just wanted to know what the hell was on her laptop and why she chose to keep it from me.

There was a fleeting moment when I considered I might be opening Pandora’s box, but it really was fleeting. I make it my business to know what’s going on around me, and it has saved my ass more than once.

Livvie is very systematic. Her desktop was organized into a series of folders: FLM101, ENG202, HIS152, ART102, School Plan, and most alluring, Captive. One guess as to which folder I opened first? No! Not film.

There were several different documents inside the folder: Caleb, Reed, Sloan, FBI procedures, Mexico, East, Stockholm Syn, Human Traffick, Captive_D1_R2. My fingers began to shake as I hovered over each file. I wondered what I would discover. I wondered if I could process what I’d find. I wondered if I would feel different toward Livvie once I read them. If she was betraying me in some way, did I want to know? I knew already there would be no going back. Ignorance had never served me well.

I tested the waters by opening the document labeled “Sloan”. It contained a description of her appearance and a list of her mannerisms. I found Sloan interesting in a strange sort of way (free-form knitting and interpretive taxidermy? What?). I immediately moved on to the file on Reed.

Height: 6’2’’ Weight: 195? Desc: Pitch black hair that’s a little too long (surprising because of his job and his obvious anal retentiveness). It curls a little around his ears and the nape of his neck. His eyes are dark and expressive due to his dark brows. Clean shaven (very meticulously groomed aside from the hair). His lips (mmmmm). His mouth is warm and he tastes like coffee and mints. Bit of an angry shit when you kiss him unexpectedly (ha!).

Rage hit me fast and hard. Why had she kissed him? What had she really been up to when Reed had come to “check on her”?

I had to stop reading and take a few deep breaths. Livvie wouldn’t betray me. Would she? She obviously hadn’t turned me in. I forced myself to keep reading.

Livvie went on to describe Reed as good looking and sharp witted. I’m fucking good looking and sharp witted! I bet Reed only speaks one language. I’m sharp witted in five!

I moved on to my file. Surely, it had to read better than the one she had on Reed. I recalled Livvie telling me in Mexico that she hoped to write a book one day. She’d also told me the first rule of writing was to write what you know. The thought filled me with foreboding.

The document was longer than the previous two—about three pages. She’d managed a great deal of detail. The description calmed me somewhat. Livvie was very flattering, except I felt she had transformed me from a person into a character, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about being picked apart.

Height: 6’4’’ Weight: 210? Desc: blond hair, Caribbean blue eyes. A full mouth made for kissing. He has a canine tooth that is a bit sharp and slightly out of line with all of this other perfect teeth (the first time I saw him smile). Muscular, but lean—not bulky or overly muscled. His skin is tan from the sun, not a machine. He has almost invisible blond hair everywhere (kissing his back, they stood on end—super soft).

Mannerisms: Caleb always seems to think something is funny or amusing (that ridiculous smirk). His eyes can be beautiful or fucking terrifying (peaceful waters v. dark murky water). His mouth gets tense when he’s pissed and trying not to show it. He scowls a lot and sometimes he does it while he’s smiling, which usually means he’s about to do something especially cruel (that first whipping).

Livvie’s character profile went on and on about me. She wrote down pieces of things she remembered about me. She even went on to describe my dick, what I looked like when I came, and the way I laughed. Had Claudia read these notes? I knew she’d read at least part of Livvie’s story. What the fuck could she possibly have been thinking? I resented taking instant notice of how tight my lips were as I bit down on the tip of my tongue to help calm me down. I laughed bitterly.

I finally opened Captive.

Prologue:

This is not a romance. Romances are filled with valiant men and simpering damsels in distress. Romances have heroes worthy of the title. They slay dragons and climb towers to rescue beautiful princesses they immediately marry and impregnate. Romances end with a happily ever after. This is not a romance.

This is a love story. The characters are flawed to the point of being broken. The hero is beautiful, but ugly in ways that defy the ordinary imagination. The heroine isn’t trapped in a tower, but a dark and lonely room. There is no prince coming to save her. While love blooms and thrives, there is no happily ever after. Love does not always begin or end the way we wish it would.

A love story can happen to anyone. This one happened to me.

The words stirred something inside me. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. Livvie was writing a book about us. Our story was not romance. I was not worthy of being called a hero. I was beautiful on the outside and hideous on the inside. We… didn’t have a happily ever after.

I swallowed hard. I swallowed a few times.

I’d come too far to stop. I kept reading:

I’m hurrying down the sidewalk, trying to get away from the sinister man in the car behind me, when I look up and see him. Perhaps it’s his easy stride, or the way his gaze sweeps past me instead of over me, but for whatever reason, he seems safe. I throw my arms about his waist and whisper, “Just play along, okay?”

He does, and I’m surprised when his arms wrap around me. The moment of danger seems to pass very quickly, but for some reason I don’t want to let go. I feel safe in these arms, and I’ve never really felt safe before. And he smells good, he smells the way I imagine a man should smell—like crisp, clean soap, and warm skin, and a light sweat. I think I’m taking too long to let go, so I release him as though he’s burned me. Then I stare up and acknowledge the angel in front of me. My knees almost buckle.

He is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. That includes puppies, babies, rainbows, sunsets, and sunrises. I can’t even call him a man—men don’t look this good. His skin is beautifully tanned, as if the sun itself took the time to kiss his skin to perfection. His muscled forearms are dusted with the same golden hair of his head. And his eyes mimic the blue-green of the Caribbean Sea I’ve only seen on movie posters.

He smiles, and I can’t help but smile, too. I’m a puppet. He pulls my strings. His smile reveals his beautiful white teeth, but also his sharp canine on the left side. His teeth aren’t perfect, and the small imperfection seems to make him more beautiful.

He’s saying something to me, something about another girl, but I refuse to listen.

It was the first time we’d met. She’d felt safe in my arms, never guessing, never knowing what I was about to do to her. Even knowing all the things that happened afterward, the fact we were having a relationship, I felt sick to my stomach over her words. Her choice of phrases made her youth obvious. She’d compared me to puppies, babies, and rainbows. So young and naïve—I’d ruined that.

Livvie’s first draft looked nothing like what you’ve read. She didn’t have my perspective. She didn’t have the knowledge of my thoughts or the things that were in play during those first encounters. The picture she painted was of a sad, lonely girl trapped in a room at the hands of a sadistic monster who cared nothing for her well-being. This was Livvie’s recollection of me.

I read about her kidnapping, living every moment of her fear with her and feeling rage when she talked about Jair slapping her unconscious. It was beyond surreal to read about Livvie’s first impressions of my cold and detached voice as she lay bound and blind in Felipe’s house. She’d thought I was going to rape and kill her. I suppose I knew those things then, but I didn’t care and that was the worst part. I remembered I hadn’t cared. That was the truth about the man I was.

I was a glutton for punishment and I kept reading. To my surprise, I found erotic undertones. While I remembered the moments vividly and with a certain sick fondness, reading them from her point of view was like a knife twisting in my gut. I wasn’t sure if the Livvie I had come to know was honestly the Livvie she had been. Perhaps I had simply altered her to suit me.

I wondered if Livvie had been someone else, a different girl as I had once suggested, if I would have gone through with it and sold her to Vladek. I wondered if Livvie had never gotten away from me, never suffered the encounter with the bikers, if I might have taken this beautiful woman and ruined her. In those moments, I would have done anything to unmake the words in front of me. I didn’t want them to exist. I didn’t want them to be true. With all that I was, I longed to go back to that first day I had met Livvie and make different choices. Yet there was the nagging voice in my head reminding me how far back I’d have to go to undo my mistakes. I would have to go back to the night Narweh beat me and give up my fight to live.

Where would Livvie be in her life if I had just died?

Where would all of the women I had made suffer be? I’d been too late to save Pia Kumar. I’d buried her masters alive next to her so that she might be able to hear their screams.

I had to look away from the screen. I had to set the laptop down and walk onto the balcony for air. My chest felt heavy.

It was no wonder she couldn’t say she loved me. What right did I have to love?

I went inside and wrote her a note.

I read your book. I know you’ll be furious and you have a right. I realize you’ll want to scream at me and you have a right to that as well, but I have to be honest and tell you I’m not sure I can take it just yet. I’ll be at the hotel for a few days. I need to think.

Yours,

Caleb

p.s. I’m sorry for all of it.

I gathered up what meager belongings I had in Livvie’s apartment and locked the door behind me when I left. I was numb and unsure what to do next.

I could barely drive. My attention wasn’t focused on the road, but on Livvie. Why had she let me stay with her? After all the things I had put her through, I couldn’t imagine her reasons for inviting me back into her life. Perhaps it was only that she feared me. Perhaps she only wanted to keep me close and keep an eye on me. It was the smart thing to do. It’s what I would do.

I hated how weak my feelings for her had made me. I was not a sniveling child. I hated the way I felt empty when she wasn’t around. I loathed waiting in my hotel room for her to get out of school or off work. I thought of her as mine. She was mine, and yet I couldn’t touch her where it mattered. I couldn’t touch her heart and force her to give me the things I had stupidly come to need. For a moment… I hated her. I hated loving her.

I’d meant to return to my hotel, but my thoughts took me elsewhere. I’d seen the gym a few times and had even considered going inside, but I ultimately decided against it. I was a violent person. I didn’t think it was a good idea to be around violence. I had apparently changed my mind. My violence needed to be let out.

I parked the vehicle and went inside. I was immediately assaulted by the smell of male sweat. The room practically teemed with body odor. There was no air conditioning, or escalators, or walls lined with treadmills and circuit training machines. This was a real gym. This was a place where men went to commune with the beast that lives in all of us.

Adrenaline found me at last. My heart pounded with it, my fists clenched, my muscles yawned and flexed. I was practically lusting for a fight. I searched the room for someone who might be willing and able to take me on.

“Can I sign you up?” someone asked in Spanish. I turned and glared at the man behind me. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he carried himself with extreme confidence. He was perhaps a little younger than me too, and I thought that added to his demeanor. I took my measure slowly and decided the man was likely a martial artist of some kind—his legs looked capable of snapping bones.

“I’d like to fight,” I said as calmly as I was able. I must not have been very successful in portraying calm because he eyed me somewhat suspiciously.

“English? Okay. I speak little bit. You need…” He struggled for a word but ended up tugging on his clothes.

“I didn’t bring any,” I said. “I don’t need any. Just like this.” I swept my hand across my t-shirt and jeans. I didn’t bother explaining I could speak Spanish. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He smiled and shook his head.

“Fighter? What style?” He walked back toward the front door and into a room on the left. I assumed it was the office. I stepped inside, somewhat annoyed I couldn’t just jump into the action.