My Story 49
By Corbin 
How life tests the endurance, patience, and sometimes faith of one young woman.
 
********** 
 
"We are what we are when in danger  
 And we are as we stand head in hands.  
 When a friend brings to light on a cold silver night  
 You can stare your fate right into his hand." 
	-To be treated 'right' 
		-Terry Reid 
 
*********** 
 
'Kicking the shit out of a smart ass.' That is on the agenda for today's  
discussion, so let me recall the tale of kicking the crap out of this  
guy and making him literally eat dirt. True, it is not very lady like, but it  
was appropriate given the location and circumstances. 
 
For anyone that has been following this and if you haven't, why the hell not?  
Like you people have better things to do with your time, I think not! 
 
Anyway, a couple of summers ago I decided to go riding one weekend with  
some guys I knew from my Father's shop (They're constant bugging was a major  
factor). I had ridden my KX125 a few times but was not what you would call  
'proficient' on it by any means and I knew these guys liked to ride some pretty  
wicked terrain, thus I was more then a little concerned for my ability to keep  
up as well as my own safety (falling off and getting hurt kind of safety). 
 
To get to where we were going (and I won't say where because I am learning to  
keep my big mouth shut when it comes to divulging lots of personal details.) I  
needed to load my bike up onto the back of my friend Scott's truck. My mom was  
freaking out when Scott showed up, she always feared for my safety, but my Dad  
was beaming with pride and joy that I was going out to play with my toy. I was  
all thumbs trying to get the thing tied down, honestly Scott did most of the  
work. You would think this was a date the way he was fawning all over me, well  
Scott was a nice guy and we did date a few times.  
 
I felt like a total rookie, my bike had barely a scratch on it and my jacket,  
helmet and pants looked totally new. Scott's bike and riding clothes looked  
worn, gheesh I am looking like such a geek I almost wanted to go into my  
backyard and throw dirt on everything. I'm also worrying about silly stupid  
stuff like how to keep my hair restrained.  
 
So now we are riding out to the country, but before that we stop at this gas  
station to fill up the bikes and the extra containers because where we are  
heading there won't be any stations around to fill up the bikes when we run out  
of gas. As we're pulling up to one of the pumps I'm suddenly realizing this is  
'THE' meeting place prior to doing any cross-country riding as the parking lot  
is full of trucks and trailers with bikes of all makes and kind.... 
 
...and now I also realize I'm the only girl here, just great. Wait, I should say  
I am the only girl 'riding', a few of the guys have their girlfriends with them,  
but they are not riding. So I take a deep breath and go to get out of the cab of  
Scott's truck. 
 
"Want something to drink?" Scott asks. 
 
"Yeah, some Gatorade or something." And I reach into my pocket for some cash,  
but as I expected he rejects my offer to pay. Well it may be early morning  
but it's already in the upper eighties and the humidity makes it feel in the  
nineties...on second thought, make that several bottles of water to drink  
instead. I'm trying to kill time and walk around to the back of the truck and  
check the straps holding my bike down. The thing looks pretty intimidating as I  
stand there looking up at it and now I'm even wondering if I remember how to  
ride the damn thing. 
 
I brush a few beads of sweat from my forehead as I scan the multitude of guys  
milling about, waiting for someone to give the word that it's time to hit the  
hills, but I haven't spotted the self-proclaimed leader of the pack yet, if  
there is one. By now I've picked up on the fact that I am being watched by many  
pairs of eyes and seem to be topic of conversation, based on the fact I was able  
to distinguish my name a few times. I'm not bothered by it, I just hang back and  
watch the numbers rapidly change on the pump, the loud gurgling sound coming  
from the tank tells me the handle is about to 'pop' as it's getting close to  
topping off.  
 
"Hey Corbin!" I hear some guys call out from across the parking lot and now  
they're walking towards me. Overall, most everyone there was pretty cool, there  
were some very animated guys that were talking and acting a little rude and  
vulgar, not specifically at me, but they were just showing off. Making it clear  
they were the 'loud mouths' of the gang and didn't give a shit who heard or saw  
them. They are the same group of guys everyone has seen, the kind that go out of  
there way to be purposively annoying, even disrespectful, especially when girls  
are around. They're out to make a statement that they don't believe in any of  
societies proper manners or in toning down their bravado around women, 'Keeping  
it real' as some would say. 'Keeping it simple minded and stupid' I say. 
 
So lets fast forward a little, with Scott nearby I felt in good hands, he took  
the time to explain the layout of the course, where I probably should and  
shouldn't ride. The first couple of hours were pretty exhilarating as I jumped a  
few smaller hills and stayed away from the larger packs of guys that were into  
more of the risk taking, stunt style jumping. 
 
The problems began when I stopped my bike back at Scott's truck to get a drink  
of water and fill my tank with gas. I then sat down on the ground where the  
shade from the truck gave me some slight relief, only slight because I was  
drenched in sweat and my body seemed to be absorbing every bit of water I could  
take in, but I didn't over do it. I even poured some water on my head, god that  
felt good, but then this bike comes roaring up beside where I had taken up  
refuge, at first I thought it was Scott messing with me, but it wasn't. The bike  
stops so close to me that it kicks up dirt and dust all around me, causing me to  
squint and cover my mouth, what a jackass. 
 
Pretty soon, we were joined by a few other people who I guess also decided it  
was 'break time'. So the jackass (I didn't know his name at that moment) that  
kicked up the dirt is climbing off his bike and putting on a big show,  
everything is done in big exaggerated movements. Like for example he just  
doesn't climb off the bike, no he practically leaps off of it and does he set  
his helmet down? No, he throws it like a football over toward his truck where it  
bounces into the back of his bed upon impact. Oh yeah, he's also got hair that  
is colored blonde at the tips, but his roots are black, a look I think is ugly.  
To top it off, he's got tattoos...allot of them...GRRRRRR. 
 
"Can you spare some?" He asks. My response is to just raise my right arm and  
point to the cooler sitting on the tailgate of the truck. 
 
"Okay." He snaps, but now he's got this hostile attitude suddenly, like was  
he expecting me to share MY bottled water with him? Gross! No way, I'm not going  
to share with him. Maybe he was 'getting off' on the idea of me wrapping my lips  
around the end of this bottle right after I let him take a big swig out of it,  
indirectly swapping spit if you will. Yeah, that's exactly what he was hoping  
for, and me agreeing to anything less will be taken for an insult. As usual my  
analysis was dead on because he's now eyeing me as he sits down on his propped  
up bike, takes a big gulp of water and then screws the cap back on. The whole  
time I'm just sitting there messing with my wet hair and taking small sips on  
the drink, avoiding his gaze. 
 
"Afraid I have cooties or something?" I hear him ask, but in this girlish tone  
that is intended to mock. 
 
"Or 'something' like that." My mouth is saying in response before my brain can  
step in and stop it, so I look away after that comment half hoping he'll turn  
off the attitude and get a little more light hearted about it all. Some of the  
other guys are sitting around chiming in with their own banter, some directed at  
this guy, some at me. I really don't recall a word of what they are saying. 
 
"Or, on the positive side, maybe some of my riding skills might rub off on you."  
 
*Sigh* 'Here we go'...was all I could think. 
 
I remember sitting there listening to him do a little chuckle as I nervously  
shifted my boots into the dirt. Some of the guys mocked his riding in an attempt  
to ease a growing moment of tension, but he had put his hooks into me by going  
after the fact that I was the rider with the least experience. Hence I was prone  
to take numerous spills (which I did) and my jumps were awkward at best.  
Suddenly the joy of riding that day began to loose its luster, and just when I  
had started to completely enjoy myself I was now feeling embarrassed as I sat  
there under the shade of the truck. 
 
Scott wasn't back yet, not that it mattered anyway, so I slowly stood up and  
reached for my helmet trying to not even acknowledge the guy. 
 
"For everyone's safety, keep your distance." And then his voice got muffled as I  
donned the helmet, ah a little piece now, sanctuary from his insults even if  
it was hot as hell in that helmet, it was still a nice buffer.  
 
Well, I chose not to heed his advice and rode wherever the hell I wanted too. 
But 'fate' being ever kind to me caused a near collision to take place and take  
one giant guess who it was with? At first I thought he took it all rather well,  
simply glaring at me while shaking his head in apparent disgust. 'Huh, that  
wasn't so bad.' I thought for sure he would be chasing me down or something.  
Anyway, to calm my nerves I headed back to the truck to sit on the tailgate and  
drink some more water, trying to enjoy a few minutes of peace to myself. I  
listened to the revving of the bikes off in the distance. I then noticed a pack  
of them heading back towards my location, evident by the dust cloud getting  
closer, and my mood got dark again when I saw Mr. Jackass at the head of the  
pack. Fortunately Scott was with them this time, so if that guy started to mouth  
off, I'm sure Scott would have my back. 
 
"What the fuck!"  
 
Well, well, well he had barely gotten his helmet off when that polite greeting  
flew out of his mouth. 
 
"Easy Sean!" Scott snapped at him. That's my boy, jumping to my defense as I sat  
there with a smile on my face now. 
 
"Your little girlfriend has no business being out here dude!" 
 
So this guy Sean is really pissed, but he's one of those hard core guys that  
walks around with simmering hostility all the time anyway, looking for anyone  
and anything to take it out on. Scott was getting off his bike when I decided it  
was time for me to fight my own battle here, I was going to let Scott take care  
of it but the more I assessed things the more I came to the conclusion that Sean  
is a bully...a punk...a grate your nerves, in your face, loud mouth, over the  
top, thrashing, trash talking bully. And he now had his sights set on me. 
 
But what really pissed me off was him calling me 'Little'...LITTLE!? I'm as tall  
as he is. Yeah I know what he meant, not in the purely physical sense, but  
still... 
 
So I'm off the tailgate now, but setting down my cup first as my right hand  
comes up to motion that Scott should 'back off' from the situation. He's  
studying me, looking a bit confused and kind of pissed, pissed at Sean that is. 
 
"Shut your mouth." Now THAT got his attention, more like it got his disdain as  
he shoots me this look of disgust. 
 
"Go sit your little non-riding ass back on the truck bitch before you step into  
a pair of shoes your not ready for!"  
 
I see his head jerk to his left, in Scott's direction, as if he was done talking  
with me, I took that as 'my opportunity'. Since about six feet separate us I  
took a big step with my left foot and then lunge my whole body forward, at the  
last possible second I shoot both hands out toward his chest. Since he wasn't  
expecting it, his entire body seemed to catapult backwards as he let out a loud  
grunt and then a second groan when his back hit the ground. "FUCK!" He's  
clutching his chest some while quickly rolling to his side and  
starts to sit up. 
 
"Whose sitting on their ass now!" I yell and the fifteen or so people that are  
there go berserk, about one third are cheering, another third are yelling  
obscenities at me and the rest are laughing. 
 
"Shit!" Scott gasps. 
 
I must say that was one perfectly executed shove, I was very impressed with my  
handiwork and obviously I am not above taking advantage of someone while they  
are distracted. 
 
"Fucking cheap." I hear him groan as he seems to have pretty much recovered now,  
although he's apparently confused by the fact he is suddenly on the ground and  
that he was put there by me. But now that he's assessed the situation, he's now  
standing with this enraged look on his face, good grief how many different  
forms of 'Anger' does this clown have? Well, no one seems ready to jump in and  
stop this, if anything everyone is egging us on....hmmm, nice group we have  
here. But I figured as much and would never have gotten off the tailgate if I  
hadn't planned on going all the way, as the saying goes "Don't go, if you don't  
plan on going all the way." At least that's my saying although I didn't invent  
it. 
 
He's crouched low, but his fists are balled up so I can't tell at first what  
he's planning on doing...charging me? punching me? both? But I can tell one  
thing for sure, even with all the dirt and sweat covering his face, he looks mad  
enough to kill me. Well maybe kill is harsh, but you get my point. Actually I'm  
feeling pretty good, knocking him down kind of gave me a big boost of  
confidence. I'm not going to go and try anything fancy here, I just want to  
get a hold of his right leg for a takedown, but for all I know maybe he's some  
great wrestler/grappler but I won't find that out until something happens and we  
end up on the ground. I've had a few people ask how I can sometimes appear so  
calm during some of the fights I've gotten into, I really don't know to be  
honest. But after giving it some thought I think it all comes down to the fact  
that I expect to get hit, it's like when you watch two boxers in a ring...or any  
fight really, you know someone is going to get hit, so I'm not afraid of getting  
hit, yes it hurts and sure I try to avoid getting hit anywhere near the face,  
but if you commit yourself to something like this you kind of have to expect  
the worst. Once you overcome the fear of getting hit or potentially loosing a  
fight, it makes getting the job done a lot easier. 
 
So he looks ready to unleash a wild barrage of attacks, like some compressed  
spring ready to explode at me, both fists clenched tight enough to see the white  
of his knuckles and I get this sickly feeling, wondering if my blood is going to  
soon be all over them. And will anyone pull him off me if it comes to that? So  
at that moment I might have had a flash back to a fight that I saw on video, one  
where Rickson Gracie was still fighting in Japan years ago. The guy he was  
up against was all ready to go and Rickson just strolls across the ring towards  
the guy, like he was on a casual walk, it totally threw the guy's initial  
analysis off. So I think I'll give that a try... (Yeah I know, pretty lame  
tactic since I'm no where in the same universe as someone like a Gracie, not to  
mention that in retrospect it's a good way to get your head knocked off.) 
 
So, hands down by my side I walk towards him, standing straight and while he's  
still got that crazed fight look on his face I've gotten allot closer to him  
then I thought I could...I see him flinch and move like he was getting ready to  
swing away, so with no more time to waste I shoot out my left foot towards his  
knee, more of a distraction attempt. I was half hoping he would at least grab  
for it, but the punk just starts blasting away, shit he was fast too, throwing  
wild left and right hooks like a blur. My memory is a bit of a blur now trying  
to recall those first few seconds as I did initially panic, my upper body jerked  
back as my arms come up to cradle the outside of my head as I try and duck for  
cover, but he is on me, firing punches to any available target. What was helping  
me weather the storm was my outfit...I still had my jacket on and it gave my  
back, arms and chest good protection. 
 
I manage to bend over, trying to keep my face from meeting a fist, when he slams  
his right knee up into my gut, but it was ineffective given the angle I  
was at and the fact that he was trying to throw the knee while keeping up his  
punching momentum. It was really a gift as I wanted that leg anyway and there it  
was, so sacrificing my head I use both arms to latch around his thigh while  
charging forward and down we go, with me on top. He doesn't even try and ease  
the fall, he's still trying to inflict damage on my back now as I've tucked my  
head off to his right. With my added weight, he lets out a significant grunt and  
cough when his back slams against he hard earth, again for a second time. Now I  
let go of his leg and crawl overtop of his torso to get my self into a better  
position, but this guy just explodes...for a somewhat lean, thin dude, he is  
damn strong and just goes crazy like some Tasmanian devil! He's thrashing,  
punching, pulling my hair, spitting, flailing, you name it, he was using  
everything and anything as a weapon. The dirt, humidity, and stink of sweat was  
almost unbearable, we were kicking up a hell of dust cloud. He then gets a fist  
full of my hair with his left hand and jerks the crap of my head, causing me to  
scream and lean in the direction of the pull, god that hurt! So I fall off to my  
right as he is turning to try and get on top of me while I'm still mostly lying  
on my right shoulder but I slowly feel my body being rolled onto my back, that's  
when I look up and see his right fist raised in the air. My left forearm barely  
deflects the blow, I'm expecting another punch but now he's acting like he wants  
to climb on top of me for a better shot or something, so I pulled my knees up  
and wrapped my thighs around his waist, giving him a good squeeze and for the  
first time I begin to see some exhaustion set in on the guy. Having thrown  
everything into his full throttle assault and now having his midsection squeezed  
meant his ability to refill his lungs was extremely limited. He's red in the  
face, gasping thru his mouth openly and turns his attention to my legs, he  
struggles to get to his knees. (I'm thankful for all of those years of weight  
training my lower body.) Now he's using both hands to pushing against my left  
knee, but with him nicely wedged between my legs and twisting to his right I see  
a golden opportunity....an exposed head....more importantly an exposed neck! 
 
My right hand grabs his right shoulder to pull him to me a little more, my left  
hand shoots up as I slacken my legs just a little. He doubles his struggling,  
perhaps thinking he has just broken my scissor hold, still no clue what's about  
to happen (I should say, what I HOPE is about to happen). I now wish I wasn't  
wearing this jacket as the padding on the forearm is kind of awkward to work  
with, but I manage to wrap my arm around his neck and sink it in, but is it  
enough? Now my left hand hooks into my right arm just below the bicep as I 
slip my right forearm behind the back of his neck (Amazing huh? I actually seem  
to know what I am doing! Not really, just drilling the basics in class can have  
real world benefits...like now!) My fingers search for and find the part of my  
jacket sleeve covering my left bicep and grip. Actually at the time it felt like  
a fairly difficult task to accomplish given the amount of struggling that was  
going on. When I felt like I had secured the hold I then snap my legs tight  
again and try to sink the choke into his neck even further. Even with the jacket  
on it turns out to be a effective hold, combine that with my clenched thighs  
around his waist he's now making this gurgling sound out of his mouth. 'Yuck' I  
thought as I do a little peek around the side of his head to see what's going on  
and then I roll him onto his stomach. My left cheek is plastered right against  
his head and shit he stinks from sweat and a bucket of cologne he must have  
bathed in this morning. 
 
"You bastard, pulling my hair hurt!" So in a very uncharacteristically mean  
spirited display, I press my right forearm against the back of his head while  
using all of my weight to shove his face into the dirt and do mean I am shoving  
hard. He draws on a few last energy reserves to try and buck me off but forget  
it, he's wasted now. I hear him coughing and blowing plumes of dirt from either  
side of his puffing cheeks. It wasn't until it actually sounded like he was  
vomiting did I let go, yeah a disgusting detail to share I know, but there you  
have it.  
 
I push off from his body and take a few steps back as my right hand starts  
rubbing my scalp, "Fucker" I spat, "Not talking so big now huh?" I couldn't  
resist. I watch as he does a feeble kind of push up and rolls over onto his  
back, literally spiting out globs of saliva soaked dirt from his mouth. Some of  
his buddies are helping him and it's a pretty confusing scene, one of the  
girls', a friend of Sean's is calling me names and threatening revenge, I just  
flip her my middle finger.  
 
He's sitting up, but nowhere near ready to stand, I see him stick a finger in  
his mouth and dig out a few bits of dirt from between his check and gums and  
that's when I notice he has a stud in his tongue...disgusting, I hate those. The  
strange thing was I really wasn't concerned about his health, but was getting  
some satisfaction out of watching him struggle in his groggy frame of mind as I  
absorbed every confusing expression on his face, it was totally satisfying. The  
shock that he was actually spitting dirt out of his mouth, the disbelief that he  
just got his butt kicked by some girl and the humiliation that it was in front  
of all of his friends. When he got to his knees a few of his helpers backed off  
as he pushed them away in an ungrateful display, still trying to retain some  
moment of dignity I guess. 
 
Sometimes my mind begins spinning out of control with wild, hostile  
thoughts of paranoia. You see, I began to wonder why me? Why pick on me  
when I was minding my own business? I suppose I could analyze and re-analyze  
everything over and over but time enough for that later. Right now I am taking  
two steps forward as his head tilts to one side and looks up, he's still got  
that look going on, angry and bitter. That 'look' as if he was blaming me for  
all of it, the kind of guy that will never 'get it', will never come down to a  
calming point in his life and try to be rationale, helpful or courteous. If  
somewhere inside of him there is any kind streak, it's so repressed it may never  
find the light of day.  
 
So why not humiliate him even more, I know I probably shouldn't have but I kind  
of wanted to put an exclamation point on the end of this whole ordeal. My left  
hand comes around in a wide sweeping arc as I dropped a bomb on his right cheek.  
It was an open palm smack that was so loud I swear it sounder like one hell of a  
firecracker going off. Better then any punch! His head snapped to his left as  
he toppled over like a chopped tree, he wasn't out, but he was out of it. 
 
"Got anything else to say?" I yell. 
 
"YOU CUNT!" And that girl, the pissed one, is running at me with both hands  
out stretched towards my face, I've got just enough time to stick my own two  
hands out and grab her shoulders, damn she was on me fast. I twist to my right  
as she keeps charging and I try to throw her off me. If I wasn't a little taller  
and a hell allot stronger it would never have worked. Fortunately her footing  
wasn't so good so she lost her grip on me and tumbled away as I did my own  
awkward stumble backward to catch my balance. I keep backing away as I watch the  
girl scramble to her feet only to be intercepted by Scott, one of the cooler  
heads that began to put themselves between various groups of people that either  
wanted to fight me or each other. I'm distracted by this sharp stinging  
sensation on my left check and quickly walk over to Scott's truck to tilt the  
passenger side mirror out and up to look at the damage. I've got three red marks  
going down my cheek! That fucking bitch scratched me with her fingernails right  
before I was able to get her off me! Of everything to be concerned about, it  
wasn't the two or three small lumps on my head nor the one on my right cheek, or  
the small number of people that were milling about that seemed like they wanted  
to jump me any second. No, it was three scratch marks on my cheek that had me  
traumatized the most as my fingers gently traced the lines. I was having a hard  
time telling how bad it was with all the dirt and sweat covering my face, was  
the skin broken? Would it leave a scar? (For those that have actually seen a  
picture of me, you'll know that there are no scars on my left cheek. Amazingly  
everything healed up perfectly.) I actually had tears in my eyes as I wanted to  
hurry up and get home now. Women like that girl always worried me, there is no  
honor in cat fighting, all rules are out the window and anything goes. No thank  
you, not for me.  
 
'That bitch scratched me!' was the only thing running thru my mind repeatedly as  
I peeled off my jacket, my shirt underneath was totally soaked, and I do mean  
dripping with sweat. I toss the jacket into the cab and start putting stuff away  
to get ready and leave while Scott was still over there doing what he can to  
calm things down. But the only thing that keeps going thru my head is how I now  
wanted to hurt that bitch. Strange huh? How that guy Sean wasn't even in the  
forefront of my mind any longer and even with all my big talk about honor and  
trying to fight fair, there was a nasty girlish part of my subconscious that  
wanted to scratch and claw at her in retaliation, sounds strange doesn't it?  
That really bothered me as I thought I was above all of that, but I couldn't  
seem to resolve that desire to fight her in just as nasty a manner as that girl  
had come at me. Like some repressed part of me wanted to come down to her level  
and beat her at her own game. 
 
So I took several deep breaths and braced my right arm against the side of the  
truck. A nervous trembling was resonating throughout my body now, kind of a way  
of shaking off the whole affair as I tried to bring myself back down to earth. 
I glanced over, Sean was up and sitting on the tailgate of his truck drinking  
out of a cup of water. To make this story short, that was pretty much how things  
ended, with Scott coming over and we loaded the bikes so he could drive me home.  
And since that summer I never saw that girl again, even when I happen to  
work the odd day or two at my Dad's shop I never see her come in with any of the  
guys. So I don't know what happened to her, but I was over it anyway, it was all  
in the heat of the day and the moment. Maybe on some level I think I might have  
even liked or respected that girl's fearless aggression, good for her, willing  
to just 'throw down' and go at it like that. Well, maybe not the brightest thing  
to do sometimes, but still, takes guts...or maybe a lack of common sense? Or  
both? I guess that logic applies to me and my brilliant idea to get off the back  
of the truck, thus escalating that whole affair. Well, let me stop here, anytime  
I re-analyze something I just dig myself into a deeper hole. 
 
Scott was nice and concerned about on the way home, I mean why not he wanted to  
date me, but that's not totally fair, he was also a decent guy. He kept reaching  
over and rubbing my shoulder, asking me if I was 'okay' and if there was  
anything he could do and even apologized for not stepping in earlier. I just  
rested my head back against the seat and worked on calming myself down for the  
rest of the way home. "God that was crazy." I said with a nervous smile. 
 
After I got my bike put away I walked him to his truck and gave him a hug and  
even a quick kiss on the lips. Guys love little things like that, he had this  
big smile on his face the whole time he was pulling out my driveway. 
 
So let me end the telling of the above account with an observation. Recently, a  
friend of mine pointed me to an online article which basically stated that  
"Fighting is Gay 'literally'." Now I don't know if the article was written  
tongue-in-cheek (some of it was yes), but it did get me to thinking. In  
addition let me add that in my prior rants I have stated that professional  
wrestling is a spectacle of homosexuality, where the groping, slamming and  
so on is a substitution for...well you get the picture.  
 
Anyway, we found the article to be humorous as it was written by a guy with a  
direct dig at men and their drunken brawls in the dance clubs and so on. And how  
if a guy is striking out with a girl he may get drunk and strike up a fight with  
another guy as a way of blowing off some sexual energy. :) I'm smiling as I type  
this, because some guys get really defensive when they read and hear theories  
like this. 
 
But then my friend comments that the article could very well pertain to women,  
and that my moments of aggression, jiu-jitsu training, and even my eagerness to  
fight (at times) is how my *own* mind and body channels all it's suppressed  
sexual energy. Suppressed? Why whatever could he be talking about? :) Anyway, I  
wasn't offended by that comment, he (I'm not mentioning his name) and I have  
allot of drunken, philosophical discussions (Yeah, after a few glasses of wine I  
start spouting off at the mouth about life, politics and junk. Whereas some  
people I know just want to get drunk and screw. Isn't that a song?)  
Anyway I don't totally disagree, I do get a rush out of competing but not  
necessarily out of getting into a fight like that one that took place out on  
that dirt track with Sean. I felt nothing arousing or exciting about that fight,  
it was more like I was dishing out punishment to a brat, mission accomplished.  
So I guess it depends on the circumstances. 
 
As for my suppressed emotions? Well, I admit I do tend to shy away from  
situations that get be too much, especially while I was in college. A few times  
I was at a party where the guys would pull out a big plastic kids pool, fill it  
with jello and offer girls money to wrestle and some girls would, some for free  
even. They start out in underwear and then with enough booze it goes to no  
clothes at all, that is my cue to leave, gross! Or the spontaneous wet (beer)  
tee shirt contests, again time to leave the party. Offers by guys at party's to  
wrestle them...time to leave yet again, girls wanting to wrestle me...time to  
leave. See a pattern here? When situations become openly sexual I implement my  
exit strategy. 
 
"Fuck me if I'm wrong, but is your name Latisha <or insert some other insane  
name>?" You people ever hear that pickup line? I have and plenty more, again,  
time to leave. 
 
But mostly it's my stern dating guidelines, when and where you can touch me has  
a direct correlation to how many dates we have been on, and if I can see a  
future together. No more then a quick peck on the lips in public places and no  
sex till after marriage. So yeah, I guess I have allot of suppressed sexual  
emotions. 
 
"That's why you like to fight!" He says proudly. 
 
"I do not like to fight!" I respond. 
 
"Yeah right." He snorts and gulps back the rest of his beer. 
 
"Whatever, but promise me one thing." He asks. 
 
"What?" 
 
"When you finally get around to making love, with a guy! (He emphasis) I want to  
be your first. Because if it's anywhere near the way you fight, well..." He  
stops speaking and smiles, then gets up to stagger off and retrieve another beer  
from the twelve pack be brought over. 
 
"Of course, but only if we're married." I smile watching him wobble and bump  
into the frame of the kitchen doorway. 
 
Don't worry, I didn't let him drive home that night, he slept on the couch. 
 
********** 
 
How do I get myself into these situations? 
 
Recall if you will how I swore off wearing that damn blue bikini. Well now I was  
standing in front of a mirror having to listen to this...  
 
"You should definitely wear it." Nikki said. 
 
But I felt ridiculous standing in front of that mirror. 
 
"Here." Nikki said and pulled out a sarong and wrapped it around my  
waist. "There!" She said, "Now, if you need to move around and are afraid about  
showing too much of your ASSets, then just use this." She says with a big  
devilsh grin, "Besides, I like seeing you wear it." 
 
I smile and grip her hand with my left, it makes me feel better to hear that and  
more comfortable. But what a pain, I have to shave so damn close because of that  
damn bottom piece. But I give in and wear the suite, besides the vacation is  
almost over and I'm starting to relax some. To stay in my comfort zone I have to  
have my little rituals, such as: Setup the umbrella, the beach chair, the  
towels, put on my hat, put on my sun block. Now I'm ready! Ready to sit down and  
read a book, take pictures, or just observe. The trick to protection is to  
constantly reapply the sun block on a regular basis.  
 
I should also mention that our usual group of guy 'friends' had setup camp  
around us, apparently word spread fast about the seven of us, so with each  
passing day a few more guys seemed to materialize. And why not, a few of the  
girls (Vera and Jenn to name a couple) were becoming very friendly with our  
admirers and the competition amongst the guys for our attention had an  
entertainment factor to it. I admit it was a charge to be so hotly pursued and  
as I relaxed some I was able to enjoy the banter and dialogue that flowed  
between me and some of the guys. 
 
The shade of the umbrella was nice, but I shared it with Nikki so I didn't have  
all of the potential protection that it had to offer. If I wanted to stretch out  
my legs they would stick out beyond the shade of the beach umbrella, and even  
with the sun block it always felt like my legs were baking. So I was constantly  
re-applying the lotion below my knee. On one particular occasion when I  
reached into my bag to retrieve the lotion a shadow suddenly formed and blocked  
the sun causing me to look up. One of the guys was standing there, wet from a  
dip in the ocean and then he outstretched his hand while giving a faint smile.  
I looked over at Nikki and she devilishly smiled with a shrug. 'Oh what the  
hell.' I thought and placed the bottle into his outstretched palm. I leaned back  
and stretched out my legs as straight as I could while scooting down a bit,  
Nikki kept looking over and smiling at my unease. 
 
"Just below the knee." I instructed.  
 
"My pleasure." And I watched him kneel down into the hot sand right at my feet.  
Wow this was nice! I really did manage to relax as this nice looking, well built  
guy popped open the top and poured a nice amount of lotion onto his hands and  
began to gently rub, first over my feet and then up my calves. But come on, I  
knew he was dragging it out as long as he could, because soon it felt more like  
a massage taking place as I noticed several guys looking on with envious eyes.  
Yet he must have been doing something right because I was kind of getting turned  
on at the feeling, and the sight, of his slippery fingers rubbing up and over my  
lower legs. Now my mind began to drift, so I laid my head back a little to  
relax, and then he asked me a question that didn't surprise me; 
"How many days a week do you exercise?" 
 
"Every day." I say while my eyes remained closed and head tilted back, but I  
couldn't help but let a smile come over my lips. 
 
"It shows." 
 
"Thank you."  
 
But the moment didn't last long as I could feel his fingers now on the crook of  
my knee. I gave him the cue to stop, although I'm sure he would have kept going  
too, "Thanks, that will do." 
 
Reluctantly he pulled away and it took me a second to figure out that there was  
more to his distraction and reluctance then his just not wanting to give up on  
applying the lotion. I'm sort of dense sometimes and he was being very  
discrete, but I managed to put two and two together and noticed a direct  
correlation between how I was sitting and the momentary glances on his part, and  
on the part of others. You see, initially it was to give him easier access to  
put lotion on my legs, but I quickly realized that with my butt on the edge of  
the chair, my legs straight and slightly spread apart, I framed a somewhat  
'suggestive', even 'lewd' position. Although that wasn't my intention and it  
never ceases to amaze me how I need to always be 'on guard'. Quickly I close my  
thighs and sit up in the chair, he looks up and stands. He smiles and blushes  
and I smile, look away and blush some too. I mean nothing showed, the bikini  
covered my privates and but I mean 'just' barely covered my privates. 
 
But, all in all, it's nice to be a girl sometimes...damn nice. So I had my own  
personal servant(s), this is pretty cool (I say as my already swelled head grows  
in size). Soon both Nikki and I had guys applying lotion to our legs  
periodically throughout the day as we lounged under the umbrella. Nikki was  
sweet, she reached over and rubbed my forearm in a way that soothed my sometimes  
frazzled state of mind. 
 
It was getting late in the day and the sweltering heat had just about lulled me  
into a nice snooze when I notice a group approaching. I looked up and squinted  
thru my sunglasses it was late in the day but still so very hot and I can't  
believe it, 'There she is next to me' and I feel this loving, gooey, wonderful  
feeling spread thru my whole body. I also wish I had her hair, yeah it's  
straight like mine, but when it gets very humid it gets a little wavy and has a  
bit more 'body' to it, mine on the other hand is just straight and flat! YUCK! 
 
"What are you smiling at?" Nikki says and her white teeth flash at me. 
 
"I thought you were asleep." I say. 
 
"Sort of." 
 
"I was just admiring my beautiful girlfriend." I say and reach over to brush the  
back of her forearm with my hand. 
 
"I love you." Nikki says. 
 
"I love you too." I instantly respond. 
 
Finally, something seems to be going right in my life.