Controlled Self Defense Training

The author wishes to thank his editor, Ladylustful, who is an outstanding editor, story advisor, and muse.

Mugging is one of those things that happen to other people. Or so I thought. I got mugged around seven months ago. In all my life in New Orleans, this is the first serious incident I've had. I got my car broken into, but nothing of this magnitude. I always felt safe here. Now, not so much.

Part of living in a dangerous city is knowing where to go, and where not to go. When I got mugged, it was late afternoon, and in a relatively safe neighborhood near the Quarter. I was ambushed when I was walking to my car by two guys. They shoved their guns in my face, when the dominant of the two spoke to me. "Give me your jewelry and wallet, and you get to go home tonight." During the whole debacle, I lost sixty bucks, and a cheap watch.

At first, I wasn't really bothered by it. I mean, I wasn't hurt, and the only inconvenience I had was to cancel my credit cards and get a new driver's license.

However, it really hit home when I started talking to the police, as well as my friends and relatives. Apparently, the guys that ambushed me were part of a gang that mostly robbed homes and small businesses. However, they were suspected of murdering a few people in their other heists. If I hadn't cooperated so readily, who knows what would've happened.

I became frightened to go out in public, especially in the late afternoon and during the evening. I became such a recluse, that my friends called me a hermit.

One day, my good friend Frank suggested, "You need to arm yourself. I always carry a pistol in my car. Getting a concealed gun permit is easy. I can hook you up with my friend who works at Orleans Gun Outlet and Range."

It seemed like a good idea. I grew up in an area that would remind people of Swamp People, and with a family that loved to hunt, so I was pretty comfortable around guns. Rifles and shotguns were my kind of weapon; pistols, on the other hand, not so much. They're notoriously hard to shoot accurately. But, what was the harm in looking into it?

I met Dave, Frank's buddy at the gun shop, the next day. "Where you at, James? What kind of gun you interested in? We can have you test a few out to see what feels right to you. Getting a concealed permit is easy, but it'll take a while. No criminal record, right?"

"No," I laughed. "But, I need to see if I can shoot one of these babies first. I've never shot pistols much. The only time I've carried one is for protection around cottonmouths in the swamp."

"Shit. If you can hit a snake with a pistol, then you're a dead shot."

"Never said I hit one. Just said I carried one." I said truthfully, laughing at myself.

I ended up testing a number of revolvers and semi-automatic pistols, from cheap Taurus knock-offs to top of the line Sig Sauer models.

I finally settled on a Glock for around five hundred bucks. It fit my hand like a glove, and I was actually able to hit the target once in a while. I took the tests, and I turned in my application. Six weeks later, I was the somewhat reluctant owner of a concealed gun permit.

However, once I got the gun and the permit to carry concealed, I completely lost interest in both. I just felt so stupid carrying a gun, and I figured that I'd end up accidentally shooting my dick off some day. So it went into the top of the closet, right next to my Irma Thomas albums.

When Frank found out what I did with my gun, he came up with a suggestion after a few rounds of teasing me about how big a pussy I was. "Since you're too big a pussy to carry a gun," (see what I mean?), "maybe you need to work on self-defense. I know a few guys who've taken martial arts. Maybe that's what you need."

"Nah, Frank. I don't think that's for me. I can't see me dressing up in those silly outfits and kicking boards."

"Are you kidding me, Jim? That would be a blast. You've got to do it. Tell you what; I'll do the research for you. I'll find out what is the best class in town, and I'll sign you up. I just wish I didn't have all the ballgames with little Frankie I have to go to, or else I'd join too."

A week later, there I was; in front of a non-descript building between a bar and a coffee shop, and signing up with a Korean guy, Master Kim, for Hapkido classes. "You've chosen well, Mr. Travis. Hapkido is the best of the fighting arts. Hapkido blends Karate and Judo moves into one art, an art that is both beautiful and functional, and is especially well suited for self-defense. You are a little old to just be starting, but if you work at it, you could become very good. I don't have beginner adult classes, and I don't wish to mix you with the children, as they will laugh at you and not pay attention. Besides, their mothers would be angry with you there."

I signed up for a six months' worth of sessions. The rest of the class has been taking from Master Kim for years, and are at different levels of attainment: many of the men were at various degrees of black belt called Dan, some were brown belts, and some were green, and blue.

Surprisingly, there was only one woman in class. Her name was Beth, and she had a black and white belt. Beth has a chip on her shoulder bigger than she is. She wants a black belt, and wants it badly. According to Master Kim, Beth "was too weak for even a 1st Dan. You're not black belt worthy."

To me, he said, "You are just a baby. You don't even have a Dobok to wear. Get your mama to help you get dressed," while he pointed to Beth.

'What an asshole!' I thought.

"What an asshole!" Beth said out loud, smiling at Master Kim. Master Kim smiled back, he was obviously proud of the title.

I looked at Beth, a lady half my age, and said "Well, Mom, can you hook me up with a Dobok?"

She gave me a feral look. One where she shoots daggers with her eyes and steam is coming out of her ears. "You assholes must run in packs. They'll probably give you a black belt in a week just because you've got a nut sack, and you're a jerk!"

Wow. Was she ever pissed! I thought she might have been joking around, but she was really hot.

"I apologize," I said. "I wasn't trying to offend you. Let's start over. Hi, I'm Jim." I stuck my hand out, trying to be friendly.

She looked at me, at my hand, and said sweetly "Sure." She grabbed my hand, bent my finger and wrist in such a painful way that I dropped to my knees, and she turned away.

Master Kim split us up into training partners, matched by experience. When he was nearly finished, there was just Beth and me remaining. I heard her mutter something that strongly sounded like "Shit!"

I was forced to watch the first class since I didn't have a uniform to wear. This meant Beth missed opportunities to practice or had to be Master Kim's punching bag. Either way, she wasn't happy. After class, she grabbed me and pulled me out the door. "We're going next door to order you a Dobok, and we're going to overnight it so I won't miss another class. Hopefully, you have a credit card that's not maxed out?"

"Sure," I smiled. "I'll even buy your coffee."

"Damn straight you will! Except you're buying me a beer. You probably want a drink with a little umbrella in it," she said with a sneer.

As we drank a couple of Abita Ambers, she pulled out her iPad and picked me out one of the cheaper outfits, the one with a white top and black pants. "I'd get something better but I have a feeling you're not going to last. This outfit is fine, but it will wear out quickly. I'm going to be throwing you all over the place, and the repeated throws will cause any material to fray and fall apart over time. It comes with a white belt, which is probably the only one you'll ever wear."

'Great," I thought to myself. 'I'm a beginner in a class of experienced people, and my partner hates me."

"Oh," she continued, "One more thing. The uniforms are unbelievably hot. You're going to be chafing under them. I'd go commando if I were you. Just be sure to put on baby powder."

Hmm...Maybe she won't be such a bad partner after all. Or was she setting me up?

Even with overnight delivery, my Dobok only arrived on Thursday morning. Thank God! Classes were on every Tuesday and Thursday night, and if Beth missed another class, I would probably die...or something equally terrifying. So that Thursday night after work, I rushed home and got changed quickly. The uniform was really stiff, so I ignored Beth's suggesting and I wore underwear underneath the uniform.

During class, Master Kim demonstrated kicks, with an emphasis on spinning sweep kicks delivered low on the legs to knock down your opponent. We also had to practice to avoid and fend of oncoming kicks. Well, let's just say it could've gone better. Beth knocked me down every time. I never even made contact with her legs. I went off balance nearly every time, and fell down on my ass just as much.

After a while, she grew tired of my perceived clumsiness. "Shit, Jim! Master Kim must think you're taking falls on purpose to make me look better! Can you at least pretend that you're a man and know what you're doing?" she whispered to me furiously. Whoa. Ouch.

Master Kim, bless him, ended class after an hour and a half. I was bruised, and exhausted. I was so light headed from the workout, I think I was about to pass out. The only thing keeping me up was the fact that I had an oven inside my pants. It was so hot that if Beth weren't around, I would've stripped bare assed naked right then and there.

Before the class officially ended, Master Kim addressed the class to declare that he figured out my class nickname. I guess it was a tradition of some sort, because every student in his class had one; Bill, a tall red-haired guy, was named Sequoia, an angry looking, muscled bound man was named Stone, and Beth, bless her soul, was named Peanut. I guess she wasn't kidding about Master Kim being somewhat a misogynist. Master Kim looked at me and declared, "You are tall, and sway in strong winds. You will hereby be known as Pine!" Hmm, I guess he didn't like me either.

As the class dispersed, Beth tugged at one of my sodden sleeves. "C'mon, Pine. You need to hydrate." There was a bar beside the studio, and it seemed that everyone in class went there to hang out after class. Beth and I found a table, and ordered two beers. Once our beers arrived, and Beth took a long swing, she looked at me and said, "You know, you must be the worst student I've ever seen. I mean, you really suck. At least I know you won't get your black belt before me at this rate." Damn, I thought, this girl doesn't know how to be nice.

"I'm going to do you a favor Jim," she continued on. "I've never done this before, and I don't know why I'm doing this, but I'm gonna share my notes with you. See, I maintain notes of everything I learn, and I update the info after every session. I study them, and pantomime them before each class. You can do the same. Master Kim follows the same schedule for each 6 month session. You'll always know what's coming next, and you'll be prepared to do anything he asks."

I was dumbfounded. Say what? "Uh, I thought you hated working with me. Why are you doing this?" I asked.

"Well, you're not exactly my idea of a great partner, but you're not a macho asshole like the most of the guys in class." She laughed and continued, "You know, this is your second class and you haven't even hit on me yet. What's the matter? You don't think I'm cute?"

Oooh, she got me there. I blushed, and I saw her smile at my discomfort. Well, damn!

"I...uh...I," I stammered. I hated being put on the spot, and I didn't know how to respond. Finally, I said, "Yeah. Yeah, I think you're cute. Beautiful even. I'm just uncomfortable being so forward with a woman. And...uh...and I figured you get hit on all the time, and you were tired of it. Especially from older men like me."

She gave me a seductive smile, and said, "I never get tired of it, Jim. It's a great ego boost. But, it does irritate me. Don't you hate trying to satisfy a woman?"

"Damn straight," I said, as I grew uncomfortable with the way our conversation was going, so I decided to get back on safe ground. "I think I can help you too. Master Kim says that you aren't strong enough physically to have a black belt. Do you work out with weights?"

"No," she told me, irritated. "I don't want to lose the flexibility I need for Hapkido."

"You can do both. I know a thing or two about weight training. I may not look it right now, but I used to be an athlete, and I lived in the weight room. I still work out there a couple of days during the week."

She stood silent for a moment, and then she asked. "Are you gay?"

What the hell? For the life of me, I couldn't figure out Beth's thought process. I guess she was one of those people that have no filter between her brain and her mouth. "NO!!! Why would you ask that?"

"Let's see. You looove the gym like every other muscle bound freak, and you still haven't hit on me yet."

"Damn it! I can't win, can I?"

"Not against me, my little sapling. Just remember that. I'll copy my notes, and bring them to this bar tomorrow at seven. Can you meet me here?"

"Sure, it's a date," I said with a smile.

"No. It's me helping my helpless partner. Bring your kit; maybe we'll get lucky and one of the guys in class with a key will be working out.

Oh, and don't wear underwear again. You've been pulling at your drawers all night. You're gonna be chaffed like crazy tomorrow."

Ignoring the comments about my raw ass, I asked, "What do you mean about a key?"

"Most of the guys in class have been given keys by Master Kim, except for you and Stone. You aren't good enough in his eyes, and he doesn't trust Stone."

Deciding to get some type of revenge, I smiled teasingly and asked, "Why don't you have a key, Peanut?"

"Master Kim doesn't think I'm good enough either," She simply said. Suddenly, she grabbed my left hand and expertly applied pressure that caused me to pitch over, knocking my beer over to spill on our table. She continued with a smile in her voice, "How about you? Do you think I'm good? Oh, and by the way, don't use my nickname ever again. Because you'll regret the day you'll ever use again. Understand?"

"Okay, Okay!" I yelled, wincing at the pain in my hand. "I'm sorry you don't have a key! It's not fair!

"At least you see that. So here's how we'll use the extra time. We're going to spend it at the gym. Let's skip the beer tomorrow night and meet at your gym at seven instead." She said as she smiled, very happy at the obvious pain I was in.

"They have good trainers there," I said, rubbing my hand. "They'll set you up with a program that'll complement your Hapkido training. I believe that they have a guest program. But you'll have to join at some point. I don't think they'll let you be a guest all the time."

"Half right, Pine cone," she replied with a smile. "I'll go as your guest until you buy the family plan. I can go as your daughter." After a pause, her smile grew and said, "Now that's a date." She finished the last of beer in one gulp, got up and left. I just stared after her. What the hell was I getting myself into? I knew Beth was taking advantage of me, while making me feel like I was disappointing her at the same time. How did I get in this mess?

So, my training with Beth started with a bang, and I did little over the next few weeks than go to work and work out. I spent my Mondays, my Wednesdays, and my Fridays at the gym, and I spent Tuesdays and Thursdays at Master Kim's. Over the weeks, despite my misgiving at first, I saw that our plan was working. I was getting better and better in class, and Beth was gaining the upper body strength she needed. Apparently we made quite the impression, because she became known as my daughter at the gym. She also started to wear revealing outfits in front of her "Dad". On more than one occasion she caught me staring at her chest as she was bending over. She would then tell me in a stage whisper, "Now, that's just wrong, Dad," which got plenty of laughs and stares from people that were close to us.

After nearly six months into my Hapkido training, my progress became extremely pronounced. I was able to hold my own with Beth. I could land kicks on her, and with my size and bulk, I was a formidable foe to her skills. On the Monday before the last class of the session, Beth said, "Master Kim will be testing us tomorrow. He's going to watch the class to determine who is worthy of being promoted."

"Do they have degrees of white belt?" I asked jokingly.

"You don't take yourself seriously enough. You're a big, strong, handsome man who has progressed greatly in the last six months. I think Master Kim has noticed it too."

Handsome? Did she just say that I was handsome? In my reply, I decided to be funny. "Master Kim thinks I'm handsome? Hmm, I've always wanted an Asian lover!"

"Fuck you, Dad. You're a big pain in the ass, you know that? You just can't take a compliment!"

During the last class, I was as nervous as a cat. I knew that Master Kim was watching us closely, and it threw me for a loop. He spent the class watching us demonstrate our knowledge and expertise. I noticed him shaking his head in appreciation after Beth had performed a technique flawlessly. I was excited for her. I knew she'd be in a better mood if she thought Master Kim liked her.

At the end of class, before we all left, he declared "I have one key to be held by either Pine or Peanut; the two of you must decide." The others in the class were excited and started chanting for a fight. Master Kim brought order back to his class by stating, "No, this is for the two of them to decide. We must all leave. They may decide however they see fit."

Everyone changed quickly and headed out. Stone was angry and was muttering to himself about being able to beat the both of us singlehandedly. Oh well, you can't please every asshole on the planet. Master Kim went upstairs to his room, and left the key hanging on the wall. Before he headed up the stairs, he bowed, and said, "Wisdom and strength are seldom friends. I hope you choose wisely."

After he closed the door, we eyed each other for a bit. Finally, Beth simply said, "We fight." I agree. Nothing else would feel right. I smirked, and tried to take her aback, "It's a date."

We started to circle each other. We both knew each other's strengths and weaknesses. I tried to kick her side, which she blocked, and she followed it with a palm shot to my solar plexus. I expelled a breath to counter the coughing fit that follows a shot to the sternum, and I countered with a spinning back kick. The kick caught her by surprise and I used it to my advantage. I jumped on her, trying to use my weight to control her. My knees were beside her hips while my hands were on her shoulders. Quickly, she used one of those damn wrist locks that I could never master. She rolled me off, and I got a swift heel kick to the stomach. I rolled to my side in pain, and got up quickly. When I was still hunched over, she grabbed my shirt top, and pivoted her weight to hip throw me. I didn't move, as she yanked the cloth once again. My Dobok ripped. Holy crap! I guess Beth was right; that Dobok was cheap!

We both stood there, facing each other, surprise on our faces. She had shredded fabric in her hands, while staring at my shredded top. Before she could do anything, I took my belt and shirt off, and I waited for her next move. She tried to put me in an Arm-bar, but she couldn't keep a grip on my sweaty body.

"Shit," she spat, as her fingers slipped across my forearm. I immediately grabbed her sleeve, and put her in my own wristlock. I was able to throw her to the mat, and she hit the floor with a thud, much harder than ever before. Then, I just stood there, my mind blank since I had absolutely no idea how to capitalize on it. She smiled, countered my move so fast I could hardly keep up, and got up on her feet.