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The rest of the machinery is limited to as much as the shack could accommodate. There’s a stationary rowing machine, the leg press, a barbell bench, dumbbells, kettlebells, T bars, a flat bench, barbells and tires. We all laughed at the idea of a stationary bike or a treadmill. With the forest in our backyard, who the Hell wants to run inside?
I take a sip from my bottle of water, placing it on the bench next to me. My gloves are already on. The punching bag is calling out to me, like a lover waiting for my touch. She likes it rough. Luckily, so do I. The first blow is relentless. I start off hard, unforgiving. She takes it all in. Still, after all these years, I feel like she has things to teach me. She is my master. She shows me when to be harsh, when to take it slow. She is the only one I come back to, always, no matter what. There is no disrespect here. You show disrespect to anything in this place, your ass is out. So, I bow. I know when to bow and when to master. They often call me arrogant. I’m not arrogant. I just know I’m very, very good. With those thoughts in mind, I deliver one blow after another, until we are both wheezing, our breaths heavy.
I have no idea how long I’ve been doing this, when I see someone staring at me from the doorway. She is leaning to the side, one leg crossed over the other, both arms in front of her. She is wearing a red checkered shirt, which would look better if she showed some belly. Her jeans legs are folded over her ankles. She is barefoot, with feet of a little child who spent too much time in the dirt. And, loved it.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her, still trying to catch my breath.
When I asked Theron how she was doing, he told me that she can talk much more than before. The bandages should be coming off in a day or two. I wonder if she’s a chatterbox or it doesn't matter if she’s jaw-locked or not. Still, hearing her voice might be pleasant.
“Sorry,” she tells me and it sounds more like howy.
“Don’t apologize,” I grunt, still feeling the beat of the punching session. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She hesitates and instead of coming in, she turns around to walk out.
“Hey, where are you going?” I shout after her and she stops, like frozen.
She turns around and there’s a hint of defiance in her eyes. She’s probably thinking, OK, should I leave or should I stay? Make up your mind. She’s standing there in the sunlight, like some forest goddess who decided to grace a mere mortal with her presence. Only I’m no mere mortal and it’ll probably be fun showing her that.
“Come,” I gesture at her with my gloves, pulling them off and throwing them in the corner, into my open duffle bag.
I take out a small towel and wipe my face with it. Dark ringlets on my shirt testify to the intensity of my training. Maybe I should try her out a little. See what she’s made of. Pin her against the wall a little. Make her heart beat faster. See those lips get a little dry and maybe even wet them myself. That should be fun.
“Ever do any punching?” I ask, hinting at the punching bag, which is now swaying softly to and fro, biding its time to fight me again. She shakes her head, blushing a little. Is it my presence or me asking her to do something she’s never done before? “Wanna try?”
She lifts her arms up to her face, then shrugs her shoulders helplessly. She seems glad that I can’t make her try. Almost too glad. I grin as I tilt my head to the side a little, giving her the impression that I like what I see. And, why not? It’s true. She’s got a hot little body, even if it’s hiding underneath all that baggy clothing. I bet she’s a total knockout.
“Yeah, you’re right,” now it’s my turn to nod. “Can’t punch with that unsteady jaw. Might hurt yourself even worse. You escaped it this time, little girl. But, Theron told me the bandages are coming off any day now. Then, I’ll catch you and you won’t have any excuse.”
She doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me for one single brave moment, then looks away. I’ve noticed she does that. Am I too intimidating? It’s a good thing to be, but not with her.
“When… home?” she voices her question.
I can’t prevent myself from frowning. What, you don’t like it here? But, I know that’s not what she’s saying. At least, I hope it’s not. I keep forgetting what it’s like for a girl to be all alone with a bunch of guys in the middle of the woods. This isn’t some low budget porn. She’s got feelings and I know I’m not the best at expressing myself around women like her.
“We’ll be riding out next week,” I tell her. She points at herself. “Yeah, we’re taking you to the city, of course. You can arrange with your family to pick you up there. I’ll drop you off wherever you need to go, just tell me where.”
“Hank… you…” she says sweetly and for a brief moment, I wonder what it’d feel like to drop her off and know we’ll never be seeing her again. Will I miss expecting to see her around?
Stop it. Just stop. I know I’m acting like a fucking girl. I didn’t even bang her and I already sound like a wuss. Just... p
athetic.
She raises her hand and waves at me. I just lift my head and go for my gloves. When I turn around, she isn’t there any longer. I wonder why she’d come here in the first place. It’s stupid. It’s all stupid. No point even thinking about it, when she’s going back to her life in less than a week.
My next punch is so hard that it almost breaks the chain which is holding the punching bag up, hanging from the ceiling. Like two machines, my arms keep dealing blow after blow, my fists clenched. I only hear a buzzing sound in my ears and that’s good. At least I can’t focus on my thoughts.
Chapter 13
I don’t remember the last time I’ve been this excited. It’s like small surges of electricity are traveling up and down my body, reaching the tips of my fingers, seeking exit. I can barely sit straight, without fidgeting, not out of annoyance, but out of excitement. I’m sitting on Theron’s bed and I can feel a slight prickle in the tips of my fingers and toes. I’ve been waiting for this moment for two weeks and now, I’m a little scared, too. I don’t know if it shows.
Theron is sitting opposite me; on a chair he’s brought closer to the bed. His hair is pulled back sleekly and there’s a slight whiff of some manly cologne in the air. I don’t think I smelled it before on him and it makes me wonder if he put it on just for me. Our faces are so close to each other, that it’s blasphemously intimate. I can almost feel the heat of his breath and I try to breathe in and out through my nose. That seems less intimate somehow. But, even looking at him in the eyes makes this too much of a romance scene.
“I’ll try to be very careful,” he tells me and I just nod, feeling his fingers frame my face. “If it becomes painful at any point, just let me know, alright?”
I can’t wait to smile at this man, so I just nod again quickly.
“Here we go,” he continues, as his fingers play skillfully with the beginning of the bandage thread.
