“Iknewthat.” Mira huffs. “I wasjoking.”
I go to the equipment rack, get a set of child and adult boxing gloves, then some pads. In the reflection, I catch Elle watching me. She’s got her legs pressed together. Like she’s fighting the lust there. Pressing her thighs together to stop the?—
No, fuck no.Ineed to stop.
I clear my head. Focus. Tame myself as much as I’m able to around this magnetic miracle.
“Put these on,” I say, handing them the gloves. “I’ll teach you some basics about striking.”
Mira slips one hand into her glove, then struggles with the second. I kneel and help her. She looks at me with a big smile.
“Okay, let’s start with the basics,” I say, standing up. “I want you to stand like this. Your stance is very important. It’s how you get power in your strikes. And it’s how you keep your balance if somebody tries to hityou. To begin with, we’re going to walk across the room, that’s all. In our stance.”
I show them the right way, then begin crab-walking across the room.
They’re good students, paying close attention. But on the fourth lap, Mira exclaims, “Can wehitsomething, please?”
I chuckle and walk over. “Sure, but only if you promise to keep that stanceandkeep your hands up.”
She raises her hands over her head. “Like this up?”
Elle’s laugh is the best sound in the world, I swear. A balm for a broken soul.
“No, like this,” I say, showing her. “To cover your face. And when you hit, your hands always come back to the same position. Like this.” I jab the air, then return my hands to the space in front of my face.
“Okay, like this, yeah?” She does the same, hitting the air. She even does some hip rotations without me needing to tell her.
“That’s excellent, Mira!”
She beams. “Let’s do it. I’m a ninja girl!”
I kneel and put on the striking pads, then raise my hands. “Okay. Hit the pads. Don’t worry about how hard you can do it. Just remember what I’ve taught you.”
She huffs, hitting for about three minutes. I can tell she’s tired, but she pushes through it. Elle stands off to the side. Emotion welling in her eyes.
Finally, Mira falls back and collapses on the mat. “Okay, I’m tired now,” she says, giggling. “Can I have a break, please, Mister Ninja Man?”
I chuckle. “There’s a computer in the office if you want to play some games on it?”
“Can I, Elle, please?”
Elle nods, then stops herself. She walks over to me and lowers her voice, so Mira can’t hear. She’s close enough that I could wrap my arm around her, feel her warmth, and press against her body so she could feel the hunger in me.
“Where is this room?” she asks. “Is it possible for anyone to get to it without us knowing?”
I shake my head and gesture to the other side of the dojo. “It’s up that corridor. No way for anyone to get in and out without coming through here. All the windows are locked too.”
Elle nods. “Then, sure, Mira, you can play some games.”
Elle follows me as I lead Mira to the far door. We get Mira settled in front of the computer, then return to the dojo. Elle raises her gloves with a nervous smile. “My turn?”
“Just try not to hit me.”
“If I do, it will be anaccident,” she says with heavy sarcasm.
I laugh, then raise the pads. She grunts as she hits the pad. I move around the room, watching her feet, her stance. She moves well for a beginner. She hits again and again, each time with more power, like she’s letting out little pieces of her rage with each strike.
After two minutes, she’s gasping with each punch. Her eyes glisten. She’s not hitting the pads, I realize. She’s hittinghim.
