by Jessica Ashe
“They are nice tits,” Elliot replied with a smile.
“So is that why you fight?” I asked. “The steady supply of willing women?”
“No, the women were plenty willing before I became a fighter.”
“Then why do it? The money?”
“Nope. The money’s a recent thing. I spent plenty of years being poor before this.”
I shouldn’t even care. There were worse things to do for a living. Not many, but at least he wasn’t a criminal.
But I couldn’t let it go.
“Do you enjoy being beaten?” I asked. “I hear some people get off on that.”
Elliot laughed. “No comment. If you want to know what I like in bed, you’ll have to find out the hard way like everyone else. Although I suppose I can admit that none of my fantasies involve sweaty men….”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Do you need to know?”
I didn’t need to know, but I wanted to. I wanted to understand what possessed a man like Elliot to beat people up for a living. It might sound cliché, but he really didn’t seem like the type. He looked like the type, but when I spoke to him he sounded too intelligent and friendly to put his life on the line like that. Maybe the English accent was influencing me more than I thought.
If Elliot ever saw the programs on my DVR, he’d know straight away that I had a minor touch of anglophilia. No doubt my obsession with the English had been one of the reasons why Nora had set us up like this in the first place.
If Nora had any fairytale ideas of Elliot and I becoming “a thing” she’d forgotten one of the most important rules of being a doctor—no relationships with your patients. Elliot was now my only patient, and that meant he was out-of-bounds, even if I did want him. Which I most certainly did not.
“I don’t need to know why you fight,” I admitted, carrying on the conversation after a waiter had taken our orders. “But it could be an important part of your mental health and I’m responsible for that in addition to your physical well-being.”
“You really want to know, don’t you?” Elliot teased.
“Okay, yes, I admit it. I’m curious. I have no idea what would possess someone to make a career out of fighting, especially if it’s not for the fame and women.”
“Why are you a doctor?” Elliot asked.
“You’re changing the subject,” I replied.
“No, I’m not. Tell me why you wanted to become a doctor and then I’ll tell you why I wanted to become a fighter.”
“Okay, but my answer’s kind of boring. I wanted to help people. There aren’t many better ways to do it than by being a doctor.”
“You always wanted to do that?”
I shrugged. “I do have a slightly more interesting version that I used on applications for medical school, but I don’t know if it’s really true.”
“Let’s hear that version then.”
“When I was about thirteen, Mom and Dad sent me to one of those day classes where you could learn basic first aid training. CPR, bandaging a wound, that kind of thing.”
“Did they want you to become a doctor?”
“No,” I replied. “They later admitted that they only sent me so they could have the house to themselves and have sex.”
Elliot laughed. “Did you mention that in your application?”
“I might have left that little detail off. Anyway, a few months later, some kid choked on his food in the school cafeteria, and I stepped in to do the Heimlich maneuver. Apparently I saved his life. I hated all the attention I got from classmates, but I was buzzing for weeks from the feeling of keeping someone alive.”
“I can imagine.”
“Come on then. I told you mine, now you tell me yours. Why did you become a fighter?”
“My answers basically the same as yours.”
I frowned. “I very much doubt that. Unless you mean that you beat a kid up in school, and decided you wanted to make a career out of it.”
Elliot went to speak, but stopped as the waiter approached to drop off our food. I looked around and saw three different women staring at Elliot, and practically drooling in anticipation. One of them glared at me, as if she hated me merely for having the gall to share a table with him.
He didn’t appear to notice the attention, but perhaps he was just used to it. No wonder he had a bit of an ego. Okay, a big ego. Could I really blame him? He was confident about his looks in the same way I was confident about my medical knowledge. It wasn’t really arrogance if it was true.
“I became a fighter to protect myself,” Elliot said, after reluctantly eating some of the salad leaves. “And to protect someone I cared about. So really, it’s not all that different to your reasons for becoming a doctor.”
“Why did you need to protect yourself?”
I thought I knew why. Elliot had spent time in prison; Nora had given me a head’s up on that front. If you needed to protect yourself anywhere, then prison was the place.
“A bully,” Elliot replied simply. “I was only thirteen when I started learning to fight—this was back in England—but the lessons came in use.”
Thirteen? Not in prison then. So much for that theory.
“And you protected someone else as well?” I asked.
“Sort of. A friend who had problems with the same bully. I looked out for her.”
Elliot went quiet. He might have bulked up and learned to fight, but he clearly still found it difficult to think and talk about his childhood bully.
I shouldn’t be interrogating him. It really wasn’t any of my business, and being his doctor didn’t change that. It’s not like he was still being bullied now. Who in their right mind would try to bully a man like Elliot?
If there were drugs that gave you the confidence to take on Elliot in a fight, then I wouldn’t mind having a go at them myself. All in the name of medical research of course.
“Any regrets?” I asked when the silence threatened to get awkward.
“No,” he replied sullenly. “None. You?”
“Well, things haven’t exactly worked out the way I intended, but I don’t regret becoming a doctor.”
“If you’d never become a doctor, you wouldn’t have met me.”
“You’re right,” I replied. “That’s definitely worth two hundred thousand dollars in student loan debt and seven years of training.”
“I choose to believe you’re being serious. Anyway, I think you’re going to like what the next week has in store.”
“Why? What’s happening next week.”
“We’re going to Vegas.”
Diary of Alison Harvey
August 5, 2015 (twelve months ago)
I had been a shit friend today. Nora was in love. Why couldn’t I be happy for her?
Because I was jealous. Riker wasn’t exactly my type though. I didn’t go for rough, muscular, dangerous men. But Nora was happy and I should be happy for her. It was as simple as that really.
Except nothing ever is that simple.
Chapter Thirteen
Elliot
“Do you always travel first class?” Alison asked.
“Of course,” I lied. “Nothing but the best when I’m traveling for a fight.”
Business class was usually my limit and even that was a rare treat. Alison had assumed I was rich—which well she might, given what I paid her—but the reality of my life wasn’t quite as glamorous as it looked.
Sponsors provided me with plenty of clothes, shiny watches, and all the fancy food I could ever need, but the winnings paid by the UFC left a lot to be desired, at least at my current level. The sponsors were the ones who funded Alison’s wages, even though it was the UFC who insisted I keep one on staff. At least the money from the UFC would get better once I started fighting at the top of the rankings.
The fight against Jerome Milner was the last step I had to climb before fighting Tyler Young. That would be the fight to change my life. Even if I lost, I’d not be short of a fe
w bob for the next year.
But I couldn’t contemplate losing. I shouldn’t even be thinking about that fight at all. One fight at a time was the rule. It might sound cliché, but I really did have to focus on what was directly in front of me, and in this case that meant beating Milner.
Alison and I were escorted to our seats—or were they beds?—at the front of the plane, while I tried to look like this was all standard procedure.
“Can I get you and your girlfriend anything to drink?” the air hostess asked.
“A glass of champagne each, please,” I replied.
“Why didn’t you correct her?” Alison asked, after the hostess had walked off. “She thinks we’re together.”
Our seats were side by side, but Alison’s faced mine so we weren’t quite as cozy as I’d have liked. Still, for the time being we looked like a couple, and I found myself strangely comforted by the thought. I’d never been in a relationship; they’d always looked so… boring.
Alison and I hadn’t so much as held hands, yet I was already rearranging travel plans to spend more time with her.
“If she knew you were my doctor and not my girlfriend, she’d spend the entire flight trying to get me back to her hotel in Vegas. It seemed better to let her think I’m already taken.”
“I hope they’re pumping enough oxygen in here to feed that ego of yours,” Alison said.
“You’re not denying that I’m right, though.”
Alison pursed her lips as she grabbed one of the blankets from the side of the seat and covered up what had been a delightful view of the top of her chest.
“I just can’t be bothered to argue,” she replied, as she made herself comfortable.
“Plus, you like being thought of as my girlfriend.”
This received a roll of the eyes, but no denial.
“Why isn’t your manager on this flight as well?” Alison asked. “Isn’t he coming?”
“Percy couldn’t make this flight,” I replied. “He’s coming on a later one tomorrow.”
And he’s traveling in economy.
The hostess came back with our champagne and made sure to bend over in front of me, giving me a great view of her exposed cleavage. Despite thinking I was with Alison, she’d actually undone some buttons in the last few minutes.
“There you go, sir,” she said, with a pleasant smile.
“Thank you.”
“And for you, ma’am,” the hostess said, without the smile, as she practically threw the glass at Alison.
“Thanks,” Alison said sarcastically. The air hostess didn’t notice. She just walked off with a smile and an exaggerated swinging of the hips.
“Believe me now?” I asked with a satisfied grin.
“I’m sure you’ll have fun joining the mile-high club,” Alison said dryly.
“Uh…”
I got another roll of the eyes. “Okay, I’m sure you’ll have fun renewing your membership of the mile-high club.”
“You know, these beds are practically big enough for two. How about once we’re in the air and the lights are off, you come and join me over here? Then you can apply for your own membership card.”
“Do you ever stop thinking about sex?”
“During fights,” I replied immediately. “Sex is the last thing on my mind when I’m trying to concentrate on destroying someone. Not that sex can’t be aggressive, mind you. Anyway you never answered the question.”
“I would love to join the mile high club today.”
“You would?”
“Hell yes. But I expect the pilot is going to be kind of busy during the flight. Anyway, wake me up when we land.”
“You’re going to sleep?”
“I always get tired on planes.”
Alison placed her glass in the arm rest, and closed her eyes as she snuggled up under the blanket.
So much for a nice first class trip with Alison. I hadn’t actually expected to get my end away, but I could at least of made a bit of headway. Instead, she seemed as resistant to my charms as ever.
Once the plane reached cruising altitude, the hot waitress came back over with yet another button undone on her top. She might as well just remove the bloody thing at this point.
“If you need anything else, sir, anything at all, just let me know.”
She wouldn’t be my first air hostess. There were ways to get privacy in first class, and the other staff would turn a blind eye if we disappeared into one of the bathrooms.
It had been three weeks now since I’d gotten any. That was two weeks and six days longer than I liked to go. The temptation was strong.
Then Alison shifted in her seat and turned to lay on her side. Her hand stretched out and came to a rest on my calf. She stirred, and her mouth twitched, but she didn’t wake up. She looked so cute. I’d never thought of her as cute before. Alison was stunning to look at, but she had a hard edge. Not when she slept.
“I’m good,” I replied to the air hostess.
“Would you like me to set the television up for you?” she asked, disappointedly.
“No,” I said, looking at Alison. “I’m fine. I have plenty to distract me during the flight.”
-*-
I loved Vegas. The entire strip was tacky, gaudy, and obscene. But God damn it, I got all the attention a man could ever desire.
I’d been here a few times before, and it was always the same. The second I checked into the hotel, I had a host of women ready to attend to my every desire. I still wasn’t a household name—not unless that household had a particular obsession with UFC—but once in Vegas, I got treated like a celebrity.
When Alison and I arrived at the MGM Grand, the manager immediately took us under her wing, and put me in one of the penthouse suites. Alison got a separate room.
“You’re more than welcome to sleep in the penthouse,” I offered.
“You want to swap rooms?”
“Uh, no, that’s not what I meant.”
“In that case, I’ll stick to my regular hotel room.”
Three young women came up and introduced themselves, and immediately started lusting over me as if Alison weren’t there. They worked for the hotel, but I knew from past experience that they were more than happy to see to my every need.
“No wonder you were so excited about coming to Vegas,” Alison muttered, as the three ladies fussed over me and tried to plan out a day’s worth of activities. “You get to walk around with supermodels hanging on your every word.”
“You get to spend the day with a hunk on your arm as well,” I replied. “So it’s not all bad.”
“A hunk? Where?” she asked, looking around.
“Would you like some help with your bags, Mr. Michaels?” one of the girls asked.
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“What about your… assistant?” she asked, looking down dismissively at Alison. Her behavior was hardly surprising, but it annoyed me nonetheless. The girl was likely a nice enough person, but for her to look down at Alison was frankly ridiculous.
Alison had the brains and the beauty. This girl had… nice enough boobs I suppose, but that was about it.
“I’m not his assistant,” Alison said abruptly. “I’m his—”
“Girlfriend,” I finished. “We’re just staying in separate rooms because I need to save my energy before a fight. This one can’t be in the same bed as me without jumping on me every five seconds.”
The girls all smiled, but I could tell that the news of my ‘girlfriend’ had knocked the wind out of their sails somewhat.
“I’m insatiable,” Alison said, with what—to me at least—was obvious sarcasm. I’m not sure the girls picked up on it though.
“How about a couple’s massage?” one of the girls suggested. “I’ve booked you in with your favorite masseuse, and I’m sure we can find one for you as well, ma’am.”
“Sounds good,” I replied, before Alison could argue. “My girlfriend needs to unwind. She can get a little tense.”
&nb
sp; We both took our bags up to our separate rooms before meeting outside the spa on the ground floor. Tina—who gave the world’s best massages—greeted us and led us into a room with two massage tables.
“Paulo,” Tina yelled towards a back room.
A large, muscular man came out and flexed his fingers, as if he were getting ready for a fight. He was almost as big as me, and he had a frustratingly perfect smile.
“I’ll be massaging you today, Alison,” he said as he gently shook Alison’s hand.
“Oh, okay then,” Alison said, returning his smile. “Sounds lovely.”
Bloody hell. This was not what I’d had in mind for a couple’s massage. I’d only ever seen ladies working here, and quite liked the idea of Alison getting oiled up by Tina or a colleague. Served me right for being sexist, I suppose.
Tina motioned to the table, so I stripped off without giving it a second thought. Massages were a common part of sport, so I didn’t have any qualms about standing in front of strangers or professionals in just a tight pair of boxers.
Alison didn’t feel quite so liberated.
She glared at me, encouraging me to look away while she got undressed. I sighed and turned away while she stripped down to her bra and panties, before clambering onto the table. Paulo covered most of her up, but not before delicately unclasping her bra.
“You’re tense,” Tina said, the second her warm oily hands started pressing into my back.
Alison moaned in pleasure as Paulo did the same to her.
The fight couldn’t come soon enough, because I had some tension to release.
Chapter Fourteen
Alison
The massage hadn’t relaxed me at all.
If anything, the entire experience had made me even more tense.
Paulo pressed deep into my muscles, but every time I started to enjoy the moment, I heard a whimper of pleasure from Elliot. Picturing Tina with her hands all over his firm, naked body, made my muscles freeze up instantly.