Lessons

"Do 100 crunches," Simon ordered, his voice steady and commanding.

Stella began the exercise with determination, but by the time she reached 59, her muscles started to tremble, fatigue taking over her body. Her legs shook with each effort, and her breathing became labored as she struggled to pull herself up.

"61, 62... don't stop," Simon urged, stepping closer. He crouched down beside her, his hands pressing lightly on her legs to stabilize her.

Stella squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the burn in her muscles and push through the remaining crunches. Her breaths were shallow and quick, and as she lifted her body, her warm breath grazed Simon's face, sending a strange jolt through her.

"98…" she breathed, and finally opened her eyes, startled to see Simon's face inches from hers. His dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

"Two more. Don't stop," he whispered, his voice softer now, but still firm.

With a final push of effort, she completed the last two crunches. As soon as she hit 100, Stella collapsed onto the yoga mat, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. The room seemed to spin for a moment, her body utterly spent.

Simon's eyes lingered on her longer than they should have, his breath catching as he watched the way Stella's body trembled slightly from exhaustion. Every inhale she took, her chest rising and falling, pulled his attention deeper into a haze he couldn't quite shake. The sweat on her skin shimmered in the low light of the room, and the sight of her parted pink lips, gasping for breath, sent a rush of heat through him.

His thoughts spiraled out of control, the way her workout clothes clung to her curves, the damp strands of hair stuck to her neck—every detail ignited something primal inside him. He wanted to touch her, to trace the line of sweat down her neck, feel the rapid thrum of her heartbeat beneath his fingertips. His gaze dropped to her lips again, imagining how soft they would feel, how sweet she would taste if he let himself get that close.

He clenched his fists, trying to tether himself to reality, but his mind kept slipping back to the thought of her underneath him, vulnerable and breathless, just like this. Every deep breath she took stirred something darker in him, a desire he could barely contain. He wanted to feel her skin under his hands, to pull her close and see if she responded to him the way he desperately imagined she would.

Her eyes fluttered open, and for a split second, their gazes locked. He wondered if she could see the hunger simmering behind his calm exterior, if she could sense how badly he wanted to close the distance between them.

"Good job,," he whispered, his voice thick with the tension that hung in the air. His control was slipping, and he knew it. But for now, he told himself to keep it in check, even as his pulse quickened and his thoughts kept straying to the places they shouldn't.

Simon finally took a step back, masking the desire that flickered in his eyes with his usual calm demeanor. "Get some water," he said, his voice steady but a bit lower than usual. 

"Today we'll learn some more defense moves. Get in," Simon commanded, his voice steady and assertive as he stepped into the ring. He stripped off his black stringer, revealing his chiseled muscles, glistening slightly from the workout they'd just completed. The sight of him, broad-shouldered and intimidating in his confidence, made Stella's pulse quicken.

She hesitated for a moment, feeling the intensity of his presence as she climbed into the ring. Her eyes lingered on the sharp lines of his body, the way his muscles flexed with every subtle movement. Simon caught her staring but didn't say a word, though a smirk flickered across his lips.

"Focus," he reminded her, his tone flirty yet firm.

Stella snapped her eyes back up to his face, cheeks flushing slightly as she tried to compose herself. But standing this close to him, in this space, with nothing between them but a growing tension—it wasn't easy to focus on anything but him.

"What would you do if someone holds you like this?" Simon asked, his voice low and calm as he swiftly twisted her arms, forcing her to kneel. The movement was quick but controlled, and Stella found herself immobilized, her wrists caught in his firm grip.

"Try to escape," he prompted, watching as she wriggled, trying to break free. Her movements were frantic, and her frustration grew with each failed attempt.

"If you do that more, you'll only tire yourself out or injure yourself, which gives your captor the upper hand," he explained. His voice was steady, almost instructive, as though this was just another lesson, but Stella could feel the weight of his gaze on her, tracking her every move.

"Slowly bend your body downward," he instructed. She complied, carefully lowering her body while maintaining balance. His hands still gripped hers, but there was a shift in his hold, something that told her she was close to freeing herself.

"Now, raise your hands and twist them so that you're holding mine," Simon added, his tone almost challenging.

"How can I do that?" Stella asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

"Make your hands as if you're cupping water," he said, demonstrating the movement for her. His patience was both infuriating and comforting, guiding her without letting up on the tension between them.

Following his instruction, she mimicked the motion, twisting her wrists slightly.

"Now, with a swift pull, you free your hands. And when you do, kick them in the balls—then follow up with other moves to knock your attacker unconscious."

With a sharp tug, Stella pulled free of Simon's grip. She couldn't help but smile triumphantly.

"Now, let's increase your pace," Simon said, his voice firm but encouraging. He stepped back, motioning for her to start again.

Stella nodded, determination in her eyes as she reset herself. She repeated the move, twisting her body and freeing her hands from his grasp just as he'd shown her. Her movements were slow at first, her concentration evident, but as she did it again and again, her confidence grew.

"Good," Simon said, watching her closely. "Again."

She moved faster this time, the repetition becoming smoother, more fluid. Her body remembered the motions, and soon it was muscle memory taking over. Each time, she bent, twisted, and pulled herself free with more ease.

"Better," Simon nodded, stepping forward to engage her again. He grabbed her wrists, tightening his hold just enough to challenge her. "Now faster."

Stella bit her lip and did as instructed, her heart pounding as she managed to escape his grip more quickly. The adrenaline surged through her veins, pushing her to keep going, to get it right.

Again and again, she executed the move, her breathing becoming more labored, but the satisfaction in her success outweighed the fatigue.

"Keep going," Simon urged, his intense gaze fixed on her as she gained mastery over the technique. His hands would lock around her wrists, only for her to break free seconds later.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she pulled herself free with a swift, sharp move. Stella panted heavily, her body drenched in sweat, but a sense of accomplishment washed over her. She glanced up at Simon, who had a small, approving smirk on his face.

"You've got it now," he said. "But remember—speed and precision are your best weapons. In a real situation, you won't have time to think."

"Now coming to the next move," Simon said, his voice steady and commanding as he swiftly pinned Stella to the ground, locking her legs beneath his weight. His strong hands held her wrists tightly against the mat, and for a moment, the intensity of the situation took her by surprise. His body hovered over hers, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. It was overwhelming—both the physical closeness and the seriousness of the lesson.

"This is a position no one ever wants to be in," Simon continued, his tone shifting to one of quiet seriousness. "But every woman should know how to defend herself from this. In most dangerous situations, this is exactly where they'll find themselves—pinned, helpless, with nowhere to go. It's crucial to know how to escape."

Stella swallowed hard, her heart racing not just from the physical challenge but from the sheer reality of what he was saying. She knew Simon was right. This wasn't just about practice. It was about survival.

"In situations like these," he continued, "your attacker will try to control you by pinning your hands above your head, or by holding them down at your sides. The way he holds you will determine how you should escape."

Simon's eyes locked with hers, his face serious, almost protective. "The first thing you have to remember is not to panic. Most people lose the fight the moment they panic. So, control your breathing. Focus. And don't waste energy struggling in a way that'll tire you out or injure yourself."

Stella nodded, her breathing steadying as she listened intently, absorbing every word. Her mind was racing, but she knew that staying calm was crucial.

"Now," Simon instructed, his grip still firm on her wrists, "straighten your legs, but do it slowly. Don't rush. This isn't about speed—it's about control and timing. And right now, I want you to focus on the technique."

Stella tried to follow his directions, extending her legs carefully as she focused on the movement. The weight of Simon's body pressed down on her, making it harder to move, but she fought through the discomfort.

"Good," Simon murmured as she straightened her legs. "Now, don't just try to push me off. That's where most people go wrong. You need to create space. Use your hips to shift your weight against me, not just your arms or legs."

She arched her back slightly, pushing with her hips, trying to create that small window of opportunity. It was harder than she thought it would be—Simon wasn't letting her off easy, but that only made the lesson more real.

"Focus," Simon said, his voice low but encouraging. "Once you feel like you have enough space, that's when you strike. Use your legs or knees. Make them count."

Stella nodded, beads of sweat forming on her forehead as she concentrated. Her muscles ached from the effort, but she pushed harder, finally managing to create just enough room to bend her knees.

"Now," Simon instructed, watching her every move, "use that momentum. Push up with your hips, twist your body, and then break free."

With a burst of effort, Stella shifted her weight, twisting her hips to the side and pulling her hands free from Simon's grip. He allowed her just enough resistance to make it challenging, but not impossible. Her knee came up instinctively, ready to strike, and within moments, she'd managed to free herself from under him.

Breathing heavily, she sat up, her heart pounding from both the physical exertion and the rush of adrenaline that followed. Simon stayed kneeling beside her, watching her with an approving look.

"You did well," he said, offering her a hand to help her up. His tone was firm but encouraging. "But remember, this was practice. In a real situation, it'll be harder. But if you keep practicing, your body will know what to do."

Stella nodded, her body still buzzing from the intensity of the exercise. She felt more confident now, more aware of what she was capable of. And as she looked up at Simon, she realized how much these sessions were changing her—not just physically, but mentally too.