Private Lesson: Tae Kwon Do Me

by Lola Fox

  Banging My Instructor

  Lola Fox

  June 2012

  Published by Summerhouse Publishing. Copyright, Lola Fox. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  Summerhouse Publishing

  http://summerhousepublishing.com

  Lola Fox

  http://lolafox.com

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

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  Banging My Instructor

  Shit…there he is. Breathe, just breathe.

  Master Park and his fine self, stretching out on the mat, looking good and doing things to my body without laying a single finger on me. If I’m to get my way, that’ll change soon enough. I laugh, knowing my strict—but otherwise loving—father would definitely have a problem with the sexual images running through my pure mind right about now. Pure…right…as if.

  No, I don’t go around sleeping with just any guy I find attractive, but there’s definitely something about this particular older man that has me in a tizzy, to put it mildly.

  And the more I think about him, which is a lot by the way, the closer I am to making my “move.”

  I’m not looking for a relationship with the guy, and I’d be lying if I were to say that I am. But if he were to show any sign of interest in me, anything in the slightest, I wouldn’t have him wining and dining me for days on end to give him a little action, that’s for sure. Problem is…he barely knows I exist. Except for the times he’s busy chiding me. And oh, I think he may be of the impression that I’m kind of a flake—which I’m here to rectify, starting tonight.

  Today’s my first private lesson with the thirty-something-year-old martial arts expert trained to snap a man in two…with hands of steel that move at lightning speeds, and thick, strong looking legs that do all sorts of weird and exciting things in the air that has me blushing in all the right places. Speaking of which…my pussy’s tingling something awful as I take my cute little flip-flops off, careful not to scuff my perfectly manicured toenails, especially the pretty little design on my big toes. God…I’m nervous, and yet excited at the same time.

  “Ouch! Cold!” I shout, probably a bit louder than I intended to.

  “Focus!” Master Park raises his voice at me, and I turn to look, only to snap my head back when his facial expression has “don’t fuck with me” written all over it. Yikes!

  Focus, huh? Why don’t you focus on my fucking delicious piece of pussy pie, Master Park? I silently warn in my throat, jerking my head forward in misguided courage as my face constricts with an equally delusional dose of confidence. How can a man as handsome as Master Park look so scary at times?

  My dad brought me here about two weeks ago, with me dragging my feet—quite literally—as I did my best to act like he was taking me to shop for my very first training bra. Which, thank goodness, my mom had still been alive to do, a few years before she passed away.

  Having quickly tired of sharing Master Park with the other students, and since money is no object for daddy’s little princess, I jumped at the first opening he had, for what’s bound to be a pussy-clenching, ass-puckering, one-on-one session. I so can’t believe I gave my dad such a hard time in coming here in the first place. Shit. To think…he couldn’t bribe me away from here now—not even with front row seats to a Justin Timberlake concert. Back stage pass, you say? Fuck that…I want me some of what’s going on underneath that gee, ghei, gi, whatever the black uniform he’s wearing the shit out of, is called. I’m not here to learn all that chop-socky, mumbo-jumbo nonsense. I’m here for one thing and one thing only: Master Park. And his skillful hands. And whatever deadly weapon he’s packing between his legs. Those beautiful lips, his broad shoulders… Okay, so maybe that’s more than one thing, but I was never really all that good at math, anyway.

  Oh. My. Gosh. I’m staring at the object of my fantasy through the mirror that runs the length and width of the entire wall on one side of the dojang. See, Master Park? I have been listening to you. So there! Score one for Scarlett. Yay! Take that!

  Focus, Scarlett, like Master Park always says. And yes, I do sometimes refer to myself in third person. I’m funny like that.

  Master Park…last name sounding as Asian as the Korean food I had last weekend, but with a face that looks as American as the late model Ford Mustang Convertible I drive. So handsome, so dreamy. I wonder if he knows what he’s doing to me.

  I’m curious…does he have a girlfriend? Is he married? I don’t think so. I’ve never seen a ring on his finger, nor have I ever seen him with anyone. And he better keep it that way if he knows what’s good for him. Not that I should be possessive, not in the least, but it can’t be helped. He shouldn’t be so goddamn handsome.

  “Hiiyyaah!” I yell out, doing my best not to look stupid as I do a “chop” with my hand at the mirror in front of me, my attention squarely on the imaginary woman I see hanging on his arm.

  Damn…too late.

  “Hurry up, Ms. Slowpoke! Your session started five minutes ago,” Master Meanie-Poopie-Head barks out, springing up from his very painful looking splits.

  “It’s Ms. Kinkaid—Scarlett—Master Park.” I smile wide, feeling as silly as I probably look with me wearing my neatly ironed martial arts getup. If my friends could see me now…wearing this thing…I’d fucking go hide somewhere and just die. Who in the hell picked out such a hideous uniform, huh? What’s wrong with looking good while I do this Taekwondo crap? Definitely not Calvin Klein, that’s for sure. Ugh.

  “I know what your name is, Ms. Kinkaid.”

  “Really? Aw, that’s so cool!” I kinda shriek on the last word…can’t help it. He knows my name. That is so freakin’ awesome!

  “It says so on your dobok.”

  “I thought it was called…” Damn it! Never mind. I wasn’t even close with the uniform name. Dobok, dobok, I recite in my head, face feeling a bit warm from embarrassment, I think.

  The student who had the session before me laughs as he leaves, shaking his head as he slings his bag over his shoulder. Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I harrumph at his retreating back, hoping for his sake that that laugh was not directed at me. ‘Cause knowing my dedication when I set my mind to it, I’ll be a twentieth degree black belt before my summer vacation is over, thank you very much. So, he better check himself before he wrecks himself.

  The front door clicks shut and I’m paying attention to that sound when Master Park says, “Which, Ms. Kinkaid, by the way, is absolutely not allowed.”

  “Huh?” I fix the white belt around my waist so that the ends are perfectly even.

  “The sewing of your name on your uniform.”

  “Oh.” I do a little twirl and turn to face him, bring up my index finger to my lips and give him my best “oo
psy” face. Flirting and playing innocent always works for me. Especially with my dad. And…pretty much every man I’ve come in contact with since I’ve learned how to flaunt my assets. But so far, not a chance on Master Park. Shitake mushrooms.

  “Never mind that right now. Are you done playing around, Ms. Kinkaid? It’s getting late, and you’ve already eaten into ten minutes of your private session with whatever it is you’re doing in front of the mirror.”

  Hah! He said, “eaten.” I’ve got something you can eat, right over hear, hot stuff.

  “Hai!” I reply enthusiastically, so proud of myself for answering him in…oh, I forget what language, but I know it’s one of the big three Asian ones. I did such a good job!

  But before I have a chance to do my little happy dance, Master Park flashes his scary face again, accessorized to the max with beady eyes, shaking head, nostrils flaring, lips thinning, well, you get the picture. Not a very good look for him if you ask me.

  “That’s Japanese, Ms. Kinkaid. This is a traditional, Korean, martial arts—”

  I totally interrupt him. “Oops. So sorry, Master.” Without thinking, the words spout from my big mouth, said with a stereotypical Asian accent that has me immediately thinking I’m the most insensitive twenty-year-old bitch he’s probably ever run across.

  The serious look on his face has me zipping my mouth shut, but in my defense, I think my peculiar behavior has something to with how anxious I feel…knowing I’m going to be alone with Master Park for the next forty-five minutes or so…

  *

  Jesus, I’m sweating like a pig here. And not wet in the way I’d like to be, either. Master Park’s pacing in front of me…around me…has me doing actual work! I’m punching and kicking, repeating the steps over and over again to the point my arms feel like they’re going to fall off, and my legs, well, I can’t fucking feel them, like, at all.

  I curse under my breath, and I swear he’s wearing a grin on that ugly mug of his. Okay, not really ugly, but I’m none too pleased with him right now, so…ugly it is. “Asshole,” I mutter, sweat falling like hard rain over my makeup-coated face. To think I did all that work before I got here…just to have it ruined! Fuck!

  “Did you say something, Ms. Kinkaid?”

  I swear he’s mocking me, I can hear the sarcastic tone in his ugly voice. Yes, as of this moment, even his voice is ugly to me, as well as his face. “Hai!” Take my Japanese and shove it up your hiney-hole. “I’m thirsty,” I groan, pleading like I do with my dad when I’m not getting my way.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” I fire back, punching at the air, while pretending I’m beating his stupid face.

  “Perhaps you should take a break, Ms. Kinkaid?”

  “Yes, that’s precisely what I was thinking, too.” I feel my lips curving into a smile, and I can only imagine how good that cold water is going to taste, going down my dry-as-shit throat. “See, I knew you were just messing with me, you know, earlier.”

  As I go to put my arms down, I’m met with a chuckle from Master Park, and not the pleasant kind, either. More like sarcastic, like he’s fucking with me again.

  “Oh, Ms. Kinkaid, tsk, tsk.” Master Park shakes his head, adding, “Your father told me you lack discipline…that you manipulate people into getting your way…that everything comes just a little too easily for you.”

  “That right?” I ask, sweaty palms resting on my hips, wondering what else my father’s told him about me that he shouldn’t have.

  “Yes, and judging from what I’ve seen so far…I’m inclined to believe him.”

  “Hmph.” I swipe at my sweat-riddled face with the sleeve of my dobok. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind about you.” Master Park just stands there, wearing a stoic face if I’ve ever seen one, hands folded across his chest, shaking his head at me. The nerve of that…that…shit, I can’t think of anything clever to call him. Goddamn him, he’s so irritatingly perfect. Instead, I resort to defending myself with the best weapon in my arsenal—my big mouth. “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Not very martial artsy of you. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “All I know is what you show me, Ms. Kinkaid. And what I see is a young woman with little to no respect for anything or anyone besides herself. I mean, you’re the first student I’ve ever had in my fourteen years as an instructor that’s sewn her name to the front of her uniform. So disrespectful.”

  “But—” is all I get out before Master Park cuts me off. How rude.

  He begins, “And—”

  So I do the same to him. Right back atcha, Master. “But, I just wanted to—”

  “And,” he raises his voice over mine, effectively cutting me off again, “you act as if you don’t want to be here. So?”

  “So what?”

  “Exactly why are you here? Why did you sign up for a private lesson with me that costs so much more than the group one? Why, if obviously, you can’t take what we’re doing here seriously?”

  Like I would tell him why. Sure, I’ve got a big mouth, but for me to just come out and say it? That being alone with him is the sole reason why I got my dad to pay for private lessons? That’s pretty bold, even for me. So I stand there, hot, thirsty and uncomfortable, searching my mental rolodex for something halfway plausible to say, feeling a bit vulnerable since Master Park just pretty much called me out.

  Before I can answer him, he turns his back to me and starts walking away. The nerve. “Ms. Kinkaid, please stop wasting my time, as well as yours and your father’s. It’s clearly apparent to me that you are not here to learn, so let him know that this will be your last private session with me.”

  “That’s not fair!” I begrudgingly acknowledge what he’s saying is probably the truth, but for some reason, being confronted with it just plain sucks.

  “Ms. Kinkaid, I’m sorry, but I’ve made up my mind. I wasn’t sure before, but after what I’ve seen today, well…”

  For reasons unbeknownst to my carefree self, I’m starting to get upset. I feel the emotion building quicker than my attempts to stop it. Chest tightening, breaths coming in uneven inhales and exhales, I let it do its thing…all as Master Park keeps talking bullshit out of his mouth.

  “So not fair…” I don’t finish my sentence, wondering what he must think of me to turn down good money for his livelihood. I mean, he doesn’t seem like he’s just swimming in wealth.

  Damn…I do believe he’s hurt my feelings.

  “It’s getting late,” he says, back still turned, moving his head round and round while standing in place. He cracks his neck a couple of times, then, “Goodnight, Ms. Kinkaid. I wish you luck.”

  My rising anger getting the better of me, I reply, “I’ll fight you to stay in your class.” What? What did I just say?

  He turns his head first, then the rest of his body slowly follows, until he’s facing me again. That’s better. I don’t like him very much right now, but I can’t deny how easy on the eyes he is.

  Master Park laughs, then abruptly stops, the widest fucking grin marring his otherwise perfectly handsome features. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ms. Kinkaid. First off, I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t even be a contest. Secondly, you’d have to actually want it bad enough…never mind. There’s no point in talking about this. Goodnight, Ms. Kinkaid.”

  There goes my anger again, it’s about ready to boil over, and for the life of me, I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s because of the way he’s talking to me…like I’m a joke or something. Like he’s not taking me seriously. Or maybe it’s because this is the first time someone’s actually turned me away. Huh. I don’t know, but whatever the reason, my hands have turned into tight fists…and I want to punch him in his suck-hole right about now. How dare he not take my dad’s hard-earned money? Who the fuck does he think he is?

  “Wipe that grin off of your face, right now, Master Park.”

  “Please leave.” He gestures toward the door with his hand, still wearing the stupid grin on his face.
“Go. Now. I’ve had a long day.”

  “No.” Ooh…I kinda like standing up for myself. “Fight me.” I’m totally out of my comfort zone, but something’s overtaken me, and I’ll be damned if I know how to stop it.

  He throws his head back and lets out a laugh that echoes throughout the room. As he does this, I imagine kneeing him in the groin…no, not there. Last resort. After I’m done beating him senseless, I may have the urge to beat the ever-living-shit out of his dick. Yeah, I’d like that…but first things first. Delusions of grandeur, here I come!

  I put my dukes up—show him what I think is my “scary” face, then start hopping from side to side, like I’ve watched boxers do on TV. I unleash the violence pent up inside, punching the air with my left fist, then my right, repeating the awkward movements, all as I make Bruce Lee-like fight cries that end up sounding more comical than anything else.

  “I’m not going to fight you. This whole thing is starting to make me feel a bit uncomfortable, Ms. Kinkaid. I’d like for you to leave.”

  “Yes, you’ve said that more than once now, Master Park,” I say back to him, still doing my best impression of someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing. Which clearly, even to an untrained eye, I am not.

  I know my present behavior is out of character for me, and the questioning look on Master Park’s face seems to be a good indication that he’s bothered by it as well. Great. Super-duper. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere. Not until he takes it all back—what he said earlier about me—and lets me stay in his class. Wow…am I really fighting to pay to stay? Huh…what’s gotten into me? “You want me to leave? Then make me, Master Park.”

  He shakes his head at me for the umpteenth time, his lips thinning into a tight line. “Do as you wish then, Ms. Kinkaid,” he says, turning his back to me again.

  Ready or not, dumb or really beyond stupid or not, I take this moment to strike at him, lunging forward like the black belt I’m clearly not, wrapping my arms around his waist and using my leg to twirl around his as I summon all of my one-hundred-and-twenty-pound strength to try to take him down to the ground. I feel his weight give a little, and I pull with all of my might and drag him to the mat. Yes, success! We fall, and I somehow end up on top of him. Nice!