Origins 2 – Janelle Edwards

The story of how our taller judoka got started

By Mongoose750 (mongoose750@yahoo.com)

[A tremendous load of thanks and a lot of credit goes to Andrew Rue, who sent me the initial synopsis for Janelle’s origin a few years ago (was it that long?). Without it, this story would not have been made possible. Thanks again, Andrew, wherever you are!]

***

(One may also want to read Origins – Love Story Chang for an explanation).

“By all means, Janelle, relax, take another sip of tea,” LS Chang-Spaulding said.

Janelle Edwards suddenly sat back up. “If I’m going to sit down for another hour or so, I need to use the bathroom before I float away,” she replied.

“By all means.”

As she departed, LS saw she left her purse on the table, so she wasn’t going to make a break for it at least. What was it about her past that made her hesitant to share, LS thought. Come to think of it, she needed to use the facilities herself. When Janelle returned, she excused herself and used the facilities as well.

Janelle took the extra time to further compose herself. She took the story she had in her mind, mentally ran through it, and was pleased. With a few questions, the process should be over in fifteen minutes, more or less. She smiled as LS returned.

“All right; our bellies are full and our bladders are empty, so I can hear your story,” LS said as she sat down.

“Sure,” Janelle began. “Ben and I met in college at-”

“No, no,” LS interrupted, “I want to hear your story, how you came to be.”

“Oh, there’s not much to tell,” Janelle said dismissively.

“I beg to differ. You know, between the three of us, Jasmine was the detective of the group, but I took the time to learn from her powers of observation. You appear open, yet you seem to hold a fair number of secrets.”

“With all due respect, LS, we haven’t known each other longer than a few months. How would you know I’m hiding something?”

LS grinned and sipped her tea. “I have seen the way you move,” she said.

“You’ve seen the way I move? What does that mean?”

“Janelle, like yourself, I practice judo. The difference between us is I have been doing it almost as long as I learned how to read, it seems. Beside myself, I have seen many judoka in the dojo and in the field. Yet no one moves the way you do.”

“Normally I take that as a compliment. What is the point?”

“The point is you move like someone who has had years of dance training. Even as rough and tumble as judo can be, you still look like you are performing at the Met.”

Janelle paused for a moment before speaking. “Hold on, you’ve only seen me in action twice, at your dojo and at the counselor’s house. That’s not enough evidence,” she objected.

“I admit the dojo was a bit crazy, but if you put music to it, your flying daki wakare would have gained applause. It is also in the way you walk and carry yourself. Kim had a retired ballerina in her classes when she was growing up. She said when you see her, it was like she never left the stage. She was a tremendous kicker, yet very graceful. Even her breakfalls were graceful. You cannot hide it, Janelle; it leaks from every pore of your being.”

“So you claim from seeing me attack a man under a tree that I’m some kind of dancer. Do you know how – what are you smiling about?” Janelle demanded.

“Excuse me, I just feel like a great mystery is being unlocked,” LS replied, smiling brightly.

Janelle put her head in her hands and sighed. “This ‘mystery’ may not be as ‘great’ as you think it is,” she said.

“We will see.”

“I swore at one time by all that’s holy that I would never tell this story outside of family, and that was before I knew God.”

“Ah, a believer! I planned to ask you about that sometime, but I was not sure when,” LS said. “When did you convert?”

“Not long after I met Ben.”

“Ah, a young convert, at that! For me, it was roughly the same year I took up judo. Ironically enough, or divinely enough, Lewis became a Christian that same time. We were both lifelong Methodists, or we were, anyway.”

“You were? What happened?” Janelle asked, hoping for one last desperate chance to steer the conversation topic away from her.

“We moved here. We visited your church, and we liked it so much, we joined. It made Kim happy.”

“Why?”

“Because we are no longer ‘liberal Methodists who think rain is the same thing as burial, and God’s laws are suggestions,’ that is why. In case you are lost, she was referring to-”

“Baptism and biblical interpretation. Our church’s New Believer class is quite through.”

“In our defense, our Methodist church was conservative, and they dunked more than sprinkled. If they didn’t, Kim would have offered to do it in her bathtub.”

“You’re not serious?”

“You would not think of it when you first see her, but Kim is quite the theologian. She believes the Reformation was one of the greatest things in Christendom, next to the resurrection. Small wonder why our Catholic relatives tread carefully around her. If you were not saved, she would not let you talk to me.”

Janelle laughed.

“And now, it is your turn. No more diversions. You have a story to tell, Janelle Edwards.”

Janelle moaned. “I thought Kim was the ornery one,” she remarked.

“Oh I never said I was not,” LS replied, “Kim has it down to an art form; everyone else is dazzled by my feminine wiles and dazzling smile. Now let me hear it.”

“Okay . . .”

Originally mentioning anything that involved religion would’ve sounded like an alien language to Janelle. She wasn’t always religious. In fact, until only a few years back, she had never even set foot in a church. She thought God was someone “up there,” but that was about it.

And judo was something that she saw in Jackie Chan films. Janelle wasn’t a totally committed barefooter either, although she always liked going barefoot. No, Janelle was quite different. She was quite happy to wear things on her feet: flip-flops, thongs, sandals – all were fine; but what she liked most were slippers – ballet slippers. You see, Janelle was a gifted ballerina who had the makings of being great ever since she was a child. By the time she was in her late teens, after a short stint with a modern dance troupe, she was already off to New York to audition with the New York Ballet Company (NYBC). Dance was her life, and with her confidence, flair, and positive attitude, she was going to realize her dream: to be the next Sylvie Guillame.

Janelle was magnificent on the dance floor. Long, supple limbs, a body of perfect vertical lines and breath-taking leaps were all part and parcel of her dancing, but Janelle had something else that all other dancers could only dream about – what they called “perfect feet.” Long, strong toes, a fabulous arch, a prominent heel, and when she pointed her toes, her foot formed a beautiful crescent that looked like her foot could fold in half. And she never suffered from the blisters and foot pains the other girls received when dancing long hours everyday. Her somewhat large, feminine feet were very strong, and seemingly virtually indestructible. She would many times stay after class, pull off her ballet slippers, and rehearse the steps of the day barefooted to feel her movements more intimately. Where all the others that cared to watch could only do the Pointe work in proper ballet shoes, Janelle did it on the very tips of her pointed bare toes. It was like her feet were superhuman, and some of the girls hated her for it. To them, they thought it was a rude display of her strength and skill.

The truth was if anyone asked her, these feats (no pun intended) were both the result of hard work, and embracing anything to do with dancing since she was a little girl. Her parents taught her that any modicum of success in life required hard work, regardless of talent. Relying on luck was something that happened in the movies. When others complimented her parents on their daughter dancing with the NYBC, her mother would smile graciously, while her father would lean back and say, “Well of course she’s there; she’s only been training for it all her life!”

Both her mom and dad taught Janelle to be confident without being cocky, and when attaining a goal, pursue it without trampling others to get it. In her young life, Janelle accomplished many things using this formula. However, in the hyper-competitive world of the performing arts, and the NYBC in particular, this made her a threat. Despite the hours of work Janelle put in, the other ballerinas were jealous of her. They saw in her the potential to be the principal dancer, a role they eagerly desired.

Not everyone disliked Janelle. To all the males in the company, she was hot. Like most women, Janelle loved all the male attention, and sometimes playfully flirted with the male dancers. She wasn’t “easy;” far from it. Because of professional ethics and an unwritten Company rule, Janelle didn’t date her male colleagues. In fact, she put things like dating on the back burner so she could concentrate on her dancing, which made the girls hate her even more.

Something that created even more enmity with the other ballerinas was her looks. Even on the New York City streets she turned so many heads as she walked by. Her sleek and composed dancers’ stride on her gorgeous legs and high arched feet caught many an eye on Broadway. For the first six months in New York, life couldn’t be any better for Janelle. Many had told her she was one of the best young dancers in the troupe, guys were literally swooning at her feet, and coming from a small New England town, New York was the most exciting place she had ever seen, with productions from other dance troupes and Broadway shows going on all the time. Like a big fish coming from a small pond, Janelle was truly making a mark in the Big Apple. But one thing about New York is there is almost no such thing as a big fish, and even those who might think they are would be rudely awakened.

There were quiet innuendoes amongst the principles of the Company that the stir Janelle was making was not good for morale and her confidence looked more like arrogance. There were always “high-flyers” that didn’t have the type of character the NYBC was looking for, and in their opinion, Janelle was beginning to look more like trouble. Although the occasional fling that dancers sometimes had was supposed to be a closely guarded secret, unfounded rumors were spread that Janelle was sleeping around. They were rumors that could easily be proven false, because Janelle spent too much time during the day working on her dancing.

Finally one morning, it all came to a head. After a particularly long night out (against dormitory rules), practicing some difficult movements in an upcoming performance, Janelle woke up the next morning to see that she was going to be late for rehearsal. She was sure that she set the alarm clock to go off, but it didn’t. Of course her roommates would never had tried to wake her – they hated Janelle. She grabbed her bag that had her tights and ballet slippers in it and ran down the five long blocks of city streets to the Company Dance Building in her bare feet. She didn’t even have the time to put shoes on. She would change from her baggy pants and T-shirt in the washroom and just hope she was in time. To be late for dance rehearsal was an unforgiveable sin. She sprinted up the stairs past the training hall to see that everyone was assembled for warm-up. Maybe she hadn’t been noticed as being missing. She went into the washroom, and just when she thought she’d made it, she looked in her bag. It was empty! She could have sworn that she had packed everything in the night before. Rehearsal was starting, and she could never go back to the dorm in time. Only one thing left to do; she had to dance in her sweatpants and bare feet, and hope it wasn’t as bad a sin as being late.

On queue, she leapt onto the dance floor and began to dance her piece on the tips of her bare toes as powerfully as though she was wearing ballet slippers. What she heard was giggles and snickers from her fellow dancers, and especially her roommates. Ignoring them, she kept dancing to the piano music and glanced at the Head Teacher, only to see folded arms and a look of near anger. Regardless, Janelle kept dancing, putting everything into her leaps and moves, but all she heard was more snickers and giggles. She glanced at herself in the mirror as she spun, and was embarrassed when she saw a ballerina in baggy pants and bare feet. Finally the music stopped to a hall that was dead quiet, except for the sound of Janelle’s toes and soles squeaking against the hardwood floor. The Master Teacher motioned Janelle to stop and approach her.

“What is the meaning of this, Janelle?” She asked. “You know full well you are not dressed in the proper attire for rehearsal, and when did it become acceptable to dance here without Pointe shoes? Am I supposed to be impressed that you can dance Swan Lake in your dirty bare feet? Such a vulgar display!”

“I am sorry Madame, I was late getting up this morning, and someone took my tights and slippers out of my bag,” Janelle explained.

“I see. You are now accusing someone in the troupe of going through your personal things?”

Janelle saw that she was getting deeper and deeper into trouble. This wasn’t the first time the other ballerinas tried to sabotage her rehearsals. Each time she tried to explain, the Master Teacher would accuse her of shirking responsibility for her actions.

“No Madame. My apologies. I may have misplaced my things,” Janelle replied.

“Very well. The entire rehearsal will take a break for ten minutes while you go and get your things. Be sure you are back in time.”

Janelle curtsied and ran out the door and back to her dorm. She looked everywhere, the laundry, the common room, around her bed, and then everywhere again – nothing. It was already ten minutes. She sat on her bed and cried while she looked at her clock ticking away. She was already late. She then thought to look behind her nightstand, and far down and pushed way back were her things. Someone had indeed pulled them out and hid them while she slept. They probably turned off her alarm clock too. She grabbed everything and raced back to the rehearsal studio, and dressed into her proper attire, went out onto the dance floor . . . and watched. They were well past her opening sequence and someone else was doing her routine.

Janelle knew better than to disrupt anything, the NYBC like any other reputable dance company was strict in its expectation of behavior from its members. It was nothing short of military in nature. Janelle waited in the corner to the end of rehearsal. The Mater Teacher didn’t so much as look at her. The only word Janelle got was a message to be at the company office eight am sharp to meet with one of the principles. That day was the beginning of the end of Janelle’s dreams to be a dancer with the Company.

The meeting was conducted professionally and speedily. They were unhappy with Janelle’s behavior outside of the dance floor, and the previous days’ display was seen to be a migration of that unsuitable character into her work. Janelle didn’t argue the fact that her off hours were spent on the dance floor practicing, with witnesses to that effect, or that she had been set up; they wouldn’t believe her anyway. She had four months left on her term, and she would be evaluated at the end for suitability of another term. She didn’t know it at the time, but what it meant was she was being given notice.

The next four months were the most frustrating of her life. The harder she tried, the further she was dropped down the ranks of the troupe. No matter how hard she worked, it wasn’t considered good enough. Going from being the most promising ballerina the company had seen in decades, she was demoted to a back line position, and then finally a stand-in on opening night. Everyone’s contracts were extended for another year, except Janelle’s.

Her dreams were crushed, and she started to hate ballet and all it stood for. She quietly left the NYBC in tears, trying to ignore the triumphal looks on her rival’s faces glaring at her as she went out the door.

“That, that is horrible!” LS exclaimed. “They crushed your dreams!”

“Yes, they did. Regarding the problems you had with politics, I underwent something similar. You see, many of the new and current dancers came from prominent families in New York, or those who could pull the right strings; especially those who contributed sizable donations to the Company. Then along comes this girl from New England who got there the old fashioned way, had never asked for special treatment, and was threatening their very existence by just being there. If it was anyone else who woke up late, the others would have covered for her, or worse, the instructor would’ve overlooked it. I’ve seen both happen. But because it was me, they finally saw an opportunity to get rid of me. If I was the daughter of a successful businessman or politician, it’s ‘oops, she overslept, that’s okay.’ But me, an ‘example’ had to be made.”

“I could imagine that leaving you very bitter.”

“It could, it almost did, but it didn’t. You’re familiar with that verse in the Bible where it says vengeance is the Lord’s?”

“Yes I am.”

“The opening night after I was gone, the new lead ballerina who hated me so, suddenly became very ill, rather nauseous as a matter of fact. Her understudy had to fill in. It turned out the reason she was so sick was because she was pregnant. One of the male leads suddenly realized he was a daddy. They had to do some heavy spin with the press, and threats and promises to keep it quiet. The instructor came to her senses, and sent the two of them packing. I could not express how happily justified my parents felt.”

“How did you find out?” LS asked.

“The understudy, another outsider like myself who flew under the radar, told me. She had nothing to do with what happened to me, and she never expected to be the lead dancer. The audience loves her, by the way. One day, the instructor called me to apologize and maybe consider auditioning for the Company again,” Janelle said.

“And you said?”

“I accepted her apology, and I told her what I really thought of how she ran things, the prima donnas who treated me like trash, and I would never ever put myself through that hell again, ever. Then I politely hung up.”

“Understandable; but Janelle, there are other dance companies. You could have performed with them.”

Janelle sat back in her chair. “I did, and though things were much better, that was where the real trouble began . . .”

During the four remaining months of her time with the New York Ballet, Janelle saw the writing on the wall, so she probed around to see what other dance companies may be in need of her talents. She checked out a few ballet companies, but to tell the truth, she found herself burned out on ballet. It wasn’t the work that went into it, that came with the territory; it was the backbiting and dog-eat-dog atmosphere that occurred behind the scenes. With any type of dance company, that’s to be expected, but the NYBC had it down to an art form as much as their dancing. For now, something as beautiful as ballet, but less rigid was what was needed, and modern dance fit the bill.

Janelle took the time to study the work of modern dancers like Martha Graham, Isadora Duncan, Twyla Tharp, Alvin Ailey, along with many others. She shouldn’t have problems readjusting since she’d done modern dance before, and regarding what had happened to her earlier, someone hiding her costume shouldn’t be a problem. Modern dance used a variety of costumes, not limited to one style, and shoes were hardly used.

Despite her sending feelers out, the other dance companies were already aware of Janelle’s abilities and her work ethic. While leaving the doors of the New York Ballet was a bitter experience, she found there were several companies who were interested; only a small number asked her to audition. Finally things were looking up again.

The City of Lights Dance Company was the most prominent modern dance company in the state at that time, and it practically welcomed Janelle with open arms. The Master Teacher, a tall, slim woman in her early fifties with the powerfully lean muscles of a dancer, stood before Janelle. Ashley Grey, or Madam Grey as the other dancers called her, was a mature beauty with short salt-and-pepper hair. She was wearing a black long-sleeve long-legged unitard, and barefoot. She appeared to speak with a matronly tone, as if she was the troupe’s mother instead of their teacher.

“So you were with the New York Ballet?” She asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Janelle replied.

“And they threw you out, is that correct?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, ma’am, but-”

“Hey Paris, Brooke, it looks like your old friends threw out another one!” Madam Grey interrupted.

Two women dancers stopped their practice for a moment, and looked at each other shaking their heads. They shortly resumed their dancing.”

“So which was it, your parents weren’t famous, you come from someplace outside the state, or you didn’t bend over and kiss her majesty’s royal posterior the way she liked?”

Janelle thought for a moment. “It might be a combination of all three,” she replied. “I was set up.”

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Janelle; a hard-working dancer with tremendous talent. You’re not the first dancer they conspired to get rid of; the snobs at the New York Ballet Company eat their young. As the custom with new entrants, an audition is required. Would you like to have that scheduled?”

“Actually I’m ready now if that’s all right with you,” Janelle replied.

“I thought you would be.” She clapped her hands to halt practice, then said, “Today, we’re going to have an audition from Janelle Edwards. I trust you’ll be entertained as I.”

The number Janelle used to audition for the NYBC was The Moldau by Bedřich Smetana. She considered doing a modern dance to it, but it didn’t seem appropriate. Instead, she decided to dance to a medley from the opera Porgy and Bess by George Gershwin. Managing to conceal her excitement, she kicked off her black clogs, and pulled off her gray sweatshirt and pants, revealing a black tank top leotard. She handed her CD to the person operating the stereo, and told them what track to play. Stepping out to center stage, she centered herself as she waited for the music to start.

Janelle could feel the energy growing within her with every leap and spin. She felt the passion coming back to her again. Over the previous four months, it felt like the very place she strived to dance for did their best to crush it out of her. She thought they succeeded. But as she performed a graceful move to the lyric, “I loves you, Porgy,” she found it didn’t go away. Furthermore, she also discovered that despite the flow and graceful movements in ballet, they were a little too confining for her. Modern dance was where she should be.

As the music ended, and she took her bow, she looked up at the warm applause she received. And looking at the faces, she saw that they were sincere in their praise.

Yes, Janelle was finally home.

“Excuse me a moment,” LS said as she dabbed her eyes with a napkin.

“You, you’re crying? Come on, it wasn’t that sad!” Janelle replied.

LS looked at her. “You worked years of your life to dance for this company, then they do their best to crush you. They finally got rid of you, only to let you gain redemption at a place where you should have been all along. And you have the nerve to tell me it is nothing to cry about? Has it been that long that you have forgotten the pain?”

Janelle looked down at her cup of cool tea. “No, it hasn’t been that long at all. I guess I spend so much time putting a positive spin on the ordeal, I don’t think about the initial rejection I received.”

“How do you place a ‘positive spin’ on your fellow ballerinas plotting against you? And how do you convey that when you have told other people?”

“Uh, outside of my family, I haven’t told anyone else.”

There was a minute’s silence at the table.

“You mean outside of myself and your family, no one else knows about this?” LS said.

Janelle shook her head.

“Not even Ben?” Janelle shook her head again.

“Janelle, why?”

“Why not?”

“Janelle, this is a big part of yourself. It is part of what makes you . . . you. You cannot just lock it away like that.”

“I’ve done pretty good so far,” Janelle remarked.

“Have you? Have you hid the way you gracefully advance upon your opponent before you throw them? I think not. One can tell in the way you walk that you are a dancer.”

“Was a dancer. And would you have known something was different if Kim never mentioned her fellow student?”

“Yes,” LS replied with finality. “As a result of being involved in politics, I received a pretty fair exposure to the performing arts. I have attended concerts by symphony orchestras, Broadway shows, and performances from various dance companies, and - God help me – opera. As the result of making appearances so that candidate could gain votes, I have been introduced to that culture, whether I wanted to or not. However, I liked it all, except for opera. I have seen many performances of the Indianapolis Ballet. So beautiful, like a touch from God. And you want to hide that.”

Janelle looked at LS coldly, and then restrained herself. “Okay, let’s start over. I was a dancer, but that was like a hundred years ago. I prefer to look forward.”

“The past is like dust, we always carry a few motes of it with us,” LS said.

“A haiku?”

“No, a sensei who was an ex-con for many years. He used the spare time he had to self-educate himself on many topics, including literature, science, and philosophy. One day, he found an old tai chi book. His form is nearly flawless. He now teaches one of the most popular classes in the Columbus, Ohio area.”

“What was he in for?”

“Nothing; he literally was at the wrong place at the wrong time, similar to Caroline’s predicament. In his case, it took six years to prove his innocence. But he said those years gave him a more through education than he had in college. But the point is he found some of, well he-”

“He made the best of a bad experience?” Janelle interjected.

“Yes, that is it. Janelle, I am sure your dance experience was not all bad. Surely there were other good experiences like the one you told me about.”

Janelle idly pushed her spoon around her saucer, then she looked up at LS with a big grin.

“There is one thing,” she said.

Rehearsal with her new company had been great for Janelle. There wasn’t a continual clash of egos like there was at the NYBC, nor was there any conspiracies like her former employer. In fact, one morning there was a brief blackout, bad enough to mess with her alarm clock. Someone from the company gave her a wake-up call, explaining what happened. That small gesture made her happy.

There was one thing she noticed though. From the dancers, sometimes this was to be expected, but the main instructor, Madam Grey never seemed to wear shoes. During practice it was nothing unusual, but when she came in, went out, or even broke for lunch, her soles were bare. She asked a fellow dancer about this dilemma, and received a shrug in return. Oh well, no big deal.

One night, after a performance at a civic center, Janelle’s curiosity got the best of her. Everyone else had changed and went to the house of one of the junior instructors for a cast party. Janelle stayed behind to work on the steps of a difficult move. Once she got it down, she changed into her street clothes and prepared to join the others. On her way out, Madam Grey emerged from her office. She wore a white scoop necked blouse that hung loosely over her frame like a curtain. With it, she wore black form-fitting straight leg jeans that were cut just above the ankle, and no shoes.

Upon seeing Janelle, Madam Grey said, “Why are you still here, Janelle? You’ll miss the party.”

“I was just going over a difficult movement in that last number. It didn’t feel right,” Janelle explained.

“You could’ve fooled me, you nailed it. You need to ease up on these personal practices after . . . practice. We’re not as rigid as ballet, plus you’re making the rest of us look bad,” the instructor joked.

“Sorry, habit.”

“And it’s a good one too. You just need to pencil in some time to have fun once in a while.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And don’t call me ‘ma’am,’ it makes me feel older than I already am.”

“Yes madam.”

“Until I can think of a better title, that will have to do.”

“Madam Grey, may I ask you a question?” Janelle asked.

“Of course you can, Janelle.”

“Where are your shoes?” Janelle inwardly recoiled when she asked this. She sounded like a mother scolding her child. Madam Grey laughed.

“My dear, I haven’t wore shoes for the last thirty years, maybe longer,” she said.

Janelle couldn’t believe her ears. “You haven’t worn shoes for thirty years?” She asked.

“Except for a few functions where I have to wear them. At parties I wear shoes, but I complain that they hurt and kick them off. It always works.”

“What about winter?”

“When it’s frigid, or it snows pretty high, I may wear those boots with fur inside, but they come off immediately.”

“What does your husband think?”

Madam Grey gave a devilish grin. “Claude loves it. You’d be surprised how many men love watching barefoot women. There’s a few moves I do with my toes that drive him wild.”

Janelle tried not to blush at the last part. “But why, I don’t understand.”

“How can I explain? Ah, got it. Janelle, do you trust me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then take my hand and close your eyes. Oh, and kick those silly things off.”

After a show or a grueling practice, the dancers generally wear clothes and shoes that can be thrown on. Not bothering with socks, Janelle wore clogs she could slip on and off with her sweat clothes. Tentatively she kicked them off and took her teacher’s hand. Madam Grey produced a black scarf to wrap around her eyes before she grasped Janelle’s hand.

“We don’t want any peeking,” she said as she led her dancer onto the practice floor. “Now where are we?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see anything,” Janelle replied.

“Not see, feel.”

“But I – you mean with my feet?”

“Yes, you’re catching on. Now where are we?”

Janelle extended her right foot, and ran her toes over the hardwood floor. “We’re, we’re on the dance floor?” She guessed.

“Yes! That was an easy one though, so let’s go someplace else.”

They stepped out into the hallway. The tile floor was cool, solid, and just a little gritty. Janelle started slightly.

“Now where are we?” Madam Grey asked.

“Wherever we are, it’s cold, and it doesn’t seem to be very clean,” Janelle replied.

Madam Grey laughed lightly. “After a time, dirt won’t repel you, and your feet will adapt to whatever the temperature is automatically. Where are we?”

“The hallway.”

“Very good.”

Through the studio and around the building, Madam Grey led Janelle barefoot to all the different ground surfaces. The journey ended in the rear of the building where the cobblestone walkway surrounded a garden. The feel of the cool soil between Janelle’s toes gave her a feeling of pleasure.

Untying Janelle’s blindfold, Madam Grey asked, “So Janelle, what did you think?”

“That was really something!” Janelle said. “It was almost like exploring a whole new world.”

“Janelle my dear, you didn’t just feel different surfaces, you felt life. You felt life as much as you could seeing, hearing, or smelling. Feet are wonderful things. Like everything else, they were created to explore the world around us, not just be encased in overpriced shoes that hurt our feet.”

“And this is the reason you don’t wear shoes?”

“Being barefoot makes me feel alive, and I can see from the look on your face, it does the same for you too.”

Janelle couldn’t help but smile.

“I’d like you to try it for a week, no, two weeks. Go any and everywhere with no shoes. You could even wear socks if you have to, but no shoes. I bet by the end of the first week, you won’t even miss them.”

“But, won’t it hurt my feet?” Janelle objected.

“Like you, I’ve danced almost all my life. Our feet are already hardened like nature intended. Feel sorry for those who choose to remain blind to the feeling of their surroundings.”

“And that was the last time I wore shoes on a regular basis,” Janelle said. “One day for the heck of it, I wore a pair of running shoes and socks one day at college. People kept on asking me if something was wrong, because I had a scowl on my face. When I slipped off my shoes in class, I felt much better. I was practically ecstatic when I pulled my socks off.”

LS smirked. “It sounds like Madam Grey ruined you,” she said.

Janelle smiled. “Yeah, I guess she did.”

“I knew there had to be some positive experiences while you danced there. You are one of the most positive, optimistic people I know, yet you reflect on your dance career with bitter regret.”

“You’re right, I put them all away in one box, the good and the bad experiences together. I had more good experiences than bad. I guess I did need to talk about them. But the night I was liberated from shoes, every now and then I look back on that day and smile; but you already guessed that.”

“Yes,” LS replied. “Actually I am waiting for the ‘but suddenly’ part of your story.”

“'But suddenly?’”

“Yes; things are going along soundly, but suddenly, something happened. For instead of dancing with others, you’re throwing them.”

“Well I come this far . . .”

During her time with the City of Lights, Janelle always came to work with a spring in her step. She finally got to live the life of a dancer. She was well received by her fellow dancers and the instructor (the acclaim from the general public didn’t hurt either). And she embraced her new life as a barefooter. It was like a new world that she previously experienced only as a dancer was expanded to encompass everything else. After her experience with Madam Grey, she started going everywhere and doing everything barefoot, all year round. The only exception was when she visited her family back home. Life was beautiful.

As with ballet, Janelle focused on her dancing and almost nothing else. She socialized with the other dancers, but everyone knew when she concentrated on a specific move after the regular practice was over, that was her time.

One day after practice, she changed clothes, but there was one movement in a number she wanted to get right so at least she would be comfortable with it in her mind. She was wearing a long sleeve black blouse, a white skirt with black pinstripes, and of course, no shoes.

After five minutes of practicing the move, she picked up her bag, and started toward the door.

“I’d thought I’d find you here,” a male voice said.

Janelle turned to see Jon Von Williams, one of the male principal dancers in the company. He was also one of the major heartthrobs as well. A slim figure at six feet, with short blond hair, and a smile that would make most women melt. Most women, but not Janelle. The two reasons she wasn’t attracted was because she still stuck to the hard and fast rule of not dating other dancers, and while he was handsome, he didn’t appeal to Janelle in that way.

“Hi Jon,” she replied politely.

“Do you have a minute? I just wanted to talk a bit.”

“Sure.” It never occurred to Janelle that many women in the company would do almost anything just to have Jon talk to them.

“I’ve noticed, well everyone’s noticed how much time you spend on your dancing. That’s great, but maybe you’re spending too much time.”

“Too much time?”

“Yeah. Believe it or not, there are other things in life besides dancing.”

“So you’re saying all my work on dancing has placed me out of touch with the rest of the world,” Janelle asked.

“Yeah.”

“I see. The price of crude oil is predicted to fluctuate this week, and our president is scheduled to speak in Missouri tomorrow. The song ‘You Make Me Blast Like a Rocket’ is climbing up the charts at number six. ‘Malcom’s Treasure’ is an excellent movie, a penetrating drama. And on the personal front, Tyler has a crush on Abby, but he’s too shy to do anything about it. That’s funny, because Abby is crazy about Tyler, but she’s rather hesitant herself. By the way, you didn’t hear that from me. Do you know anything about the stock market?”

“Er, no, I don’t,” Jon said.

“Good, neither do I. So how’s that for being in touch?”

“Pretty good. Okay, here’s another question: why do you wear black all the time?”

“Because it’s my favorite color. Next question.”

“I think I’m stumped. Black really is your favorite color?”

“Yes; the car I drive is black, and who knows, the man I’ll one day marry will probably be black as well.”

The last statement caught Jon off guard, but he recovered well. “You sound pretty sure of yourself,” he remarked.

“I try to work on that as much as my dancing,” Janelle replied. “They go hand in hand. Now let me ask you a question.”

“Fair enough.”

“Why all these questions?”

“Well I thought that you – I thought dancing was your life.”

“It is my life, but when I leave the studio, I live life like everyone else. That’s why I go over the difficult stuff after practice, so I won’t be dealing with it at home. It worked with my studies in high school, and it works with my dancing as well.”

“Well now that you have got that out of the way, I was wondering if you would like to take in a movie tonight.”

Janelle paused for a moment before replying. “I am flattered by your offer, I really am. But I don’t date other dancers, especially those in my own company,” she said. “Sorry.”

“But why?”

“Except for a few cases, I’ve never seen any good come out of it; and the few successful cases I have seen were dancers from different companies altogether.”

Jon was stunned. No woman had turned him down before. He had been planning to have Janelle as his latest girlfriend, or conquest. And now she turned him down because he’s a fellow dancer?

“I’ll see you later,” he muttered, stalking off.

Janelle, unfazed by Jon, grabbed her bag and left.

“I knew Jon was someone who was full of himself, so I wasn’t surprised when he practically pouted after I said no, which I would’ve said, dancer or not,” Janelle said.

“Yeah, I have turned down a few egotists myself,” LS remarked, “but what did it have to do with the . . . upcoming disaster?”

“On the surface, about as much as Linda Hardin coming to me two days later. In a more roundabout way, she asked me out too. I told her in so many words my doors don’t swing that way, as Betty would put it, and that I don’t date dancers. I don’t understand why people had a problem with that. Anyway, neither person by themselves presented a problem, even though they have tried several times. But together-”

“They got together?”

“Sure, they now had a common foe.”

LS nodded her head in understanding.

“What was it one philosopher said? ‘Sometimes the worst thing is to be popular than to be hated,’” she mused.

“Another sensei?”

“No, a woman who once ran for a political office back home. She became elected, served her term, and left. But she did what she set out to do. Once she did, almost overnight she became popular. So popular, she had a hard time doing the job she was elected for.”

“That’s interesting, but what would that do with me? I wasn’t popular,” Janelle objected.

“Yes, you were.”

“How?”

LS giggled. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“What do you mean? I’ve never been a snob, or looked down on people, my parents are well off, but not rich, I never was voted prom queen or any of those titles in high school, and you know how I was treated at the NYBC. So how could I be popular?”

“Let us review. First, let me point out that you made it to the NYBC. NYBC or the ballet company in Maine, the point is you danced in a major ballet company. Untold numbers have dreamed of such an opportunity. And how did you reach this mark? Talent, of course, but discipline and hard work; what your parents drilled into you. Once you reached your goal, did you coast? No, you kept doing the same thing that got you there in the first place. And regarding prom queen, that title generally goes to whoever is dating the most popular athlete anyway. Athletics are more popular in school than the arts, you know that.”

“Okay,” Janelle replied, uncomprehending.

“Your humility is refreshing, Janelle, it really is. And that added more to your success than you realize. But you need to sit back and realize that you were good. Not poor, not average, but good. Even if you were average before, you wouldn’t be for long with your work ethic. And people either loved or hated you for it. After NYBC, other dance companies courted you. Why? Because you were good.”

“I never thought of it that way before,” Janelle said slowly.

“Let us extend this to your personal life. Is it true in college, Benjamin would be -”

“What did you call him?” Janelle interrupted.

“Excuse me, is it true that Ben would be so far ahead in his math classes, he would be done with the textbook by mid-semester?”

“Yes.”

“He has the same work ethic you do, whether you realized it or not. You two need to get the name deal taken care of. Just call him Benjamin.”

“No,” Janelle said flatly.

“But his family calls him Benjamin.”

“No.”

“But his friends call him Benjamin.”

“No.”

“But he prefers to be called Benjamin.”

“No. He is Ben. Can I finish my story please?”

“Yes, of course. Do go on,” LS replied.

Janelle idly twirled a spoon as she spoke. “My parents were also a firm believer of the slogan used by the United Negro College Fund: A mind is a terrible thing to waste. They thought if you need to put your mind to something, it shouldn’t be ‘wasted.’ In short, no drugs or alcohol to impair the mind and effect your performance. I sometimes feel guilty taking cough syrup because of this, but it worked for me so far.

“Jon and Linda thought differently. They thought drugs could expand the mind, take down all the creative hindrances. Or that was their excuse. Being such a heartthrob, Jon had no problems luring those in his sway to the experience of ‘blowing their minds.’ Linda caught the eye of many of the men as well, and got them hooked. Before you knew it, half of the whole company was part of ‘our dirty little secret.’”

“Snakes in the Garden of Eden, eh?”

“That’s a good way of putting it. Among the other half who was clean, we debated when and how we should tell Madam Grey, but she already knew.”

“She did?”

“As you know, drugs do not ‘enhance’ your mind, far from it. After prolonged use, you’d be lucky to have a mind left. And if it affects your mind, your body can’t be far behind. An experienced dancer like Madam Grey could tell something was wrong when part of her company was sleepwalking through rehearsal, so one day, she decided to address it.”

The Master Teacher strode back and forth in front of her company, dressed in a gray tank top leotard with matching shorts, eyeing each and every one of her dancers. The dancers were silent, seemingly unaware of what the meeting was about, but everyone knew. Finally, she spoke.

“Seven years ago, I founded this dance company with my own sweat. Seven years I built this company to respectability with the help of loyal patrons, fans of modern dance, and the best dancers I could find. Our performances over those seven years were received with acclaim. At one time, we performed before the president and a visiting Prime Minister from England. That was three years ago, but I still have fond memories of that night, and the pictures to prove it. I was honored and humbled, because not many dance companies ever get an opportunity like this.

“And those same opportunities are possible today. We have many new dancers who could show the new president what we’re all about, I have no doubt. Yet as excellent as we are, we can still make mistakes.

“And for that, I will say this only once. I will not allow this dance company to be destroyed by drug use. Yes, I can tell; a lot of you are performing your steps like dancing bears, not dancers. If you need help, get help, we’ll support you. But if I find anyone, stand in or lead dancer, who even has a hint of drugs in their system, or on their person, or in their locker, you are out of here. There might be other dance companies who allow or put up with this nonsense, but this company is and will not be one of them. Have I made myself clear?”

There was a few mumbled yeses and nodding of heads.

“Have I made myself clear?” She repeated.

“Yes!” The dancers said more loudly.

“Very well; I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow, usual time. You’re dismissed.”

After most of the dancers left, Janelle and five other dancers stayed behind.

“Madam Grey, could we talk to you for a moment?” A male dancer asked.

“Of course, my child. What’s on your mind?” Madam Grey responded.

“We, we know who the dancers are who are taking drugs, Ms. Grey. We don’t want to cause trouble.”

Madam Grey laughed lightly. “Leon, don’t worry. I already know who the dancers are,” she said.

“You do?” Janelle said, louder than she meant.

“Of course, Janelle. In my younger days, the company I danced with suddenly became exposed to cocaine and Marijuana. Almost overnight, the company fell apart. That was when I made a vow to ban it here. I still remember how a dancer is affected. In the next few days, there may be a thinning of the herd, but we’ll make it through this, don’t worry.”

“We lost a quarter to a third of our troupe due to drugs. The offenders were dismissed quietly, but everyone got the message: with Madam Grey, you use, you lose,” Janelle said.

“Let me guess, all the offenders were caught, except the two people who started it,” LS replied.

“Yeah, good guess.”

“'And the serpent was more clever than the other creatures in the garden.’ If they have been doing this for some time, they are probably sneaky enough to not get caught, even though there’s reason to believe they are guilty.”

“You seem to know this stuff pretty well.”

“You forget, I used to work around politicians. Sometimes the truth and justice came to be more of an exception than the rule. And many times, hidden vices get exposed in the light. Go on.”

“Jon and Linda, as I said before, teamed up. They resented a few other dancers in the company, but especially me, because I didn’t cater to them, and I guess because I was good,” Janelle explained. “To their credit, they did stop using drugs while they were with the company. Days off were a different matter entirely, but at least they danced clean. During the off season, the couple -”

“I am sorry, did you say ‘couple?’” LS interrupted.

“Oh I forgot to add that they became a real couple over their dislike of me. They even moved in together. Crazy, huh?”

“Janelle, you heard my story; almost nothing surprises me in the relationship department.”

“No, I guess not. Anyway, one day they threw a party and invited me to come.”

“And you came?”

“I was told it was a company party, so I didn’t think anything of it. If I was told Jon and Linda were throwing a party, I would’ve thrown the invitation in the trash. Actually only a few of the company were invited. People from other dance companies came, along with people from of the smaller theater outfits. I started noticing something was up when I didn’t recognize any of the dance or theater outfits, nor any of the dancers or actors there. Not all dance or theater outfits are respectable by the way. I could tell you stories of what I’ve heard.”

“I am still trying to figure out why you were invited in the first place. Hosts do not invite someone who they think regards them as less than equal.”

“I agree. Turns out the hosts had something special planned for me.”

For Janelle, it quickly became one of those nights. When she received the party invitation, she called one of her friends in the company to ask about it. When she responded by saying, “What invitation?” she thought something unusual was going on. In fact, no one in her circle of friends knew about it. She thought about calling Madam Grey, but decided against it. Maybe this would be a good chance for her to meet new friends; so she decided against her better judgment to attend the function.

The instructions on the invitation were poorly drawn, and weren’t written very well either. She had to stop to ask directions twice, so it took seemingly forever before she got there. Her training with ballet companies enforced the need of being on time, so even though it was just a party, she felt bad she arrived so late.

The party was held at a cabin overlooking a river. The owner apparently held large gatherings on somewhat of a regular basis, as evidenced by the large gravel parking spaces. The early arrival of the full moon over the trees behind the cabin made for a picturesque scene that should be captured in a painting.

Janelle was dressed in a long sleeve red pullover, covering a black tank top shirt, black straight-leg jeans, and no shoes. Janelle was always a confident person, which was a big help in how she made it to where she was, but going barefoot everywhere she went made her even more so. It was as if embracing the earth with just her soles and nothing else made her bolder and more aware of what’s going on around her. It was a change her fellow dancers and Madam Grey noticed as well. It even inspired a few to adopt the same lifestyle.

As she walked closer to the cabin, she could hear the sound of jazz music floating through the air. That was better than that rap nonsense that assaulted her eardrums and nearly made her ill. It was like someone standing in front of you yelling and swearing for something you did. There was no need to knock, because the door was partly open. A man was sitting on the porch’s bench, enjoying the evening air when he saw Janelle approaching. He gave her a quick going over before he gave a big smile.

“Look out, beautiful barefoot woman approaching!” He yelled, then gave Janelle a clicking sound with his mouth, aiming his right hand mimicking a gun, and winked.

Janelle smiled and went on in. regardless of whether the man was sober or not, she appreciated the complement; not because of the word “beautiful,” though that was nice, but because he put the word “barefoot” along with it. This may be a good party after all.

What Janelle wasn’t prepared for was her celebrity status. It seemed like everyone at the party had heard of her or seen her in action. They also knew about her expulsion from the NYBC, which was received well, because a number of dancers hated the ballet company for playing favorites and straight out snobbery. Janelle couldn’t help but smile at herself regarding the attitude over her former employer.

Janelle held tightly to her rule regarding dating other dancers, and though it looked like she might make exceptions to that rule, tonight would not be one of them. She saw one handsome male dancer casually looking through the music selection, until his male partner came by, and led him by the hand to another room. There was another one who seemed to be attractive in every way – until he opened his mouth. His very conversation was R-rated, verging on NC-17. and he could only talk about one subject. But what was really annoying were those who came to her with every pick up line known to man. And there were those who bragged of their achievements, like they wanted to prove they were worthy of her company. She finally found the company of those who actually talked to her, without putting on airs.

She spent the rest of the evening talking with this small group of men and women who belonged to a tiny fledgling dance outfit on the outskirts of town. Like Janelle, they danced not because they want to make a name for themselves, or become rich, but because they loved it. It was inspiring.

Finally the time came for the dance troupe to leave, and since they arrived in a minivan, they left together. Janelle and the troupe promised to keep in touch as goodbyes were said. Looking at the time, she saw it was time for her to go too. First, she needed to find the host or hosts of the party and thank them for inviting her. About three quarters of the guests were making their exodus, and Janelle asked a ballerina from an outfit upstate who was responsible for the festivities. She pointed to a large room in the back as she left.

Everybody left quickly, Janelle thought as she walked through the cabin. Suddenly was hit with a smell that stung her nostrils. She had never smelled that scent before, but anything that smelled like that could not be good. She made an about face and prepared to flee when she heard a familiar voice.

“Hey, it’s the guest of honor!”

Janelle looked up to see Jon and Linda come down the stairs arm-in-arm. Their clothes were a little disheveled, and it didn’t take a genius to guess what they were doing during the party.

“Hi Linda, Jon,” Janelle said. “Say, do you know where the host is for the party? I wanted to thank them.”

“You’re looking at them,” Jon said, pointing to himself and Linda.

“You hosted this?”

“Yeah. My uncle owns this cabin, and he told me whenever I wanted to throw a party, feel free.”

“Oh; well thank you, I had a very nice time.”

“We had bets on whether you would even show up or not, seeing you’re so far above us and everything,” Linda remarked.

“No, I was late because of the directions,” Janelle replied.

Linda elbowed Jon. “I told you I should’ve wrote the directions,” she yelled. Jon shrugged.

“And I never looked down to you. I talk to you like everyone else.”

“You wouldn’t sleep with me, though.”

“Linda, I told you I don’t do that. That’s not me.”

“She has a point. She didn’t sleep with me either,” Jon said.

“Look, I just wanted to thank you for the party. I had a nice time, and met some new people. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to leave now,” Janelle said nicely, but firmly.

During the brief conversation, other people emerged from the back room where the rank odor was originating. Janelle didn’t recognize some of them, but the others she did. They were former members of her dance company, thrown out for drug use. As he said this, one of the former company members blocked the door.

Janelle saw it, and demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“You see, on those nights Linda and I are cuddling up, one question would always run through our minds,” Jon continued.

She knew this was her cue to respond, so Janelle did. “What?” She asked.

“What you taste like; are you really as sweet as you make yourself out to be?”

“That you will never know. Besides, you have each other now, that should be enough,” Janelle reasoned. The admittance from the two of them made her sick to her stomach, but she kept herself composed.

“And we have you to thank for all that,” Linda said with a sneer. “But now, we’re through wondering. Tonight, we’re going to find out.”

The full realization of what they wanted to do hit Janelle, and she turned to run. But another dancer grabbed her from behind, holding her. Years from now, she would know at least five ways to free herself, or break free using her brute strength. However, at this time, she was only a modern dancer in peril. The small gang laughed as Janelle struggled to free herself. Linda and Jon looked over Janelle’s body with longing.

“How would you like to do this, honey?” Jon asked. “Should I go first, or do you want to go first?”

“Why don’t we both go first? I’ll take the front, while you enter from the back door,” Linda said, her voice dropping an octave as she reached forward to grope one of Janelle’s breasts.

Janelle’s knowledge of self-defense was very limited at this time, but there were a few things she knew. Raising up her bare right foot, she stomped it down on the sneakered foot of the man behind her. The man squealed, realizing she broke a bone in his foot. As he let go, she stepped forward and launched that same right foot into the crotch area of Jon’s jeans.

He slowly crumpled to the floor, holding himself. Linda froze, surprised by the sudden turn of events. She wasn’t frozen for long as Janelle pushed her roughly. She tumbled over her boyfriend, banging her head on the floor. Janelle then ran like a gazelle, leaping over small pieces of furniture, and evading the feeble attempts of her captors to grab her. The dancer guarding the door wasn’t as firmly planted as she thought as Janelle pushed her over a small table.

Janelle ran a full sprint out to her car. Before she entered the cabin, she left her purse in the car, carrying only her car keys in her jeans’ pocket. Using the button to unlock the car, Janelle jumped in, and slung gravel and mud escaping the parking area.

LS sat there for a moment, taking it in. “Wow,” she finally said. “Did you call the police?”

“And tell them what?” Janelle asked. “I was at a cabin in a remote area, surrounded by a group consisting of Jon, Linda, and their flunkies. Their word against mine. I would have a stronger case if they actually touched me, and I would rather die than to let that happen.”

LS noticed the sudden intensity in Janelle’s eyes and replied, “I can see why you strongly teach the self-defense aspect in your classes.”

“That’s not the only reason, but yeah, it is.”

“In this instance, it is a good thing you are not me.”

“How’s that?”

“For me, it would be very tempting to track Jon and Linda down, and knock their brains out. You are obviously more merciful than I am.”

“Oh,” Janelle paused for a second, then went on. “I told Madam Grey what happened, and that I was through with dancing for a time. She couldn’t talk me into reconsidering, but she wasted no time in firing Linda and Jon. I can say her company recovered, and grown. I see them perform whenever I can.”

“Let us move on, Janelle. What did you do after dancing?”

“I spent a year considering my options. First, I considered another thing to do with my life. Physical therapy was something that always interested me, so I decided to pursue it. Another thing I did was make a list.”

“A list?”

“Yes, a list of the traits I wanted in a man. I saw enough of the traits I didn’t want when I was at that party. So when I was at home, and I mean my parents’ home in New England, I reflected on this, and made my list.”

LS waved to a waitress to have her refill their pot of hot tea. After that was done, she paused, weighing carefully what she was going to say next. Finally, she said, “Janelle, you dedicated a great deal of your life to the dance. The things that happened to you at the NYBC, and while you were at the City of Lights were tragic; do you not think your decision to leave it all behind was . . . a little hasty?”

“Yes, let’s talk about my ‘hasty’ decision,” Janelle replied, keeping a rein on the tension in her voice. “I sacrificed a lot for the dance, but that’s no big deal; to work for what you want, sacrifice is necessary. My dad reminded me when I was little that talent is great, but even greater if tempered with discipline. I took it to heart because it’s true. But neither what he nor anyone else told me was that there were people who would resent and hate you because of that very thing.

“I love the dance, LS, I do. But do you know what it’s like to have people assume you’re stuck up because you’re, you’re . . .”

“Good?” LS interjected.

“Yeah, that will do. I never thought I was better than anybody, my parents drilled that into me. But it’s not just that. I had people go as far as to try to destroy me, ‘just because.’ They kicked me out of NYBC ‘just because’ my family isn’t a brand name that would impress people, and they didn’t think I fit in. At City of Lights, I almost got violated, ‘just because’ I wouldn’t date two jerks. They even had each other, but that didn’t stop them from going as far as throwing a party just to get me. If that’s what I have to endure just to dance on the stage, forget it. I’m resilient, but I have limits.”

LS saw how upset Janelle was getting. Not at her, but at what happened to her. A change of subject was needed.

“When I worked in politics,” she said slowly, “we have a lot of that, but you are made aware of that when you take that route. In your case, you were attacked unjustly, and I am very sorry it did. About your list, does Benjamin-”

“Ben!”

“Excuse me, Ben fit all those things?”

For the first time in so many minutes, a smile creased Janelle’s face. “All except one,” she said. “Not everybody has the fit body of a dancer, but he was in good physical shape, so that’s fine. Don’t you want to know how I got into judo and bodybuilding?”

“Oh, I forgot about that. Go on.”

Janelle smiled to herself at managing to divert LS from her most controversial subject. Taking a sip of fresh tea, she continued. “While I was at home ‘healing’ for lack of a better word, I finally decided on my career options. After I convinced my dad not to go to New York and shoot Jon and Linda, along with half of the NYBC, he calmed down and told me to take my time weighing my choices. The family would support me. That was great.

“Every morning I found myself doing my ballet exercises until I realized I had nowhere to dance. I started looking for another form of exercise. Aerobics was pointless; I might as well stick to ballet. Plus they demand you wear shoes, and I wasn’t giving that up, not wearing shoes, that is.”

LS smiled.

“Pilates is effective, but it was originally created for dancers, and I didn’t want to deal with anything related to dancing at that time. Finally, I sat down and turned on the TV to find the exercise channel, for ideas. Before I got there, I ran across a bodybuilding pageant, the Mr. and Ms. whatever it was. I thought bodybuilding made people look like the Incredible Hulk. When I discovered it didn’t, I looked into it. My brother had an old set of weights down in the basement, and since he was living upstate with his wife, I knew he wasn’t going to be using them any time soon. So I got started, and I was hooked. I liked what changes it did to my body, but most of all, it made me strong, inside and out.”

“The outside I can see and I imagine it helped your psyche too. But, being a former dancer, were you not already ‘strong?’” LS asked.

“From the waist down, sure. My core muscles were well developed too. But my upper body strength was not that great, especially my arms,” Janelle said, subconsciously rubbing her biceps.

“Could it be you may be overcompensating for when you were trapped in that cabin; you know, when your arms were pinned?”

Janelle thought for a second, and then responded, “Maybe I am, I never thought about that. The point is, I decided that anything like that will never happen again. I will never be weak, a victim, or a wimp. Instead, I will be a victor, not a victim.”

“Janelle, you did not see it coming. It was not your fault.”

“I know that, and despite what happened, it was a good party. But when that man grabbed me from behind, I was a ‘helpless female,’ trapped.”

“I guess I can not relate; going by what you said, I have not ever been a ‘helpless female.’”

“Well from what you told me, even in your freshman year of high school, you were solidly built. I was a toothpick with long legs.

“Anyway, it was time to go. I found a college in the Midwest that had a good physical therapy program, and far away from New York. Before I set out for school, my family gave me a wonderful going away present.”

“What was it?”

“It’s sitting outside. A black PT Cruiser. My black baby, aside from my fiancé of course. I love everything about it except the gas mileage. Going on, I registered for classes, found a dorm, and started living the campus life. Nice college and nice college town, which seemed to have the peculiar quality of almost having a dojo on every corner.

“On the weekends, some of the instructors get together and have what you could call a combination self-defense workshop and martial arts sampler. One day I took time out on a Saturday morning to check it out . . .”

Dressed in a gray sweatshirt, black sweatpants, and no shoes, Janelle arrived at the college gymnasium where various martial arts masters were displaying their wares. She started the process of elimination as she watched them.

Karate seemed too brutish. Granted, it is a martial art after all, but all that yelling! The tai chi movements were beautiful, but it looked like dancing, and she wasn’t ready to deal with that now, thank you very much. Kung fu was interesting too, but it looked like tai chi, which looked like dancing. Boxing was not an option; she was not going to have her bell rung. Aikido had nice footwork, and cool moves, but it reminded her of tai chi, which reminded her of . . .

She had no idea where to go, so she eventually wandered over to a crowd of people gathered around some mats. Janelle dropped to the floor in a lotus position. She was getting hot, so she pulled off her sweatshirt. A plain white T-shirt was underneath, displaying her relatively new muscles. Most everybody else was too busy talking and waiting for the exhibition to notice. However, one person did. A black woman, an inch shorter than Janelle with a close shorn haircut, dark skin, and her own muscular build saw Janelle and moved over to where she was.

Janelle said hello, to which the woman replied, and gave her what would be later be known to Janelle as a common habit between bodybuilders . . .

“Excuse me, I meant to ask, why have you not chose bodybuilding as a profession?” LS asked.

Janelle ticked off the points on her fingers. “One, I don’t have a problem being before crowds, but I’m not crazy about showing off my body to people. Two, it’s not the easiest way to make a living. Finding sponsors to help make me look good or running a website isn’t real stable. And three, food.”

“Food?”

“How would you like to eat dry chicken everyday until off season? Or eat fish so much, you start smelling like fresh sushi? There are some things I will not deprive myself of, and a good meal is one of them.”

“Considering that I live with a cook, Lewis would be mortified if I started doing that.”

“There’s also those who take steroids, those who drink raw eggs, and those who deprive themselves of water before a competition. One of those three is crazy, one of them is dangerous, and one of them is crazy, illegal, and dangerous. I’m not getting involved in that.”

“I see your point.”

“Now hold on, I’m getting to the good part.”

“So how long have you been doing weights?” The black woman asked.

“Oh,” Janelle responded, feeling a little silly, wondering why she was looking at her so, “About a year, mostly the arms.”

“Same here; I decided to go for the ‘total package,’” she said, extending her hand. “Velvet’s the name.”

“Janelle. Pleased to meet you. I just picked this spot at random. What is this?” She replied, shaking the hand.

“This is the judo exhibition. I always liked seeing judo throws and the other stuff, so I decided to check it out.”

“Judo, that’s the one where they throw people. I don’t know if this is for me,” Janelle admitted.

“You might as well stick around; the other exhibits have already started, except for the boxing exhibit.”

“Boxing? No thanks, I’ll stay here.”

“Besides, you’re the only buff woman I’ve seen other than myself. We need to stick together.”

“It’s a deal.”

“And that was how I met Velvet, and started taking judo. We both fell in love with it, and pursued it as much as we did our studies. Velvet and I became close friends, and eventually my second-in-command at my dojo. And that, LS is my life story at this point,” Janelle said, finishing her tea.

LS took a slow sip of hers.

Janelle rose from her chair. “Wow, spilling all that out, it’s rather liberating. Well now that we’re done, it has really been nice sharing with you, LS, we need to do it again sometime,” she said.

LS never looked up from her tea cup. “Sit down, Janelle,” she replied.

Janelle slowly sat down.

“Janelle, as I have said earlier, I have worked with politicians for years. That was more than long enough to know when someone is stalling or being untruthful. Your attempts at misdirection have been rather entertaining at times, but I have dealt with masters of that tactic. You are not finished yet.”

Janelle raised up her hands. “You heard about my ‘former’ life as a dancer, and what happened to me there. You heard about how and why I started bodybuilding, and started judo, along with how I met Velvet as a bonus. What more is there?” She protested.

“How you and Ben met.”

“I told you, we met in college, that’s all.”

LS lowered her teacup and looked at Janelle. Janelle didn’t realize what she was doing, until LS locked onto her eyes. Suddenly she knew why Lewis had avoided her stare for all those years. She felt like an escaped convict caught in the searchlights of a prison, or more precisely, like a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching car. With what little will she had left, she threw up her hands in front of her face to break the contact.

“All right, all right, I’ll tell you! Just don’t do that thing anymore, please!” Janelle blurted out.

LS grinned evilly. “Did you so soon forget about my ‘look’?” She asked.

“No, I didn’t forget; I thought that only worked on men.”

“It works on women too, though I do not use it very much on them. You have pretty strong willpower, by the way; I thought you would outlast me for a moment.”

“How long did you look at me?”

“Only a few seconds. Most people aside from family don’t last that long.”

“And how did Lewis avoid it?”
“As you remember, Kim interrupted us the first time I locked my eyes on him. He seemed to instinctually realize what I could do, so he always looked elsewhere. He has always been uncannily clever. If I knew then what I know now when I looked at him, we would probably be working on our fifth child by now. And now, without further ado . . .”

“Okay.” Janelle paused to give LS a dirty look.

“Your plans of payback can wait. You will have to stand in line like everybody else. Begin.”

“It was a little bit before Spring Break,” Janelle began . . .

On the college campus, Janelle and two other women were sitting outside the Student Union building. One was Maria, a 5’6” Hispanic woman with long black hair, and a muscular stocky build. The other was Tracey, a 5’5” blond woman with a slim frame. Maria threw the shot put for the track team, while Tracy played on the basketball team. Both were nursing majors.

“So you mean to tell me you’ve never been to the Spring Festival?” Maria said to Tracey.

“You forget Maria, I play basketball. After the regular season, the conference playoffs, and the tournament, I stay in my dorm room and don’t go anywhere except class. And you already know about the little bit of practice nursing we have on top of that,” Tracey replied. “So no, I haven’t been.”

“I’ve been; it’s no big deal,” Janelle yawned.

“That’s because Lady Hercules only goes there for one thing, then she goes home,” Maria said. “By the way, Janelle, they have a new guy this year. Since you ‘broke’ the last one . . .”

“If a man wants to call himself ‘Samson,’ he should live up to his name.”

“So how about you two tell me about what this Spring Festival is about?” Tracey protested.

“Oh Tracey, everybody knows what the Spring Festival is. Here, there’s a man who just bought a school sweatshirt; I bet he knows,” Maria said, as a skinny 6’3” black man left the bookstore carrying the newly designed school sweatshirt. Maria drew his attention. “Excuse me sir, but my friend here has never been to the Spring Festival. Could you tell her what it is?”

“Why sure!” The man said. “The Spring Festival is an event held by the university and the community that has a little bit of everything. Games, exhibits, this and that, and a whole lot of fun. You should go. By the way, who are you and your friends who want you to go?”

“Oh I’m sorry. I’m Maria, my friend who was about to graduate from here without attending the festival is Tracey, and this is Janelle.”

“Hello, I’m Jessie. Oddly enough, another friend and myself plan to talk another friend who never been to the festival. Hey, why don’t we go together?”

“Together?” Tracey asked.

“Yeah. Hey, I’m not trying to arrange a date or anything, it’s just a group of people getting together and having fun. What do you say?”

“I don’t know,” Tracey said.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun,” Maria replied. “How about it, Janelle?”

“Sure, why not?” Janelle answered.

“Great! Let’s meet here at eight. Hey Tracey, is that a fresh book of poetry?” Jessie asked.

“Yes,” Tracey replied hesitantly.

The next few minutes had Jessie and the three ladies getting to know each other a little. Jessie pleaded with Tracey to borrow the poetry book until it was time for the festival. As Jessie finally left with the book, Tracey turned to her friends.

“What have you gotten me into?” She said.

“When I met Jessie, I thought he was such a ham,” Janelle laughed. “He’s a real nice guy though. Tracey loved the festival. Maria had to drag her home, almost. I think Kevin took the longest adjusting to my shoeless lifestyle. It was fun.”

LS smirked and leaned toward Janelle. “I have no doubt you all had fun. I have met both Jessie and Kevin of course, and I look forward to meeting Maria and Tracey. But for this moment, I do not care about them. I only care about you and Benjamin,” she said.

“Ben.”

“Whoever.”

“I bet you’re the type of person who turns to the last page of a mystery novel to see who did it.”

“No, I am not. I just want to get to the romantic part of the story, that is all.”

“Well, Mrs. Spaulding, if you waited a few more seconds, I would’ve explained that part,” Janelle said with mock scorn.

“Oh. I stand corrected,” LS said.

“Now at the festival, after we all met, I talked to Ben, I got my two friends to dig up some information for me-”

“'Dig up’ information?”

“Yeah, they’re good at that. Long story. I talked to him that night, I talked to him a bit during Spring Break and afterwards, and there you go. After a while, we got engaged, and that’s it.”

“That is it,” LS repeated.

“Yep.”

LS paused, sipped her tea, then said, “I do not believe you.”

“What?”

“Janelle, I do not claim to be the most romantic person around, but-”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“Huh?”

“That date with that lawyer where you two were in the car, Luther Vandross playing in the background; I don’t even know the man, and the scene gives me chills. Don Juan has nothing on you. Kim would hit me as being the least romantic.”

“That may be true, I never asked her, and stop that!”

“Stop what?”

“You know what, changing subjects. You can not expect me to believe you and Ben met, you talked, and one day you two decide to get married. It does not work that way. Even Mr. Spock was more passionate than that. You are more passionate than that, because I have seen you with him. Now what is so shocking, so horrible, so taboo that you steer away from telling me about meeting the love of your life?” LS demanded.

Janelle was silent for half a minute, and then said, “I almost lost him,” she said.

“You heard my story; I had plenty of chances to lose Lewis. No doubt some people would never forgive me if I did. But I did not. I also knew him forever. What is so unusual about your story?”

Janelle took a deep breath and said, “During Spring Break, I had no desire to go anywhere. I had a paper to finish, and being at a beach where half the country’s student population would be never appealed to me. I was ecstatic when I found out Ben was still on campus alone, with no interference. I met him at lunch one day, and I found out he was shy, which attracted me more. I think I may have intimidated him a little bit when I mentioned that I was strong. Now that I think of it, I may have come on a little too strong as well. He excused himself and fled to his dorm.”

“Strongwoman 101 regarding men,” LS replied, “is there are men who like muscles, there are those who do not, and there are those who could go either way, as long as you do not hide it, or act like She Hulk on PMS. The men who like muscle might be kinky, the ones who do not may be chauvinistic or uninformed, and like it that way. So the best bet is the middle category.”

“The voice of experience?”

“Yes; at least the ones who think you are trying to be a man by eating steroids for breakfast will leave you alone. An evening based on your workout regiment or how much you can lift makes for a boring date, to say the least.”

“Huh. That’s never been up for discussion between Ben and I.”

“Good. Now you chased Ben back to his dorm room, I believe.”

“No; well I guess I did. He told me later I was so intense, it was scary. Anyway, he was so spooked, he hid in his dorm room for the next two days.”

LS laughed. “That is cute.”

“LS, let me tell you a little secret that used to be a problem with me. I was not very patient with people.”

“Really? But your dancing and judo, along with weights, that takes time. And you still lacked patience?”

“You misunderstand; I lacked patience with people. If you want to get a certain dance move right, you better take the time to work on it. Practice is as essential as breathing. A famous dancer once said if he missed one day of practice, he knows it. If he missed two days of practice, the audience knows it. I can’t say it’s the same with weights and judo, but I used the same principle,” Janelle explained.

“I have done my daily workout and judo for so long, it is almost like undergoing withdrawal if I go a day without it. Judo is so much a part of me, I can not find a point of separation.”

“But people are not so simple. They are frustrating, uncertain, undependable, and take up so much time.”

“So I am guessing Ben’s hiding from you got to you after a while.”

Janelle smirked. “At first it was cute, but after two days, it became very frustrating.”

There were a few moments of silence between the two women. Janelle sipped more tea and looked out into the distance.

“Janelle?” LS asked.

Still gazing out, Janelle asked, “LS, have you ever seen the movie Desire?”

“I might have. You will need to refresh my memory. I have seen a lot of movies,” LS said.

“Desire is about a woman, a strong woman who fell in love with a man. He was a nice man, everybody liked him, he got along with everybody, he had a good career; and all around good person. Yet he was shy.”

“Go on.”

“This woman had tried many times to get his attention. She succeeded, but he didn’t know what to do. She grew very restless and inpatient.”

“It is sounding familiar.”

“Finally the woman invited this man over to her place, where she trapped him, and raped him. A couple of times, as a matter of fact.”

Recognition blossomed in LS’s eyes. “Ah yes, I remember now. Kim, Jasmine, and myself saw the movie one Friday night. We wondered what the controversy was all about. I thought about calling Lewis and asking him to come with us, but I changed my mind at the last minute. Good thing too; it would have been very uncomfortable,” she said.

“What about the movie?” Janelle asked.

“We found it very disturbing. Rape is not a comfortable subject to talk about even under the best of circumstances. The ride home was very quiet. We did not even discuss it the next day. I still do not know what the others thought about it.”

“I bought the DVD. I watched it many times.”

“Janelle, what does this have to do with you and Ben?” LS asked slowly.

Janelle didn’t answer. Instead, she started telling her story.

That Tuesday of the week of Spring Break, Janelle had enough. Benjamin had not appeared for dinner. She was avoiding him, that’s what it was. She sat back in her dorm room, turned on her DVD player, and pulled out her copy of Desire. Before the movie reached the climatic part, she shut it off. She walked to her closet, and pulled out an oversized men’s white dress shirt, big enough to cover her arms, and a pair of her nicest blue jeans. No shoes, of course. After she rolled her shirt sleeves to the elbows, she looked herself over in a full-length mirror, and then set out for Benjamin’s dormitory.

Since the majority of the campus was gone during Spring Break, security was scant to say the least. It was an easy matter for Janelle to sneak in, look up Benjamin’s room number, and make her way to his floor.

As she approached the door to his room, she saw a stack of pizza boxes sitting outside, waiting for Housekeeping to take them away.

So that’s why he hasn’t been at the cafeteria, she mused. “Sneaky little thing,” she said to herself. She knocked on the door.

Benjamin was dressed in blue jean shorts, a T-shirt, white socks, running shoes, and had a pencil perched behind his right ear. As Janelle predicted, he was very surprised.

“Janelle!” He said. “What a surprise!”

“Hello Ben,” she said, coming in before receiving an invitation. Pointing to a pizza box, she continued, “I noticed you weren’t at dinner in the cafeteria the last couple of days.”

“I just had a craving for pizza,” Benjamin replied.

“Yes, I know all about those cravings,” Janelle said suggestively. She was in no mood for being subtle.

“Ah, I was in the middle of something. Is there something you want?” Benjamin asked. There was something about Janelle’s speech and manner that was . . . a little scary.

Janelle walked closer to Benjamin, her brown eyes staring intensely into his.

“Well yes; I want you, Ben,” she said huskily.

“What?”

“You heard me. I said I want you, Ben.” She smiled devilishly. “What are you going to do about it? You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?”

For Benjamin, things have become really scary now. He started to object, but he found he lost the power of speech. “Ah, well, uh, I guh-guh-guh-”

“I said you don’t have anywhere to go. Nowhere but here with me.” She put her right hand to his cheek and started stroking it. She leaned her face closer and whispered, “Do you?”

Benjamin still couldn’t speak. “Nuh, uh, b-b-b-but-”

“Shhh,” Janelle said, reaching back with her right foot and closing the door behind her.

“You know, my original plan was to come over and to have another talk with Ben, but turn down the heat a little,” Janelle explained to a quiet LS. “However, after two days of no contact, I was inpatient, a little angry, and a little . . . hungry.”

“What are you doing?” Benjamin said, finally able to speak.

“Kissing you,” Janelle replied. Benjamin tried to fight her off as Janelle kissed him deeply, but she was too strong for him. It seemed the more he struggled, the more she liked it.

“Come on, baby, relax and let go,” she cooed.

“Janelle, please – wkk!” Benjamin whispered, but was cut off as she forced her tongue into his mouth.

Using her strength, Janelle picked Benjamin up and slowly lowered him to the floor. Her kisses became more frequent and savage around his mouth and neck. She stopped for a moment to look down at her prey, who was shocked speechless.

“You must understand, you’re mine now, Ben,” she said softly. “And I don’t plan on letting you go.”

Looking up and down at Benjamin, she suddenly started unbuckling his belt and unbuttoned his shorts.

“Janelle, what are you doing? Please stop, no!” Benjamin begged. With sudden speed and a brutal tug, she yanked his shorts and briefs down, leaving his exposed.

“See, you want me,” Janelle said, fondling him. Then she slowly unbuckled her belt.

Benjamin tried to pull his shorts up, and to push Janelle off, but she sat back on his ankles, safely out of reach. After she finished pulling her pants and panties down, she sprung forward, pinning his hands down, and kissing him some more.

“Gonna make you mine,” she whispered in his ear, then released his left wrist for a moment. Benjamin started to yell “No!” but he was silenced by more of Janelle’s French kisses as she began to raise up and down, slowly at first, then faster.

After a few moments, Janelle released Benjamin from her kiss, reared back, and screamed. After she screamed, she fell back onto his chest, heaving with exhaustion. When she caught her breath, she kissed him lightly on the lips.

“Wow, that was nice,” she said. She got dressed, went into Benjamin’s bathroom, moistened a washcloth, cleaned Benjamin off, and pulled his shorts back on. She walked to the door.

“We’ll have to try that again sometime,” she giggled, then opened the door to leave. “I’ll see you soon. Goodbye Ben.” She closed the door and was gone.

The restaurant was slow for the moment. The immediate tables were vacant. Janelle was watchful of that as she told her tale. LS on the other hand, was oblivious to anything else.

“You, you, you-” LS struggled to say.

Janelle leaned forward until her face was close to LS’s. “Come on, LS, you can say it, I raped him. I attacked him, threw him down and rode him until I howled at the moon,” she said. “I molested him, and God help me, I wanted to do it again.”

It was Thursday evening. This time there was no doubt what Janelle wanted to do. She stood around the lobby and front door of Benjamin’s dormitory. Finally she saw a man in a pizza delivery uniform carrying a pizza.

“Excuse me, may I ask where you are delivering that pizza?” She asked.

When he mentioned Benjamin’s room number, she beamed.

“I came down here to get it for him. How much is it?”

He told her the price, but he seemed a little hesitant on giving it to her, even though she had the cash. That changed when Janelle pulled out an extra five dollar bill.

“For your trouble,” she said, handing it to him.

“Thank you,” he said as he took the tip and marched happily to his car.

Janelle marched happily to the elevator, and pushed the button to Benjamin’s floor. The pizza smelled good; she’ll have to have a piece after she took care of business. She lightly rapped on Ben’s door.

“Who is it?” He said from behind the door.

Janelle lowered her alto voice an octave, and covered her mouth with her left hand.

“Pizza man,” she replied, managing to stifle a giggle.

Benjamin opened the door with his head looking down at his wallet. He was about to pull the money out when he saw Janelle’s bare feet in front of him. He slowly looked up until he saw Janelle smiling at him.

Janelle dressed a little more casual and convenient for the occasion, with a white tank top, and a pair of blue jean shorts. She saw that Ben noticed her muscular development, which pleased her. She shot through the door and placed the pizza on a nearby table as Benjamin backed up a few steps.

“Here’s your pizza, Ben,” she said. “You really need to go on a healthier diet than eating pizzas all the time.”

“Like I said, I had a particular craving for pizza,” he replied. “What do you need?”

“To finish what we started Tuesday.” She saw him inching for the door, and pushed the door shut with her left hand. “You weren’t thinking of going somewhere, were you? Not after I paid the pizza man and gave him a five dollar tip.”

“Janelle, listen to me, you don’t want to do this,” Benjamin said. “What happened Tuesday was an accident. Please don’t force me to do anything rash.”

An accident? Janelle thought. No, I knew what I was doing. She beamed from the insight.

Smiling, she gracefully approached Benjamin. “Ben, listen to me, I want to do this. Tuesday may have been an ‘accident,’ but it was one of the best accidents I’ve been involved in. Besides, if you could have stopped me, you would’ve succeeded already. So instead of doing anything ‘rash,’ just sit back and enjoy it. I know I will.”

Janelle saw Benjamin ready himself for flight. It looked like he was going to make a break for his bedroom. Sure enough, Benjamin took off, but Janelle grabbed him around the waist, lift him up, and drop him on his couch.

“Do you treat all your dates this way?” Benjamin blurted out.

The question took Janelle off-guard for a moment. She rarely dated when she was a dancer, and not much more afterward. And her dates were the normal seeing of a movie, going to dinner, etc. They generally ended with a handshake or a peck on the cheek, not what she did two days ago, and planned to do now.

“No, unless they’re the one,” Janelle said.

“The one what?”

The one and only, Janelle thought, but there was no need to tell him that yet. Right now, she just wanted to get a piece of him. Since Tuesday, her hormones had been awakened in a way they never had been before, and she had to have him one more time. After she threw him on the couch, she straddled him, held his face in her hands, and kissed him deeply and passionately. She was so caught up in what she was doing, she was stunned when Benjamin pushed her off his lap. She fell down in a heap in front of the couch. Benjamin sprang up, and backed away.

“Please Janelle,” Benjamin said, panting for breath. “Let’s think about this. How about we sit down at the table and discuss it over a couple of slices of pizza?”

Janelle had a dark look on her face, frustrated and angry that she was interrupted in her passion. But her thoughts were even darker. How dare he push me away like that! Of all the nerve!

“Come here, Ben,” Janelle demanded, rising from the floor. “You want to ‘discuss things,’ then come back and sit here on the couch, then we can ‘discuss’ all you want. After we’re finished.”

Benjamin turned and ran to the bedroom, his last chance for protection, if not escape. He ran in and closed the door, but Janelle grabbed it and pushed it back, sending him off-balance. She closed the door behind her.

“The bedroom, excellent choice,” she quipped.

Benjamin recovered, but Janelle tackled him to the floor, and turned the struggling man on his back, straddling him. “I’m tired of playing games, Ben, stop struggling.” How dare he run from me? Why can’t he stay still? It’d be easier if he laid down.

Unlike the last time, Benjamin was determined to make a better effort getting her off as he tried to turn and push her. Janelle however lost her patience.

“Ben, I said stop!”

Then she slapped him. It wasn’t a slap that stung; from Janelle’s muscular arms, it was more equivalent to a blow from a fist. As he lay there stunned, Janelle took advantage of the few moments she needed to pull his shorts and briefs down. He happened to be wearing gym shorts this time, which made sliding them down easier. Then she took her shorts and underwear off. She fondled him briefly, then mounted him and began.

Benjamin recovered just enough to realize it was happening again, and resumed struggling, trying to find some way to throw her off. It was short-lived when Janelle slapped him again. She slapped him a third time when he looked like he was making another attempt.

After they climaxed, Janelle again fell on top of Benjamin, her chest heaving, and a smile back on her face. She saw the beginnings of a bruise on Benjamin’s cheek, and kissed it tenderly.

“I’m sorry I had to be so rough, Ben,” Janelle whispered into his ear, “but you wouldn’t cooperate. It would have been a lot less trouble.”

She dressed, then again went into Benjamin’s bathroom to get another washrag to clean him off. After that, she dressed him, led him back into the dining room and sat him down. Sitting across from him, she opened the pizza box, and took out two pieces of pizza, giving one to Benjamin, and eating the other piece herself.

“Here’s what we need to discuss, Ben,” she said. “There’s no way you can get away from me, so you shouldn’t even try. You can’t stay cooped up in your room forever. Besides, from the looks of things in the bedroom, laundry day is coming soon. We will have time to talk about other things, but let’s make one thing clear, you are mine now. We’ll discuss that, but right now, I need to go.”

She wiped her lips with a napkin after she finished her pizza. She didn’t really have to go, but she thought it would be best to break him in slowly. She kissed Benjamin on the forehead, and then headed toward the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch in the cafeteria, okay? Bye Ben.”

Then she opened the door and let herself out.

After Janelle finished her tale, she looked up and saw something she’d never thought she’d see, the shocked look on LS’s face.

“You raped him,” she said slowly.

“It’s not too hard to conceive when you think about it,” Janelle explained. “You me, Velvet, Susan, Loretta, Betty’s new mechanic, Kym, Jasmine’s friends Michelle and Rini, and probably Heather, we all have the raw power to overcome the average man. Probably most men.”

“No, that is not what I meant. You took a kind, unassuming man and ravaged him forcibly – twice, in his own dorm room, in the same week. And the most chilling thing about it was how you acted like nothing was wrong. Like you two had a normal night out on the town.”

“Well, you wanted to know how Ben and I met,” Janelle said defensively.

LS sighed. “Yes, I did. I thought I have heard it all, the worst being a one-night stand or pregnancy regarding first meetings. But I have never expected anything like this.”

“But LS, have you ever imagined-”

“No, I have not,” LS replied, a little curt. “Never in my wildest dreams have I wanted to do anything like that. Sure I fantasized about kissing Lewis long before we became a couple, but I never contemplated throwing him to the floor and forcing myself on him against his will. Never.”

Janelle opened her mouth to say something, but closed it because there was nothing she could say to defend herself.

“Look, it is getting late, I think we need to bring this to a close,” LS said. “As agreed, everything said will stay between us.”

“Thank you,” Janelle replied, looking at her tea. “I’ll pay the tab.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“All right . . . well, bye then.”

On her way out, LS looked over at Janelle, who still stared at her tea.

Part 2

LS Chang-Spaulding walked outside the restaurant, got in her car, sat behind the wheel, and did . . . nothing. Upon hearing the untold story of how Janelle and Benjamin really met, a story that only the couple themselves knew, first she was shocked, and then she became angry. She wanted nothing more than to leave the restaurant without looking back, and to never have anything to do with Janelle Edwards ever again. Just wash her hands of the whole matter.

LS rested her forehead on the steering wheel. Again, things were not that simple. There was more to the story, there had to be. Benjamin was not so weak to stay under the thrall of someone who once brutalized him. Janelle didn’t appear to be the predatory type either.

Leaning her head back, LS realized a few things. First, she did ask, no, pushed Janelle to tell her the story, so she did ask for it. Secondly, and more importantly, Janelle was her friend. She helped her out during the battle with the councilman, during which they bonded. And as her friend, she was duty bound to help her out if she needed it. From what she saw of the couple though, they didn’t seem to need any help. Why was this? Well, she’d never find out if she drove away.

She quietly left her car, and walked back into the restaurant.

When LS returned to the table, she saw that Janelle was still sitting there, sipping her tea. She looked up when she saw LS arriving.

“Forget something?” She asked.

“Yes, I forgot you are my friend,” LS began, “and I forgot that I forced you to tell your story without thinking of all that entailed; for that, I apologize.”

A slow smile crept over Janelle’s face. “Apology accepted. At least your reaction was better than my pastor. He threatened to have me arrested,” she said.

“Have you arrested?” LS echoed.

“Premarital counseling. It’s a must for any couples who want to get married at my church.”

“Our church.”

“What?”

“Lewis and I became members recently, remember? Kim almost had a party because we weren’t ‘liberal Methodists’ anymore.”

“That’s right, she was . . . happy that day. It still freaks me out when she smiles. Anyway, retelling that story again was so, I’m not sure what it was. It’s almost like I couldn’t believe it was me doing that.”

“I found myself rooting for Ben.”

“Rooting for him?”

“Yes, he had a better chance to escape the second time until you slapped him.”

“He told me later he was afraid I’d break something if I slapped him a fourth time. He had to come up with some story to explain the bruise.”

“Hearing this story has brought to my mind a few questions. One would be why did you leave so soon after the act?” LS asked.

“The first time I didn’t know what to do, so I left. The second time, I got what I wanted, plus a slice of pizza. I told him how things will be from now on, and I left.”

LS ordered another fresh pot of green tea, and after the waitress left, turned to Janelle. “I never claimed to be an expert at psychology, and I personally think half of the stuff they come up with is crap. That being said, I have heard all the theories concerning the differences between men and women. I think I have heard them all; women are emotionally weaker, men are by nature hunters, men are genetically disposed to fool around, women need a man more than men need women, etc., ad nauseam. First, I have found that people are people, all unique. The second thing I have found is that women aren’t emotionally weaker at all. If there is a weakling here, it is the man. Women endure childbirth, child rearing, a list of biological things when we get older, and sometimes tragedies like rape, murder of a loved one, and other things. Yet we keep going. It is the man who ends up cracking up. Of course many make up for it by being macho, but in the end, he is the one hanging by a thread.”

“That’s interesting,” Janelle replied.

“I say this because, well let us admit it, your man had suffered a traumatic incident by your hand. That takes a while to heal. That brings me to my next question, was there a third time?”

“No, because of two things. One, Maria returned from her trip early, and invited me out for brunch. She sounded determined, so I agreed. I called Ben that Friday morning, and I told him that I’d come over later or call about plans for the weekend. Two, Jessie called Ben, and Ben immediately set up plans for them and Kevin to do something that evening, something he never did.”

“Good thinking,” LS said.

“Yeah, I would have to go through both Jessie and Kevin to get him. He made sure there wouldn’t be a third time. He also made plans to take self-defense classes that weekend.”

“You mean that class they have every Saturday at the college?”

“Yeah, that plan was the one that backfired. I’ll get to that in a bit. But Ben is much stronger than people would give him credit for. But Maria had a sudden sense of urgency to talk to me. In fact, she wanted to talk with me earlier that week.”

“Oh my.”

“Precisely.”

Janelle and Maria had their brunch that Friday at one of the better restaurants in town, but not without much pleading and begging from Maria for Janelle to wear some kind of shoes to the place. Finally, Janelle made a deal with Maria. She will wear her “barefoot sandals,” which consist of various materials that looped around the toe next to the big one, then travels up to the top of the foot to form an anklet. Upon first glance, it looks like the wearer is wearing regular sandals, but unless one takes a closer look, or sees the bottom of the wearer’s feet, no one is the wiser. If Janelle were found out, she would have to go back to the car, put on shoes (and socks! Ugh!), before returning to the restaurant. However, Janelle won her part of the bargain, and gave Maria a smug look as they were shown to their table.

“Fools them every time,” Janelle said after she sat down at their table across from Maria. While looking at the menu, she told Maria that she’d be easy on her. The loser also had to pay for the meal. Janelle has never lost a “barefoot bet” as she calls them.

“How are things with you and Benjamin?” Maria said, after she placed her order.

“Wow, you don’t waste time,” Janelle said with a little concern.

“Neither do you. Remember, I know how you operate. Once you find out everything that you need to know, you strike, like a cobra. You do this with most everything. I have to say this is the first time I seen you do this with a man before.”

“Maybe because I believe this man is the one I’ve been looking for,” Janelle said with a sly grin on her face. She did not plan to tell Maria about what she did earlier that week. She knew she wouldn’t take it well, plus it would be a little harder to explain.

“I believe you’re right,” Maria said. “I think you two would make a great couple, and I know you are confident in that. However, Benjamin is not confident in that, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.

“What do you mean?”

“Janelle, not everybody is as determined as you. Benjamin is, but unless you have problems with calculus, that will not do any good. Janelle, with men like Benjamin, you have to be gentle. Show your interest in him, but do not reveal what you know, you will scare him. It’s like fishing, you reel him in slowly.”

Janelle nodded her head. She has learned to trust the wisdom of her friend over the years, she’s hardly ever wrong. Maria dug into her purse, pulled out a small paperback, and handed it to Janelle.

“'True Love Waits?’ Is this one of the books they have you guys read at your church?”

“As a matter of fact, it is. However, your conversion is not the reason I’m handing you this book. Not yet, anyway. No, this book is to help teach you something I know you don’t have enough of, patience.”

Janelle put her hands to her head. “I knew you were going to say that.”

“The book will only take an hour to read. Just remember, some of the best things in life are worth the wait.”

“Thank you, oh great and wise Maria,” Janelle said, taking a mock bow. “Seriously, I will read it when I have a spare hour, and I will follow what you said.”

“Great, let’s eat. By the way, we might as well find something to do for this evening, the guys are going out tonight.”

Janelle was stunned. “Out tonight? All three of them? How did you know?”

“It’s my job to keep up on information like this. That’s one of the reasons you hang around me, remember?” Maria said as she started on her soup.

“If only I read that book earlier,” Janelle reflected.

“Did you see that you did anything wrong?” Asked LS.

“Not until that talk, no. Keep in mind; this was college, where students lose their virtue every day, if you believe the movies. The use of force may have been a bit much, but when I realized what I actually did, I felt ashamed.”

“How much ashamed?”

“How about crying in my dorm room Friday night?”

“What about Benj – him, how did he feel about all this?”

“You mean about me?”

“Well yes, the whole thing.”

“It turned out he liked me all along. Things would’ve been a lot less bumpier if I didn’t . . . you know. Because of what I did, I, well God had mercy on me.”

LS sat up. “I am getting another desert, want one?” After that, she asked, “You said his self-defense plans backfired. How was that?”

Janelle smiled. “He didn’t know I was one of the instructors, which worked out pretty well. After what I did, I saw that I wouldn’t be able to get to Ben short of going through an armored guard. I had to make things right, and this class was my only way of doing it.”

Saturday morning could not begin fast enough for Benjamin. After a shower and breakfast, he grabbed an old gym bag and threw some sweats in it. He then took off for the gym, and went straight to the locker room. After he changed clothes, he then stood out on the gym floor with fourteen other men and women, waiting for the self-defense class to begin.

At five minutes before the class was about to begin, the instructors arrived at the gym. Benjamin’s spirit has started to soar, anxious to begin; then just as quickly, they sank when he took a good look at one of the instructors. It was Janelle.

Just great, he thought. Janelle is the reason he was taking this class. Didn’t she do her judo at that place across town? He never said anything about teaching a class at the university.

Janelle on the other hand, beamed with delight. Since she started teaching this class with her sensei and the other five martial arts instructors, she realized that the students here in this class and the students at her dojo were like night and day. At the dojo, they are obedient and eager to learn. At this class, they just give you funny looks, ask you dumb questions, and only want to know enough moves to keep their boyfriend off of them on their next date. When they realize that they will not become Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, Chuck Norris, Jet Li, or any of those folks overnight, they do not come back. This is not to say that there weren’t any dedicated people in the class. It’s just that they are a smaller fraction than the “one time and leave” students. If it weren’t for the fact that she committed to teach this class for that semester, she would be finding other things to do on a Saturday morning then to teach people who don’t care about the discipline of combat, nor those who have no clue about the class. At least with Benjamin, she has a welcome diversion.

After the lead instructor made the introductory remarks about what the class really is about, the group split into groups of three, to be taught more closely by one of the junior instructors. After teaching the smaller groups, everyone was to come together for more general instruction, than dismissed until the next time. Benjamin’s group was to be taught by a karate instructor from a dojo across the street from the school until Janelle came over and asked if he could trade groups. Seeing no problem, he did so, and now the very person Benjamin took this class to defend himself against, was now going to teach him to defend himself!

Janelle, who was dressed in a traditional blue gi, tied together with her black belt, paced in front of the three students gathered before her. She smiled warmly at Ben, and winked at him. Benjamin flinched, glancing around to see if the two women in his group noticed. Fortunately for him, they didn’t. Janelle giggled to herself, then dropped the smile, changing it to a more serious expression, similar to a drill instructor.

“Students! Why are you here?” She addressed the group. She pointed a finger at Benjamin, who was first in line. “Why are you here?”

“To defend myself,” Benjamin said. Why else would he be here?

“Very good,” Janelle said. She pointed at the next person. “You! Why are you here?”

“I was curious, and I wanted to check out what this was all about,” she said.

“That’s a good answer,” Janelle said. “Nothing wrong with being curious.”

“Thank you,” the woman said.

Janelle pointer her finger at the last woman, who looked more like she was ready to go shopping at the mall than attend a self-defense class. She wore a tight, hot pink tee shirt that exposed her midriff with the words “Hot Thang” on it. Her hot pink shorts, dainty white tennis shoes, and hot pink slouch socks looked like the latest thing that was on sale at the Gap. She was also chewing bubble gum and smacking it. A lot.

“And why are you here?” Janelle said.

“Well, like,” she said, smacking her gum, “I wanted to, like learn a few moves, like so my boyfriend will like, keep his hands to himself when we go out.”

Another one, Janelle thought to herself. Well at least this course gives her the chance to break twits like this one.

“Have you ever thought of getting a new boyfriend?” Janelle asked. “Someone who knows that ‘no’ means ‘no?’”

“Donnie? No, he’s wonderful. It’s just when we like, play around a little, I don’t want him to get a little, you know,”

“No, I don’t know,” Janelle replied. “Perhaps if you stopped wearing revealing clothes like that shirt and those shorts,”

“Hey!”

“Maybe he’ll not ‘play with you’ so much, so rough, or you know.”

“I paid good like money for these clothes, and maybe, like the reason I wear these clothes is I look good in them, and you don’t.”

If that last line bothered Janelle, she didn’t show it. Benjamin had to concentrate to prevent a grin from coming to his face. This girl did deserve what she got. Besides, from what he seen of Janelle in a tee shirt and shorts, ‘Hot Thang’ had no room to talk.

“If this is your attitude and your mindset for yourself, then this class is not for you. This class is for people who have real reasons to defend themselves and to build their confidence, and strength.”

Glancing over at the other group where their first instructor was, ‘Hot Thang’ asked, “can I go over to the other group? That guy is like, kind of hot.”

“No,” Janelle said. “The first order of business for you is to spit out that gum. The trash cans are over there.” ‘ Hot Thang’ walked in a huff over to the trashcans to get rid of her gum. Benjamin and the other woman could not hold it in anymore, and started laughing. Janelle smiled at them.

“We get people like these every week. We either break them or send them running out of here. The papers are full of stories of people like ‘Hot Thang’ and ‘wonderful Donnie.’ That is one of the things we try to prevent. Plus, I have to admit, it is a little fun.”

When ‘Hot Thang’ returned, everyone suddenly straightened up and looked serious. Then Janelle started teaching them the basics. To Benjamin’s surprise, she was a good instructor, teaching some of the more complex moves as simple as possible. She explained the reason for each block, blow, and throw shown. She was also equally objective to everyone, with the exception of being a little rougher on ‘Hot Thang.’ After one throw that landed the mall queen on her posterior, she gave her displeasure to Janelle.

“That’s not fair!” she said. “You’re mean!”

“Remember that,” Janelle said, “maybe that mugger or rapist will stop in his tracks when he realizes that he’s not playing fair. And if you think I’m mean, wait until you run into one of them.”

“I have half a mind to quit this class!” she said.

“The door is that way,” Janelle said, pointing to the exit. “And you’re right, you came to this class with half a mind, and that is why you’re not doing any good.”

“You can’t speak to me that way!”

“I can, and I will, until you either leave, or start to get it right.”

The woman slowly got up from the mat, and said, “show me again.” Surprisingly, Janelle had no more trouble from her for the rest of the session. In fact, she began attending the classes on a regular basis with a more serious attitude.

There was one time that Janelle shown a little deference to Benjamin. It was while she had the two women in the group practice breaking holds on each other while Benjamin had no choice but to practice with Janelle.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ben. You need to learn about the martial arts, there is so much it can offer you. Did you know that judo along with a few other disciplines, uses a lot of physics?”

“Er, no I didn’t,” Benjamin said. “I thought you practiced judo at a place in town?”

“I do. This is a community effort conducted by all the martial artist schools in town. Judo, karate, Aikido, kung fu, even kick boxing. Most of the instructors and the junior instructors like yours truly, decided to get together to make sure crimes like date rape, mugging, assault, and others are eliminated. I think it helped.”

“Oh,” Benjamin said.

While practicing to get out of a headlock, Janelle leaned forward and spoke softly in his ear. “I bet I know what you’re thinking when you took this course, but let me remind you, I’m a third degree black belt. It took me a few years to get to this level, so these moves won’t help you; but you’re welcome to try. I love to grapple.”

With that, she quickly stuck her tongue in his ear. Benjamin shot up, successfully breaking the headlock, and glaring wide-eyed at Janelle, who just smiled, and walked over to instruct the two women, who were working on arm locks on each other.

After the class was over, Benjamin was sore. He didn’t feel like could fight off a mouse, much less an accomplished judo instructor. After a long shower, he dressed into his casual clothes. He walked down the hall leading out into the gym. Janelle was blocking the end of the hall. She had changed clothes as well, dressed in a white tank top, straight-leg black jeans, and a black jean jacket, along with, of course, no shoes. He tried in vain to walk by her, but she put her right arm against the wall, blocking the way.

“Not so fast, Ben,” Janelle said. “There’s a few things I want to tell you before you go. I’m to meet Tracey for lunch in 20 minutes, so I’ll be brief. Again, I’m glad you came to these classes and I hope you’ll continue to come to the next ones. But the main thing I wanted to tell you is, I want you to be my boyfriend.”

Benjamin was stunned, but also a little miffed when he said, “Boyfriend? After all that went on, you want me to be your boyfriend? You’re seem to be a little overly confident about that, aren’t’ you?”

“I seem a little overly confident about a lot of things,” Janelle said; her face for a moment seeming to have a look of remorse, then she reverted back to your standard smiling face. “But you can look at it this way, at least as my boyfriend, you’ll be able to see me coming, rather than not being my boyfriend, and locking yourself in your room, and looking over your shoulder all the time.”

Janelle’s statement had a weird logic about it, and Benjamin started to ponder that before he realized what he was doing.

“Now wait a minute,” he said.

“You like movies, right?” Janelle interrupted.

“Yes, but what you-”

“There’s a double-feature at the drive-in tonight at eight. They’re two movies I think you would like. I’ll pick you up at seven at the front of the dormitory. And Ben, be there on time, don’t make me come get you. I’ll see you then.” She then turned and walked out of the gym.

Benjamin stood there. If part of her plan was to confuse him, it worked. Well, he might as well go back to his dorm and bring his dirty laundry down to the Laundromat. He had a date to go on tonight.

“Huh, and I thought I was bad,” LS commented.

“Bad about what?” Janelle asked.

“Your instruction. You were about to throw that woman out, and she just arrived for the first time; and it is a volunteer class.”

“Oh, that. I’ve found that some students, particularly some women, want you to pamper them during a self-defense class. In a regular martial arts class, you work that out of them quickly, but in a self-defense class, they want you to be gentle with them, like a mugger is going to take that into consideration. Plus anyone who has been in my classes will tell you I tend to be tough on any students who act like wimps. By the way, ‘Hot Thang’ is now one of my best students.”

LS smiled. “I like your style. In my case, the students warn any new recruits as soon as they set foot in any of my classes. There have been cases of people getting their things and fleeing as soon as I walk on the mat. One stare from Kim in her classes has sent people fleeing in terror. Jasmine is friendly with her students. But I digress; you told Ben he was going on a date, and it was not a request.”

Jasmine gave LS a dirty look. “What?”

“You still came on rather strong,” LS said, laughing a little. “Some choice: ‘Either come to the movies with me, or I’ll come to your dorm room and jump you again.’”

Janelle raised up her hands in mock surrender. “I wanted to make sure he’ll come,” she said. “It did the trick, so I can’t complain.”

“It is still rather funny, considering movies are known to be a make-out spot.”

“I had to think of something, give me a break.”

“Granted, but how did you know he wasn’t going to round up the troops again?”

“What do you mean?”

“He could have called Jessie and Kevin, and invited them to the movie for safety. That would have made things uncomfortable for you.”

“LS, it was a date.”

“But that Tuesday and Thursday were not dates, and we know what happened there. If you can change the rules, why can he not?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Based on what you have told me, you have spent so much time and effort trying not to be a victim again, you have passed being a victim to being a villain.”

“A villain?”

“Remember when you told me about being attacked at that cabin?”

“Yes,” Janelle said hesitantly.

“Whether you realized it or not, you repeated the same thing at Benjamin’s dorm room. The difference was you succeeded where they failed.”

Janelle’s face went pale. “Oh no; I never put them together before. Oh, I am so sorry.”

“Janelle, you have made it right with him, focus on that. I just made an observation. You were telling me how you apologized to Ben as a matter of fact; tell me about that.”

Janelle sniffed and said, “All right.”

By the time seven o’clock rolled around, Benjamin was sitting outside on one of the wooden benches outside his dormitory. This should be an interesting time, but then again, what choice did he have? He either could go along or be abducted. Going along seemed a lot less painful and embarrassing, so he decided on that. At least in a worst-case scenario, he could open the car door on his side, and run. He was lost in his thoughts until he saw a black PT Cruiser pull up front. The door opened, and Janelle came out of the car and walked toward him. She had on the same outfit she did earlier, except she had her jacket off and slung over her shoulder.

“Hello, Ben,” she said.

“Hello, and its Benjamin,” Benjamin said, giving his preferred name a little weaker than before.

“You know, you may be ‘Benjamin’ to everybody else, but you’ll always be ‘Ben’ to me,” Janelle said. “Get used to it.”

While they were talking, Benjamin took a close look at Janelle’s face. She was beaming, almost giddy, she was so happy. Her eyes didn’t have any sign of that hungry look that terrorized him twice earlier in the week.

“Nice car.”

“Thank you. It drives nice too. Jump in and I’ll take you for a spin. We just need to make sure we get to the drive-in in plenty of time to find a good parking space. Let’s go.”

When they arrived at the drive-in, they were able to find a good parking space where they would be able to see the movies with no one in their way. They bought a few snacks from the snack counter, leaving Benjamin to complain about the high prices they charged. Janelle told him that it’s her treat, so buy as much overpriced junk as he wanted. When they returned to the car, Janelle reclined her seat down, and put her bare feet on the dash. She glanced over at Benjamin.

“Come on, Ben, make yourself at home. In fact, this is just like watching movies at home. The only difference is, if you don’t like the movie, you can drive off to McDonalds.”

“No thank you, I’m fine,” Benjamin said. He thought Janelle didn’t see him taking a slight glance at the door handle.

“I can guess what you’re thinking Ben. Let me put your mind at ease. When I go to a movie, I go to see that movie. Think about it, if I wanted to jump you, why would I go to all this trouble and pay a lot of money, when I could do it at your place for free?”

“Oh, well, that makes sense.” Benjamin lowered his seat down and munched on his popcorn. There was about 20 minutes before the movie started, so he might as well be comfortable.

They reclined in silence for about five minutes eating their snacks and watching the film trivia they show on the screen before the previews and the movies themselves. Benjamin could hear Janelle take a deep breath before she started talking.

“Yesterday I had lunch with Maria, and while we were talking, she handed me this book called “True Love Waits.” It’s a small book, doesn’t take long to read, but it’s pretty good.”

Benjamin started feeling a little uneasy. He had no idea where this was going.

“It had a great quote in there that set the tone for the whole book. You know what it said?” Janelle asked.

“W-what?” Benjamin asked.

“It said, ‘some of the best things in life are worth the wait.’ Ben, I’ve never been a real patient person. I’m used to gathering all the information I can about something, then when I gathered enough information, then I act. It doesn’t make me impulsive, but sometimes I have problems when I run into situations or people, who don’t always work that way. Granted, that formula has always worked for me with my other goals, like attending college, attaining my black belt in judo, becoming an instructor, many things. But sometimes, something comes along where it doesn’t work that way. It-”

Benjamin saw Janelle pause, clear her throat, and continue speaking.

“Ben, I’m sorry I jumped you. I’m sorry I came on so strong. I didn’t mean to scare you so much you wouldn’t come out of your dorm room. It’s just everything else was working out great and I tried to speed things along where they didn’t need to. I tried to make you mine when I didn’t need to.”

Benjamin, for more than once that night, was stunned. The last thing he expected was an apology.

“There are a few things I’ve done that I will not apologize for. The first one is believing you are the one I’m looking for. I’m not supposed to tell you that until you have gotten used to the situation, but there it is. Following through on that belief is another one, at least to establish that you will be mine, and the third and last one.”

“What’s that?”

“Calling you Ben,” Janelle laughed. “Look, I want to make a deal with you. I got off on the wrong foot with you Tuesday and Thursday. I mean it felt good and everything and I – never mind. My point is I promise not to jump you. I won’t even kiss you for a week if you don’t want me to. If you see me even put my hands where they don’t belong, you can tell me that’s it and you never want to see me again. That’s my deal.”

“Answer me this,” Ben said. “There’s a ton of guys on this campus who would probably drool at the thought of asking you out. Some of them might be able to fight you off.” That received a smile from Janelle. “So why are you even spending all this time with me?”

“I just told you, you’re the one. Like I said, I gather information about things, and act on them. A long time ago, I made a list of things I liked in men, and other than making a few variations, I stuck by that list. And you, Ben, believe it or not, fit into all those categories, with the exception of the minor point of physical fitness, but we’ll work on that with the self-defense classes.”

“I’m not a weakling! I mean, just because I can’t fight you off-”

“I’m not talking about me, there’s a lot of women at this school who will carry you off, with no trouble.”

“Oh, come on,”

“You don’t believe me now, but you will. There’s a lot of strong women at this school who aren’t as nice as I am. Anyway, do we have a deal?”

Benjamin paused for a moment, deep in thought. Then he finally said, “It’s a deal, on one condition.”

“What?”

“That you call me ‘Benjamin.’” Benjamin sat back in his seat, smugly.

“You might as well ask me to wear shoes.”

“That’s the deal.”

“How far are we from school?” Janelle asked.

“Five or seven miles, I think.”

“How would you like to walk home, Ben?”

“What?”

“It’s a long way home, Ben.”

Benjamin got the hint. “All right, you win.”

“That’s better, and thanks for giving me another chance. Now let’s watch the movie, the previews are about to start.”

They relaxed in their seats, enjoyed the movies, and had a good time.

“The next day, he called me and established some house rules,” Janelle said.

“House rules?” LS asked.

“Yes, house rules, boundaries, stipulations I had to follow if I wanted to see Ben again.”

“Interesting; what were some of these rules?”

“One of them was if we go out, it had to be in a public place for the first three months. Places like movie theaters, restaurants, parks with at least a few people in the background. Neither one of us could enter the others’ dorm room during the evening, and the bedroom was off limits. I could not drop by unannounced anymore; I had to call first. That was a few of them. Oh, affection, public or private, could only be a hug, or a peck on the cheek at the most. If I became a little bit randy, the date was over. If I violated any of these rules grievously, we were over.”

LS leaned back in her seat. “These rules almost sound like those you would give a released child molester,” she said.

“Tell me about it. Of course I argued about it, but he said, and I remember it exactly, ‘If you want to see me again, if I’m “the one,” that you keep saying I am, you’ll follow them.’

“It was then that I realized he was putting me on task, telling me to put my money where my mouth was. I know we couldn’t put the genie back in the bottle, but he made it a point that we weren’t going to be one of those couples that only had bedroom manners in common.”

“My respect for the man has increased even more. How did the first month go for you?”

“I took so many cold showers, I’m surprised I didn’t have goosebumps and the sniffles on a regular basis. I channeled the bulk of it through my studies and judo. I ended up acing my classes and earning my degrees on my belt. My sensei kept telling me I was a driven woman. He had no idea.”

LS glanced out the window, not looking at anything in particular, but wondering how to phrase her next question. She finally turned and said, “He placed some tough restrictions on you, or rather they were strict because of, you know.’

“Yeah.”

“There is no delicate way of phrasing this question that I can think of, so I will just say it. Benjamin as nice as he is, is not the only man who fits your list. What stopped you from saying forget it and looking elsewhere?”

“I asked myself that same question a few times. Then one day I realized he was exhibiting one of the qualities I put on my list, integrity. When I saw that, I began to love him more. It still was rough at times though.”

“Did he stay on the straight and narrow?”

“He was straighter than a ruler. If you put a level on him, the bubble would never stray from the center. Of course that’s the mathematician in him. The rules are in stone and straightforward. Me, I’m the ‘artist;’ there’s rules, but they could always be bent a little in the name of creative license.”

“So when was it?”

“So when was what?”

“So when was the big fight you two had over these rules?”

“Near the end of three months. We saw a concert, and it was wonderful. I got to hold his hand, and it put me on Cloud Nine. So much so, I was ready to rip his clothes off by the time we reached my place. I tried to push things further, he said no, and that’s when the fireworks started.”

“Tell me more,” LS said, grinning.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re always two steps ahead of me?”

LS shrugged. “You could either blame it on the nature of where I used to work, the two cousins I hang around, or the fact I can read you like a book; the previous bombshell notwithstanding.”

Janelle looked at LS’s grinning face, sighed, shook her head, and continued.

“Like I said, we saw a concert. It was a very good concert . . .”

The concert was of an upcoming jazz artist who would later be the lead keyboards and vocals for the group Silkworm. In the meantime, he was gathering quite a following in his hometown.

For Benjamin and Janelle, it was the climax and finishing touch to a wonderful evening. They held hands throughout the whole thing, and Janelle rested her head on Benjamin’s shoulder.

It was one of those nights no one wanted to end, but it had to, as the couple walked to Janelle’s car. Janelle always loved driving, and it was her turn anyway. As she started the car, she asked, “Ben, would you like to stick around at my place and have some tea?”

“Sure, that would be nice,” Benjamin replied.

Barely managing to conceal her excitement, Janelle then talked about the concert, and what she liked about it. Benjamin chimed in with the songs he liked best. It was a rather involved conversation as they arrived at her place. Over chai tea, they talked some more about the concert and other things in general. Twenty minutes later, Benjamin rose from his seat and said it was time for him to go. Janelle rose to see him out. Before he touched the doorknob, Janelle lightly placed both hands on his shoulders, and turned him around.

“I really enjoyed our evening tonight; the dinner, the concert, and the conversation,” she said softly.

“Me too,” Benjamin replied.

Janelle cradled his face and kissed him lightly on the lips, then on the cheek. For the third kiss, she zeroed in on Benjamin’s lips again, parting them with her tongue as she pushed him against the wall. After a long moment, Benjamin gently pushed her away.

“I really must be going, Janelle,” he said, almost out of breath.

“No. Please stay,” Janelle whispered. She prepared herself to kiss him again, but he put a hand on her chest.

“You know I can’t,” he said.

“Can’t, or won’t?” She replied.

“We’ve been over this, hon.”

Janelle released him and stomped back toward the living room, her bare soles hitting the hardwood floor. She wheeled around and blurted out, “I hate these rules!”

“Janelle, we explained all this,” Benjamin reasoned.

“Yes, so we wouldn’t do it again. Oh, wait, we’ve already done it twice! What’s a third time going to hurt, huh?”

Benjamin was silent, and further examination would reveal he was clearly hurt. But after her passion was denied, Janelle was out for blood.

“At least if we done it tonight, both of us would be more cooperative. But you didn’t think about that, did you? No, you decide to torture me with all these stipulations. I can only go with you in public places, I can’t drop by your dorm room unannounced, etc. I got to hold your hand tonight, and I thought I was in heaven. Now I’m back in prison again. Tell me, are you a closet sadist? Do you like seeing me suffer?”

“You know why I gave these rules,” Benjamin replied tersely.

“Of course I know, it’s thrown in front of my face every time I see you! I can’t do this, I can’t do that, I can only do this during daylight, blah, blah, blah.”

“You agreed to these rules, Janelle. If you can’t follow them . . .”

“I can look elsewhere? Yes, maybe I should! At least the next guy won’t try to confine me with this junk!”

Benjamin took a deep breath, and said as calmly as he could, “It’s not all about you.”

“What?”

“I said, it’s not all about you. It’s for me too.”

“You too? I’m confused. I’m the one who jumped you,” Janelle said, stunned.

“My mother and father met in college when they were sophomores. They went out, talked on the phone, had fun with friends, did all that without having to jump each other. In fact, they followed all those ‘rules’ that you’re protesting.”

“But that was a different time, a long time ago,” Janelle protested.

“But it worked. And as you know, I’m not an only child. My brothers and sisters see my parents, and see they still love each other as much, if not more than the day they made their vows. Where I come from, if something works, why change it? I figured if it worked for them, it should work for me.”

It seemed like a million objections came to Janelle at once, and she tried to voice every one of them.

“But that’s your parents, Ben; you can’t possibly expect me, us to-”

Benjamin only raised his voice a little, but it was enough to stop Janelle in her tracks.

“I’m . . . not . . . finished . . . yet!”

Janelle froze in mid-protest, stunned again.

“Sit down. Please,” he added.

Janelle found herself groping the air behind her until she found a chair to slowly sit in.

“In my dorm room, the walls are thin enough for me to hear a lot of things. There’s a number of couples and people in my dorm who are sexually active. And the stories I hear sicken me. I hear about people who are not measured by what kind of person they are, but by how well they perform in bed. A woman’s worth measured by the size of her breasts, a man’s worth measured by the size of their ‘package.’ There’s people who treat one-night stands like it’s their royal privilege And we’re not even talking about the cases of disease, unwanted pregnancy, and abortions. I see all this on campus, and I decided that’s not me. I don’t want it to be me. If that makes me out to be a nerd or a prude, fine; if that means I won’t get married until I’m forty, fine. At least I can live with myself.”

Janelle opened her mouth, but a look from Benjamin caused her to close it.

“So here I am, on my way to graduate, when Kevin and Jesse talk me into going to the Spring Festival. I go, and I meet this woman. She seemed to be nice, but a little weird.”

“I’m not weird,” Janelle protested quietly.

“After talking with her a while, I found out I liked her. I liked her, even though she never wears shoes; I liked her, even though she could bench press the front end of my car; I liked her, even though she wears any color, as long as it was black; I liked her, even though she never calls me by my given name. I liked her, God knows why, but I did.

“I try to think of how I can talk to you, when suddenly, boom! You show up at lunch. Things were okay until you started to sound scary.”

Janelle shook her head. She wondered if she came on a little too strong that day.

“But I figured maybe things got off on the wrong foot. We could try it again. Then one day, this muscular woman shows up on my doorstep, grabs me, and has her way with me, twice. I guess some men dream of that, but I don’t. still, against my better logic, I still liked her. And now I’m reasoning with this same woman why she can’t jump me again, and she talks about her feelings. Yeah, maybe we should look elsewhere.” Benjamin reached for the doorknob, grabbing it this time.

Janelle couldn’t keep it in any longer. Tears gushed all over her face.

“Benjamin!” She cried.

He froze, a little stunned by hearing his given name.

“Yes?”

“Don’t leave me.”

“What?”

“I don’t mean don’t go home, I mean don’t leave me.”

Before Benjamin could say or do anything, Janelle grabbed him in a tearful embrace.

“I’m sorry, I promise to behave myself; I really care about you,” she said.

There was silence, then Benjamin said, “All right, we’ll try it again, but . . .”

“But what?”

“But you need to let me go, you’re crushing me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Janelle released him and backed up a step. “Good night Benjamin.”

“Good night.”

“One more thing.”

“Yes?” Benjamin was already a few feet from the door.

“I don’t care if Benjamin is your given name. You are now Ben. Deal with it.”

And she closed the door before he could argue.

“Wow,” LS said.

“Yeah, he stunned me too when he unloaded all that on me,” Janelle replied.

“No, you just will not let it go, will you?”

“Let what go?”

“His name. Why can you not call him Benjamin?”

“Because he is Ben! I’ve met Benjamins, and he is not them.”

“But Janelle, that is his name.”

“I don’t care, he’s Ben!”

LS sighed. “I will let you fight it out with his mother who named him.” She sipped more of her tea. “Come to think of it, the two of you have already met each other’s parents, correct?”

“Of course.”

“So what do you call him in front of them?”

Janelle played with her silverware. “Honey,” she mumbled.

Smelling blood, LS pressed further. “And what does his parents call him?”

Janelle sounded like she was about to choke before she gave her answer.

“Benjamin,” she said softly.

“Ah hah!” LS exclaimed.

Janelle gave her a look similar to what a stubborn child would give their parents.

“I don’t care if his parents named him and still call him Benjamin, he is Ben, and that’s what I’ll call him till the day I die!” She said.

“Sure; after all, his parents did not know what they were doing when they named him,” LS quipped.

“Can we please change the subject?”

LS laughed. “Sure we can. Here is a subject that should brighten you up. How did the two of you, or rather you, come to faith?”

“Actually you were right the first time; we both claimed the faith at the same time. That was an interesting story.”

LS piped up. “I can not wait to hear it.”

“I knew you would say that,” Janelle moaned.

Almost from the first time Janelle met Tracey and Maria, they invited her to church. They never nagged her or place her on any guilt trips; they were craftier than that. Every once in a while, during a lull in conversation, or out of the blue, one or the other would say, “Hey Janelle, why don’t you come with us to church this Sunday?” Being a little crafty herself, Janelle would always have an answer to counter them with. She had a paper to finish, something else was going on, etc. She finally told them she would attend when she had time, a sufficient excuse/answer that kept them at bay. When she got a boyfriend, Janelle didn’t expect to be asked again, because couples were always busy, she thought. One day she found out how wrong she was.

During the course of their blooming relationship, Janelle and Benjamin were active like young couples normally were. However, one weekend, Benjamin had a project to finish that required the weekend. By his standards, that meant he’d be finished by Saturday afternoon. But that was all right, a weekend off wouldn’t hurt. Janelle’s error came when she told her two friends about it.

“Ben is doing some project that will take all weekend, he told me,” she told Maria and Tracey over lunch. “Of course knowing him, he’ll be finished Saturday at noon, but I now have all this time to myself.”

When she saw Tracey and Maria smile widely, she knew she slipped.

“Well since you have all this spare time,” Maria began.

“Why don’t you come to church with us?” Tracey finished.

Their synchronized attack caught Janelle off guard, and without a proper rebuttal.

“Well sure, I can do that,” Janelle replied hesitantly.

Before she could dwell on her response, Janelle was given the time the service started, and what time they would pick her up. And just like that, lunch was over.

It wasn’t that Janelle hated church, it was that she’d never set foot in one. Her parents attended church before she was born, but by the time she arrived, they stopped attending long ago. She saw churches in movies and TV shows, which gave her the impression they all looked like Catholic cathedrals, since the Catholic church is almost always represented in the media. The few funerals she’d attended were in funeral homes, and weddings were in chapels or a more secular location.

Yes, visiting church was a new experience for Janelle, and Tracey and Maria notwithstanding, maybe it’s one she didn’t have to face alone. After she returned to her dorm room, she called Benjamin. She glanced at her watch. It was one o’clock.

“Hello?” Ben said.

“Hi honey,” Janelle replied. “How’s your project coming along?”

“Oh, I finished it about an hour ago.”

Right on time, Janelle thought. Out loud, she said, “Maria and Tracey are taking me to church tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Ben, have you ever gone to church?”

“Yes, I used to go all the time.”

“Really? Was it . . . fun?” Janelle knew that wasn’t the right term, but she couldn’t think of a better way to phrase it.

Benjamin gave a short laugh. “Yeah, at times it was ‘fun,’” he said.

“Don’t laugh at me, I’ve never been!” She replied in mock scorn.

“Really?”

“I only saw the inside of a church in pictures.”

“Oh; well, there’s no need to be nervous.”

“So, why did you stop going?”

“Stop going?”

“Yeah, you said you used to go all the time. That must’ve meant you stopped going, despite it being ‘fun’ and all.”

Benjamin faltered a little. “Well I don’t know; just one day I stopped going.”

Janelle thought for a moment. “I see. Well then, I guess you won’t mind coming with us, it’ll give you a chance to have some ‘fun.’”

“Janelle, I don’t know, I-”

Janelle quickly rattled off the time the service started, and what time she was being picked up. “And I’ll have Tracey and Maria swing by and pick you up too. Bye honey.” And she hung up.

At least I won’t suffer alone, she thought, with a devious smile on her face.

“I believe this should be the part where I should say that was very sneaky, and you should be ashamed of yourself,” LS remarked.

“But . . .” Janelle replied.

“Except for the fact I have done it to Lewis too many times to count. It got to the point where whenever I mentioned some event in conversation, he would sigh and say, ‘when is it, and what time do we leave?’ I barely had to think about it.”

“You had him trained well.”

“Yes, you could say that. However, after we officially became a couple, he managed to be super busy with some order, banquet, or something whenever I dropped the hint. When we got married, I had to break him in all over again.”

“By the time you two were dating, he knew all your tricks, plus there was less unpredictability. Still, you have to keep them guessing.”

“I will work on that. Do go on.”

“I couldn’t get away with that trick again, but that time, it worked. Getting ready for church was a story in itself . . .”

Early Sunday morning, after her daily exercises, Janelle took a shower, did her hair, put on her undergarments, and walked to her closet, deciding what to wear. There was a nice black dress she hardly wore, and a new pair of barefoot sandals that went with it. Yes, that’ll be perfect. She reached for the dress when she heard a knocking on her door.

Janelle quickly donned her robe and rushed to the door. Tracey and Maria weren’t expected for a while. Oh no; hopefully nothing happened to them, or to Ben. Heart thumping, she opened the door.

“Hi Janelle!” Tracey chirped as she saw Janelle’s shocked expression.

“Hi. You two are here rather early,” Janelle said, uncertain what to think at her friends’ early arrival.

“Yeah, well we got ready pretty quickly, so we thought we’d come over and help you get ready if you needed it,” Maria explained.

“Thanks, but I already had things well in hand.”

“Can we see?” Tracey said as they came in, barging past a confused Janelle.

In fact, they didn’t stop until they reached the bedroom. Janelle recovered enough to trot in there, where the two women were looking at what she laid out for church.

“It’s all black,” Tracey said.

“Of course,” Maria remarked.

“Let’s see what else she’s got,” Tracey continued as she went through Janelle’s closet. “Black, black, gray, black . . . hey, there’s a rainbow of color in here. Some of them are even bright. Oh, look at this purple dress!”

“Oh my, it is pretty. Does it still fit, Janelle?” Maria asked.

“Yes,” Janelle said, “But-”

“Excellent! We’ll go with that. Now for the tricky part.”

“The tricky part?”

“I’m on it,” Tracey said from the closet. “I’m already in here, and I think I see some boxes in back. Oh, here we go.”

“I already have ‘shoes’ picked out,” Janelle said defensively.

Maria held up her barefoot sandals. “Yes, but these went with your black dress. We need to match shoes with your purple dress.”

Tracey emerged with a shoebox. “All right, everybody; stand back.” She took a deep breath, and blew a thick layer of dust from the top of the box. Maria waved the dust in the air away with her hands laughing, while Janelle stood by looking very embarrassed. Tracey then slowly opened the box, like an explorer opening a chest of buried treasure. She gasped.

“We have shoes?” Maria asked.

“We have shoes. Nice ones, too.”

The shoes were a pair of deep purple slides with low heels. They looked brand new.

“Have you ever worn these shoes, Janelle?” Tracey asked.

“Of course I have!” Janelle exclaimed.

“How often?”

“Once, or twice. You two have seen me with shoes before, what’s the big deal?”

“We thought for your debut, that you should arrive fully shod before you start attending ‘au naturale,’” Maria explained. “And if you don’t put those on, I’m going to grab them and wear them myself.”

Janelle snatched the box from Tracey. “Is there anything else you two need to help me with, like my bra, panties, perfume, or deodorant?” She asked acidly.

“No, you’re good. After we’re done, we can get an early breakfast before we go,” Tracey said.

“You two are familiar with the living room?”

“Of course.”

“Good, then get out!”

Maria and Tracey trotted out of the bedroom giggling as Janelle slammed the door.

Later, as they swung by to pick up Benjamin, he saw Janelle’s outfit, and was very impressed.

“Hello everyone,” he said as he joined Janelle in the backseat. “Janelle, that’s a very nice dress. You look real good today.”

“Thank you,” Janelle replied in a tone that could freeze lava.

Maria and Tracey silently laughed, while Benjamin was dumbfounded. “What, is something wrong? Janelle, was it something I said?”

Janelle stopped her story to see LS almost fall out of her seat laughing. In fact, she was on the verge of turning red. After she finished, she sat there holding her aching ribs.

“I didn’t think it was that funny,” Janelle said.

“Oh come on, Janelle,” LS wheezed, still laughing a little. “Your two friends dropping by to do an emergency makeover, that is funny. I especially liked the part where Tracey blew the dust off your shoebox and your reaction to Benjamin when he complemented you.”

“Well I apologized to him later. Perhaps this would be a good place to say that I later threatened Tracey and Maria with grievous bodily harm if they ever thought of trying that again.”

LS just snickered in response.

“And it’s Ben!” She growled.

LS just smiled. “It is very hard to sound threatening with that story,” she said.

Janelle shook her head. “Oh LS, what am I going to do with you?”

“For one thing, you can finish telling me your story.”

“Right. Well we got there too late for Sunday school; that was the next Sunday. We did have about twelve minutes before the morning service started, so I had a chance to take in my surroundings.”

“And?”

“It wasn’t quite as embarrassing.”

As the quartet entered the sanctuary, Janelle was impressed at the number of people who pleasantly greeted her. They found a nice set of seats in the middle. While they waited for the service to start, they talked about this and that. Janelle finally looked down front and asked, “So where’s the big table?”

“The ‘big table?’” Tracey said.

“Yeah, you know, where the priest guy waves his hands and says something in another language or something?”

All three people stared at her.

Finally Maria said, “That’s what they do in the Catholic Church, Janelle. This is the Baptist church.”

“Oh. What’s the difference?”

“They’re different denominations. A denomination is – we’ll explain that later.”

“Okay; will they swing that smoky thing that fogs up the place?”

“That’s the Anglicans,” Tracey said.

“Okay. Will there be a man wearing a shawl over his shoulders when he speaks?”

“That’s a rabbi, and they’re Jewish,” Benjamin said.

“Yeah?” Janelle replied.

“You really never set foot in a church before, have you?”

“All I’ve seen of church has been from TV and movies, I told you that,” she responded defensively.

Defusing the potential time bomb, Maria said, “Tell you what, Janelle; just check out what goes on during our church service, then you can ask Tracey or me any questions you need to ask. Fair enough?”

“Okay.”

Janelle continued to survey her surroundings, until she saw a well-dressed black man enter and take his seat in front of a piano. He was wearing a shiny black three-piece suit with charcoal gray pinstripes. She was thinking of how Benjamin would look in that suit, when a black woman wearing a black dress entered shortly after, to sit in front of the organ.

Apparently this was a subtle signal that the service was about to start, because everyone stopped talking, and hurried to their seats. The sanctuary became as quiet as the tomb. And then the piano player started playing.

The music hit Janelle as sort of a marching tune. The musician was obviously well skilled, but she was starting to wonder what the purpose of the tune was. It was for worship, obviously, but why that particular tune. The reason soon became apparent.

For on the far left and right aisle, the choir was marching. Not quite a march, per se, but a leaning shuffle that made them sway to the music. The move appealed to the dancer in Janelle. But they weren’t through yet.

The first singers in the choir were about to enter the choir loft when a tall black man entered the podium (pulpit they call it, Janelle corrected herself). There were a few shouts of “Amen!” scattered throughout the congregation. Janelle wondered what the - cheering, if that’s what it was – was all about. And then the man, who Janelle later learned was the pastor, spoke.

“Steeep to Jesus,” he belted out in a rich tenor voice.

“Step to Jesus,” the choir responded with such a musical explosion, it made Janelle miss the rest of the verse.

“Oh, step to Jesus,” the pastor continued.

“Step to Jesus, he’ll be your guiding light.”

“Steeep to Jesus!”

Tracey leaned over. “The song means . . .”

“Shh!” Janelle hissed sharply. She wasn’t a total ignoramus; she knew who Jesus was, at least. She wanted to hear the rest of the song.

Finally the song was over, to the sounds of applause and shouted “amen’s” alike. The pastor welcomed the congregation, and asked if there were any visitors. With a not so subtle prod from Tracey and Maria, Janelle stood up, half-dragging Benjamin with her, via a tight grip on his arm. The pastor delivered a special hello to them and the other visitors then had them sit back down quietly.

“I know how to stand up, you didn’t have to poke me,” Janelle whispered sharply.

“Yeah, look whose talking,” Benjamin remarked, rubbing his arm. “It may be a while before I get my circulation back.”

“We just wanted to make sure you’re warmly welcomed,” Maria explained. “Some visitors come and go, and no one gets to greet them.”

“Well they saw me, so they can say hi to me. I know how to greet people without assistance.”

“Still, you shot up quick enough,” Tracey giggled.

“I’ll show you ‘quick,’ barging into my closet like you owned it,” Janelle grumbled. “How about I poke both of you?”

“Shh, ladies, the choir is going to sing,” Benjamin said.

Janelle put her plans of revenge on hold, and listened to another choral selection. Looking over the choir and congregation, she saw that Tracey and Maria were right; the whole church was a melting pot of numerous ethnic groups. Red, yellow, black and white, and the varying combinations in-between, it was a human rainbow. Aside from the drastic change of wardrobe, and the two pokes in her side, she enjoyed this. If worship was this much . . . “fun,” she would have started doing this a long time ago. To further add to Janelle’s delight, a small group of dancers performed during one of the choral selections.

Smiling inwardly, she turned to Benjamin.

“So was your church back home like this?” She asked.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Benjamin replied.

Janelle turned to watch the spectacle before her, and then turned back. “What was the reason you stopped going again?”

“Huh? Oh, I don’t know; other things came up, I guess, and I just stopped going.”

When Benjamin said this, it was with a grin and a shrug. His eyes were on the choir and dancers. When he turned to glance at Janelle, he saw she had a serious look on her face.

“What?” He said.

“You just stopped going,” she repeated.

“Uh yeah.” This wasn’t good; he was already in trouble, and the pastor hadn’t started preaching yet. And he didn’t know what he was in trouble for.

“All this,” Janelle said, waving a hand toward the choir and congregation, “and you just ‘stopped going.’”

“Hey, you’ve never been until today,” he replied defensively.

“That’s right, so I didn’t know what I was missing. You, on the other hand, saw something like this on a regular basis, and you just ‘stopped going.’”

Maria and Tracey caught the tail end and general gist of the couple’s conversation. Janelle was giving Benjamin a stare down, while Benjamin looked over at Janelle’s friends, his eyes pleading, “Help!”

“Janelle, let’s enjoy the rest of the service,” Maria said, touching her shoulder.

“That’s fine, I’m done,” Janelle said, facing front, crossing her arms. Benjamin wanted to give Maria a quick nod of thank you, but he was afraid Janelle would catch it, and drill him again.

After the song was over, a member of the church approached the pulpit, and gave a casual welcome to the congregation, encouraging them to get comfortable. It that meant loosening a tie, or kicking off your shoes, so be it.

Janelle didn’t need to be told twice as she slid her shoes off, giving an evil grin to Tracey and Maria, and turning and giving a stern look to Benjamin.

While the church members gave the announcements on church events and general information, Benjamin started to rub his arm, which still felt a little sore from Janelle’s vice-like hold on it earlier. As Janelle again looked his way, he quipped, “I might need this arm someday.”

“Maybe one day, it’ll just ‘stop working,’” Janelle replied dryly.

Benjamin groaned. Maybe the sermon will be about being kind to one another. He could use that right now.

“Poor Benjamin,” LS said. When she saw Janelle looking at her, she added, “Or Ben, or whatever name he will be called this week.”

“I was a little hard on him, wasn’t I?” Janelle replied. “But I actually felt a little slighted that he had this experience in his life, and he took it for granted.”

“I imagine he was busy wondering how to survive the morning.”

“He was only third on my list that day, so he didn’t need to worry. So finally, they sung one more beautiful song, and then it was time for the sermon . . .”

Janelle later reflected that what she saw made for a bit of dramatic theater. After the last song, and many hearty “amen’s,” the congregation quieted down as the pastor rose from his seat and approached the pulpit. A soft spotlight highlighted the fine texture of his suit. Tracey and Maria revealed to Janelle that the pastor’s wife picked out his suits. Janelle remarked that the wife had a good eye for suits, and flashed Benjamin another stern look to let him know he was still in the virtual doghouse.

The pastor opened his bible and read (or rather recited, because he didn’t read the text, or read any notes during the message) Revelation 22:5, “There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. And they will reign for ever and ever.” There were a few amen’s after the scripture was read, and then he looked at the congregation for a moment. Then he asked:

“What is night?”

Janelle knew a rhetorical question when she heard one. Of course everyone knew what night was. She wondered what was the point he was trying to make.

“Well Pastor Ron, that’s easy; it’s what happens when the sun goes down and things get dark,” the pastor continued. “True enough, but night also stands for other things besides what happens at six or nine p.m., depending on the time of the year.”

He then went into a couple of metaphors and slang that the term “night” is used for. Janelle found herself entranced by what she heard so far. She wasn’t being talked down to, nor was it going over her head. It was more like it was just the two of them in the same room, and he was talking just to her.

“Night can also symbolize the dark times of the soul. When you receive a pink slip from the place you’ve worked at for years, it is night. When you have no money, and the bills are due, it is night. When the whole world is out to get you, it is night. When you have no friends, or worse, what friends you do have had turned their backs on you, it’s night. When your spouse of so many years suddenly tells you it’s over, it is night!”

The congregation practically exploded with shouted amen’s, “Preach!” and other words of encouragement. Janelle found herself relating. She had indeed underwent those dark times with the fiasco at the NYBC, the problems with the drug users at the City of Lights, that party where she was nearly raped, and when she had raped Benjamin.

She was starting to say amen herself.

“For now, let’s just say that night is what happens when there’s no sun.” The congregation gave a few laughs. “On both arctic circles, north and south, there is a six-month period during the year where there is no sun at all, just a continuous, long, dreary, cold, dark night.”

He stopped again, peering around the congregation to see if that little tidbit had soaked in. A few members had started saying “Preach it!” for they already saw it coming. Janelle had no idea, so she was floored when the preacher delivered his main point.

“There are those out there who spend their lives with no son at all, resulting in a continuous, long, dreary, cold, dark life,” the pastor said, receiving an enthusiastic response.

Fearing that Janelle didn’t get it, Tracey explained, “See, when Pastor Ron said ‘son,’ he meant-”

“Shhh!” Janelle replied, giving a violent chopping motion horizontally with her hand, silencing her, and momentarily startling Maria and Benjamin. Maria was just taken by surprise, while Benjamin thought he was going to be hit. “Listen!” She ordered.

“Now for those whose lives are like that, they’ll try to fill their “night” with various things, like their jobs, relationships, drugs, sex, what have you. But nothing will satisfy.”

Janelle was leaning forward, hanging on every word. Benjamin was paying attention too, so he was mildly surprised when Janelle suddenly took his hand and held it. Benjamin was saying something to her, but Janelle kept saying softly, “Tell me later, baby, tell me later.”

“It turned out he was telling me, ‘Let go of my hand, Janelle; you’re crushing it,’” Janelle said to a laughing LS. “Small wonder why he couldn’t wait till later.”

“So how does he risk going to a scary movie with you without being maimed?” LS asked.

“Simple, we don’t go to scary movies. Most of them are made for sixteen-year-old adolescents, and the few with a plot we rent and watch at home, his or mine, where he can smack me with a pillow if I ever do that.”

“Lewis will tell you that I ‘have no fear.’ He, on the other hand, will cry if the dog died. Years ago, we made the mistake of seeing the classic movie Ole’ Yeller. I had to console him for three days. If I took him to a horror movie, he would be a basket case. Do go on.”

“Maria pried Ben’s hand loose, and he hid it from me. I wasn’t pleased, but I focused on Pastor Ron again . . ..”

“So am I saying if you come to Jesus, all your problems will suddenly be over?” The pastor asked. “No; Jesus himself said in this life you will encounter trouble in this life. But he will be the light in the darkness, the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. And in heaven, he will be your light, your only light. So come, ‘step to Jesus’ today, and he’ll save you from the darkest night.”

Janelle wasted no time. Forgetting about her shoes, she got up quickly and started making her way to the aisle. Without even a second thought, she reached out and grabbed Benjamin by the arm (the same arm she grabbed before), and nearly yanked him along with her. Suppressing the urge to say “Ow!” out loud, Benjamin asked, “Janelle, what are you doing?”

“We’re going to get saved!” Janelle said, determined to reach the altar before it was too late.

Benjamin managed to get Janelle to hold his hand instead of his arm, so it’d look less embarrassing and painful. The pastor met them at the altar, and asked the couple, “And what may I do for you today?”

Benjamin was about to say something, when Janelle blurted out, “We want to give our lives to God.”

“And we did,” Janelle finished.

“You and Ben saved at the same time,” LS remarked.

“Ben was thinking of going forward himself. It’s kind of funny; I got up and grabbed his arm without thinking about it. I had no idea what was going on in his mind. I just knew we both had to go forward.”

LS smirked. “I suppose this would be my cue to give the cliché, God works in mysterious ways, but I do not think that would be necessary.”

“Nah. The story of my engagement is even weirder.”

“I am sure, but I would not be interested at this time.”

“What? You finally got me to spill out my guts, and now you’re not interested?”

“I do have other plans, like going out of town, and it is getting late,” LS explained with a laugh. “I never told you about the day of my engagement, it’s an interesting story as well. I would like to do this again in the future, like when I return. Thank you for sharing the good aspects, and the bad of your life with me this far. And again I apologize for overreacting earlier.”

Janelle reached out and hugged LS, who responded in kind. “Thank you for sharing your life story, and listening to mine. You understand why I kept some things to myself.”

“Yes, and those things will never be uttered from my lips. You should consider giving in on the name thing though.”

Janelle gave her a stern look. “Never, he is Ben, end of subject.”

“Well at least your children will not have to deal with that problem. Farewell, Janelle.”

“Farewell, LS.”

After finishing her packing, and kissing her husband goodbye, LS was on the road traveling back to her hometown in Indiana. Although the episode with Councilman Johnson was long over, there were still a few questions that needed to be answered. Plus she had to check on her first dojo, and of course her family. Yes, it would be a busy couple of days.

Janelle arrived at her place. She felt exhausted; not physically, but the retelling of her life story, and her story with Benjamin drained her emotional batteries somewhat. She did feel like a load was taken off her shoulders. Sharing with a friend can be very liberating. She wondered if her fiancé exercised the same opportunity. But that was for another day.

She glanced at her calendar, and she found one weekend that was free. During the course of their conversation, Janelle received the inkling of an idea. Ben was doing something with his guy friends, and none of her girlfriends had anything planned either. In fact, LS would be out of town again, Susan would either be training or out with her beau, and Velvet was doing the teaching that weekend. Perfect.

She picked up the phone and called an old friend.

“Hello Nicole, guess who? I’m doing fine, and you? Good. Hey, I was thinking of coming by, and paying you and the City of Lights a visit. Oh great, that was when I was planning to visit! How’s Madam Grey? Yeah, I can’t wait to see her either. I was curious; has our old friend Jon been arrested yet? No? He and Linda got married? How long ago? And they’re performing with a small outfit these days. I see. Well, I’ll be coming up there for a couple of days. Meanwhile, I need to go; I need to prepare something. It’s been good talking to you. See you soon. Bye-bye.”

That went better than planned, Janelle thought. Now for the other loose end. She went to a drawer and pulled it out while she called another number.

“Hi Ben. I need you to come to the dojo at 9:45 tonight. Why? All will be explained when you get there. No, just bring yourself. No, nothing’s wrong. I’ll see you there, baby. I love you. Bye-bye.”

When Benjamin arrived at the dojo that evening, he found it strangely lit, as if the electricity went out, and a few of the emergency lights came on. The doors were unlocked, but he was expected, so that wasn’t too unusual. In the center of the dojo floor was a chair with a small sign that said, “Have a seat.” Benjamin slowly sat down, and found himself facing a portable stereo sitting against the wall. He started to feel like he was in an old Mission Impossible TV episode. All he needed was to find a folder with pictures, and a tape to start playing. He didn’t see a folder, but as if by magic, or remote control, the stereo started to play.

“Hello Ben,” the CD began in Janelle’s voice, “this is for you.” Two seconds later, a classical tune began to play.

Benjamin, who had listened to classical music when he studied in college, or whenever the mood hit him, recognized the tune, but couldn’t place the name. This was really nice and all, he thought, but what was this about, and where was Janelle?

Both questions were soon answered. Janelle suddenly appeared in a black leotard, a white tutu, white tights, and . . . ballet shoes? The fact that she willingly wore shoes short of facing gunpoint was a surprise; the fact that they were ballet shoes was another one. Then his mind went back to a sight he saw a long time ago; a picture of Janelle in full ballet regalia making a tremendous leap, along with a pair of ballet shoes [The Iron Foot, in the bookshelf – Mongoose]. The same shoes and outfit that she was wearing at this very moment. The body that wore it was bigger, more muscular, but it still fit.

Then he was soon transfixed by every leap, spin, pose and gesture that she had made during her performance. As an audience of one, he was in awe. He felt very privileged to see it.

And then it was over, and Benjamin found himself rising to his feet, clapping loudly. Janelle took a bow, partly to hide the flushing of her cheeks.

“That was beautiful, honey!” Benjamin exclaimed. “When, how have you learned to dance like that?”

Janelle sat on the floor in front of him, unlacing her ballet shoes as she did so.

She began, “Ever since I was a child, my dream was to dance for the New York City Ballet . . .

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If you enjoyed this story, perhaps you may want to read other tales from the Barefoot Heroines collection. There are a variety of stories to choose from. They can be found at http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/mongoose/index.htm.

For suggestions, comments, or story ideas, email the author at shrewsberry@juno.com.

©2013, Barefoot Heroines, Inc.