Ah, poor thing. Breaks my heart.
He was in black workout pants, and that was it. They both had their hair pulled back. She was in tight workout pants and a tight, firm, workout top, which was more like a bra, really. They were both panting now, and sweating. Preston was smiling less, which made Bev smile more.
“Preston, you need to quit thinking of the knife as something in your hand. It’s distracting you rather than adding to your armory.”
“It is in my hand, though,” he complained.
“Drop it,” she told him.
“What?”
“Drop it, close your fist and attack me,” Bev told him.
He cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy, but then opened his hand and let the knife fall, closed his fist, and came in at her like the wind of a blizzard. She was able to block two of his attacks and give him a good slash across his chest before his third attack, with his left hand this time, sent her to the mat.
“Yes!” she screamed in victory, and bounced up off the mat.
“Yes what? I hit you! I did not stab you!”
“So fucking what? Was I any less defeated? I wasn’t just down, I was sprawled. I couldn’t have defended the coup de grâce.”
He was confused, and he looked nearly lost.
“Remember the first thing you said when you taught me to shoot? Fuck aiming. Forget the gun even has sights. You need to forget that you even have a knife.”
“Then what is the point of having the fucking knife?” he asked.
She reached down and lifted his hand. She traced the slash mark across his wrist that was still red and angry from her second successful block. “Because you’re dead, too,” she told him. “The knife adds to your weapons; it shouldn’t hinder them.”
He looked at the angry red line, and then at his chest where her slash was skill glowing savagely.
“Naw,” she said with a smile. “That one would have just made you more sexy in a bad boy way. A few stitches and you would have been fine. Same with your other arm. Just a cut, but this one, this one I’m proud of.”
He smiled. “Yes, this one would certainly have been a bit of a hassle.”
They got waters and sat down together, leaning their backs against the wall.
“I think I get it. Can we do knife the next time as well?” Preston asked her.
“Yeah, definitely. As much as you want. I’ve never had this good of a work out with it before. After this session, I feel like an eye has opened inside of me, and I can see what all of these pieces and stances and moves are all about, and how they work as a whole, in concert.”
Preston looked over at her. “That’s called mastery. I remember the first time that happened to me. It was such a rush. And, by the way, I have never died so many fucking times on a mat before in one session.” Then he laughed, and it was a good, solid, joyous laugh.
Preston was right: It was a rush. Mastery or not, she felt fantastic, and a world of possibilities was opened up for her to explore.
Kim and Yvette came into the garage from the attached kitchen door. “Are you two done killing — wow! Preston! I have never seen you so wiped out before.”
“She’s an animal! She just kept killing me and killing me. It was wonderful,” he laughed.
Kim smiled, but she couldn’t find the humor her husband felt at being killed over and over, or understand how good it felt to him.
Yvette was galvanized by his tanned, perfectly formed, nearly naked, sweaty body. The poor thing looked like a doe in the headlights of an oncoming truck.
“You two want a snack or something?” Kim asked.
“No, thank you,” Bev told her. “I think we are done for now. I know I’ve never been this wiped out before. I want a long bath and a short nap.”
They tentatively scheduled to meet next Friday at the same time.
“Come a little earlier,” Kim offered. “That way you can relax a little after lunch before beating up my husband again.”
As soon as they were back, Bev got out of her clothes and into the bath. She purred in the hot water.
Yvette knocked lightly on the door. “You done yet? Can I come in?”
“Done what?”
“Rubbing one out,” she giggled.
Bev laughed. “Come in here, brat.”
Yvette came in and sat down on the back edge of the tub. “So you really had a good time, I guess.”
“Yes, a very good time. I was seriously nervous, though. After watching those vids of him on YouTube, shit.”
Yvette put her hands on Bev’s shoulders and began to massage the tired and tense muscles. And damn that felt good. Bev sighed and positioned herself to give Yvette better access to her shoulders and back.
Yvette’s hands worked her deeply and soothed out aches Bev had already accepted as ones that were going to be painfully sore in the morning. When she worked her fingers into Bev’s neck muscles, Bev moaned with pleasure.
After perhaps fifteen minutes of this, Bev was in deep, relaxed pleasure.
“Bev?”
“Yes?”
“Are you into girls at all?”
Bev sighed sadly. “I really wish I was now.”
“Why?”
“Because I can hear in your voice that you are, and I know it’s been awhile for you. I could tell a couple weeks after we met that you weren’t really getting any with Crash, and if you were, it was of the quickie variety.”
“It’s been nearly two years,” Yvette agreed. “He came out of prison and we fucked like rabbits, of course. He couldn’t get enough of me. It was like we were kids again. I even had to begin using lube because he would take me four or five times a day. But then he started using meth, and that made his dick soft. He could still get off if I sucked him long enough, and that was alright for a while, because rubbing myself while sucking on him, even soft, was still a good encounter for me. But then he really started using a lot of meth; shooting it, smoking it. He just lost interest in sex. It just wasn’t something that was an urge for him.”
“Yeah, I figured it was something like that, and I know that solo rubbing isn’t really all that fulfilling. At least for me it’s not. It helps, but it never fulfills. So, yes, now that I know you are into women, I do — really — wish I was, because I know you’re hurting. But I’m not, sorry.”
“Should I stop massaging you then?”
“God, no,” Bev laughed. “You’ve been with Crash for so long. Does that mean you had girl lovers while you were with him?”
“I had one, a long time ago. I think Crash and I had been together for maybe two years then. See, I lost my virginity to a woman, and I didn’t have sex with a man until Crash. He was my first. After a couple of years with him, I began to wonder if I was missing something. So I had this girl on the side for a long time. Crash never suspected anything because I never told him about me and girls. I knew the kind of porn he liked to watch, and I knew I wasn’t sharing him with any other girl. That shit was not going to happen. I could have done it with, like, Kim and Preston, because Preston isn’t mine, but not with my man. No. Sounds fucked up, but that’s the way of it.”
“So, what happened?”
“Well, Lucy, that was her name, got tired of sneaking around and being my back-door girl. She found a lover who would hold her hand in public and who she could spend the night with, and she told me it was over. It hurt. It hurt a lot, because she was right, and she did deserve those things. She was a great woman. After that, I decided that, yes, maybe I was missing something, but sneaking around wasn’t going to give it to me, and I still loved Crash, so I never looked for another lover.”
Bev didn’t know what to say to that, so she just melted into Yvette’s wonderful hands and soaked up the remaining heat of the bath. It was almost time to get out, because the water was cooling fast now.
“Bev?”
“Yes?”
“Could you, um, hold me?”
“You mean, while you took care of yourself?”
“Yes. Does that freak you out?”
“No, no, not at all, and sure. I could do that.”
They spent most of the evening together, talking and just being close. Bev knew after an hour that this was never going to be something she would get into, but Yvette looked and felt so much better at that point, she decided that if this was as far as she had to go to see her friend’s eyes sparkle again, then this was fine. She could go this far. Caresses, light kisses, a little fondling. Yvette took care of the rest, and she was obviously deeply satisfied with the releases she was experiencing.
What it did do, though, was make Bev’s need for Leo a lot stronger. Listening to and feeling Yvette getting off against her — and she really had some serious sex music going on — didn’t make Yvette more attractive, but it sure made Bev want to be fucked.
After the third hour, most of which was spent talking and laughing because Yvette was so close to being herself again, and she was funny as hell, Bev’s belief in her sexuality was even more confirmed. Part of her really did wish she could get into this and be a lover for Yvette, but being a comfort was going to be all she had to offer.