Jada/Ayano Pt. 01: Martial Arts

She arrived on a cool, clear Sunday in April. The airport was so white and clean. No one seemed as excited as Jada felt. But, all of the people had a lethargic, blase demeanor so she made sure to hide her enthusiasm. A hired car brought her to the hotel resort where the retreat was being held. The Mediterranean ocean was sparkling flawlessly as the sun slowly sunk into it. Others were arriving out front as they pulled up, all of them looking impressed with the hotel. It had sand-colored stone with ornate carvings around the windows, some nude cherub sculptures as base relief in the facade, and light blue glass windows which added an updated touch to the dignified establishment.

After unpacking in her private suite, Jada joined everyone on a large terrace for the cocktail mixer. The view almost made her melt- the whole thing looked out on to the the sea coast. It looked like the hills were piling up on top of each other to catch the view as well. There were palm trees in terracotta pots every few feet, as well as small tables with white tablecloth to hold all of the drinks and appetizers.

The crowd seemed a bit conspicuous in her opinion. She had chosen to wear a little black dress, an amber necklace, and black high heels. Most of the others wore several thousand dollars worth of designer clothes. With her glass of white wine, she mingled with a retired basketball player from the U.S., a Mexican soccer player staying in shape for the off-season, a non-profit organization owner from England concerned about her safety while traveling, the heir to a large Romanian natural gas company, and other surprisingly ambitious people. When she had finished her wine, she set the glass down on a table and decided to leave. The other students (or would they call them clients?) were unexpectedly interesting, but she felt drained after a day of travel. I'm not here to make friends, she thought to herself, then laughed to herself because she sounded like the renegade contestant on a reality show.

Before she could go, she noticed one of their hosts moving about the terrace, greeting and thanking everyone. He was striking-- tall, slim and muscular, and graceful... like a bullfighter. He wore his black hair tied back and his facial hair formed about eighty percent of a goatee. His cheekbones could cut glass. He wore a dark plum collared shirt, wrinkled, with the top three buttons undone and black leather pants. When he spoke to some of the women on the terrace, they would stop him from walking away three or four times before he could move on to the next person. The word "fawning" came to mind. Jada was still watching him when she noticed she hadn't left yet and he was walking towards her.

"Hello, I'm Ayano Ilanescu. I will be teaching you here, should you choose Raz-neva. Can I get you another drink?" he smiled, shaking her hand. He was unapologetically handsome, with palpable charisma. His Eastern European accent tickled her ear.

"Oh, I'm, uh, Jada Versailles..." she responded rather sheepishly.

"Jade... with amber necklace..." he gently touched the pendant on her collarbone and looked up, directly into her eyes. "Can I...?"

"Can you...?" she stammered. She never stammered.

"Get you another drink?" he clarified. He had been pointing to her empty glass and she hadn't noticed, as she could not get her eyes to stop taking in every detail of this gorgeous man.

"Oh, yes. Yes." she said as she collected her thoughts. "I liked the pinot gris."

Internally, she was kicking herself for being caught so off-guard. How gauche, she thought. He had to be at least in his mid-thirties, but he made her feel even younger than the paltry twenty-four years she had. They gave each other brief autobiographical accounts and then he was off in the crowd to dazzle some other poor woman.

She stayed for the rest of the evening, although she was quieter than usual, still not recovered from her lackluster introduction to Ayano. Many in the group stayed to listen to his thoughts on the techniques of Răz-nevă, its noble history, why it was important to be engaged in a combat sport for personal development... The glow from the string of lights across the building's walls created warmth on the cold stone walls. Ayano listened to stories about their lives and enthusiastically responded to how each one of them would make a difference in themselves and become more effective human beings! Everyone seemed to be enthralled with Ayano, like he made them all feel special in some way.

Before it got much later, he told everyone to get a good night's sleep. The last group of men headed upstairs to their hotel rooms and only a handful of heterosexual women lingered behind. Jada became aware of this dynamic and felt like it would definitely turn into a reality show if she stayed much longer. Besides, she had embarrassed herself enough for one evening. She took a furtive glance behind her as she ascended the stairs. He waved at her through the other women, as if he knew she was going to turn around.

LESSONS

Ayano taught a morning session and an afternoon session. The attendees were allowed to come and go as they pleased. It didn't matter which classes they stuck with as long as they were all happy. Ayano's lessons started at six in the morning and went until lunch. The time went by quickly and enjoyably. After three days, Jada had sparred with each woman in the group and a few of the men. She was getting better by the minute, she thought. Ayano led almost all of the lessons, with two men assisting him: a Russian in his forties named Sergei and a younger looking Romanian named Dumitru.

Sergei was 6'4", making him look like a human watchtower. He had long, straight brown hair and wore glasses. He might have been good-looking, Jada thought, if not for his soulless eyes and hypervigilant, shady demeanor. While the average person might not notice it, he surveyed the room constantly and it made her nervous, as if something was going to burst in at any moment. He had several prison tattoos, although some were fading or he might have been trying to have them removed. As far as Jada could tell, his job was instructing Răz-nevă, whispering stuff to other employees, taking phone calls, and looking contemptuous at all times.

Dumitru might have been 5'11" or so, and much skinnier than Ayano or Sergei. He wore his dark hair very short with long sideburns, small mustache, and a 5 o'clock shadow on his face. He wore a gold chain and a brightly colored red polo shirt with big jeans with one leg rolled up. Did he even know that it was a signal for drug dealers in the States? When he went from place to place, it seemed like he was always in a light jog, bouncing quickly to deliver a message or run an errand. He could not have been older than 26, she thought, and he was probably an apprentice of some kind.

After two weeks in Marseille, Jada had developed a good rapport with everyone. In the afternoons, she was alternating between yoga classes and meditation. There were people from all over the world at the retreat, but only a few who were from cultures like Jada's, which wasn't strict about punctuality. Jada and four other students were chastised daily for being late and they would have to do extra drills to make up for it. It was a deterrent but did not stop their lateness entirely. On the tenth day of classes, for example, Jada had been only 12 minutes late.

OUT AT THE BAR

She was still not immune to Ayano's charms, but she had been able to put aside her attraction and be business-only, just learning from him. Socializing was for fellow students. Occasionally, the group would have a sit down dinner together but most nights, they walked into the town square and found something simple to eat or spent time at one of the pubs. Their second Friday together, Jada was having a few drinks with the younger male and female students of the group. The Romanian energy company heir, Marku, had poured her a strong local drink called palincă from his flask. Palincă was a local plum brandy of various proofs- this one was strong.

The soccer player, Josue, was telling them about the time he had to play in the World Cup Finals while he was still drunk from the night before. The table erupted into laughter, then Jada excused herself to buy a pack of cigarettes at the bar. She only smoked during a night of hard drinking but her athletic prowess would not allow her to do either very often.

She bought the pack of cigarettes and opened them up, only to realize the busy bartender hadn't given her any matches. Trying to get his attention, she stepped on the brass foot rail to make herself taller. It was going to take awhile for him to notice her. She turned around and was face to face with Ayano, or rather, the extra height put her exposed cleavage directly in front of his face. Ayano blinked for a moment and looked up at her face.

"Oh, sorry, I... didn't see you there!" she laughed, finding her repeated awkwardness with him funny for once as opposed to mortifying. She stepped down.

"Do you need a light?" he asked, seeing the cigarette in her mouth.

"Yes, thank you. Sorry, I'm a little drunk. I had some palincă." she said, leaning her cigarette into the flame he provided.

"Oh no. Who got you that?" he laughed.

"It was Marku." she said, feeling like she was snitching to their teacher.

"Be careful, some men in Romania go hunting for foreign women." he warned lightly. "Usually because our women won't have them!"

"Yeah, but I think he's harmless."

"Famous last words! But you seem like a woman who can take care of herself." he commented and ordered a few drinks for him and his friends at another table. "You're doing very well in the sparring matches. Very light-footed, yet very strong."

"Oh, thanks. I love it here." she stopped, feeling she was in danger of gushing.

"We love having you." he said, winking at her. "If Marku won't leave you alone, tell him plimbă ursu."

"What's that mean?"

"It means 'go walk a bear.'" he said. Ayano got his drinks from the bartender-- with no discussion of money-- and gave her a mildly flirtatious look before rejoining his friends.

Jada smiled to herself. Would she sleep with him if he tried something? He was the teacher. It would be unprofessional. Her rational, responsible self said "nah." But she could hear someone else in her head whisper "fuck yeah I would!"

When Jada returned to her group, the gadabout Italian woman named Madlena had seen her talking with Ayano.

"Aren't men like him the worst?" she lamented to Jada.

"What do you mean?" Jada asked innocently.

"The ones who know how good looking they are!" she giggled.

"You know what they say about him, don't you?" Stoyan chimed in, using a conspiratorial tone. He owned a chain of the nicer hotels in central Europe.

"What?" Madlena leaned in.

"He's in the mob... sells drugs and guns on the side. You see how his guys are." Stoyan gossiped. "The people in office aren't the ones with the real power in his country."

"That can't be true. His mining company is doing great. The price of copper has been very high lately." Marku added.

Jada sipped her drink slowly, considering their rumors. Maybe they were just jealous men trying to make Ayano seem less appealing to the available women, but if the rumors were true... well, Jada knew a lot of questionable characters in Gotham and maybe would be considered one herself. She decided it wasn't a deal-breaker if he did have criminal involvement. It would depend on how organized the organization was and how criminal was their crime. Then again, it could also just be rumors.

TRAINING

On the following Monday, she was preparing to spar with Josue for the last round when Ayano tapped him on the shoulder.

"Go on and work with Dumitru." Ayano instructed Josue. Ayano held up the pads for her to practice hitting. "Come on, Jada Versailles. Roundhouse, jab, jab, uppercut, then sweep."

She tried not to stare at him, but he was in great shape. Since he wasn't wearing a shirt, his chiseled abs and pierced nipples were hard to miss. Convincing herself she could still spar with a man this attractive, she put aside the tape she was using on her knuckles and faced him. Every time she made eye contact with him, she felt her face getting warm. He clapped the pads together, telling her it was time to start. She could keep up with the pace he demanded for the first few minutes but then fell behind. They took a break.

"You have done capoeira?" he guessed, taking the pads off his hands. Dumitru came over, jogging lightly, and handed him a bottle of cold water.

"Yes, I grew up near São Paulo. And Gotham City." she said, drinking from hers.

"It is a beautiful art, also involves deceit, but Răz-nevă is a little more aggressive. We'll do it faster, I'll show you." he came across the sparring area to guide her through the movements more efficiently. He was holding her arm demonstrating an uppercut when he noticed her hands. "Your tape. You're going to hurt yourself. Let me fix it."

Jada felt a bit like a kindergartener getting her shoelaces tied, but she also noticed a strange sensation she got around him. His masculine scent, the rhythm of his accent, those dark piercing eyes beneath those dark hawk-like eyebrows-- they made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She watched a bead of sweat go down his neck on to his bare chest. For the briefest moment, she imagined grabbing him by the back of his head and kissing him deeply.

He looked over at her and grinned.

"Let's go." he said and went back to his corner. Thank god they weren't working on holds that day, she thought. Any more physical contact would be treacherous. He had her repeat a series of movements again and again, each time moving the pads higher and faster.

"C'mon, a few more." he said, only slightly out of breath.

"I can't." she panted. If she hadn't been sparring with Ayano, she would have taken a break five minutes ago. She knew she was no slouch, but this guy was intensely fast.

"You've got to make it a long con. Let your opponent think you have nothing left or- better yet- never had anything to begin with. Răz-nevă is about impressions and deceit as much as the movements. They see what you let them see. Come on. Show me."

Jada took another moment to regroup and slowly started back up again. Suddenly, she sped up with a few rapid jabs. He cheered her on and when it seemed like she had run out of steam again, he lowered the pads. She surprised him with one last quick jab, nearly landing it on his rib cage.

"Ha!!" he exclaimed, dodging her. "That's it! Take five, then we start again."

Ayano worked one-on-one with her a few more times during the week. On Thursday, she noticed that she was the first person he spoke with and she glowed for the rest of the morning. Sometimes they sat together during meals, getting to know each other bite by bite. She learned that he develops new uses for metals in technology; a metallurgist, and travels to Gotham a few times a year, even owning a home there.

"I set up some of the business in the States after my wife died, I didn't want to be in Romania all the time." he mentioned.

"Oh. I'm sorry for your loss." she told him.

"It was years ago. But thank you. Whereabouts in Gotham are you?"

They talked about her art gallery, Ayano revealing an impressive understanding of modern artworks. She also told him about her upbringing between Brazil and the US, with summer trips to Japan to visit her father. The widower thing, though, she thought. He's single, but complicated. How intriguing.

Another evening at the pub, they were drinking out on the patio. They had arrived with different groups but quickly found each other to chat. In her mind, she fantasized about sneaking around back with him to tear each other's clothes off. But Jada was trying to do an impression of somebody that didn't have a massive crush on her instructor. Getting into character, she spoke as if she were aloof and tried not to fidget. They were about to part ways when one of the women-- a slender blonde who had been after Ayano for weeks-- gave her a withering look as she passed them. Jada rolled her eyes.

"She just glared at me." she complained.

"Jealousy doesn't look good on her." Ayano remarked.

"Well, there isn't anything to be jealous of yet." she replied with a little smile.

"I was talking about your talents in Răz-nevă." he claimed and gave her a poignant look.

"Were you? Maybe she thinks I'm a teacher's pet." Jada quipped, meeting his gaze with equal intensity. Maybe she wanted there to be something to be jealous of.

Neither one of them wanted to be the first to look away, but Jada turned and went back to her table. She felt like the particles in the air around her were highly charged and she was certain he was still looking at her. In fact, every time she looked in his direction for the rest of the evening, he would be looking at her without even trying to hide it. At the end of the night, it took all she had to leave with the other students and not initiate something with him. The effort could be read on her face.

The next day was an extended staring contest, a game of chicken. Jada could not keep her eyes off of him but she also couldn't bring herself to approach him. Fridays always moved slowly, the fifth day in a row of training, but this one seemed endless. She wanted to know what he was thinking, if he was going to talk to her, and if he was, what was she going to say? What did she want from him? Concentrating on sparring was difficult and sometimes impossible.

At the end of the afternoon, Jada was paired with a Greek woman who was more muscular than she was but with half the skill and speed. As they began, Jada noticed that Ayano was coming nearer to observe them. Naturally, this shook her up. She could block many of the Greek woman's swings, but was too frazzled to land any hits. Ayano stood at the sidelines with his arms folded across his chest and shouted a few words of advice, directed at her and her opponent. The match ended with a devastating throw-- the Greek managed to throw Jada over her shoulder and on to the mat with a loud thump.

Ayano congratulated the woman for the win and dismissed her for the day as Jada laid there with the wind knocked out of her. She was lying on her back, sweaty and flustered. Her loose tank top was no longer covering her sports bra and her chest was rising and falling rapidly to catch her breath. Ayano stood above her, watching her with thinly concealed desire.

He offered her his hand to help her up. When she rose, he didn't let go.

"I want to see you tonight." he said calmly, pulling her towards him slightly. Her eyes scanned the room to see if anyone was watching. Everyone was involved in their training.

"Okay." she said and held his hand tightly. "I'll come down to the lobby around seven."

JADA'S ROOM

He released her and she went up to her room quickly. In the shower, she was lost in thought. Where were they going? What was she supposed to wear to this? Did it even matter that the small group would probably see them? She got out of the shower and towel-dried her hair. With her bath towel wrapped around her at the bust, she walked towards the bureau when she heard a knock on the door. Through the peephole, she could see it was Ayano.

She instinctively wrapped her towel around herself more tightly and opened the door. Ayano stood there, still sweaty from the day's training. He looked like he was bothered by his thoughts.

"You're early." she said, mildly disturbed, but more nervous. She had a very good idea as to why he had come up here.

He approached her with a hungry look in his eyes. Without saying a word, he pulled her towards him and kissed her on the lips. She felt him breathing deeply as he continued to kiss her, slowly coaxing her tongue to come out to play. She heard him subtly shut the door behind him without a backwards glance. Their kiss was intoxicating; she almost forgot that she was standing in a towel in a French hotel room. He shouldn't be in here, she thought. Any moment now, there would be a lull and she would... she would tell him... Fuck! They weren't slowing down at all, their hands too eager to explore, touch, and unwrap each other after the days and weeks of tension. Her fingers were so excited to feel the muscles in his arms and feel every part of him her mind had imagined feeling.