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Frankie looked at her watch in annoyance. Twenty minutes later, the sensei emerged and announced, “Twenty more minutes!”
“But I’ve been waiting almost an hour and a half.”
“How does it feel?” she asked, shutting the door.
“Feels shitty,” Frankie muttered, staring at the Black Belt display case. She had successful grasped the first lesson.
“Yoi!” Sensei Reid called, jolting Frankie awake. “Attention! Walk this way.”
She led Frankie to the main room containing a rectangular window for people to watch through. The women left their shoes at the door.
Once on the bright red-and-blue mat, she bowed to the instructor—Sensei ni rei—and assessed her reflection in the massive mirrors. She looked good in her white uniform but felt she could always look better.
Sensei Reid frowned. “Frankie, why aren’t you wearing a bra?”
“Because—”
“Especially since you don’t have a belt on. That’s extremely in poor taste.”
“My um…titties are independent. I mean, they’ve always supported themselves! I’m blessed to have them perky and not need a bra.”
“I can see that, Rita! Good Lord, that’s me! I mean, Frankie, Ms. Greene, it’s just that your breasts are somewhat of a distraction.”
“Why, do you like them?”
“Wear a bra next time, Deshi. Deshi means student. It’s an honorable title,” Sensei Reid said, walking toward the center of the mat. She gestured for Frankie to join her and went into the history and principles of karate. Eventually, she moved on to preliminary blocks and stances but Frankie was bored out of her mind.
She was ready for chops, punches, and roundhouses. Wanted to be like badass Michelle Yeoh, who starred in almost every action movie alongside actors like Jet Li and Jackie Chan.
“All this is cute but what happens if someone comes up from behind me?”
“First things first. Patience, Deshi.”
“Patience is for children but with adults, you have to be practical. I need to know how to use this art. There’s no man in my home and I’m deathly afraid of being raped or robbed.”
“Understandable, but you must first have a foundation.”
“I thought the customer was always right.”
“Very well. I’ll show you what you want to learn. Stand here.” She shifted Frankie’s body. “Now, let’s pretend you’re walking down the street and I come up behind you. Look over your shoulder like this,” she said, demonstrating. “Now lean forward and pull your knee up.”
Frankie tried the form.
“No, like this.” Sensei Reid grabbed Frankie’s leg and pulled it to the correct position. Held it, then stretched it out, saying, “Flex your toes.”
Frankie loved being close to Rita. Loved her feminine masculinity. The moisture on her panties began to feel uncomfortable, making her want to take them off. Her breasts had already maneuvered themselves loose. Nipples were hard enough to break boards. She wondered if the sensei noticed.
“Now, when you kick, you gotta kick hard. If it’s a man, kick him in the groin. If it’s a woman, do the breasts. Now lean forward, knee up, extend your leg, now kick…that’s right…kick…kick…”
Frankie was having fun. She’d be in Kung Fu movies in no time.
“Now, you expressed fear of sexual attack. That’s a strong concern for us women. Karate is a military art, which is psychological as well as physical. Some women see an attack coming and try to thwart it immediately, but sometimes they miss the target because the attacker had a chance to plan his defense. Personally, I prefer to let the aggressor get close by pretending to be helpless. Then I maul and disfigure him, breaking every bone in his body. I’ll show you that strategy first.”
“Cool,” Frankie said excitedly.
Sensei Reid taught the moves while Frankie admired her strength. She practiced a few times before the role-play. Coming up behind her, the sensei rested h
er hands on her student’s mid-section, slid them up to her breasts, and squeezed her erect nipples. Grazed her lips across her neck. Frankie stood frozen.
