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Description

    Gemma led the boy to a table. She had to admit he was cute… and naggingly familiar, too, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. She thought she knew his type, though– she’d run into enough schmoes since she started college. Normally, she would’ve brushed him off; the routines of training and getting stronger were more important to her than any transitory high from proving she was superior to some loser. Today, however, she needed the morale booster, and this guy seemed ready, willing, and able to give it to her.

    As she sat down, he paused. “Oh, shit,” he said. “Sorry, I mean… I forgot to get myself some food. I’ll be right back!”

    Gemma blinked, nonplussed, as he turned away. Seriously? she thought.

    At least he wasn’t a troglodyte. She figured him to be about the same height she was, which made him about average height for a man. He had the slender, wiry build of a runner or gymnast; there was power there, but it wasn’t usually exerted in explosive action. Every movement was controlled and precise… she briefly, strangely, saw Rita in his retreating form.

    She caught her breath as realization dawned. She had a moment of uncertainty– this guy had just wiped the floor with her– then her natural confidence reasserted itself. She was going to have fun.

    She waited until the boy returned with his food. He’d apparently found someplace that made taco-bowls, and she was a little jealous, although she wasn’t going to let him see that. As soon as he sat down, without saying a word, she took a bite of her hot dog and stared him directly in the face as she chewed. Gemma wasn’t sure if the boy found her to be intimidating or seductive, at this point– a foot-long hotdog was, after all, pretty intensely phallic– but she enjoyed watching him squirm a lot more than she probably should have.

    “Sorry,” he said as Gemma took another bite, still without speaking. “I… didn’t mean to be rude. I’m Lee.”

    Gemma smiled faintly, set down her hot dog, and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin before looking him directly in the eyes. “Gemma,” she said, finally. She reached out, snagged a piece of marinated beef out of his bowl, and popped it in her mouth. “You should eat before your food gets cold.”

    Lee shot Gemma a look of consternation, then, apparently making the conscious decision to not be offended, smiled. “It doesn’t look like that’s going to be a problem, does it?”

    Gemma tried and failed to keep a straight face. She snorted. “Well, I can make sure you don’t have any leftovers to worry about,” she said, then brought her arms up into a quick double-biceps flex. “Got to feed the engine to keep these growing.”

    She watched as Lee gaped at the expansion of her arms. Her biceps were full and thick, with a respectable double peak when she flexed and, while she wasn’t exceptionally vascular, the thick vein over the top of her muscle still pulsed to life in time with her heartbeat. She relaxed her arms and shook them out, then returned to her hot dog.

    “So, you got a thing for buff girls, huh, Lee?” Gemma asked, then added, because she was curious, “You gay?”

    “What?!” Lee said, “No!” He paused. “Why would you think that?”

    Gemma smirked a little. “I didn’t,” she said. “I just wanted to see what you thought.”

    Lee sat back and his visibly ruffled feathers settled. “Okay,” he said, “so what do I think?”

    Gemma brushed it away. “It’s kind of nice to have the advantage, this time,” she said. “You really haven’t recognized me, have you?”

    Lee looked closer and she saw the light of realization kindle in his eyes. “Well, crap!” he said. “You really rang my bell with that first point. Sorry to take you down so hard after that, but there was no way I was letting you tag me again!”

    Gemma snorted. “Wimp,” she said.

    Lee laughed. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but I took you apart well-enough, once I realized I didn’t enjoy getting tagged by a freight train. Did you do kata, too?”

    Gemma shook her head.

    “You should,” Lee said. “You’re long on power, but kata could really help you develop speed and precision.”

    Gemma pursed her lips, frowning slightly. She knew he was right, but she’d always been frustrated working katas. Unlike Rita, who seemed to flow effortlessly from position to position, Gemma always felt like a dancing bull– strong and powerful, but too clumsy and slow to be taken seriously.

    She realized she’d let the silence build for longer than she should have and sighed. “I’ll beat you soon enough,” she vowed.

    Lee arched an eyebrow. “Not if you keep eating like that, you won’t,” he said, pointing at her half-eaten hot dog.

    She blinked. “What,” she asked, “are you my coach, now?”

    Lee jerked his chin up and waggled his eyebrows. “I could be, you know,” he said. “If you wanted, that is.”

    “I hardly know you!” Gemma protested.

    “True,” Lee shrugged. “Maybe we can remedy that over dinner? Come over to my campus after the tournament and I’ll treat you to a real meal.”

    Gemma considered. She knew she ought to be wary– Lee was a strange man, and she was a woman who would be on her own in unfamiliar territory– but she didn’t feel threatened by him at all. Sure, he’s bested her sparring, but there was no question in her mind that, if they were actually fighting, she could break him in half.

    “Fine,” she said. She scribbled her number on a napkin and passed it to him. “Text me the directions. You give my number to anyone else, and I’ll make you eat that napkin.”

***********************************************************************************************************************

You can get the full story, along with RGreye 's novella The Secret and JGmuscle12 's and RGreye 's "Don't Rub Me the Wrong Way," at Smashwords ( www.smashwords.com/books/view/… ) or on Amazon ( www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRX1D4VX .)

Description

    Gemma led the boy to a table. She had to admit he was cute… and naggingly familiar, too, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. She thought she knew his type, though– she’d run into enough schmoes since she started college. Normally, she would’ve brushed him off; the routines of training and getting stronger were more important to her than any transitory high from proving she was superior to some loser. Today, however, she needed the morale booster, and this guy seemed ready, willing, and able to give it to her.

    As she sat down, he paused. “Oh, shit,” he said. “Sorry, I mean… I forgot to get myself some food. I’ll be right back!”

    Gemma blinked, nonplussed, as he turned away. Seriously? she thought.

    At least he wasn’t a troglodyte. She figured him to be about the same height she was, which made him about average height for a man. He had the slender, wiry build of a runner or gymnast; there was power there, but it wasn’t usually exerted in explosive action. Every movement was controlled and precise… she briefly, strangely, saw Rita in his retreating form.

    She caught her breath as realization dawned. She had a moment of uncertainty– this guy had just wiped the floor with her– then her natural confidence reasserted itself. She was going to have fun.

    She waited until the boy returned with his food. He’d apparently found someplace that made taco-bowls, and she was a little jealous, although she wasn’t going to let him see that. As soon as he sat down, without saying a word, she took a bite of her hot dog and stared him directly in the face as she chewed. Gemma wasn’t sure if the boy found her to be intimidating or seductive, at this point– a foot-long hotdog was, after all, pretty intensely phallic– but she enjoyed watching him squirm a lot more than she probably should have.

    “Sorry,” he said as Gemma took another bite, still without speaking. “I… didn’t mean to be rude. I’m Lee.”

    Gemma smiled faintly, set down her hot dog, and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin before looking him directly in the eyes. “Gemma,” she said, finally. She reached out, snagged a piece of marinated beef out of his bowl, and popped it in her mouth. “You should eat before your food gets cold.”

    Lee shot Gemma a look of consternation, then, apparently making the conscious decision to not be offended, smiled. “It doesn’t look like that’s going to be a problem, does it?”

    Gemma tried and failed to keep a straight face. She snorted. “Well, I can make sure you don’t have any leftovers to worry about,” she said, then brought her arms up into a quick double-biceps flex. “Got to feed the engine to keep these growing.”

    She watched as Lee gaped at the expansion of her arms. Her biceps were full and thick, with a respectable double peak when she flexed and, while she wasn’t exceptionally vascular, the thick vein over the top of her muscle still pulsed to life in time with her heartbeat. She relaxed her arms and shook them out, then returned to her hot dog.

    “So, you got a thing for buff girls, huh, Lee?” Gemma asked, then added, because she was curious, “You gay?”

    “What?!” Lee said, “No!” He paused. “Why would you think that?”

    Gemma smirked a little. “I didn’t,” she said. “I just wanted to see what you thought.”

    Lee sat back and his visibly ruffled feathers settled. “Okay,” he said, “so what do I think?”

    Gemma brushed it away. “It’s kind of nice to have the advantage, this time,” she said. “You really haven’t recognized me, have you?”

    Lee looked closer and she saw the light of realization kindle in his eyes. “Well, crap!” he said. “You really rang my bell with that first point. Sorry to take you down so hard after that, but there was no way I was letting you tag me again!”

    Gemma snorted. “Wimp,” she said.

    Lee laughed. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but I took you apart well-enough, once I realized I didn’t enjoy getting tagged by a freight train. Did you do kata, too?”

    Gemma shook her head.

    “You should,” Lee said. “You’re long on power, but kata could really help you develop speed and precision.”

    Gemma pursed her lips, frowning slightly. She knew he was right, but she’d always been frustrated working katas. Unlike Rita, who seemed to flow effortlessly from position to position, Gemma always felt like a dancing bull– strong and powerful, but too clumsy and slow to be taken seriously.

    She realized she’d let the silence build for longer than she should have and sighed. “I’ll beat you soon enough,” she vowed.

    Lee arched an eyebrow. “Not if you keep eating like that, you won’t,” he said, pointing at her half-eaten hot dog.

    She blinked. “What,” she asked, “are you my coach, now?”

    Lee jerked his chin up and waggled his eyebrows. “I could be, you know,” he said. “If you wanted, that is.”

    “I hardly know you!” Gemma protested.

    “True,” Lee shrugged. “Maybe we can remedy that over dinner? Come over to my campus after the tournament and I’ll treat you to a real meal.”

    Gemma considered. She knew she ought to be wary– Lee was a strange man, and she was a woman who would be on her own in unfamiliar territory– but she didn’t feel threatened by him at all. Sure, he’s bested her sparring, but there was no question in her mind that, if they were actually fighting, she could break him in half.

    “Fine,” she said. She scribbled her number on a napkin and passed it to him. “Text me the directions. You give my number to anyone else, and I’ll make you eat that napkin.”

***********************************************************************************************************************

You can get the full story, along with RGreye 's novella The Secret and JGmuscle12 's and RGreye 's "Don't Rub Me the Wrong Way," at Smashwords ( www.smashwords.com/books/view/… ) or on Amazon ( www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRX1D4VX .)