"Ok," I say, with a little nod, "let's get you strong and ready for the world."
You're light skin begins to glow as you ride and I'm torn between attraction and jealousy. I have never felt pretty, gods how I want to be, but I'm muscular and my boobs are little.
I desperately want to say I can be your friend, but it wouldn't be professional. Instead I smile, trying to look encouraging but feeling more awkward.
My watch beeps, "That's two minutes, Sonia." I point to the row of light punching bags, "Let's start with the basics."
I teach you the basics of punching and guide you through several minutes of short drills, letting you shake your arms out after each set. "Here," I say, my voice shaking a bit as I rub your shoulders, "it takes a little while to get used to."
We work a few more minutes before I suggest we stop, "I don't think your father wants me to turn you into a fighter, so let's work on how to get away if someone grabs you."
This terrifies me - it means I have to grab you. The thought of feeling you against me is electric and I can feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
"Are you ready?" I ask, my cheeks flushed. I'm thankful for my darker complexion that helps conceal my blush.
I move behind you and grab you, my chest tight, cheeks hot and words unsteady as I tell you what to do. The first time, I give the instructions slowly. One step. Let you do it until you get it right before moving on to the next.
Your warmth and weight are delicious against me. And I repeat it. This time moving through the steps a little quicker.