Masters & Lovers Box Set One

Michael

The afternoon is going well, very well.

Beth and Richard have delivered as promised and many of the wealthiest names in the City are parking Mercs, Limos and Ferraris outside. In the private space inside my skull, I'm easing up estimates of booking numbers.

And Charlotte is being an absolute star. I'd thought she might be nervous. In fact, I know she's nervous, but she's keeping a smile on her face while making small talk with even the most dreadful of the guests and I hear odd phrases of, "What a lovely girl", and "They're just married you know..."

Richard gestures me across. "Michael, this is Mayor Vandervoort. His wife Veronica is thinking of booking one of your spa breaks, but she was enquiring about the self-defence courses you're offering to the ladies."

There is a murmur of interest and several nodding female heads. Crap....

This is the one thing I've not planned for. The whole idea is new and very much unformed. I think Richard sees the panic in my eyes. He elbows Beth gently in the ribs.

"Perhaps Charlotte could give us a demonstration?" she says brightly. "She knows how it's all done. She was a boxing champion at school, wasn't she? And, weren't you thinking she could be one of your instructors, Michael? Until you get some more permanent staff in?"

Ben breaks in....

Where the hell did he come from?

"Boxing? Self-defense? That's a bit unladylike isn't it?" He's pretending to smile, but there's a curl to his lip I don't care for.

Fuck off, Ben... This isn't the place.....

"I don't see that there is anything unladylike about a woman being able to take care of herself. It can be a dangerous world out there."

Again, there are murmurs of agreement and nodding.

"Come on, Charlotte," says Richard, a gleam in his eye. "Why don't you show them how it's done."

"Um. I'm really not dressed...." Which of course, she's not. The dainty cocktail dress she's wearing shows off her figure to devastating effect, but it's hardly the thing for a rough and tumble on the mats.

"It would only take you a few minutes to get changed," says Richard. That gleam is growing to a twinkle.

*****

Both Charlotte and I changed into more appropriate attire, we head for the gym, a flow of people behind us bearing champagne glasses and plates of canapes.

"So what rules are we working on here?" I ask, keeping my voice raised. I don't want to be too quiet. The idea that the bourgeoisie of the City might think I start off our marriage by beating up my wife is unappealing.

Charlotte shrugs, a smile playing over her mouth. "It's self-defence," she replies. "No rules. You try to overpower me. I try to take you out."

She's enjoying this....

.... Back in her comfort zone....

Nonetheless, the rise of an excited female hum behind us is unsettling. The faces of the men range between intrigued and alarmed.

She's wearing loose joggers and a vest and moves like a cat. Normally I admire her movement. While Beth sashays, Charlotte strides, moving with a fluid grace that says 'Damn the world. This is what I am'. Her pony-tail swings behind with her movement, emphasising her long lovely neck.

But right now, it occurs to me that her expression is predatory.

"I'll put some mats down," I say, "then no-one gets hurt."

"Fine." There's a glint at her mouth, her teeth showing.

I gesture the audience to back off while I lay out a good large area of mats. Charlotte watches me, almost imperceptibly stretching muscles; arms, legs, spine; and winding her head in a circle.

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She knows I'm going to have to pull my punches....

Does she think that rule applies to her too?

?

?

Why should she have all the fun?

"Perhaps," I suggest, "we should start with a demonstration of what can happen when a woman is assaulted. Who's going to volunteer?"

Not a man moves, but abruptly, two or three stumble forward, pushed from behind. "Go on," comes a hiss. "You're not scared of a little girl like that."

One of the men turns back, protesting. "I don't want to attack a woman. I might hurt her."

Personally, I think he's weighed up Charlotte's expression. That glint at her mouth grows.

Hope she doesn't get carried away....

Close enough that she can hear me, but our audience can't "Don't hurt the paying customers." She nods, trying, and failing, to suppress a smile. "And don't leave him feeling a fool either." She blinks but nods again. And this time, I think she's got the message.

She turns to face her 'assailant'. I don't know him, one of the many invited by Richard. He has the pudgy body and soft hands of a desk jockey and an awkward gait as he steps forward. "What should I do? Try to hit you? Try to knock you down?" Charlotte shrugs. "Whatever you like. You're the one attacking me." She raises both hands, palms up, fingers beckoning in a 'Come get me' movement. But her posture is casual. She could be admiring the view.

He blunders forward, arms outstretched, heading for her throat.

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She barely even has to try. His arms outstretched, she knocks both to the side with one arm and with the other launches a punch that stops just short of his nose.

He jolts back, his eyes crossing down to the fist just shy of his face. "Got it," he says, then waves back at the gathering. "Someone else's turn."

This one looks a little better. Her eyes assess him as he approaches with a saunter but, I would say, unwarranted confidence. From the look of him and his stance, perhaps he works out a little.

As he draws close, he feints to the right with a hand and she follows it, but then he shoots the other hand to the left, trying to snag her by the arm....

And he has her in his hold. Grabbing her, he tries to pull her in, but abruptly she sags, dropping all her weight, unbalancing him. As he totters, she sweeps a leg around his and he staggers and falls to the mat, ending with Charlotte over him with her foot on his throat.

A ripple of applause runs through the crowd, and she looks around to see who might be next.... Don't want anyone getting hurt....

"My turn, now I think, Charlotte. Let's see what you can do against someone with a bit more experience."

Her smile broadens, and her pupils widen. This time her stance is anything but casual.

She squares up, now with fists loosely curled and arms semi-raised, she jerks her chin in a 'bring-it-on' gesture.

"What are you going to do, Michael?" comes a voice from the audience.

"For the purposes of demonstration, I'm going to try to get Charlotte to the ground under me in the kind of position that would be the classic male-on-female attack." She grins. "She, I suspect, is going to try to stop me."

And I'm nervous. I'm not too sure about this. If I'd thought about it beforehand, I'd have made sure we agreed the limits of how far this could go. I don't want to hurt her.

Stepping smartly forward, I make a grab for her, gripping her, but she ducks and turns under and behind me....