A Question of Fate
By Submissive Romantic, submissiveromanticone at gmail dot com
Sometimes no matter what we do, things have a way of working out for the best.


edited by michael-leonard

Prologue:

David Richardson slammed his locker door shut; he had just enough time to get
to his homeroom before the late bell sounded. Not that he was really worried;
after all, it was the last full day of the school year. They just had three
half-days next week and school would be over. He turned and took one step down
the hall before he was practically bowled over by his neighbor and best
friend, Awilda Colone.

"David, I'm glad I caught you. Can you do me a huge favor? The guy from my
father's dojo who was supposed to help me with my demonstration this afternoon
called me this morning to tell me he can't make it today."

"Hi to you to," he said with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "What
do I have to do?"

"It's simple; you just have to follow my instructions and try to attack me
while I show the girls how to protect themselves."

"No way; the last time I fought you I ended up with my arm in a sling for two
weeks and walked around school with sun glasses trying to hide my black eye.
Do you know how embarrassed I was having to tell everyone that you beat me
up?"

"Oh stop bellyaching, that was years ago; I said I was sorry didn't I.
Besides, it was your own fault. If you had just done what I asked you to do, I
wouldn't have been so mad at you and taken you up on your challenge."

"When I said 'make me' I didn't mean it literally."

"Was it really so awful kissing me?"

"No, but back then you were just 'Willie', my friend from next door. I didn't
think of you as a girl, and I certainly didn't realize how tough you were."

"Please, won't you help me; I can't do this by myself? I promise I won't hurt
you. Besides, this time you might enjoy it."

"Okay, okay, I'll do it."

"Great! Here's your pass getting you out of your seventh period class. I'll
meet you in the gym. All you'll need to wear is your gym shorts and shirt, no
socks or sneakers. Thank you for doing this David; I really appreciate it."

She was about to head back from where she came, hesitated, and then taking his
head in both of her hands, she planted a toe curling kiss right on his mouth.
She ended the kiss and ran down the hall before he opened his eyes.

The rest of the day seemed to drag by slower than normal. After his sixth
period class he dropped his books off at his locker, and gave his pass to his
teacher, who was more than glad to have one less student in her stifling hot
classroom. He practically ran down the hall to the entrance to the boys' side
of the gym and into the locker room and was surprised to find the locker room
empty. There was normally a gym class before his eight period gym class; where
were they?

He retrieved his basket of gym clothes from the cage, found his usual locker,
and began to strip. He dressed like he always did for gym, his jock, under his
shorts and his gym shirt. He left his sneakers and socks in his locker, placed
his basket on top of the locker and went in search of Willie.

He didn't have long to wait. Five minutes later she came out of the girls'
locker room, dressed in her "gi" which reminded David of a white bathrobe and
a matching pair of white baggy pants. What caught his attention was the black
cloth belt holding the robe in place at her waist. He knew what that
signified; that she was an expert at her particular form of martial art,
Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.

As she walked confidently across the gym floor to the large matted area
centered in front of the two sets of bleachers, he couldn't help but admire
her. She was beautiful: about five feet eight inches tall, solidly built, with
long dark brown hair pulled tightly into a pony tail. Her expression always
gave the impression that she was in deep concentration until she smiled, then
her whole face seemed to glow. Thanks to her Puerto Rican background, her skin
was dark; as if she had a perpetual tan.

David was about five feet six inches tall. He was what the clothing industry
called husky. Not that he was sloppy fat; he was just big all over. He was a
good, but not great, athlete. He played football as a middle linebacker;
basketball, a guard with a good outside shot; and baseball, a right-handed
pitcher and right fielder because of his strong throwing arm. He could throw a
softball through the goal posts of their football field and would have been
their quarterback if he was quicker.

"Willie, remember your promise; don't hurt me especially in front of all the
kids. By the way, where are the gym classes that are supposed to be here now?"

"Didn't you hear the announcement this morning? Everyone who has gym seventh
period today, was to report to their eighth period class now and then come to
the gym for the demonstration."

"Great! Now about two hundred kids will get to watch me get my ass kicked by a
girl. Maybe they'll forget about it by Monday."

"I hope not. This is great publicity for my Father's Dojo. He hopes it will
bring in some extra students for his summer classes. You should think about
joining; then I could kick your ass on a regular basis," she said with a gleam
in her eye.

"We'll see."

"I've got a few props to help with the demo," she said as she pulled out a
rubber knife and a plastic gun from her gym bag. These will be yours. When I
tell you I want you to threaten me with the knife or the gun. I'll show them
how to disarm a mugger with a weapon; first, a couple of times in slow motion
and then at full speed. Then we'll simulate a rape attack and a purse
snatcher. And if we still have some time left, I'll show them some advanced
moves I've been practicing."

David didn't like the sound of this, but he kept his concerns to himself. Soon
the bell sounded ending the seventh period and kids began filing into the gym,
the girls on one side and the boys on the other, taking seats in the
bleachers, and both gym teachers instructed their combined classes to fill in
all available space. When the bell rang starting the eighth period Awilda
began with a speech.

"Welcome, most of you know me and my assistant, but for those who don't, my
name is Awilda Colone and I represent the Colone School of Self Defense. I
will be demonstrating various techniques of defense against would-be muggers,
rapists and boys who don't understand the meaning of the word 'no.'" She
paused while the both sides of the bleachers reacted to her last statement. "I
will be assisted today by David Richardson, a good friend of mine who
volunteered to help me. Let's give David a nice hand."

After a polite smattering of applause Awilda began her demonstration.

"The most important thing that you, a potential victim, must do is to set
boundaries for yourself. If you are alone at night and you see someone
approaching you, you don't know what their intentions are until you set
boundaries.

"Say something like, 'Stop, don't come any closer, stop.' If he continues to
approach you, you know he has bad intensions and you can react accordingly.
You also have to judge what level of violence you should use in any situation.
If you are at a party and one of your classmates has a little too much to
drink and starts making unwanted advances towards you, you really don't want
to gouge his eye out or permanently disable him. You just want to get control
of the situation.

"David move over there and start walking towards me."

"Stop, don't come any closer, stop," she said in her authoritative voice.
Then, addressing the audience: "Notice I'm backing away from him, but I'm also
taking up a defensive stance. If he continues to approach me I know he has bad
intensions. If he takes out a piece of paper and asks for directions. I tell
him to stop, drop the paper, and back away. When he is safe distance away, I
check the paper to determine its validity; if it's legitimate, I tell him to
keep his distance and help him if you can. If it's just a ploy I prepare to
defend myself and make as much noise as possible. Attackers don't like
audiences."

"I've determined David is up to no good. David, reach out with one hand to try
to choke me; and let's pretend that I've retreated as far as I can go and that
my back is against a wall. Notice how he's grabbed my throat with his right
hand; his thumb is the weak point in this grip. I'm going to grab his wrist
with my left hand, pivot on my left foot, and strike his forearm with my right
hand. His hand will be forced off my neck and I can either continue my pivot
and flee, or twist his wrist and force him to his knees and attack him with my
feet."

She demonstrated the technique in slow-motion. "Watch again: grab the wrist,
pivot, strike the forearm, turn and run... or again, grab the wrist, pivot,
strike the forearm, twist the wrist and kick, either the face or the groin.
One more time; now, at full speed."

Even knowing what she was going to do, David was helpless to stop her. He felt
her grab his wrist, strike his forearm with such force that he knew he'd have
a bruise by morning, felt his arm being twisted, forcing him to his knees, and
her foot appearing suddenly within an inch of his face.

While noting the crowd now seemed to be a little more attentive than before,
especially the girls, she helped him to his feet and continued.

"In this scenario an attacker has come up behind you. He throws his arms
around you and has your arms trapped in a bear hug. Some people will try to
use their head as a weapon against the attacker's face. That works sometimes,
but only if the attacker is approximately the same height as you. If he's
taller than you, you hit him in the chest, if he's shorter than you; you hit
him in the forehead and probably hurt yourself more than you hurt him. What I
want you to do is bring your arms together in front of you at the same time
that you bend forward. Grab his ankle and step to the side and backward and
pull the leg up. I guarantee he will lose his balance and fall over backwards.
Now grab hold of both feet and spread his legs open. You can either stomp his
stomach or his groin. Do it again and again until he is incapacitated and then
run. He won't be getting up anytime soon. David, if you please."

She ran through it twice in slow motion. On the third try at normal speed,
David held her for a fraction of a second, the next thing he knew he fell hard
onto his back, his feet firmly in her grip and her foot resting squarely on
his crotch. She looked down on him, gave him a quick wink, and blew him a
kiss.

"Here is a variation of this counter attack." Before he could respond, he felt
her leg shift slightly around his and felt his leg being trapped by her body
as she moved forward.

"Notice I have his leg totally under control and yet both my hands are free. I
can lean forward and strike him at will and at the same time dislocate or
break his leg."

Suddenly David began to feel unbearable pain in his knee joint, his hands
instinctively moving to support his knee as Awilda's fist repeatedly stopped
inches from his face.

"I give, I give! Please stop," he screamed.

Aware of the low murmur emanating from the boys side of the gym, and the
mesmerized expressions on the faces of the girls, Awilda felt her confidence
growing. After she helped him to his feet, Awilda went through five other
scenarios. Each one escalating the violence used to subdue the attacker. In
the final one David was sitting on her stomach with a knife at her throat. The
counter attack came so quickly that David never saw it coming. Before he could
force the rubber knife onto her throat, he felt his knife hand being forced up
and to his left. At the same time her right leg came up under his left arm-pit
and her left leg pushed his hip backwards and then continued over his
shoulder. Suddenly he felt excruciating pain in his right elbow as her legs
pushed down on his body, her hips moved upward as she pulled his knife hand
down onto her chest.

"This is called an arm bar. It is extremely painful and can result in
permanent injury," she said as she released his arm.

Once again she helped a very weary David to his feet.

"That's nearly the end of my demonstration for today. Remember in today's
world everyone needs to be able to defend themselves, especially you ladies
out there. We at the Colone School of Self Defense can teach you to take care
of yourself in any situation. Please take a flyer on your way out.

"Now I want to show you two of the more advanced moves we teach at the school.
David, please try to attack me, anyway you wish." David's response was a
headlong charge to try to take her off of her feet. As he made contact with
her very muscular body he felt her arms close around him like a giant python.
Her arms and legs seemed to be everywhere at once, making him collapse to the
ground and squeezing him into a tighter and tighter ball, his arms and legs
useless to defend against her. Out of eyesight of the audience, Awilda was
slowly manipulating his lower body until she could feel his growing erection
against her leg. She gazed deeply into his eyes and blew him a kiss and she
felt it begin to twitch. Being sexually active herself, she knew what was
happening. She didn't think that David realized what had happened; his senses
were already on overload trying to escape her deadly embrace.

After a minute she turned to the audience, "Do you think I should let him go
or hold him for a while longer?" Half the boys and nearly all of girls shouted
out to hold him. "You people are mean."

She helped David back to his feet. It was a good thing that his gym shorts
were black because there was a small wet spot near his crotch. Not wishing to
cause him any more embarrassment than she already had, she announced she had
one final move to show them. She turned David sideways until he was facing her
and then pulled on his right arm as she fell backwards, throwing her right leg
over his head and her left leg against his chest and twisted her body taking
David off of his feet doing a somersault in mid-air before ending up flat on
his back with Awilda's heel resting on the tip of his nose. A collective gasp
escaped from most of the crowd.

"Let's give David a nice round of applause for being such a good sport and
taking so much abuse."

As the crowd, especially the girls, showed their appreciation for both of
their efforts, Awilda shouted, "Thank you, thank you; I hope we'll be seeing
you all this summer at the Colone School of Self Defense."

Just then the bell rang and the crowd of students filed slowly out of the gym.

Awilda helped a dazed David onto his feet and gave him a bone-crushing hug.

"Thank you David. I apologize if I hurt you today; it wasn't intentional I
assure you. I just wanted to help my Dad in any way that I can. Plus, I really
believe that more people, especially the girls, need to feel more in control
of their lives, especially when it comes to the boys they interact with. Why
don't you go on in and take a long, hot shower. It will help with the
soreness. I'll do the same and then wait for you and we can walk home
together."

David made his way to the boys' locker room, took off his shirt and shorts,
and was in the process of removing his jock strap when he felt the slimy
substance that coated the inside. He wasn't sure what it was; he was not yet
sexually active and had not even experimented with masturbation yet. He knew
one thing, he had a lot of reading to do; or maybe he could have a long talk
with Willie.

Neither Willie nor David could have known that soon they would be separated by
nearly thirteen hundred miles, seemingly never to meet each other again.

Chapter 1

Less than a week later, David was in the back seat of the family car heading
south on Interstate 95. He, his Mother and Father were heading to Orlando,
Florida and Walt Disney World for a week's vacation in celebration of his
graduation from junior high school; next year he would be attending high
school. Little did he know, and his parents wouldn't be telling him until
after their stay at Disney World, that they were moving to Boca Raton,
Florida. Mr. Richardson had been asked to begin preparations for a new product
line of IBM computers. It meant a vice presidency for him and a lot more money
if the project was a success.

David would be attending the Boca Raton Christian School, a small private
school with classes from K through 12 and a 100% acceptance rate into college
upon graduation. Of course, it meant that he'd be leaving behind all of his
friends and classmates, many who he had known from the first day of school.
One person he would especially miss was his best friend Willie.

"How could he just leave me without even saying good bye," she cried as the
tears cascaded down her cheeks. "I thought he really liked me, I thought he
really cared."

"Awilda, he didn't know; his parents didn't tell him before they left. In
fact, I'm not even sure he knows now. His mother said to me that they didn't
plan on telling him until they left Disney World. She begged me not to tell
you until after they left. His father was especially insistent about that.
They wanted him to enjoy their vacation and knew he would be upset the whole
time if he found out beforehand. If the moving van hadn't come this morning, I
probably wouldn't have told you until next week. I'm sorry, but that's the way
it had to be. Maybe he'll write to you when they finally find a place in Boca
Raton, Florida.

Awilda spent much of her time during that first summer at her father's dojo.
She improved her skills to the point that she qualified as a second degree
Black Belt and began taking lessons in Taekwondo, a Korean form of Martial
Arts. When she began school in September, she spent the first several days
defending "her David's" honor.

"No, he did not change schools because he was afraid of me. His father was
transferred to Florida and they had to move to Boca Raton right after school
ended last year. No, I haven't heard from him, maybe he's just been too busy
to write. I'm sure I'll hear from him soon."

But she didn't hear from him, not a telephone call, not even a letter. It was
like he wanted to forget all about her.

In fact, David had written several letters to her. He had left the letters
with the other bill payments that his Father was mailing. What he didn't know
was that instead of mailing his letters, his Father, wanting David to make a
clean break from his past so he could devote all of his efforts towards the
future, had removed them and had fed them into the shredder at work. After
several months with no reply from Willie, David just assumed that she wanted
no part of him. Disappointed, he reluctantly, went on with his life.

Sadly, each missed the other's metamorphosis.

Awilda grew into her beauty gracefully. She grew nearly two and a half inches
in height and added twenty pounds of solid muscle to her already powerful
body. She became a dominant, self-assured young woman, eager to take on the
new challenges of a rapidly changing world. Not being a very good student, she
set her sights, not on going to college; instead her path in life would be cut
through the male dominated world of the United States Marine Corps.

David's changes were even more remarkable. It was like his body had been
storing energy in the form of fat, just waiting for the right moment. Seemly
overnight, he grew eight inches in height, while actually losing nearly ten
pounds. With his model-like good looks and his tall trim physique, he had no
trouble attracting members of the opposite sex. He had plenty of dates, but no
lasting or deep relationships. Instead, he spent much of his spare time
sitting with his Father; picking his brain, learning about how IBM worked, its
corporate culture, its proud history of innovation, and how best he could
prepare himself to join this global giant. He accomplished the first part of
his plan with his acceptance into the Stanford University's School of Computer
Science.

Chapter 2

Awilda's journey began first: a week after graduation she traveled to South
Carolina to begin her twelve weeks of boot camp. As their slogan suggests, you
don't join the Marines, you become one, and for recruits from east of the
Mississippi, Parris Island was where her first internal battles would begin.
Boot camp was broken into three phases. Phase one was the transition from a
civilian to a recruit and began at the Recruit Receiving station. There she
received her first military haircut and her initial gear issue, uniforms,
toiletries, and letter writing supplies. Over the next three weeks she was
subjected to full medical and dental screenings and her Initial Strength
Tests, which consisted of a mile and a half run, sit-ups and pull-ups all
designed to determine if a recruit was in shape to begin training. Awilda had
no problems passing these tests. She especially enjoyed, and excelled in, the
hand to hand combat training in the Marine Martial Arts training program. The
balance of the first three weeks she was taught the Marine Corps values of
honor, courage, and commitment and learning weapons handling.

After the first three weeks of training, the drill instructors get together
privately and stage a "friendly completion between the seven male battalions
and the one female battalion. Each battalion is represented by one recruit on
a "volunteer" basis. Awilda's DI approached her as they were walking back from
the 'confidence' course.

"Recruit; as I'm sure you've heard; this week-end is the battalion martial
arts tournament. In the past, we have never advanced past the first match; I
would like to win it this time. I think you give us the best chance we've ever
had. Can you handle it? Don't you want a chance to rub their macho male
attitudes into the dirt?

"Ma'am; nothing would please me more, ma'am!"

"Good; report to the pit at 0500 hours with the rest of your platoon."

______________________________

At 0500 Awilda stood with the rest of her platoon, along with the platoons
from the seven male battalions, around the pit, a section of the physical
training obstacle course, which was somewhat cushioned with woodchips and
shavings. Above them, strung between two structures, were several long ropes
which recruits were required to use to cross over the pit. One of the male
DI's began addressing the crowd.

"Recruits! This tournament was established to see if any of you learned
anything during your first week of hand-to-hand combat training. In a combat
situation there may be times that you will not have a weapon and will be
fighting for your life or you may be asked to stealthily take out a sentry so
your mission can succeed. That's when you'll truly appreciate the skills you
have been taught here.

"Each battalion is represented here. The names of the combatants have been
placed into my cover. In order to even the odds a little we will allow the
female combatant to fight in the first match. We will now draw the name of her
opponent.

"Recruit Colone and Recruit Davis into the pit. There is your enemy; go!"

Awilda stood toe-to-toe with her opponent as he tried various strikes, all of
which she easily parried. Stepping into him, she grabbed his arm, and with a
twist of her body, pulled him over her hip and followed him down to the
ground. The males were all cheering as Davis reversed his position and was
able to gain the top position. Her DI let out a small sigh as she assumed that
it was inevitable that her recruit would lose. None of the instructors seemed
to notice that Awilda had grabbed a hold of his t-shirt with her right hand
just below his right ear and had pulled him into her body. They were too busy
watching her using her legs to immobilize his body to notice that she was
forcing his neck down across her arm. It took less than five seconds for
Awilda to feel him suddenly go limp in her grasp. She gently rolled him off of
her onto his back and lifted his feet to increase the blood flow back into his
oxygen-deprived brain.

Her platoon cheered wildly as the rest of the crowd and the instructors stood
silently, shocked at the ease with which she had dispatched her foe. She
returned to her platoon and received congratulations from her DI.

"Well done, Recruit. Rest and enjoy the show."

Awilda watched intently as the next three matches took place, quietly
assessing each of the combatants, knowing that her next opponent would be
among the winners.

The four names of the winners were placed back in the cover, as the Senior DI
addressed the recruits.

"In a combat situation there is no such thing as a rest period! The next two
combatants are Recruit Apisa and Recruit Pavlak."

Both recruits were over six feet tall and weighed about two hundred pounds.
The match only lasted a couple of minutes and was a real slugfest, with each
of the recruits using strikes and kicks to try to disable his opponent. In the
end Apisa prevailed.

"Recruit Colone and Recruit Johnson; you're up!"

Both fighters moved out cautiously. Awilda had assessed Johnson correctly; he
had paid close attention in class and had learned his lessons well. He was
very good on offense, but appeared to have limited knowledge of defense, as
did most of the other recruits that had fought today. His strikes and kicks
hurt like hell but she was able eventually bring the match to the ground where
she was the most comfortable. When Johnson tried a left forearm to her head,
Awilda seized his arm, rolled to his left until she could get her legs over
his body and pulled back with all of her significant strength.

"I give, I give," screamed Johnson as she locked in the arm bar. She released
the pressure immediately, but took the opportunity to make a couple of quick
kicks with her heel stopping just short of his nose. There was no doubt as to
what would have been the outcome had he been an enemy soldier.

"Very good, Recruit Colone. Just remember, all of you: in combat, there is no
such thing as surrender! If you surrender to your opponent, it usually means
death. Recruit Apisa, Recruit Colone; for the title and couple of cases of
beer for your platoon for tonight."

A cheer erupted from both platoons.

Apisa and Colone circled each other looking for an opening. Apisa was smart
enough to realize that he was most likely to be at a disadvantage if she could
bring him to the ground. Her martial arts training and her overall
conditioning helped her mitigate his advantage in height and weight. She was
able to roll with his best punches and avoid or block his others. What he
didn't know of, and couldn't deal with, was her Taekwondo training. With each
minute that the match lasted she landed more and more devastating kicks to his
arms, shoulders and head; knocking him down several times. Finally, after a
particularly vicious spinning back kick to his chest he landed on his back.

Awilda allowed him to slowly get to his feet; clearly he was in no condition
to defend himself. Suddenly, Apisa's DI began screaming.

"Recruit Colone, finish him! Finish him; he's the enemy!"

"Sir; this Recruit cannot obey that order, Sir!"

Red-faced, the DI jumped into the pit. But before he could open his mouth
again, the Senior DI shouted, "Recruit Colone, why not?"

"Sir; he's not the enemy; he's my brother, Sir!"

"Good answer, Recruit."

Awilda's DI continued the dialog, "Recruit Colone, what if he was the enemy?"

Awilda turned, grabbed hold of Apisa's right arm and feigned three front
kicks, one to his groin, one to his chest and one to his face, each kick
stopping just short of its mark. The move was so quick that Apisa did not even
have time to flinch. Finally, with the same foot held high over his head she
suddenly brought the leg down, her heal stopping at the top of his head.

"Ma'am, he would have been dead five minutes ago."

"Good answer, Recruit."

The Senior DI shouted: "Winning platoon, you're dismissed back to the house;
the celebration is on me. Everyone else take a run through the 'confidence'
course and back to the house. Move it."

______________________________

Week four of boot camp was appropriately called 'Swim Week'. True to their
name, Marines must be able to survive in water. Awilda learned how to leap
into deep water, tread water, use issued equipment to stay afloat and to shed
heavy gear that could pull her under water. During this week all recruits took
their Martial Arts test.

Week five was an off week from training. Recruits worked at various jobs
around the island. Laundry was done, the buildings and the grounds were
cleaned, and supplies were delivered.

During weeks six and seven the recruits finally began to use their M-16 rifles
and live rounds. They worked on the rifle range, in various firing positions
and at different distances. Week seven ended with a 12-kilometer hike in full
combat gear.

Week eight was Basic Warrior Training, during which basic skills of combat
survival, marksmanship, land navigation, and how to maneuver under enemy fire
were drilled into each recruit.

Week nine was testing week; the recruits underwent practical application
evaluations. They also completed a combat fitness test and faced the
challenges of the Confidence Course one last time.

During week ten the testing continued. The week began with a physical fitness
test and a written exam before the final drill evaluation. Then came the final
test - the Crucible.

The Crucible is a fifty-four-hour field event that tests the recruits on the
knowledge, skills and values they have been taught throughout their training;
those who completed this final challenge were awarded their Eagle, Globe, and
Anchors, symbolizing their transformation from recruits to Marines.

Week eleven was actually two weeks of hell. Recruits got to spend quality time
with their DIs and hopefully gain more insight into what it truly meant to be
a United States Marine. The final week was for the new Marines to complete
final administrative tasks in preparation for their graduation ceremony. It
was also time to sit with their DI one last time.

Awilda had her meeting with her DI. She sat in her office as the instructor
glanced through her file.

"Colone, you've done exceptionally well. You've scored exceptional in all
forms of combat training; your physical fitness and marksmanship scores are
near the top of this recruit class, male and female. I would be proud to fight
alongside you in any combat situation. Unfortunately, at this time, it is not
permitted to assign females to combat brigades. Have you given any thought as
to which military occupation specialty school you would like to be assigned?

"Ma'am, I'm thinking that once I get out of service, I'd like to get into law
enforcement at some level."

"Wonderful, after your time at Camp Lejeune for additional combat training,
I'm going to recommend that you be sent to USMC Military Police Academy at
Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. Good luck, I know you'll do well."

Chapter 3

David's journey began in sunny California and wasn't anywhere near as
stressful as Awilda's. College life came easy for David. Most of his classes
revolved around something he loved, computers. The more he learned, the more
he wanted to learn. He was fascinated with the history and the progression of
computers into the human experience. He wanted to be part of the next great
leap in computer technology.

Although his passion was computers, David wasn't a nerd in the stereotypical
sense. He had a social life as well. At six feet two inches tall and a trim
one hundred and seventy-five pounds, with boyish good looks, he attracted more
than his share of attractive co-eds. He wasn't a virgin, but his relationships
never seemed to last more than a month or so; and that was beginning to bother
him. So much so that, after confiding about his concerns with his parents, he
began seeing a psychiatrist.

Near the end of his senior year, he began hearing rumors about a couple of
guys who formed a computer company in Washington State. They were primarily a
software company. There was also another company just getting off the ground
at the same time. Three guys had built what they called a "personal computer"
in the garage of one of the founders right near Stanford, and had received
some initial funding to begin manufacturing. These were just two of the
companies that were getting into the "microcomputer business." What intrigued
him the most about these two in particular was that they were basically
start-ups; owned by guys his own age, willing to take a chance competing
against giants like IBM, Honeywell, and AT&T.

A phone call to his father proved to be a pivotal point in his life. That day,
he had interviewed with several companies that had come to Stanford to
interview prospective employees. One of them was a company called Microsoft.
With his father well-established with IBM, it was just assumed that David
would join his father at the Boca Raton facility.

David, after exchanging greetings and the usual questions and answers about
how school was going, he informed his father about his interviews. He dreaded
the anticipated response to his next statement, that if he was offered a
position with any of the companies that he would hope it would be Microsoft.

After a long period of silence, his father began to speak,

"David, I think that that would be a smart move on your part. IBM would be the
safe choice and I can't tell you how proud I would be having you here with me.
But this world is changing faster than we can react to it. IBM is like an
aircraft carrier trying to make a U-turn in the ocean. It takes forever to
make a decision around here. Oh sure, I make some of the decisions about the
day to day issues, but anything of importance must go back to New York.

"I've met with both of them about four years ago; I personally liked Paul the
best, but the true genius and visionary of the company is Gates. Keep this
under your hat for now, but we just signed a contract with the company to work
with us on a new operating system called OS/2 for our new line of mini
computers. With your knowledge of UNIX and the system 34, I believe you'll be
a perfect fit for them.

"If they do make you an offer, don't be surprised if they ask you to take part
of your compensation in company stock. They are just beginning to make some
money with the sale of one of their first products, but they don't have a lot
of working capital. By paying you partially with options for their stock they
can conserve their much-needed operating cash. If they give you an option take
as much equity as you can get. It will strap you now, but in a few years,
you'll see, it will be well worth it."

The offer came a week later. Just as his father predicted, it included an
option where the minimum portion of compensation paid in the form of stock
options was ten percent. This percentage could be increased to a maximum of
fifty percent, which was what David optioned for.

As graduation day approached, David was busy preparing for his move to
Bellevue, Washington. He had little in the way of furniture and only a modest
amount of personal items and clothing. All would fit into his 1963 Volkswagen
Beetle. One thing he almost forgot to do was cancel his recurring Tuesday
evening session with his therapist, Dr. Judith Crane.

"Hello Dr. Crane, this is David Richardson. I'm sorry but I'm going to have to
cancel my appointment for next Tuesday. You see, I'm going to be relocating to
Washington after graduation."

After a moment of silence, Dr. Crane responded,

"I'm sorry to hear that, David; I think we were beginning to make some real
progress. I usually like to have a final session with all my patients. Do you
think it would be possible for you to stop in my office on Saturday, say 8:00
AM?"

"That will be fine. I can stop there on my way to the freeway."

"Great, see you then."

_________________________

Bright and early Saturday morning, David cleaned out his dorm room, and threw
the balance of his things into the back seat of his VW. He pulled into the
deserted parking lot of his doctor's building with five minutes to spare. When
he reached the front door he noticed that it was propped open with a small
rock.

There was also a note on the door:

'David, please remove rock and allow door to lock behind you.'

The doctor's outer office door was locked; he was just about to knock when he
saw her come out of her office and cross the small reception area to let him
in.

"David, so glad you could make it. Go into the office and take your usual seat
on the lounge; I'll be there momentarily."

When she entered her office, she found him reclining on her leather lounge,
his shoes removed and sitting just under the lounge. 'What a good and obedient
patient.' she thought.

"David, I know you've got a long drive ahead of you, so we'll dispense with
our usual routine. If you don't mind I'd like to try a little hypnotism, it
will speed the process along so you can get on your way."

It only took a couple of minutes before she had him in a deep sleep....

"When I count to three you will be completely awake. David, one, you're coming
out of your trance, two, you're opening your eyes and three, you are
completely awake and you feel absolutely great."

David really did feel great, he felt like he had just gotten a full night's
sleep; but something was wrong. Why was he laying the wrong way on the lounge
and why were his arms fastened to the legs of the lounge and why were his legs
where his head should be, and finally, why was he naked?

Judith Crane stood behind him just out of his line of vision. She studied her
patient, admiring his lean physique and his still flaccid cock. She knew that
this was an unorthodox form of treatment, and she could loose her medical
license if he ever initiated a complaint against her; but he had to realize
what he was if he was ever going to be in a meaningful relationship with a
woman. She had run out of time and couldn't be sure that he would continue
therapy in Washington or that if he did, that his therapist would come to the
same conclusion that she had.

"Don't bother struggling or calling out for help. It's Saturday, everyone is
closed for the three-day weekend so there is no one to hear you," she calmly
said as she walked around her desk also completely unclothed.

David couldn't help but admire her naked body. She was tall, approximately his
size, with a very athletic body. He had sometimes fantasized what she would
look like naked. His fantasies weren't even close to this. Her breasts, though
not large, were perfectly suited for her body, and sat high on her chest with
no visible sag at all. Based upon her diplomas on the wall he had determined
that she was about thirty years of age, but could easily pass for someone in
her early twenties. When she had smiled her face seemed to light up; she
wasn't smiling now.

When she reached the side of the lounge, the place where she usually sat with
her long sleek legs crossed with a pad in her lap taking notes, she swung her
leg over his body, straddling his chest, and sat on his stomach.

David began to squirm under her, moving his head from side to side while he
called out for help. With a sharp slap on the cheek she got his complete
attention.

"Quiet! We can do this the easy way. Or if you continue to struggle, I can,
and will, use whatever methods necessary to make you see the truth about
yourself." Her voice softened as she continued: "David, when you came to me
over a year ago, you told me that you were having problems interacting with
the females that you were dating. After a while, I determined that there was
nothing really wrong with you or the girls that you were dating. You were just
picking the wrong type. I was able to determine that what you are, is a
submissive; a man who is not completely happy or comfortable in a relationship
unless you are being dominated by your female partner.

"I know I'm right because I married a submissive. We got married while I was
still an undergrad; and every night I come home I find him on his knees,
naked, waiting for me. Maybe, that's a little extreme, but I know he's happy
being a stay-at-home house-husband, content to allow me to make all of his
decisions for him.

"What we are going to do now is begin your training. I've got all day. Shall
we begin?

"The first thing you must understand is that I'm in charge. I can cause you
extreme pain if I choose to..." Another slap, hard across his face, reinforced
her statement.

"Or bring you to heights of pleasure that I'm sure you have never experienced
before."

Before he realized what was happening, she slid her body seductively up along
his chest until her pussy was just out of reach of his tongue.

"I want you to get busy. My pleasure is the only thing that matters; get that
tongue working and don't stop until I tell you."

David had never really done this before; oral sex was not really his thing,
especially having a woman using his face for her pleasure. At first he
resisted, and then she dropped down over his mouth and pinched his nose shut.

"If you ever want to breathe again, I suggest you get that tongue of yours
busy."

Soon, she felt movement and, as a reward, released his nose.

"That's it, that's it ... oh, you're a good pussy licker."

She started grinding herself all over his face. Soon there was a definite
sheen to his face.

"Yes... that's so good! Here it comes, get it all."

Fluid seemed to gush out of her, into his mouth, up his nose and into his
eyes. Just when he thought he might be drowning, she eased back off of his
face allowing him to breathe once again. After several minutes, she regained
her composure and once again slid over his face.

"That was so good, David. You have the makings of a great pussy licker. Let's
go for round two; this time I want you to suck on my clit."

Before he could protest, she grabbed two handfuls of his hair and pulled his
head up until her extended clit was forced into his mouth.

"I want to feel that tongue of yours. If I don't cum in two minutes, I'll be
forced to take more drastic actions."

David attacked her clit in a desperate race against time. He didn't know what
this crazy woman meant by more drastic actions, but he was sure he didn't want
to find out. It felt like only moments later, his head was suddenly released
and his face was once again bathed in her juices.

That orgasm had drained her, literally and figuratively. Had she been home
with her husband, she would have been more than willing to take a little nap.
But her work here was not yet complete.

She stood, still looking down into his eyes, but not seeing what she wanted to
see. Like a wild stallion in the old west, his spirit had not yet been broken.

'Time for more drastic measures,' she thought.

Shifting her weight to one foot, she swung her leg over him and then turned
facing his feet as she once again straddled his body.

"Now I want you to kiss my ass."

She lowered herself so that her solid butt cheeks hung over his lips. Giving
him a measure of false hope, she shifted her ass slightly until, first one
cheek and then the other, touched his lips. When he finally got the idea of
what she wanted, he puckered up and planted a kiss on each cheek as it was
presented to him.

"That was very nice, but not exactly what I had in mind," she said as she
centered herself over his face, spread her cheeks, and dropped down directly
on his mouth. "I said kiss my ass!"

If she could have looked into his eyes she would have seen the sheer horror
that he was experiencing. Instead, after several moments of hesitation on his
part, she decided to up the ante.

"Nope, that's still not it. I think I want to feel that tongue of yours up
into my ass."

When he didn't immediately comply, she reached down and gave each of his male
nipples a hard pinch and twist. Suddenly she became aware of two things at
once. The first was the extraordinary feeling of his tongue penetrating her
anus; the other, the impact of streams of cum arching from his very erect
pulsating cock again and again until it was dripping down her breasts and
covering her stomach.

She remained on his face for a few moments longer; savoring her victory, then
stood and reversed her position once again. She had one more demand of him,
which she felt would reinforce the lesson he had been taught today.

"How dare you cum without my permission! Look at me, I'm a mess," she yelled
as she slowly lowered her upper body closer and closer to his face. "Clean
me," was all she said.

There was no hint of hesitation on his part as he licked each area that he had
soiled until she was satisfied that he had gotten it all.

Standing once again she posed one final question to him: "What are you?"

"I am a submissive."

"True, but not in everything or with everyone; only with women with whom you
wish to have a lasting relationship. You have to understand that. It's what
you need to be truly happy."

She calmly walked behind her desk, retrieved her clothing, and got dressed.
Then she approached him.

"I'm going to release you now. David, I want you to be aware that I've been
taking martial arts training since I graduated from high school, and I have no
doubt that I could do serious damage to that handsome face of yours if you are
foolish enough to attack me. Also, I would recommend that you not complain to
the State Board of Psychiatry about this session. I've already added to your
file descriptions of your various fantasies involving dominant women that we
have discussed in our sessions. I'll just tell them that you have confused
fantasy and reality and you will only succeed in embarrassing yourself. I
assure you that I've done this for your own good and that someday you will
thank me for it."

She released his bonds and pointed to his clothing, neatly folded on a table
next to her office door. When he was dressed she handed him a bottle of water,
walked him out of her office, and unlocked the door opening into the hall way.

"The bathrooms are unlocked and down the hall to the right. Good luck David, I
hope you find who you're looking for in Washington."

____________________________

Hours later as he drove north toward Bellevue, he pondered everything that had
happened to him earlier in the day. He would never have thought that he could
become so sexually stimulated by being so brutally dominated by a woman. He
could draw only one conclusion: she was right; he was a submissive. He didn't
know why the memory popped into his conscious mind, but suddenly, he was back
in junior high school all those years ago, in the grasp of his good friend in
front of all those kids and he finally understood.

In his mind, David could only cry softly, 'Willie, where are you?'

Chapter 4

At that very moment, Awilda was in a gym in Missouri teaching a class of
fellow Marines the fine art of subduing an unruly and uncooperative
perpetrator without killing him. She had been teaching the course for the last
two and a half years and had seen more Military Police candidates than she
could count. Today's class had a significant meaning for her. It was going to
be her last. On Monday she would be leaving active duty. She still had a
four-year commitment to the Marine reserves to fulfill, but she would be doing
that in sunny southern California.

Awilda had applied for, and had been hired as, instructor of martial arts
training at the Los Angeles Policy Academy. Once she completed several courses
necessary to transition between the Military Police and its civilian
counterpart, she was sworn in as a member of the City of Los Angeles Police
Force, and was stationed at the Police Academy. Awilda was responsible for the
training of not only each class of new recruits, but also, for all officers
required to take eight hours of defensive tactics training every two years.
The LAPD alone numbered over 9,000 officers. She started each new group of
trainees with the same speech.

"In police work, the thing you do the least - fire your weapons in a deadly
force situation - is the thing you train for the most; the thing you do the
most - hands-on in a use of force situation - is the thing you train for the
least. What is even crazier is that most experts know that defensive tactics
is a perishable skill; that is: if you don't use it or practice it, you lose
it. So I encourage you to get here as often as you can, or better yet, seek
outside self-defense training to augment your training here.

"I will be teaching you the very basics of several disciplines, Brazilian
Jiu-jitsu, Judo, and Krav Maga. The first two are primarily sports with rules,
they involve mostly seeking to disable your opponent and get him to submit. In
a street fight, how often do you ever hear a perp say 'I give up'? In the real
world the fight is not over until you have your threat in handcuffs or under
control with multiple officers assisting you. Krav Maga started as a military
self-defense system in Israel, a pretty tough neighborhood. It is the art of
learning how to protect your-self in a world with no rules - a street fight.
The creed is not to be a canon, but to be more like a machine gun. You attack
until there is no longer a threat."

________________________

Six months later, she was teaching a class of veteran officers who were
fulfilling their bi-annual defensive tactics instruction requirements, when a
tall, extremely good-looking, and athletically built officer walked into the
class. He crossed the gym floor with an air of confidence and cockiness.

"Sorry I'm late, I had a late night."

"What's your name, officer?"

"Detective Chad Johnson," he replied with a hint of an attitude.

"Okay, Detective, you're with me. We're practicing take-downs to
immobilization."

The class resumed; each of the pairs of officers faced off against one
another. Chad turned to Awilda; he was about five inches taller and probably
outweighed her by at least forty pounds. He tried to overpower her with little
finesse as he grabbed an arm and shoulder in an attempt for a hip toss. Before
he knew what was happening, he found himself flat on his face with Awilda
sitting on his back, his one arm behind his back being forced painfully
towards his head, while the other arm was trapped, useless, by her leg. Awilda
leaned over and whispered into his ear,

"You underestimated your opponent, Detective. You looked upon me as an
inferior, unworthy of your best effort. This is the result. Don't ever be late
for my class again."

For the rest of the two-hour class, whenever they paired off for practice, she
always made him work exceptionally hard and by the end of the class he was
soaked in sweat and had lost that condescending attitude.

"I was wondering," he said. "What time do you get off duty?"

"Actually, this is my last class for today. What do you have in mind?"

"I'd like to take you to dinner, if you're available. Sort of an apology to
make up for my being late."

"And for your attitude?"

"That, too."

"Okay, I'll meet you in the lobby after I shower and change into my civvies."

That was the beginning of a whirlwind romance. Within three months, they were
married and living in his home in one of the more desirable sections of the
city.

A police detective really doesn't have a set schedule. They are basically on
call 24/7 and Chad, being on the Narcotics Taskforce, was never home. Awilda's
schedule was basically an eight-hour day, five days a week. The only variation
was starting times, which varied so that officers could choose the time slots
that worked out best for them.

This put a certain amount of strain on their relationship, along with the fact
that at the age of forty, Chad was nearly fifteen years older than Awilda.
There were times when she couldn't control her Puerto Rican temper. Their
arguments were intense, but the makeup sex was fantastic.

It was during one of these strained periods, just after their third
anniversary, that Awilda found herself alone one evening. Chad was doing an
all-nighter: a stakeout of a suspected drug dealer. Awilda had come home to an
empty house; on the kitchen counter she found a file with their current Income
Tax returns and a note asking her to sign them. In the past she had always
just signed the returns and given them back to Chad. This time, however,
having nothing better to do, she began to read each page more carefully.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, wages was consistent with two earnings
with good jobs, interest and dividend income was not excessive. However, when
she got to the line for rental income, there was a substantial amount, almost
as much as their wages. Curious, she turned to Schedule E. There were multiple
pages, listing three properties per page. Each property showed substantial
rental income. These had to be multi-family rental properties and not just
2-family houses. When she scanned down the expenses on each property she
noticed something even more unusual; none of the properties had mortgage
interest listed. She continued deeper into the return, where she found a
depreciation schedule listing each of the properties. What concerned her the
most was that it showed that Chad had acquired at least one property per year
for the last six years. The costs of these properties were listed. The total
cost of all the properties, for land and buildings, was more than five million
dollars.

'Without mortgages, where was he getting the money?'

She sat there stunned. "Oh my god, he's dirty."

Awilda couldn't sleep that night. She didn't know what to do. How could she
confront him? She couldn't just ask him where the money was coming from. If
she was right, she would be putting herself in grave danger. If she was wrong,
she may be jeopardizing her marriage. At six o'clock the following morning,
she got up, showered, and got ready for work. Before leaving the house, she
left a note for Chad, hoping he was safe and that she would see him tonight
for dinner.

That evening over dinner, Chad discussed what had happened the previous night.

"What a cluster-fuck; first we wait half the night and no one's showing up.
Then, the buyer's car shows up at about 3:00 AM, and just sits there in front
of the garage door. Almost an hour later our target arrives. The buyer backs
up to let the guy pull into the warehouse and then follows him in. Before the
garage door shuts, we can hear shouting and guns are being drawn by both
sides.

"Just as we are approaching the warehouse from the front and the back, some
old guy walking a dog just appears, seemingly out of nowhere. We're caught out
in the open with our guns drawn. We try to get the guy out of the possible
line of fire. Instead of following orders, the guy starts shouting for the
police, and lets the dog loose. All the noise outside spooks the bad guys
inside, and before we can react, one of the cars crashes through the garage
door and is down the street and out of sight before we know it. In the
meantime, the back garage door opens and the target escapes through the back
lot, through a chain-link fence, down the next street and onto the freeway.

"When we finally get into the warehouse, all we've got is a small table, a
portable scale, and a trail of a white powder from the table and onto the
floor, where it abruptly stops. That must have been where the buyer's chemist
was testing what we assume was coke. I've got one officer being treated for
dog inflicted injuries, the body of a dead dog, shot by one of the uniforms,
an old man screaming that he's going to sue the city, and more likely than
not, a dead snitch."

It was not a good time to bring up the unexplained money.

_____________________

Less than a week later three men interrupted her class: her boss, the Deputy
Chief of Police, and a Police Department Chaplain. As the Chaplain walked
directly towards her, Awilda began to tremble. The Deputy Chief dismissed the
class, while her boss and the Chaplin led the distraught instructor to his
office.

As best as they could determine, Chad and his partner were following up on
leads that they had received pertaining to the botched drug bust earlier in
the week. They had just left their car and were approaching an abandoned
house, when a carload of gang members turned the corner and automatic gunfire
erupted from the vehicle, killing them both. The vehicle stopped in front of
the house, one guy walked up to each of the bodies and fired one more shot
into the head of each of the detectives, and then he pulled a plastic bag out
of his pocket and shoved its contents into Chad's mouth. In the meantime, two
guys opened the trunk of the car, dragged a body out, and dumped it in front
of the house.

"Officer Johnson, we think that the body was that of Chad's snitch. He had
been tortured; his tongue had been cut out, and was stuffed in Chad's mouth,
along with a twenty-dollar bill. We're sorry for your loss; he was a good man,
and a good officer."

The funeral was three days later. Awilda, dressed in black, sat in numbed
silence as senior officers gave eulogies to their fallen brother. She followed
the casket down the aisle of the church, her parents, who had flown there the
day before, by her side, along with his older parents. Outside the church were
hundreds of officers in their dress uniforms saluting a fallen brother. At the
cemetery, "Taps" was blown. She flinched with each firing of a three-gun
salute and was given the flag that had adorned his casket.

Later, after everyone had gone and she was alone, she sat in front of the
television, the news was on and the lead story was the funeral for a fallen
hero gunned down in the line of duty. What was she going to do? She had
requested, and had been granted, a leave of absence. Awilda looked around the
house; she couldn't stay there any longer. It held too many bad memories and
too much doubt.

In the morning, she sat at his desk, staring down at their copy of their tax
returns. She made a list of each of the rental properties and their addresses.
The return also showed a management expense allocated to each of the
properties.

'There must be a management company that handles all the day-to-day business
of the properties. He must have a report or a bill or something that lists
their contact information.'

She started opening the drawers of his desk, and then his file cabinet. She
found a folder titled "management copy reports," pulled it out, and was just
about to close the file drawer when she spied a gray metal box at the back of
the drawer. Forgetting the reports, she took the box back to the desk, and was
about to look for a key for the lock when she discovered that it was unlocked.

What she discovered in the box shook her to her core. In the box were stacks
of banded hundred-dollar bills. Each band indicated ten thousand dollars. Each
bundle was the same. There were three stacks with five bundles in each stack.

"Oh my god Chad, what were you into. Is this the real reason why you were
killed? Who did you work for? Did you double-cross someone? Were you working
both sides against each other?"

She had to know more. The first thing she did was drive to each of the
properties. Each was two-story, multi-family buildings. Some of the properties
had more than one building. Two of them were commercial buildings; one held a
large bank, the other was a medical building. All were relatively new,
well-maintained and in the better sections of the city.

Later, she stopped at the offices of the real estate management company. After
the proper condolences were given, they sat down behind closed doors and
reviewed the files on each of the properties. Each was purchased in Chad's
name and each had been purchased without a mortgage.

"Just last week, he had asked me to look for another property, something in
the neighborhood of three quarters of a million dollars. I guess that won't be
happening now?"

"No. I think I'm going to be moving out of state soon and I may need the
funds. I will, however, want you to continue managing the properties that he,
no I, own. I'll send you my address when I finally decide where I want to
live."

Back in her car, she rehashed the information that she had already obtained.

He wanted a property in the $750,000 range; I found $150,000 this morning.
Where is the rest of it, you bastard?

Moments later she thought she knew the answer; it had been on their tax
return. Only one bank had been listed on the Interest Income schedule, but the
total interest earned was around $10,000.

Awilda drove to her branch and asked to speak to the manager. Once inside his
office, he gave her a hug and gave her his deepest sympathies.

"What can I do for you, Awilda?"

"I'm trying to track down all of the accounts that were in either my name or
in Chad's name or jointly owned."

"Sure, no problem, I can do that, but in order to get access to the funds you
will have to give us a death certificate and a copy of the will. Sorry but
those are the banking laws."

"No problem; I don't need immediate access, I just want an idea of how much we
have and where it is. I'm afraid my husband didn't always share information
that he didn't think I needed.

As she spoke, he was typing information into his terminal. Soon a list of the
accounts was on a printer next to his desk.

"This shows three accounts; one in your name, and two in his name. There is
also a joint checking account and a safe deposit box." After several minutes
of searching he came back into his office. "According to our records you have
access to the safe deposit box upon presentation of your key."

"I don't have it with me; I'll have to come back tomorrow and check out the
box."

He gave her the listing of the accounts and the balances in each.

In the car, she removed the list. 'That accounts for about $120,000. Don't
tell me there's another half-million dollars in that safe deposit box!'

She drove home and after getting a beer from the fridge, she marched into his
office and searched all the drawers for his bank key. Finding nothing, she
walked to their bedroom and pulled apart all of his drawers, but her search
was in vain. Sitting on their bed, she tried to think of any areas that she
had failed to search. Suddenly a thought popped into her head. She practically
ran to the kitchen and there on the kitchen island was the yellow envelope
that she had been given after the funeral. Inside were his personal effects
that were on his body at the time of his death. She dumped the contents onto
the countertop. There was a watch, a gold cross and chain, his wedding ring,
his wallet and his car keys. Awilda picked up his car keys and there it was; a
small silver key with the number '306' stamped into the top.

The next morning, she presented her key and, after consulting with the branch
manager, the clerk went into the vault, removed box number 306, and brought it
to a secure room and left her.

She held her breath as she opened the rather large metal box. Inside were
stacks and stacks of cash, all similar to the ones she had found at home. She
placed them on the small table in stacks of five bundles each. When she was
finally finished she counted the stacks. There were twelve stacks in all,
$600,000.

In the bottom of the box was an envelope addressed to her. Her hands shook as
she opened the envelope and took out the papers it held.

'Babe, if you are reading this letter, then I am dead and I probably died in a
very violent manner. I'm so sorry I put you through this. I just couldn't
resist the money. Every day I saw or heard about all this money that these
scumbags were pulling in. You can't believe the amount of money that flows
through their hands! They have so much cash that they can't launder it fast
enough. Years before I met you, I was approached by a guy who dangled a year's
worth of my salary just to tip them off of any possible raids. I started doing
other jobs for them and soon I had more cash than I'd ever seen before. I knew
I had to get rid of the cash and started buying real estate.

Then you came into my life. I tried to think of a way to get out. It took a
long time to put together, and during that time I had to keep doing what I was
doing. I thought I had everything covered. The raid was going to go down, we
were going to nail his major customer, and then nail him. Instead, I assume I
failed and now you're stuck with everything.

Please don't turn me in. It will only cause a lot of embarrassment and pain
for you, your parents, my parents, and the department. More importantly, it
will put your life in danger. The first thing I want you to do is sell the
house and move out of state. Once the will is probated and the estate is
settled, I want you to change your name back to Colone. The real estate is
managed by a company. They handle everything for ten percent of the total
rent. They pay all the bills, handle all the problems and we get a check once
a quarter.

Move someplace nice; keep a low profile, live off the cash in this box and the
box in my file cabinet. Most importantly, find somebody who deserves to be
with a beautiful woman like you and live happily ever after.

Love always,

Chad'

After she wiped the tears from her eyes, she picked up the other paper that
was in the envelope. As she unfolded the paper a United States Passport fell
to the floor. It was issued to a name she never heard of, but the picture was
definitely Chad's. Taped to the back cover of the passport was a California
driver's license. Both were less than two years old.

'I guess these were for a quick escape if things got too uncomfortable for
him.'

She pulled a large cloth bag out of her pocket book and dumped the cash and
the documents into it, and then closed and locked the box and left it on the
table as she left the room.

It took a month to settle the estate and another month to sell her house. Her
furniture was placed in storage with a moving company with the understanding
that it would be delivered to her new home when she decided where that would
be.

Her resignation from the City of Los Angeles Police Department, because of her
emotional state due to the extreme trauma she had endured, was reluctantly
accepted.

After several weeks of investigation, Awilda decided that her new home would
be in the small town of Sedona, Arizona. So at the age of 26, she packed her
bags and headed northeast.

Chapter 5

The first couple of days at Microsoft were for orientation and project group
placement. While he was filling out the required employment paperwork, he
noted that it required him to use his full legal name, John David Richardson.
Later that day he was introduced to a number of people as John Richardson.
When Bill Gates himself, called him John, he knew better than to try to
correct him, so David was put to rest.

Over lunch he reminisced about how he became known as 'David.' It had been the
start of third grade, the first day of class. As the teacher called the roll
of students she noted an unusual number named John.

'Will all those of you named 'John' please come to my desk.'

When they were all assembled, she called out the name of the first 'John'
alphabetically by last name.

'In my class, you will be called John. OK, you can go back to your seat.'

The next child was named 'Johnny', the next 'Jack', and the next Jacky. Then
she got to him.

'It seems we've run out of variations of the name 'John.' Young man, what is
your middle name?'

'David', he replied.

'Then in my classroom, you shall be called 'David'.

After several weeks of confusion, the names became permanent and were embraced
by teachers, parents and, most importantly, the kids as well. He was David to
everyone except his father. So when the new family moved in next door, their
only child, Awilda, only knew him as David.

Years later, when he thought back to that third grade class; he thought he had
figured out why so many kids in his class were named John. He was born on
January 18, 1964, less than two months after the shocking assassination of
President John F. Kennedy. The Kennedys were held in high regard, especially
in the northeast, so it was only natural that parents would be partial to the
name of 'John' for their male children born soon after that sad event.

"Hi, I'm Michael; this is Tom, and this is Gary. You've been assigned to our
programming group."

John, who had been in the middle of his daydream, jumped with surprise.

"Hi, I'm John. Pleased to meet you."

"We're looking for one more person to share our apartment; it's the first
floor of a two-family about five miles from here. It has two bedrooms, a
kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. We have access to the basement for
storage and to do our laundry. The rent's dirt cheap as long as we take care
of taking out the garbage and keeping the hallway clean. The landlord is an
elderly woman who lives on the second floor. We help her out as much as we can
and she keeps our rent low; it's only $200 a month, split four ways that's
fifty a month. You can't beat that. What do you say, you in?"

"Sure. I just got into town last week; I'm staying at the Holiday Inn. That's
only a little more than I'm paying for two nights."

"Fantastic. By the way, we call it "the Frat House. Come with us, we'll show
you our work room."

Once in the room, Mike, the elected spokesman of the group, shut the door and
began to speak.

"I'm sure you're aware of our first operating system, MS-DOS, and its bastard
step-child PC-Dos. We're working on Windows, its successor. It's a graphical
extension for MS-DOS. I think we're almost ready to release the first version.
According to Bill, it will revolutionize computing as we know it. Here, take a
look."

He sat down at a machine that looked like an IBM PC but had no markings of any
kind. With a few key-strokes he opened his first program. After hitting an
icon in the corner, that screen shrunk but was still visible; now he opened a
second screen that looked like a spreadsheet program. Then he opened a third
screen, showing a graphic version of the numbers from the spreadsheet.

John was astonished. They had three programs running at the same time on one
machine.

"All three programs are running together, one over the other, sharing data."

When he tried to open a fourth screen, however, everything froze and an error
message appeared.

"Dammit. We don't think it's a software problem, we think we've just outgrown
the hardware. We've got the motherboard filled with all the RAM chips it will
hold; it's just not enough. Anyway, John, that's not your problem; you're
going to be working with Gary and Tom on the OS/2 project in conjunction with
IBM. Bill said you have some experience with the System 32."

"That's right, my father's with IBM in Boca. I've been writing code for the 32
for the last five years. I'm pretty good with UNIX."

"You're that Richardson; I should have known. I've talked with your father
several times on conference calls with Bill. You'll fit right in."

That evening, John picked up his personal items and checked out of the motel.
He moved into the "Frat House," sharing a bedroom with Mike. They each had a
twin bed placed in the corners furthest away from the door. There was just
enough room for one chest of drawers, two drawers for each. John realized
right away why they called it the 'frat house'. In the front windows, the guys
had placed a sign with three large Greek letters; Mu, Sigma, & Iota. It was a
play on the Microsoft Corporation name, substituting Incorporated for
corporation.

For the next four years John worked in the OS/2 environment. Once the
Microsoft version was released to original equipment manufacturers, he was
shifted to the team working on a 32-bit version of Windows based on the OS/2
code.

Of course there were other groups working on other projects throughout their
new headquarters in Redmond, Washington. Those projects were for developing
software to run on the existing operating systems, and, where no hardware
existed, developing the hardware and the software to run it.

Bill Gates was pushing harder and harder to develop software first. He always
preached that if you weren't considered by others to be on the cutting edge of
technology, they'd drop you like a hot potato and someone would step in to
take your place. He seemed to be everywhere at once: sitting in on meetings,
critiquing new ideas, making snide remarks about presenters who seemed to be
taking shortcuts, or who were not "pushing the envelope" far enough.

His programmers and systems people were working sixty-hour weeks, being fueled
by Twinkies, Coke, and marshmallow peeps. Something had to give; for John that
moment came in 1995. They had just released Windows 95. On the release date
August 24, 1995, the 'Frat Brothers' decided to celebrate at a local tavern.
None of them were real party animals, but that night they had indulged in a
liberal amount of beer. Gary, Tom, and Mike had taken Gary's new Firebird,
while John drove his trusty 1963 Volkswagen Beetle. The need for speed
overwhelmed common sense and the Firebird left the Beetle in the dust. Minutes
later, on the freeway, it crossed over onto the shoulder of the road traveling
too fast to make the bend, jumped the curb and struck a utility pole, killing
all the occupants. John had taken the back roads home and was unaware of the
accident until he was awakened the following morning by a Washington State
Trooper.

John was numb with shock; he stood in the empty apartment that they had all
shared for just over ten years. That was bad enough, come Monday morning he
was going to have to go back to work, to the room he spent nearly three
thousand hours a year in, every year, for the last ten years; the ghosts would
haunt him forever.

He just couldn't do it; he wouldn't do it. Monday morning, he would sit down
with HR and hand in his resignation. If he had to, he'd walk into Gates'
office and tell him himself.

Everyone in HR was very sympathetic, of course. After a half an hour of
filling out forms and going over how he wanted to handle his accumulated
vacation and personal time and his retirement and stock option plan, he was
asked to wait in the conference room across the hall. It wasn't long before
Bill entered the room and closed the door.

"John, I know what you must think of me, that I pushed you guys too hard. But
I had no choice. We were a young company. We had to strike fast in an industry
that was changing faster than anybody could imagine. We had to find a niche
and become the dominant player, because if we didn't, there were others who
would. We've been responsible for making nearly twelve thousand millionaires,
many of those still employed here. The company is now a large, mature company,
we're ready to branch out into other areas and take advantage of all the new
technologies being developed.

"John, I want to thank you for all your hard work and the sacrifices that you
made to help make us a success. I wish you could stay on, but I understand why
you can't. I just wish your friends were here to reap the rewards as well.
Please accept this check; it's a gift from me to you, it has nothing to do
with Microsoft and I've been assured by my tax people that it is not taxable
to you. Good luck and best wishes in the future in any venture that you get
involved in."

He abruptly stood up, offered his hand to John, and then left the room. Before
John left the room, he peaked into the envelope. He had to sit briefly to
compose himself; it was a bank check in the amount of one million dollars.

One of the women from HR came into the room and sat next to him. "What did you
say to him; I've never seen him so emotional before?"

John didn't reply, he just folded the envelope and put it in his pocket.

"What are your plans? Are you going to stay here in Washington?"

"No, I've got to get away from here. Maybe I'll move back to southern
California. I really want to get out of this area before the rainy season
begins."

"I know what you mean. I get so depressed here during the winter; it always
seems to be raining. My sister left here a couple of years ago. She moved to
Sedona, Arizona and just loves it. She said they have more sunny days than we
have cloudy ones and they even get on average about eighteen inches of snow a
year. You should look into it."

"Maybe I will; thanks. I think I'll go visit my folks in Florida for a couple
of weeks. I haven't seen them in years. I've got until the end of September to
vacate our apartment in Bellevue; then I'll make the decision."

________________________________________________

John surprised his folks, showing up on their doorstep with a bag in each
hand. His mother was overjoyed, while his father was somewhat skeptical as to
the motive behind his visit. One evening after his wife had retired for the
evening; he sat with John in their 'Florida Room'.

"John, what's going on? I can see something is bothering you, what is it?"

"Dad, I quit Microsoft."

After giving his father sufficient time to comprehend what he had just said,
he explained what had happened and how it had affected him.

"John, are you OK financially; do you need any money?"

"No Dad, I'm fine. In fact, thanks to your advice and a very generous gift
from Mr. Gates, I'm worth in excess of five million dollars."

"Maybe I should be hitting you up for a loan. That's great son. What are your
plans?"

"Right now, I think I'm going to move to Sedona, Arizona. I need some time to
decide what I want to do with the rest of my life."

"Arizona... your mother was hoping you'd settle a little closer to home when
you finally left Microsoft."

"Dad, it rains too much here and is far too humid for my tastes. I'll make
sure I come back and visit more often; after all, I'll have a lot more free
time, now that I'm unemployed."

John stayed with them for the remainder of his two-week vacation, and then it
was time to get back to Washington to end one phase of his life and begin the
next.

He packed whatever clothes and personal affects he could fit into the back
seat of his car and after one last look at the 'frat house', the Mu Sigma Iota
sign was still in the front window, he started the trek southeast on
Interstate 84. Before he was done he would travel over 1,380 miles. It was
already dark when he arrived in Sedona, so he checked in at a Great Western
Hotel. The next morning, he parted the curtains and discovered that his room
opened up onto a large patio. After dressing, he stepped out onto the patio
and fell in love. Overhead, three hot air balloons floated silently with the
wind, northward through the valley; the only sound was an occasional burst
from the heaters. The early morning blue sky was a perfect contrast to the
majestic red rock mountains across the valley.

Chapter 6

Where she ended up wasn't exactly in Sedona, but rather the small of Village
of Oak Creek just to the south. Awilda was looking for a building that she
could use as both a school for self-defense and as her residence. She found it
on Route 179, the access road from Interstate 17 to Sedona. It was a building
that had had two retail businesses on the first floor and two apartments on
the second. The entire building was vacant; it seemed that no one had found
the right type of businesses to occupy the first floor and the apartments had
never been rented.

The owner of the building was desperate to get out from under the deluge of
red ink and was very willing to give her an excellent price, especially since
she was paying with cold cash. She hired a contractor to make extensive
renovations to the second floor apartments, combining them into one large
residence, and added a large deck onto the roof of the commercial space below.
From her new deck, she could see the majestic red rock mountains that ringed
the valley including the rock formations known as Bell Rock and Cathedral
Rock.

Awilda left the first floor pretty much intact. She did however open the wall
that separated the two living units. On one side she would have her school of
defense and on the other side she would have a women's gym for conditioning.
Because the first floor included storage in the rear of each unit, she could
easily adapt one side as a locker room and the other side as a shower room and
hot tub area.

When the work was complete, she stood in the front of her new establishment
and surveyed the final product. The interior walls had received a fresh coat
of paint, new hardwood floors had been installed, the lighting had been
upgraded, and a new entrance had been added with access to both areas.

She was proud of the finished product; and as the new sign went up on the
front of the building, she hoped that the citizens of Sedona and Oak Creek
would give her place a try. The flyers and posters that she distributed to all
the business in Sedona and Oak Creek announced the grand opening of the "New
Age Fitness and School of Self Defense for Women." It listed the
owner/instructor as Awilda Colone, third degree black belt in Jiu-jitsu, and a
first-degree black belt in Taekwondo as well as a practitioner in Krav Maga.

From just a trickle at first, before long membership grew to the point that
Awilda needed to hire three women and a cleaning crew. Since membership was
only $10 a month, she probably was never going to show a profit, but that
wasn't the goal. Her goal was to give back to the community at large, what her
husband had enabled evil people to take away. Although this wasn't Los
Angeles, she felt that it was a good first step.

Soon the "Gym", as her members called it, became one of the hottest places to
be seen in the area. Her classes in self-defense for women began to fill up.
She was proud of the fact that the women of the area were becoming more
physically fit, more confident, and more in control of their lives.

Awilda herself was the gym's best form of advertising. She started her days
before sunrise and could be seen running the hiking trails around Bell Rock
and Courthouse Rock; but when she really wanted to challenge herself she ran
the 1.2-mile Cathedral Rock Trail, which involved a good deal of steep
running, ending with vertical rock climbing and was not for the faint of
heart.

________________________

She had been in Oak Village for nearly six years and had mostly forgotten her
life in the crime-filled city. Although she wasn't a hermit, Awilda didn't
have much of a social life outside of the gym. She had gone on some dates, but
for the most part there just weren't that many guys that she would consider
having a long-term relationship with.

One morning as she was running the Bell Rock Pathway-Llama Loop, a nearly six
mile run with elevation changes of almost five hundred feet, she got the
distinct feeling that she was being followed. When she came to a blind sharp
turn in the trail, she stopped and confronted the man that was about thirty
seconds behind her.

"Stop right there, don't come any closer. Why are you following me? I must
warn you, I'm a skilled martial artist; if you come any closer, it will not go
well for you."

She knew she had all the advantages: she was on higher ground looking down on
him with the morning sun to her back directly in his eyes. He would have to
climb about twenty feet before he engaged her.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you. I know who you are; I've seen your
advertisements, and believe me when I say I don't have any intensions of
confronting a third-degree black belt in Jiu-jitsu, and a first-degree black
belt in Taekwondo or a practitioner in Krav Maga, whatever that is," he said
looking up at her while trying to shield his eyes. "I've been in Sedona about
six months and I've seen you a number of times running these trails. I thought
I'd like to meet and get to know you." Even though she was back-lit, he had
seen enough of her to know that she was an extraordinary woman, a mixture of
strength and beauty, rolled into an exquisite package.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," she said. "Out here on the trail early in the
morning, there are not many hikers. Sometimes I allow my training to get the
upper hand over my judgment."

She looked him over, 'not bad,' she thought. 'Probably about the same age, but
by the way he's huffing and puffing and sweating like a pig, not nearly in as
good of shape as he would need to be to keep up with me.'

"OK, that's enough rest time; let's see if you can keep up."

Before he knew it, she was off, running at a pace he found impossible to
maintain. For the next three miles, whenever he began to lag too far behind,
she would stop, run in place until he was almost next to her and then she
would start out again, a wave of her hand signaling him to follow.

When they finally reached the trailhead parking area, he thought he was going
to die; she looked like she was ready to take another lap.

"You probably shouldn't try to keep up that kind of pace, you're not ready
yet; besides you're spending all that energy and not getting to appreciate the
beautiful scenery."

"Oh, I had a great view, that I truly appreciated," he said with just a slight
hint of embarrassment.

She gave him a knowing smile as if to say thanks for the complement. She
walked up to him and extended her hand, which he took, unsure if he was going
to end up on his back or flying through the air.

"I'm Awilda Colone."

"John, John Richardson"

"I'm pleased to meet you John. How'd you like to run with me every morning?
I'll get you into shape even if it kills you," she said with a laugh, reaching
into her car and pulling out a business card.

"I'd enjoy that, Awilda."

"No you won't; I'm going to push you hard. Give me your number, I'll call you
each morning about six and tell you which trail we'll be running. Don't be
late; it makes me angry when people are late for my class, and believe me,
they come to regret that."

He had to laugh when, after watching her pull out of the parking lot, he
climbed into his Volkswagen and stared at her card.

"She has no clue who I am; this is going to be so much fun."

He started driving back towards Sedona along Route 179, but just before he
reached the round-about where a right turn would take him towards the Chapel
of the Holy Cross, he continued half way around the circle and made a right
heading up the winding Skyline Drive until he reached his house. It wasn't the
biggest house on the block, far from it, but what it offered was a rear
veranda with an unobstructed panoramic view of nearly the entire valley,
including Bell Rock and Cathedral Rock and for miles beyond.

Every morning, for nearly two months, he would sit on the veranda, outside of
his bedroom, telephone at his side waiting for her call. She would tell him
the name of the trail and that she'd see him in a few minutes. More times than
not, she would beat him there, but not by much. They would do a little
stretching and then she'd lead the way.

At first it was a struggle to keep up, but by the end of a month he was right
behind her. It was a view that he never tired of. Her long sleek legs seemed
to effortlessly propel her up and down the trails. Her skin was flawless,
glistening with sweat; her athletic build a tribute to a lifetime of hard
work. He knew she was dressing to impress him, to entice him and make him
desire her; but he kept the distance between them just far enough to keep her
trying harder.

Finally, he asked her out on a date; dinner at a Mexican restaurant in uptown
Sedona. The cantina was built like a cave with rooms that never saw the light
of day. There was, however, one room that not only had windows; it also had an
open-air patio. It was there that he had made their reservation. At a table
for two, they shared how they came to live in Sedona.

"I graduated from Stanford and went to work for Microsoft as a programmer,
just as the company was starting out. I worked there for nearly ten years.
When I just couldn't take the pressure and the hours anymore, I quit and moved
here," he said, glossing over the tragic circumstances that led to his leaving
and forgetting entirely to mention that he was retired. Tell me about
yourself, how did you get here?"

"It's a strange twisted tale. I grew up in New York State. When I graduated
from high school, I enlisted in the Marine Corps. After boot camp, I found out
that I couldn't be assigned to a combat group, so I chose to go on to military
police training in Missouri and eventually became an instructor in non-lethal
combat. After I left active duty, I was hired as an instructor for martial
arts at the LA Police Academy. I got married to one of my students, a
detective. He was killed in the line of duty nearly seven years ago, and then
I moved here."

All the time she was talking he couldn't help staring into her dark brown
eyes; he was captivated by her beauty, her strength of character. It was all
he could do to keep from inviting her back to his house, dropping this charade
and telling her who he really was.

Awilda was having the same problem. She was falling for him, big time; and his
playing hard to get was driving her crazy. That night, when he brought her
home and walked her to her door, she invited him upstairs.

It took all his will power, but he declined, telling her, "I'm flattered, and
I want to, more than you could possibly know, but I'd like to wait just a
little longer."

All the time, the little guy in his pants was trying desperately to escape.

When he kissed her good night, she put her arms around his neck and held his
body tightly against hers. She could tell that he wasn't gay and almost
decided to take him upstairs against his will. But in the end, she said good
night.

That night in bed, they both had to release their pent-up sexual energy before
they were able to get some sleep.

The next morning after their run, Awilda asked of John a favor.

"John, the woman that usually assists me when I'm teaching my self-defense
class, left me a message on my machine last night. Her mother passed away last
night and she has to leave today to get back East for the funeral. Can you
help me with my class tonight?"

"Of course I will; what do I have to do?" John said knowing full well what his
job would be.

"Thank you. Be at the gym by 7:30. It's an eight o'clock class, probably about
ten women of various ages. Dress like you are now. I can't thank you enough;
the ladies would be so disappointed if I cancelled class because I didn't have
an assistant."

John returned to his house, took a long soothing shower, made himself cup of
coffee and stepped out onto the veranda. The sun felt good on his naked body
as he stretched out on the lounger. Because the only houses higher than his
were across the street in front, his privacy was absolute. He had plenty of
time to think back to that eventful day when they were both freshmen. He
closed his eyes; he could almost see her confidently tossing him around the
mat, making him submit from the pain, or the feeling of helplessness as he
uselessly struggled against her. He also remembered the absolute bliss he had
felt as he struggled, as he had become rock hard, and at how she had looked
deeply into his eyes and smiled as she realized what she had done to him.

It was then that he looked down his naked body and realized that he was erect.
It was a lot bigger and thicker than it was back then. He also realized that
he would have to wear something a lot more restrictive if he wanted to avoid
being embarrassed in front of a group of women.

"What was I thinking, volunteering for this... again," he said out loud. Then,
to himself, he added what was really on his mind. 'And what's going to happen
when I tell her who I really am? Is she going to hate me? If this turns into
something physical she could kill me without breaking a sweat.'

After an hour in the sun, he retreated back to his bedroom, rinsed off, and
laid out his clothes for the evening, a white workout shirt, black gym shorts,
and black Speedo™ swimsuit that he had never had the nerve to wear.

He made himself a late afternoon lunch, a cheese omelet and rye toast, and
waited until seven o'clock before getting dressed. It took less than ten
minutes for him to get to the gym. He walked through the front door, and was
told to wait in the large matted room directly behind lobby.

Five minutes later, Awilda entered the room, dressed in clothes similar to his
own, which showed off her athletic body; she was going to make this really
tough on him.

"You can take off your sneakers and socks so neither of us will get
accidentally kicked with a shoe."

As she sat next to him removing her footwear, John couldn't help admiring her
feet. There was just something about a woman with bare feet that he always
found sexy.

"John, you really don't have to do much tonight. I'll give you instructions as
to what to do, and I'll demonstrate for the ladies how to respond to your
moves. I promise that I won't try to hurt you. If you do feel any pain, please
either tap my arm or the mat, or yell out your submission. Most of these women
are here for the first time so I will have to go over things two or three
times before they get to try it themselves."

"I've got a few props to help with the class," she said as she pulled out a
rubber knife and a plastic gun from her gym bag. "These will be yours; when I
tell you, I want you to threaten me with the knife or the gun. I'll show them
how to disarm a mugger with a weapon, first a couple of times in slow motion
and then at full speed. Then we'll simulate a rape attack and a
purse-snatcher. And if we still have some time left, I'll show them some
advanced moves."

John didn't like the sound of that, but he kept his concerns to himself. Soon
women began trickling into the gym, taking seats and removing their shoes and
socks. When they were ready, Awilda asked them to form a semi-circle around
the matted area.

"Welcome. Most of you know me, but for those who don't my name is Awilda
Colone and I am the owner of the New Age Fitness and School of Self Defense
for Women. I will be demonstrating various techniques of defense against would
be muggers, rapists and men who don't understand the meaning of the word 'no.'
She paused while the women reacted to her last statement. I will be assisted
today by John Richardson, a good friend of mine who volunteered to help me.
Let's give John a nice hand."

John walked onto the mats. When the polite applause had finished, Awilda
continued. "The most important thing that a potential victim must do is to set
boundaries for herself. If you are alone at night and someone is approaching
you, you don't know what his intentions are until you set boundaries. 'Stop,
don't come any closer, stop.' If he continues to approach you, you know he has
bad intensions and you can act accordingly. You also have to judge what level
of violence you should use in any situation. If you are at a party and someone
has a little too much to drink and starts making unwanted advances towards
you, you really don't want to gouge his eye out or permanently disable him.
You just want to get control of the situation."

From someone in the group came the comment, "I'm pretty sure I wouldn't mind
if John made advances towards me," which got a laugh from the rest of the
group.

"Ladies, this is serious, and besides, he's already spoken for."

She turned to John and said, "John move over there and start walking towards
me."

Loudly, she said: "Stop! Don't come any closer, stop!" To the class she said,
"Notice I'm backing away from him, but I'm also taking up a defensive stance.
If he continues to approach me I know he has bad intensions. If he takes out a
piece of paper and asks for directions, tell him to stop, drop the paper, and
back away. When he is safe distance away, check the paper to determine its
validity; if it's legitimate, tell him to keep his distance and help him if
you can. If it's just a ploy, I prepare to defend myself and make as much
noise as possible. Attackers don't like audiences."

"OK, I've determined he's up to no good. John, reach out with one hand to try
to choke me; and let's pretend that I've retreated as far as I can go and that
my back is against a wall. Notice how he's grabbed my throat with his right
hand; his thumb is the weak point in this grip. I'm going to grab his wrist
with my left hand, pivot on my left foot, and strike his forearm with my right
hand. His hand will be forced off my neck and I can either continue my pivot
and flee or twist his wrist and force him to his knees and attack him with my
feet."

She demonstrated the technique in slow-motion.

"Watch again, grab the wrist, pivot, strike the forearm, turn and run or
again, grab the wrist, pivot, strike the forearm, twist the wrist and kick,
either the face or the groin. One more time; now, at full speed."

Even knowing what she was going to do, John was helpless to stop her. He felt
her grab his wrist, strike his forearm with such force that he knew he'd have
a bruise by morning and felt his arm being twisted forcing him to his knees,
and her foot appearing suddenly within an inch of his face.

"All right, form a single line. The first person in line will take my place.
OK John, grab her throat. I want you to grab the wrist, pivot, strike the
forearm, turn and run. Good. Next in line, same thing."

After all, twelve of the ladies had done it once, Awilda had them do it again,
however this time she had them twist his wrist, forcing him to his knees and
pretend to kick John where ever they felt most comfortable. Awilda corrected
some of their techniques, but was pleased with their grasp of the exercise.

John, however, was already experiencing mixed emotions. His forearm and wrist
were bruised and he could feel the blood already rushing to another part of
his body.

'It's a good thing I wore that Speedo™.'

Awilda helped him to his feet.

"In this scenario an attacker has come up behind you. He throws his arms
around you and has your arms trapped in a bear hug. Some people will try to
use their head as a weapon against the attacker's face. That sometimes works,
but only if the attacker is approximately the same height as you. If he's
taller, you hit him in the chest, if he's shorter; you hit him in top of the
forehead and probably hurt yourself more than you hurt him. What I want you to
do is bring your arms together in front of you at the same time that you bend
forward. Grab his ankle and take a step to the side and backward, and pull the
leg up. I guarantee, he will lose his balance and fall over backwards. Then
grab hold of both feet and spread his legs open. You can either stomp his
stomach or his groin. Do it again and again until he is incapacitated, then
run. He won't be getting up anytime soon. John, if you please.

She ran through it twice in slow motion. On the third try at normal speed,
John held her for a fraction of a second, the next thing he knew he fell hard
onto his back, his feet firmly in her grip and her foot resting squarely on
his crotch. She looked down on him gave him a quick wink and blew him a kiss.

"Here is a variation of this counter attack." Before he could respond, he felt
her leg shift slightly around his and his leg was trapped by her body as she
moved forward.

"Notice I have his leg totally under control and yet both my hands are free. I
can lean forward and strike him at will and at the same time dislocate or
break his leg."

Suddenly John began to feel unbearable pain in his knee joint, his hands
instinctively moving to support his knee as Awilda's fist repeatedly stopped
inches from his face.

"I give, I give! Please stop," he screamed.

After she helped him to his feet, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"All right, who's first?"

They each took a turn. John felt that more than a few of them left their foot
resting on his groin a little longer than necessary. He looked over at Awilda
who smiled and again gave him a wink.

After she helped him to his feet, Awilda went through five other scenarios,
each one escalating the violence used to subdue the attacker. In the final
set-up John was sitting on her stomach with a knife at her throat. The
counterattack was so quick that he never saw it coming. Before he could force
the rubber knife onto her throat, he felt his knife hand being forced up and
to his left. At the same time her right leg came up under his left armpit and
her left leg pushed his hip backwards and then continued over his shoulder.
Suddenly he felt excruciating pain in his right elbow as her legs pushed down
on his body, her hips moved upward off the mat as she pulled his knife hand
down onto her chest.

"This is called an arm bar. It is extremely painful and can result in
permanent injury," she said as she released his arm.

Each person in the group got to do it in slow motion, with Awilda positioning
each point of the counterattack.

Once again, she helped a very weary John to his feet.

"That's nearly the end of class for today. Remember in today's world, everyone
needs to be able to defend themselves, especially you ladies out there. Here
at the New Age Fitness and School of Self Defense for Women, we will teach you
to take care of yourself in any situation.

"Now I want to show you two of the more advanced moves I teach at the school.
John, please try to attack me, anyway you wish." As it was those many years
ago John's response was a headlong charge to try to take her off her feet. As
he made contact with her very muscular body, he felt her arms close around his
body like a giant python. Her arms and legs appeared to be everywhere at once,
squeezing him into a tighter and tighter ball, his arms and legs useless to
defend against her. Awilda, on the other hand, out of sight of the class, was
slowly manipulating his lower body until she could feel his growing erection
against her leg. She gazed deeply into his eyes and blew him a kiss as she
felt it twitching.

After a minute she turned to the class. "Do you think I should let him go or
hold him for a while longer?" All of women shouted out to hold him. "You
people are mean."

She released and helped John back to his feet. It was a good thing that his
gym shorts were black because there was a small wet spot near his crotch.
Awilda announced she had one final move to show them. She turned John sideways
until he was facing her then pulled on his right arm as she fell backwards.
Throwing her right leg over his head and her left leg against his chest, she
twisted her body taking John off of his feet, doing a somersault in mid-air
before ending up flat on his back with Awilda's heel resting on the tip of his
nose as she secured the arm bar. A collective gasp escaped from most of the
group, as John screamed out:

"Willie! I give up, please stop, I give up."

Awilda released the arm bar and spun around until she was lying on his chest.

"Willie? You called me 'Willie'... David? Is it you?" Seeing the affirmative
look in his eyes, she practically screamed out, "David, you found me."

That's when the kisses and tears started.

When she could finally compose herself, she turned to the astonished class.

"This is David; he was going to be my boyfriend in high school, until his
family moved away. I haven't seen him in nearly eighteen years."

She still had him pinned beneath her as she continued, "Let's give David a
nice round of applause for being such a good sport and taking so much abuse.
Thank you for coming tonight, see you all next week."

Awilda helped a dazed David onto his feet and gave him a bone-crushing hug.

"John Richardson? Why didn't you tell me who you were right away?"

"I wanted to get to know you again. You might have changed. When you never
answered my letters, I just assumed that you didn't really want to hear from
me again. I felt it was necessary to win your heart before I told you the
truth."

She wanted to tell him that she never received any of his letters, but that
was all in the past. Before he knew what hit him, he was on his back once
again, as she looked down over him.

"You wait right there and don't move. I'll be right back; I just want to lock
the front door."

David had just removed his shirt, when most of the lights in the gym went
dark. He could just make out her nude figure as she re-entered the room and
lay down next to him.

"I've been waiting for eighteen years to do this and I'm not going to wait a
second longer."

Epilogue:

Willie and JD, as they finally decided to call him, made love several times
that night, the first two on the mats in the gym, and the final time upstairs
in her bed. In the morning after their run, she packed a bag and they drove to
his house.

"JD, this place is magnificent! It must have cost you a fortune. Where did you
get the money?"

"I told you I worked for Microsoft; well I took half of my compensation in
Microsoft stock. When I left I was worth over five million dollars. This place
was a steal at only half-a-mil."

"JD, I have a little bit of a confession to make, too. When I married my
husband Chad, I had no way of knowing that he was dirty. Maybe I closed my
eyes to it or was just too infatuated with an older man to see him for what he
was. Anyway, when he was killed, I inherited everything, including all of the
rental properties that he had invested in; plus, almost eight hundred thousand
dollars in cash. For the last six years I've been living off only the cash. I
bought the building where I live with about half of the money that I got from
selling my house in California. I've been banking the cash from the rentals,
about ten thousand dollars a month."

"Ours is not going to be a marriage," JD said with a chuckle, "it's going to
resemble more like a merger. Let's send our parents first-class plane tickets
and have them come out here for the wedding."

"Where, when?" she asked.

"We'll do it in late summer or early fall. Whenever you like; just let me pick
out the location."

At the end of September, before the rainy season and before the air could turn
cold, the men gathered at JD's house; all three dressed in tuxedos, waiting
patiently for the limo to bring the women from Willie's now-empty apartment
above the gym.

Just before the car arrived, his father slipped an eye mask over his son's
eyes.

"Remember, it's bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the wedding."

When the limo finally arrived, the fathers guided the blindfolded groom into
the back seat. The drive to the Chapel of the Holy Cross took less than three
minutes. As they drove up the long circular drive to the top of the
outcropping of rock on which the Chapel was built, Willie commented, "The sign
said they closed at four today. How did you manage this?"

"It's amazing what you can do if you make the appropriate donation."

At the top, the limo turned around in the tiny lot and faced back towards the
way they had come.

The wedding party got out of the car and the three couples stood facing the
Chapel on the far side of the small plaza. For the first time JD got to see
his bride. Dressed in a sleeveless white gown that hugged her body in all the
right places, she looked more beautiful than she had ever looked before. The
wedding party arranged themselves as previously discussed, her parents on her
side and his parents on his side. A man and a woman exited the Chapel and
approached the wedding party. The woman was a minister with the New Age Church
of God and the man was their photographer.

As the ceremony began, the photographer began doing his job, taking pictures
of the party with a majestic curtain of red rock as a backdrop, soaring nearly
three hundred feet above their heads.

After opening remarks, the minister got to the most important part.

"Do you, Willie, take this man, JD, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To
have and to hold, in go times and in bad, in sickness and in health, until
death do you part."

"I Do."

"And do you, JD, take this woman, Willie, to be your lawfully wedded wife. To
have and to hold, in go times and in bad, in sickness and in health, until
death do you part."

"I Do."

"You will now exchange rings as an outward sign of your love and fidelity."

"Then by the powers vested in me by the State of Arizona and by the Creator, I
now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

When the ceremony was over, they all stood marveling at the sight before them:
the red rock mountains in all their splendor, shining in the glow of the
setting sun.

At the most expensive restaurant in town, the three couples eat and drank
until they could barely move. It was like an early Thanksgiving feast.

When Mr. Richardson asked JD if he ever planned to go back to work, JD
answered, "I already have a job. I'm the official demonstration assistant at
the New Age Fitness and School of Self Defense for Women. My job is to get
beat up and dominated by my beautiful wife, and I won't have it any other
way."

THE END

As always thank you for reading my stories. Remember your comments are greatly
appreciated; they are the only compensation an amateur storyteller like me
receives.

SR

submissiveromanticone(at)gmail(dot)com