Nic rolled out of the throw her sensei had just thrown her into and managed to stagger back to her feet. She desperately tried to get her breathing under control as she moved backward, putting space between herself and the teacher. Returning to the ready position, Nic fought the urge to wipe the sweat out of her eyes, knowing she had to focus on the match.

she thought as she examined the sensei's movements. For over three years, Nic had been training in aikido, a form of Japanese martial arts. Wanting something that would direct both her body and mind, and a form of protecting herself, she had learned about the classes and nearby school from a friend. She had accelerated quickly through the ranks having always been rather athletic and finding the discipline of the sport to suit her lifestyle. Nic was a simple kind of girl, having never been interested in the types of things most females took up at an early age. Perhaps it was because she never really thought of herself as being very attractive in a womanly way, and as a result had always pushed that part of her life to the side.

By the time she was thirteen Nic realized she would never be what most of society considered "pretty". While she had completely pleasing features, there was certainly nothing striking in her looks. Her eyes were a clear and lovely shade of brown, but held no mystery. Her lips were full and soft, but since she often did not smile, most men wouldn't dream about her kisses. Her skin was smooth and the color of milk chocolate, but she habitually covered it in jeans and oversized t-shirts. She just wasn't the type of person to stand out in a crowd. It also didn't help that she tended to have a bit more weight than the average petite girl. She was built for strength, naturally through her genes and also through rigorous hours of daily training at the dojo. Nic's figure went more in the direction of Serena Williams, muscle and tone, than to the 110 lb. wenches in movies and magazines.

In light of all these facts, Nic had built up her other qualities. She had always been rather smart and did well in school. She had a drive to succeed which had pushed her through college and into a good job as a marketing manager, and was now pushing her through her martial arts training. Though she was not aware of it, Nic also had a good sense of humor and a keen sense of loyalty which inspired friends who would do anything for her. Though she hardly ever dated, her honesty and in-your-face attitude kept most of the men Nic knew somewhat in awe of her. She was unlike most anyone they knew which made them unsure of how to treat her. Nic, completely oblivious of this dilemma, chalked the fact that she didn't date much to her focus on career and complete lack of insight on the part of most men.

This didn't mean that Nic had none of the needs of the average red-blooded woman. As she rounded the mat, keeping the sensei at bay Nic couldn't help but notice the spectators judging the match from the side of the ring: the head instructor, another teacher who specialized in sword-fighting and a recent transfer from the school's sister dojo in Japan. It was this last man who distracted Nic and made this test match unbearable. Mostly because she did not want to look like a failure in front of him, but also because she felt an attraction which she refused to fully admit to. Both situations interfered with her concentration and often made her lose the emotional distance required to be a good fighter.

Des Radel had transferred to the states a little over three months ago. He was an American, but had been training under Yamashita sensei, the head of the entire division of their particular form of aikido for nearly ten years. He had gotten into martial arts at a young age after having seen a special presentation of various forms of the sport presented for a few of the elementary schools in the area. Des had taken to the training like a fish to water, having always been a somewhat serious child and quite willing to be instructed. He was a prodigy and had already acquired a high degree in the ranks by the time he reached high school. When he graduated, Des decided to go to college in Japan so that he could train under Yamashita sensei, an honor gained by very few and one that he had managed through incredible amounts of hard work. He was now one of the top practitioners of aikido directly under the sensei and highly respected by all the students.

His main reason for returning to Atlanta, Georgia was to aid in the further development of this particular school, the biggest chapter in the US. He had established himself quickly in the dojo, taking on a few of the adult classes and continuing to train the other instructors. He was an expert in both the hand-to-hand style as well as shinkendo, or traditional Japanese sword-fighting, so Des was often in the classes observing and lending his support.

The moment Des had walked into Nic's first class she knew she was in trouble. She had first been struck by just the look of him. Tall and broad, he seemed to command attention. He wasn't the typical definition of handsome, but seemed to create a new meaning for the word. His grey eyes were austere and distant, though it was obvious to everyone that nothing got past his gaze. His features were strong and chiseled, matching Des' general demeanor. The only thing soft about him was his longish black hair which he usually coaxed back into a ponytail for class. It was easy to see that nearly all of the women in the class were enamored of his offhand manner, attractive physique, and mastery of discipline. A few females in the class had already attempted to get under the skin and slide into the bed of the unshakeable new teacher, but none had of yet managed to do so. Nic managed to fight off her physical attraction to Des through pure mental stubbornness and tried her hardest to think of him solely as her sensei.

Personally, between Nic and Des there was an unstable kind of truce. Though they did not outwardly oppose each other, there often seemed to be friction. From the first time that he had taught her class, Des appeared to push Nic harder than the other students. He was constantly correcting her in his sharp, demanding way. Hardly a word passed between them that did not involve Des asking more from Nic. She didn't take his commands well, but managed to humble herself and put up with him. He had pressed her especially hard in the past week leading up to this test match, which would enable Nic to move up another level in her training. And now he stood on the edge of the mat, watching her every move. She could feel his eyes drilling into her even as she tried to focus.

Nic ran through a list of attacks and defenses in her mind as she gingerly put weight on her right foot. She didn't want to think about the pain issuing from the sprain she had acquired in the early moments of the match. She had wanted to continue and would be damned if she was going to look weak in front of Des. As she held her position, the sensei suddenly sprang forward. Going in to block and counterattack, Nic's ankle betrayed her at the same time the teacher adjusted his movements. He had faked her into the right position to take her down. In moments, Nic had hit the mat and the sensei had her pinned in a submission hold.

The head instructor clapped his hands to call an end to the match and Nic was released to pick herself up. She immediately kneeled before the three judges, flowing into position to bow to her seniors by placing her hands in front of her and bending over until her forehead barely touched the floor. She sat back on her feet, in seiza, as the head instructor called her name.

"Very good Nic-san. You have made excellent progress. I and the other judges will discuss the match briefly and let you know if you have passed."

"Hai!" Nic closed her eyes and slowed her breathing as the three men walked away. It was hard to relax with her throbbing ankle burning into her mind, but soon she was in a calmed her thoughts. That is, she had until she opened her eyes and saw Des staring at her, his expression unreadable. He was still deep in conversation with the other teachers, but his eyes continually radiated to her when he was not speaking. It made Nic uncomfortable not being able to know what he was thinking. Why can't he just keep his eyes to himself, she thought as the head instructor made his way back to the mat.

"You did very well in this match today Nic-san. You have always been one of our best students. However, we feel that you need to learn more at your current level. There were several times in the match that you should have been able to put up a much stronger attack. You seemed to hesitate when you should have struck. For these reasons, you will retake this test in another three months. We'll give you that time to improve. Des sensei has been kind enough to volunteer to help you in these efforts." Des stepped forward at the mention of his name, looking down at Nic with his ever stoic mien.

Nic sat in shock at what had just occurred. Not only had she failed to pass, but she was going to have to put up even more with Des' constant pressing. It was almost too much to bear. She wanted to protest, or at least tell the head instructor why she had not performed up to par, but she bit her tongue. Nic had never been one to offer excuses and she wouldn't start now. Instead she once again bowed to her seniors, muttering "onegaishimasu" in deference to their decision.

Nic stood quickly, to avoid aggravating her ankle and bowed again to the sensei she had sparred with. Before her emotions could overcome her, she walked off the mat and into the women's changing room, quietly shutting the door behind her. Continuing straight through the small quarters she made her way into the bathroom and leaned against the door as it shut behind her. She rested there a moment, taking in completely the fact that she had been defeated for the first time since she had started training. It was embarrassing to know that her failure had come in front of the one man she had wished would see her as strong. Nic didn't quite understand the need to prove herself to Des, but it was a powerful drive she could not resist.

Allowing herself to limp as she had not done in front of the others, Nic moved to the sink and bathed her warm face in cool water. She looked into the mirror as she removed the scarf covering her dark cap of soft curls. She was beginning to accept what the next few months would bring and was determined to demonstrate that she deserved to move up. Grabbing a paper towel off the roll next to the sink Nic mopped the moisture off her face and walked back into the changing room only to stop cold as she noticed Des leaning against the door. She hadn't heard him come in and was dismayed when her heartbeat sped up and her breath came quicker in his presence.

"Des sensei," Nic whispered. Clearing her throat, she said in a louder voice, "I didn't know you were here. Did you need something?"

Des looked at her for a moment before speaking, his voice coming strong and slow across the small distance between them. "You're hurt." It wasn't a question. "Why didn't you stop the match?"

Nic looked away, focusing on her bag in the corner. She absentmindedly threw away the used paper towel, anything to keep from having to stare at his attractive face. She brushed her unruly hair out of her face as she said, "It wasn't a big deal. It didn't make any difference in the outcome."

That was a lie and they both knew it. But, neither spoke to challenge the statement which still hung in the air. Nic continued to scrutinize her bag, trying to get her traitorous heart and lungs to obey her command to slow down. It seemed she couldn't control her eyes either as they drifted back to look at Des. She drew her breath in on a gasp as she realized he had crossed half the room without her notice.

Des never so much seemed to move as flow like water. Whether it was a conscious ability or not was up for debate, but it only added to Nic's nervousness. She backed into a corner of the room as he continued to approach her. As he stopped a mere hand's breadth away, Nic realized she was holding her breath. When she finally started inhaling again, she could smell nothing but him and could not help but notice how small she was in comparison to his height and width.

Much to Nic's surprise, Des lowered himself to one knee in front of her and gently took her right foot in his hands. With caution and a tenderness Nic wouldn't have expected, he examined her ankle, slowly rolling it in his hands. Gently exploring the already swollen area with his fingers, Des stopped rotating the foot as Nic sucked in a breath of pain. Reaching into his uniform, Des produced an elastic wrap and carefully began to bind her ankle tightly. The Velcro on the other end of the bandage was soon in place as he inspected his work.

I have been far too long without a man, thought Nic as Des continued his ministrations. From the moment he had touched her foot Nic had fought hard to control her fevered mind. A battle she was quickly losing. His completely nonsexual attention to her sprain was making it difficult for Nic to think of anything but him. Des' callused fingers seemed to have an effect on her that was overpowering. She shouldn't have been turned on by what he was doing, but even now his simple touch had ignited a sensitivity all over her body. It was as if a line ran from his hands throughout her frame, making her lips swollen, her nipples stand at attention, and her pussy quiver like a puppy about to get its bone. She wanted nothing more than to slide her hands into his thick black hair, which was something she definitely was not going to do.

Nic pulled her foot out of Des' grasp and squeezed her thighs together as a denial of her body's physical response. Des gazed up into her face as she pressed herself further into the corner. She looked to the door instead of into his eyes, thanking God that she wasn't white because then he would have been able to see the flush on her face easily. At least, Nic hoped he couldn't see his effect on her.

Des stood, once again reaching into his uniform, this time pulling out a small bottle. He pushed this into Nic's hand as he got to his feet.

"Here, this balm should help with the swelling." He was still far to close for Nic's comfort. She had no choice but to look at him now, he blocked the rest of the room from view. Standing head and shoulders over her, he looked down with that same indecipherable expression. Only, was Nic mistaken or did his eyes seem darker than usual. She licked her lips, feeling that they were dry from her shallow breathing. She saw Des' eyes flicker down to take in the movement and could have sworn his head momentarily dipped closer. They stood in such close proximity she couldn't inhale all the way, for fear her breasts would brush up against the wall of his chest.

Being so near to him, gazing into his eyes, time seemed to slow down. She didn't know how long they had been standing there, but Nic was almost certain Des was going to...

But, Des suddenly turned away, leaving Nic to sigh in relief and the slightest disappointment. You are really losing it girl. There's no way someone like him would be interested in you.

"You should try to stay off the foot as much as possible for the next twenty-four hours," said Des as he opened the door to the changing room. "We'll begin our one-on-one training on Monday." With those words he slipped out of the door and closed it quickly behind him.

Nic took a deep breath and slid slowly to the floor, resting her forehead in the palm of her hand. She laughed bleakly at herself as she looked up at the ceiling.

"Oh Nicole Rose Desmond. Great job. You've got yourself a high school crush at the ripe old age of twenty-three. So much for maintaining your distance."

Nic shook her head as she rose to change and head home.

To be continued...