by Ronica Black
She started to pull away, but he seemed intent, knowing something she didn’t.
“I don’t understand,” she finally said.
He released her hands to dig in his pocket and retrieve a roll of white tape. She watched in surprised silence as he quickly and expertly taped up her hands, winding between her fingers and covering up through her wrists.
“Nothing to understand. She is ready.” He looked at her shoes and scoffed. “What is this?”
“Nikes,” she said, growing frustrated. “She? Who is she?”
“No, no, no.” He walked away and gestured for her to follow. They were headed for the far ring where Jude saw something that made her stop in her tracks. In the ring’s corner stood a tall woman with long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her black sports bra showed every impossibly hard muscle from her chiseled broad shoulders down to her long, powerful legs. She held Jude’s gaze as a short man next to her continued to rub her arms.
Jude set her jaw and composed herself.
“Come on,” her man in green said, waving her over. They stood together outside the ropes. He examined Jude’s hands and then knocked her off balance as he lifted her foot. She caught a rope and cursed. But before she could say more, he removed her shoe and trotted around the ring to the woman’s corner. Jude watched as the three conversed. The woman nodded and pointed with her glove-covered hands. She turned back around and hopped quickly in place, dark eyes fastened to Jude. And then, ever so quickly and sneakily, she smirked.
The man hurried up to Jude with boxing gloves and ring shoes.
“Aqui,” he said and handed over the shoes.
Anger swept through Jude as she realized what was about to happen. The man wanted her to box with this woman. And he wanted her to wear her shoes and gloves in doing so.
“No,” Jude said. She came here to work, to hit, to sweat. To fucking erase her world for a while. Not to battle with a stranger.
The man seemed confused but pressed on. “Your size.” He showed her the shoes and bent as if he were about to put them on.
“No.”
The man froze. “No?”
“No.”
He rose and shouted something about zapatos across the ring. The woman crossed to them, resting her forearms on the rope as she looked down at Jude.
“What’s the problem?”
Jude felt herself inhale deeply to stand taller. “I don’t want this,” she said.
“Why not?” The woman’s eyes were deep but not endless.
“I don’t have to explain.”
“I think you do.” Her gaze fell to Jude’s breasts and then slowly came back up.
“No, I do not.”
“First you’re late, and now you’re chicken?”
Jude nearly shook with growing anger. “You are mistaken.”
The woman pushed off from the ropes. “I don’t think so.” She smirked again as if she’d won the match ten times over. Then her face hardened. “Get lost. You’re wasting everyone’s time.”
Jude had to turn away. What was happening was impossible, inconceivable. Jude hadn’t thought specifically of her ex in a long, long time. Not even when Mary brought about rising and growing emotion did she think of her. Her emotions for Mary were scary, yes, and they reminded her of how she once felt, but never had she let Nicole cross her mind. But here she was in a gym in the middle of nowhere with a woman who in no way resembled her first and last love. But her demeanor, her confident and cocky presence, and the words coming out of her mouth were just like her.
Get lost, Jude.
Don’t waste my time with all this love bullshit.
What is wrong with you?
Grow up and grow a spine.
It was fun while it lasted.
No. No. She tried to shake it away. This wasn’t why she’d come here. But admittedly, the last time she’d come was soon after the breakup. She should’ve known better, should’ve foreseen the emotional link.
I can control it.
She forced herself to breathe. Her body took in the oxygen eagerly and began to calm, but her mind raced with thoughts and images from long ago. Laughter from across the ring caught her attention and she turned to find the woman and the short man next to her laughing. They were looking at Jude and snickering. They had obviously confused her with someone else and they wanted her to fight. Logic told her to let them laugh as she walked away. But pride and long ago wounds demanded that she stay and give them what they wanted.
Jude snatched up the shoes and sat to put them on. She pulled the laces so hard and tight she thought for sure they’d snap. The man in green was suddenly by her side again and helping her on with her gloves.
“She is fast,” he said. “Strong as un toro. Very strong. She has chin like iron and uppercut like God himself.” He patted her gloves and massaged her muscles. “Move. Move, move, move. If you get hit, back away and she will stop. She will go easy with you.” He held her face and then slipped on padded headgear. Then he pointed at her mouth and frowned. She needed a mouth guard. He ran into one of the storage rooms. Jude took the opportunity to climb into the ring. The woman was staring her down as they both jogged in place and threw jabs and crosses. Jude made sure not to look away from her, even when the man returned with a fresh mouth guard. After he slipped it in he gave her more instructions, but she couldn’t understand all of it. She wasn’t fluent in Spanish. She considered questioning him, but it was damn near impossible with the mouth guard. And when the woman smirked again, Jude didn’t care at all about what he may have said.
She charged into the center of the ring and waved the woman over. The woman threw her head back and laughed and then came forward. The men started flinging Spanish slurs and instructions right away as Jude stood there with her arms at her side. She smiled and the woman threw a quick jab. Jude dodged it and the next one and they began to dance around the ring. She knew the woman was testing her distance, and the second she got it right, Jude would have to step it up.
The woman threw a few more, careful not to leave herself open. Jude managed to bob and weave around them, keeping her feet as light as she could. Her plan was simple. Keep the woman punching and wear her out. She was big and strong and made of iron, and gassing her out was her safest option.
With every empty jab she threw, Jude could see the frustration building in her eyes. The man in green was screaming at Jude to put her hands up, but she ignored him, preferring to dance naked with the devil. She had a point to prove, not only to the woman, but to herself, and it wasn’t happening quickly enough. So she stopped her movement and waved the woman over again. More screaming came from the man in green, and the woman had a brief look of confusion. The next second a hard cross connected with Jude’s chin, snapping her head back and to the side. She felt her jaw give, like a disk slipping quickly out of place, and the pain shot up through her head and into her scalp. She stumbled backward and pressed her gloves to her temples, trying to get her eyeballs back into place.
Blinking, she refocused on the woman, who stood wearing that same damn smirk. Jude opened and closed her mouth, testing her jaw, pushing on it with her glove. She wasn’t badly hurt. The cross had been hard and unexpected. She’d been waiting for another jab. The woman was smart and merciless. Jude bounced on her toes and stepped in once more. The woman was still grinning at her as Jude threw out a couple of her own quick jabs. None of them connected and she concentrated more on her feet. She knew she was throwing her punches too quickly in regard to her forward step. She had to wait just a little more before she jabbed. She inched closer and closer. The woman was dodging her, not bothering to punch at Jude. Jude stepped closer and threw a bait jab. The woman fell for it by dodging and countering with a hook to Jude’s body.
Jude blocked it with her left arm and then powered back with her own hook. It landed on the woman’s lower jaw and neck, stunning her for the briefest of seconds. As hard as the punch was, it failed to move her, and before Jude knew it, the woman
was stepping into her, throwing crosses, mixing in quick jabs, and connecting on several shots to her body. She was pounding Jude backward, her punches too random-feeling and quick. The man in green had been right. The woman was strong and fast. Too much for Jude. But she kept on going, no holds barred. The men were still yelling, wanting her to stop, but the woman waved them off, telling them no. She wanted to continue and she danced around Jude’s punches gracefully, only taking one of the jabs to her temple. It seemed to piss her off and she came at Jude hard, throwing more combinations. Jude dodged as many as she could, trying to get the woman to chase her around the ring. Then she countered with her own assault, but as gassed as the woman was, she was still able to block Jude’s throws.
Jude put all she had into each punch, convinced she must land at least one. But when one half connected, the woman came back harder than ever, hitting Jude in the nose, right jaw again, and along her torso. Stumbling, Jude found herself against the ropes, her face on fire, her lungs burning. She staggered then tried to walk back out to face off again.
She wouldn’t quit. She wasn’t a quitter. She had to hit her. Harder, faster. Had to kill the voice of the past. But hands and arms were suddenly on her shoulders, forcing her back to the corner. The man in green was removing her headgear and mouth guard. He looked frantic and angry, nimble fingers examining her face. She winced as a large Q-tip was shoved into her nose.
“What did you do? Are you crazy?” He rattled off in Spanish and she held her hands up over her head and was eventually able to catch her breath.
“I fought,” she said, watching him remove her boxing gloves.
“You fought!” He shook his head. “You were not supposed to. Not like that. What is wrong with you?”
She licked her swollen lip and took the towel he offered to wipe her face and forehead. Her face was sore but not awful. Her nose throbbed, but by some miracle it wasn’t bleeding. Her teeth and jaw ached and there was a painful stitch in her side, but she felt better than she had before. Her adrenaline was flowing and her body was going from numb to heavy with fatigue.
He tossed the gloves aside and cut away the tape from her hands. She flexed them and knew they’d be sore later.
“You can’t do this again,” he said. “I can’t put my fighter in danger.”
She laughed. “I wasn’t in any danger. Besides, she wanted it.” Jude looked at her across the way. She was leaning back against her corner ropes as her man cut her hand tape and checked her face and body. She was still watching Jude with the same deadly but curious eyes.
They had both wanted it. And now that she thought about it, in some ways it had been a bit…sexual. The dance, the opening and closing distance, the looks, it had all been like some sort of foreplay. And despite her fatigue and battle weary body, she was stirred, needing to battle the woman in another way.
She pushed away from the corner and slipped between the ropes.
The man in green tried to follow her. “Next time—”
“There will not be a next time,” she said, heading toward the locker room. She entered and went straight to the sinks. Her face wasn’t as red as she had expected it to be and the only sign of a fight she could see was her slightly swollen lip and the Q-tip, which she removed and tossed into the garbage. She rinsed her face and hair and shook the cold water away. She gasped as it ran down into her bra.
“Who are you?” a voice came from behind.
Jude saw the woman in the mirror and turned. “No one.”
“You aren’t my sparring partner, are you?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“What gave me away?”
The woman laughed. “Too many to list.”
Jude walked toward her. “I thought I did pretty well.”
The towel the woman held fell from her hand. “You did. For a novice.”
Jude stood inches from her, facing off once again. The woman had her beat in height and strength. That was unusual.
“It was brave of you to fight.” The smirk reappeared. “And very, very stupid.”
“That is what you think.”
“How could I think anything else?”
“You don’t know me. You don’t know that I got exactly what I wanted. Well…” She focused on the woman’s full maroon lips. “Almost.”
The woman again moved quickly, this time cupping Jude’s face and pulling it toward her for a forceful, hot kiss. Jude knotted her fingers in her hair, holding her tightly as their tongues came slick and serious, searching for dominance. Wet skin on skin slid as they locked together and devoured each other. Jude tried to walk her back to the wall, but the woman was stronger and she resisted and pushed, leading Jude back into one of the larger stalls. The woman tore away from her long enough to close the door and secure it. When she came at Jude again she didn’t speak, just gripped Jude’s bra and yanked it up over her head, tangling it around her wrists. Then, holding her hands up like that, the woman attacked her breasts with a hungry, hot mouth, slipping Jude’s nipples inside with an eager tongue, sucking so hard Jude almost fell to her knees.
Fighting the sensation, Jude pushed back, sidestepped, and was able to free her arms. But her hands were still tangled and the woman took advantage, lowering herself to attach to Jude’s center through her shorts. She was digging with her fingers, pulling Jude’s shorts aside, trying to sneak her tongue in on her bare flesh.
Jude squeezed her eyes closed, the feeling wonderful and terrifying, and she shoved on the woman’s head, trying desperately to get her to stop. But the woman kept on, relentless, leaving Jude no other choice. She had to stop; she didn’t let anyone touch her without permission—oh God, the tongue hit her, lips kissing her, mouth trying to latch on. She pushed her again and grew frantic. She wasn’t in control. Somehow, she managed to free her hands and, with palms on the woman’s shoulders, Jude shoved her away, knocking her back and off-balance.
Jude rushed her, pinned her against the wall, and bit into her neck as she drove her hand down the front of her pants. She found her clit soaked with arousal and she went right for the kill, thrusting her fingers deep inside. The woman threw her head back and groaned, her hands pulling and pinching Jude’s nipples. Jude wanted to fend her off but she couldn’t risk trying. And what she was doing, the aggressive way in which she was attacking her nipples, it was only arousing her further.
“You’re a hot little thing,” the woman said.
“Don’t talk,” Jude said, pumping her harder.
The woman held her tightly, laughing and kissing on Jude’s shoulder. “But you’re not as strong as me.”
Jude added another finger and used her thumb to flick her clit. She had to keep control, keep the woman against the wall and in her hand.
“Agh, yeah, you’re good. Really good. I like you.”
The statement burned in Jude’s ears.
I like you, Jude. What’s the problem?
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” The woman again played with Jude’s breasts.
“Talk.”
She grinned. “Okay.”
But they began to battle again, the woman trying to push her away. Jude fought her, fucking her with one hand while the other pushed up on her sports bra. She fed from her quickly, sucking as hard as she could on her nipple while she pumped her. The woman’s groans grew longer and louder, her hips began to buck. Her fingers knotted in Jude’s hair as she hissed her pleasure in heated whispers.
“Yeah. That’s it. Hot little thing.”
Jude fucked her with all her might, facing off with her past. Nicole used to do her just like this, taking her up against the wall, getting her off, making her come all over herself. Then she’d laugh and tease her, deciding whether or not she could touch her.
What can I say, babe, you’re a hot fuck. I love doing you.
The woman began to move faster. Her groaning stopped, along with her whispers. Jude bit her nipple and it sent her over.
“Agh! Agh, yeah!”
She battled Jude with her hips and hole, pushing and constricting. And before the orgasm was over, she attacked Jude again, forcing her back to the other wall. She continued to ride Jude’s hand as she looked down at her.
“Yeah, mmm, that’s it. You’re good aren’t you. You know you are.” Laughter came from her and she finally stopped and removed Jude’s hand.
“You got me so wet.”
She was a striking woman, standing there tall and dark and handsome. Her body was like a Greek statue of perfection, and she was as passionate about sex as she was fighting.
But Jude had had enough.
The woman was oblivious, though, and started to kneel. “My turn.”
“No.” Jude held her face and the woman stood.
“Come on. You can’t tease me anymore. It isn’t fair.”
“I’m not teasing. I need to go.”
The woman leaned into her and stroked her flesh through her shorts.
“You’re soaking. I can feel it. You can’t tell me you don’t want it.”
Jude closed her eyes at her use of another familiar phrase.
She held her wrist just like she’d done Mary’s.
Mary.
It was like a breath of heaven and warmth and pleasure tenfold.
“I don’t.”
The woman stilled.
“What?”
Jude stepped by her and retrieved her bra. She opened the stall door and spoke. “Thanks for the dance.” She walked to the bench, tugged on her bra, and removed her shoes. She left them there, retrieved her duffel bag, and walked into the main gym. She found her Nikes and slipped them on and saw the man in green talking to another tall, well-built woman. The real sparring partner must’ve arrived. He started to come toward her, but the hard look on her face must’ve stopped him.
The mild night air greeted her as she exited, leaving the gym behind for good. She felt better in some ways and worse in others. As she drove home she thought about the woman and their powerful encounter. But another woman returned to mind as she continued to drive home.