Catch My Fall (13 page)

“Come to class tonight?” He asked as soon as I’d answered.

“What?”

I had butterflies - again. God, I’m pathetic.

“The beginner’s adult class tonight. I need you.”

I’m as big a Jackie Chan fan as anybody, and on any other day I might have jumped at the chance, but right now, the thought of sweating in front of Stellan felt about as welcome as a rusty nail in the bottom of my foot.

“Why?”

He explained that the adult beginner’s class was all males and an older woman recently signed up, but was feeling somewhat intimidated.

“She’s not too keen on the sausage party,” he said.

“Not a good candidate for a gang bang at a swinger’s club then.”

“No doubt,” he answered in a deadpan voice.

I paused. “Are you seriously asking me to come make this lady feel better?”

“No, I’m fucking begging you.”

This was unexpected. I sat there silent, Jackie staring at me from across the counter, waiting for explanation. Stellan was on the other end chanting softly. Little did he know that fear of his company was the only reason I faltered. I took a deep breath.

“Am I gonna get myself killed?”

“Never! I’ll go easy on you.”

I swallowed. Why did simple phrases like that give me the willies, suddenly? “You promise?”

He dropped his voice suddenly to that bedroomy place. “Oh, I’ll be gentle.”

“You’re so gross!” I squealed.

He laughed. “I’ll see you at five thirty and get you suited up, alright? I fucking love you, you know that right?”

The phone went quiet, and he was gone. Those butterflies in my stomach were being eaten by a raging badger as I set down the phone. I glanced at Jackie.

She was smiling. “Wow, you really are messed up?”

I threw another cookie at her.

***

I felt like a gelatinous mass that was just waiting to jiggle publicly. Christ, jumping jacks are enough to give me black eyes and bruised knees if I don’t have a proper sports bra, which if you’re wondering, I do not. Still, I put on the most flattering pair of yoga pants I owned and a t-shirt, and headed out.

Ninpo Dojo of West Concord didn’t have too many cars outside by the time I arrived, having been directed to arrive a half hour before class. I meandered into the quiet dojo. Stellan’s office door was wide open. I crept into the empty front room glancing around for a sign of life.

“Come on in,” he said.

I swear the man is a freakin’ ninja.

I felt weighted to the spot, my nerves screaming for me to turn around and leave. Still that nagging voice in my head kept chanting,
It’s Stellan, It’s just Stellan, stop imagining him naked
,
he’s Stellan
. I stepped into the office to find him sitting at his desk, his hair pulled back in such a way that for a split second I thought he’d cut it. He noticed the look of awe.

“What’d I do?”

I smiled. “Nothing. Your hairstyle fooled me for a second.”

He smiled back. “Oh, did it?” He pulled the elastic from his hair and gave a Pantene worthy hair flip with limp wrists on both sides. “How can you deny the sheer animal magnetism of my gorgeous mane?”

I stifled a laugh. “Uh. It’s a mullet.”

“Oh hell yeah! Business up front, party in the back.”

I laughed and tried to ignore the fact that his uniform, which crossed over his chest, was tied loosely and falling open. Seeing Stellan’s bare skin would usually go by without incident, but at that moment, we were very close to having an incident.

He restored the elastic in his hair before hopping up. “You ready to get suited up?”

“Would you be offended if I said no?”

He smiled and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, shaking me as he led me down the hall. He showed me to the changing room where he’d laid out a uniform. He whispered another thank you as the first students filtered into the front room. I locked myself away in the women’s changing room and held the black drawstring pants before me. Why couldn’t I just wear my Yoga pants? They made my butt look fantastic. I slipped into the pants, which were an easy one size fits most kind of deal. Then I tried to pull the Gi top over my head and met with the resistance of my somewhat surplus sized boobs. I twisted, repositioning the girls, but there was nothing to stop them from flying out in the middle of class. No knot in any sailor’s repertoire was strong enough to hold this cleavalanche at bay. At least not in this size top. If I wore this, everyone would expect a lap dance. I was pretty sure Stellan wanted the class’s full attention, and I was the grand fucking canyon in that thing.

I paused. Now came the devastating reality of my next move – I was going to have to tell Stellan that I needed a bigger size. I hated my life with such implicit fervor that had I the option of Seppuku in that dressing room, I’d have considered it. Let Stellan find my stripper cleavage corpse later.

Sadly, I didn’t have a sword.

I cracked the door to the dressing room and hissed. Stellan left his conversation with a younger man I knew as Daniel and reached for the door as he approached.

“Let me see,” he said and gave the door a pull. I almost ripped my fingernails off trying to keep hold on the door. He held his hands up, startled.

“I’m not decent!”

I held the shirt out to him, and he raised an eyebrow.

He gave me an eyebrow wiggle and moved toward the door. “Well, F-bomb, now’s not the time or place for that, but if we make it quick -”

I swung the shirt at him, satisfied to hear it slap against his bare forearms - his chiseled, masculine forearms – fuck! “It doesn’t fit!”

His face softened. “Oh shit! I forgot about that rack of yours. Gimme a sec!”

He bounded back down the hall. I stood there, trying not to blush. He’d mentioned my boobs. Sure, it’s just about impossible to miss them, but still, however misplaced the sensation might be, I felt flattered - and if one could call it that, attractive, for a moment. He came back down the hall and handed me another shirt. I prayed silently that large would be big enough to contain the ladies, because if I had to ask for XL, I’d commit Seppuku with my teeth.

The shirt fit. I stepped out into the hallway feeling ridiculous. A few of the familiar guys greeted me. This wasn’t my first time at Ninpo Dojo, but I’d never visited as a student before. I scanned the front room and saw Stellan off on the opposite side of the dojo, setting up for class.

A few younger boys were tying their shoes when Thomas O’Ryan spotted me. He knew me to be in cahoots with his sensei, and let’s just say, it bought me serious street credit.

“Hey Ms. Jensen!”

“It’s Faye, hon.”

The dirty blond hair flitting about as he shook his head. “No way. Sensei would kill me if I called you Faye.”

“Well, I promise
I
won’t kill you.”

He laughed and the other young boy introduced himself as
Mr.
Gregory Federer. He looked about eleven, and reminded me of a once young and slight Stellan. This was a boy lying in wait of his growth spurt by learning how to defend his tiny self. I smiled at the sight of him.

There was a sudden burst of voices in the dojo as the older boys (and one girl, I might add) filtered in.

“Man, I can’t wait to be in this class. They get to spar and learn weapons and stuff,” Mr. Gregory Federer said.

“Wow, sounds pretty cool,” I said, and it was sincere. Martial Arts had always intrigued me, and I had a healthy respect for anyone who mastered it. Well, let’s be honest, anyone who stayed in classes longer than a month earned my respect.

“I wanna learn the sword,” said Mr. Gregory Federer. He began flailing his arms around and making light saber sounds. Thomas smiled and pretended to clash blades.

A spray of spit flew from Thomas’ lips as he made a rather convincing saber clash. “I can’t wait until I have to register.”

“Oh yeah! Like Dan?” Gregory asked.

“Yeah, and like Sensei Ødegård!”

“What like Sensei?” I asked, glancing into the dojo for a sight of the devil.

Thomas’ eyes went wide. “Sensei’s a 5
^th
dan! That’s like 20
^th
degree black belt or something in Karate.”

Thomas’ flair for exaggeration was unparalleled.

“Yeah! If he wanted to get any better, he’d have to go train at a Ninja school in Japan like Sensei David.”

“Wow,” I said, listening intently. The mannerisms of ten year old boys were a wonder to behold. “I didn’t know they had Ninja schools in Japan.”

Gregory gave me a sad look, like he pitied my limited intelligence. “Oh yeah! They gotta!”

I smiled. “You probably have to be a Ninja to find one!”

“Well, then Sensei’s all set, right? Cause he’s a Ninja,” Thomas said.

“I bet he loves to hear you say that.”

“It’s true! He had to register with the police as a deadly weapon,” he said, his tone hushed. “Dan Hubbard just got his 1
^st
dan, and he had to register. Now, if he gets into a fight, he can go to jail because his fists are deadly weapons.”

“Even his feet are deadly weapons,” Gregory added.

Thomas shook his head. “Yeah, the police want to know, you know. Which stinks, because now the police know who the Ninjas are.”

“Well that defeats the whole purpose, doesn’t it?” I asked.

The two boys stiffened, their posture impeccable.

“You boys ready?”

I should have known by the towering shadow across the floor, but Stellan still managed to surprise me as he appeared behind me.

“Yes Sensei,” the two boys said in unison.

“You two do your best tonight, and I’ll consider letting you move up.”

The two boys’ eyes widened like the moon in late eclipse, and they were gone, mingling in the dojo with the older students. I turned and met Stellan’s gaze. God, he’s fucking tall.

I gestured to the girl in class. “Thought you needed me.”

He scoffed. “Grace is a baby. I needed a Wo-man!” He said, and dropped his tone to that bedroomy place, outlining an hourglass with his hands. I swatted at him.

We heard a soft voice behind me, and I turned to meet the woman whose savior I was intended to be.

I extended a hand to the older woman. “Hey there! I’m Faye.”

The woman beamed at me, twisting the tie at her waist. We shook hands, and she introduced herself as Candyce. Before we could get too familiar with one another, Stellan hollered something in Japanese, and any stragglers in the front room darted into the dojo, each stopping to bow at the door as they entered. I bowed awkwardly and followed, Candyce shuffling close behind. We lined up before Stellan. He stood a head above the rest of the class, his broad shoulders still pulling the collar of his shirt apart. Candyce nudged me to inform me that I wasn’t the only one aware of how sexy our Sensei was. I smiled. It was a relief to have her there, possibly more so for me than it was for her.

We did a warm up and by the end of it, I was cursing the day Stellan was born. I did my best to pretend I wasn’t huffing and puffing like a beached Manatee, but let’s be honest, it was pathetic. I tried to keep up with everyone. Pushups, run, sit ups, run - Ichi, ni, san, yon, go, ichi, ni, san. I was beginning to feel weightless and disconnected from the rest of my body, but I kept up, repeating each random, unintelligible phrase Stellan hollered to the class until he announced that we were to run around the room again. I sighed and turned to follow. Stellan slid in front of me.

“Hey you,” he said.

I almost ran headfirst into his chest. The sudden stop made me dizzy. “Hey.”

I attempted to go around him. My head was dense and heavy, as though someone had clamped a concrete vice just above each ear. Before I could pass him, he placed his hands on my shoulders and held me still.

“How bout you sit down for a minute, babe?”

I furrowed my brow. “What? No.”

Again I tried to pass him, the sounds of padded feet tromping past us over and over as they ran around the perimeter of the dojo. Even Candyce was keeping a relatively even pace as she passed us. Stellan swooped one of his long arms around my waist and turned me toward the benches.

“Stop it,” I said, trying to loose myself from his arm. He let me go, but gently took hold of my hands.

He hunched down to look me in the eye. “Have you eaten today?”

“No?”

“Yeah, I need you to sit down, hon.”

He pushed a little more insistently, and I waited for the runners to pass before hissing up at him. “Why are you trying to embarrass me?”

“I’m trying to avoid that. Trust me.”

I shoved his hand away again. “No, you’re singling me out.”

He laughed. “Quit being so stubborn. All the color is drained out of your face, babe. I don’t want you doing a face plant into the hardwood. Just sit down for me, okay?”

“I’m fine, Stell. Pick on Candyce or something -”

He leaned down again meeting my gaze just as my head nearly detached from my body and floated away.

“Young lady, while you’re in my dojo, I’m Sensei. What I say, goes.”

He spoke with the gentle authority of a Geriatric doctor talking to a belligerent dementia patient. I let him sit me down on the bench, given that I felt like I was riding an escalator rather than actually walking across the room. He brought me a cup of water and his voice sounded cloudy, as though I were wearing headphones without any music playing. I glanced around the room, mumbling about how weird it felt and that I couldn’t hear him.

He smiled.

I called him a dick.

“I mean, Sensei,” I said, snidely. He nudged my leg with his as he squatted down.

“Just sip slow, alright? You can jump back in when you’re ready.”

He was up, walking backwards to keep an eye on me as though I might launch into a Flash dance style calisthenics number the second he turned his back. When he was sure I wouldn’t move, he hollered to the class again to do another round of sit ups and bicycles and leg lifts and – Christ, I don’t even know what. I lost track and stared into my water. It was the only thing in the room not spinning. When Stellan finally called over to me, I glanced up and found the rest of the class suiting up with pads and boxing gloves. He waved me over to him, and I took my place next to Candyce.