A Fighting Chance

Chapter One

It was a sweltering day and the gym wasn’t air-conditioned. The owner and Sensei, DJ Brown, liked it that way. She felt that the old-time boxing gyms had the right idea. No air conditioning for them. It should be all about the training, not comfort.

So when DJ decided to open Woman Strong, the first women only Mixed Martial Arts gym in Minnesota, she had no intention of babying anyone. Summers here didn’t last very long anyway. Today, though, was definitely one of those mid-summer scorchers, the kind of day that proved the whole global warming thing was not just a figment of a scientist’s imagination.

No one dared grumble about the sauna like conditions. The first time someone did, she was immediately refunded her money and shown the door. Everyone knew the story, and everyone learned the lesson.

DJ looked at her watch. The woman was thirty minutes late. If this interview didn’t have so much potential to increase her clientele, she would never have agreed to it. She didn’t trust reporters, didn’t trust their objectivity or lack thereof. Everybody had an agenda. Okay, to be honest, she didn’t trust most people, but those with the potential to influence really irked her.

She turned away from the two women on the mat to watch the two who were starting to spar in the cage. Unlike boxing, MMA fighters fought in a cage rather than a ring. When DJ had opened this place, she could afford to have a regulation cage installed. The cage could seem a bit intimidating when first confronted with it, although for this kind of fighting it was actually a lot safer than a boxing ring. In a ring, it was too easy to slip through the ropes during ground fighting.

Move to your left, Christie. Don’t just let her kick you, DJ shouted out. A few seconds later she added, We all know how tough you are, but try to block some of those kicks anyway.

Mixed Martial Arts had proven to be the perfect sport for DJ. She had studied karate when she was young, and had taken some boxing lessons after that. The striking game in MMA combined punches, kicks, elbows and knees, like the Asian sport of Muay Thai. The difference with this sport was that MMA added ground fighting to the mix. To even be adequate in this game required a fighter to also be proficient in wrestling and jiu jitsu. It was difficult to master all the skills of a mixed martial artist, and that’s one of the things DJ appreciated most about the discipline.

Excuse me. The reporter tapped DJ on the shoulder. Are you DJ Brown?

DJ turned around and saw what had to be the reporter. Who else would wear a skirt and heels to a gym? Once she got past the choice of ensemble, however, DJ couldn’t help but notice what a strikingly attractive woman she was—long blond hair, green eyes, and that blouse she was wearing articulated her other assets very nicely. Well, that was no excuse for keeping people waiting. She was probably used to getting away with a lot simply because she was so pretty.

Hi, I’m Erin Ryan. Sorry I’m late, there was a traffic accident. The roads were a mess.

Uh huh, DJ replied dismissively, as she turned back to the cage.

Erin tried to salvage the situation. Look, really, I apologize. I hate to get off on the wrong foot. If you don’t have time for me right now we can reschedule, at your convenience of course.

DJ turned back to the reporter. You haven’t complained yet about the heat in here.

Well, I certainly noticed, but I figured there’s a good reason.

There is, but the last reporter who came in here…Well, let’s just say you get points for not bringing it up."

Does that mean I can still have my interview? Erin asked, with a playful grin.

DJ couldn’t help but smile as she glanced down at the shorter woman; the reporter’s expression was quite charming. But that brief smile quickly reverted into DJ’s usual stoic demeanor.

The damage had been done however. She knew she wasn’t going to chase this woman away, at least not immediately.

Tell you what. Why don’t you just follow me around for a while, get the lay of the land, and we’ll set up another time for a full interview.

Thank you, I really appreciate that.

As DJ moved across the gym, Erin noticed what a commanding presence this woman projected. She was tall, almost six feet, taller than Erin’s boyfriend. Her short black hair accentuated her high cheekbones. She didn’t appear overly muscular, but every inch of her conveyed power and authority. And in the if looks could kill department, you wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of those piercing blue eyes. But that little smile she had just thrown Erin’s way led her to believe there was more to this woman than just the tough guy exterior she seemed intent on sharing with the world. In fact, the more Erin watched the woman, the more she found herself thinking of the word magnificent to describe DJ. Now there’s a word I’ve never used in relation to a woman before, she thought, smiling inwardly. Truth be told, she found DJ more than a little intriguing.

They walked over to the cage. Erin knew very little about this sport. In fact, that was one of the reasons she wanted this assignment. She thought it would be quite a challenge. She had managed to watch one MMA fight card on TV, but there had been no women fighting that night. She was anxious to see what kind of woman would be attracted to such a brutal activity.

The two women sparring in the cage were wearing traditional boxing gloves instead of the light MMA gloves, which barely covered a person’s knuckles. Why aren’t they wearing the small gloves everyone else is wearing? Erin asked DJ.

Because they’re working on their striking, DJ replied curtly.

Oh, well, that explains it, Erin said sarcastically. Jeez, moody much? Erin mumbled under her breath.

The tall woman chastised herself. Come on DJ, play nice. Turning to Erin, she said, Sorry. Striking just means they’re practicing punches and kicks. In training, there’s no reason to risk injury. The bigger, padded gloves protect the hands better. We use the regular gloves to work on grappling. There’s less padding in those. They’re basically just to protect your knuckles.

Thank you, DJ. Hey, what’s the DJ stand for?

Without turning around, DJ replied, I’m afraid that information is on a strictly need to know basis.

That bad, huh? Erin mumbled.

Ignoring the remark, DJ continued, This is an advanced class. These women know what they’re doing, so we give them some free time to work out on their own. But between me and my co-instructor, Jordan Wallace—that’s her over there on the mat—we’re never far from the action.

Jordan had been DJ’s only real friend when they worked out at the co-ed MMA gym downtown. When DJ was asked to leave that facility, unfairly she thought, Jordan had gone with her.

When they had met, there was an immediate physical attraction and they had slept together, but only once. When DJ had admitted to Jordan that she wasn’t at all ready for a relationship of any kind, Jordan had actually been okay with it, unlike most women DJ had slept with. Jordan had never figured out why she wasn’t more upset. Maybe it was because she saw the makings of a real friendship with DJ. They started becoming quite comfortable with each other, which was a rarity for DJ, who more often than not took an instant dislike to people. It helped that Jordan was gay, although DJ had certainly had enough run-ins with other lesbians to know it wasn’t just that. No, DJ was a self-proclaimed misanthrope and rather proud of it. She’d never had many friends and never felt like she was missing out. To her mind, most people were either unpleasant, boring, or both. Jordan just kind of snuck up on her, and a rare friendship was, indeed, born.

Ironically, DJ’s curmudgeonly attitude actually seemed to be helpful in this new career she’d chosen. When her aunt in Minneapolis left her a substantial inheritance, she immediately knew what she wanted to do with it. She asked Jordan to join her in running the small gym and training the women. She and Jordan both understood the unique training requirements of female martial artists, and they both had been witness to some unsavory male attitudes in co-ed gyms. Most of the guys were great. They totally respected the women involved in the sport, but it only took one or two bad apples to make a gym feel unsafe.

DJ and Jordan were both well-rounded martial artists, both black belts, but Jordan was particularly adept at ground skills like wrestling, submissions, and jiu jitsu. DJ’s strong suit was striking, although she also enjoyed the grappling arts and could usually hold her own with Jordan in that area. The two of them made a great teaching combination. They worked hard but totally enjoyed what they were doing.

Erin figured Jordan to be about the same age as DJ, about 30. Jordan had shoulder length auburn hair, currently in a ponytail and she too, like DJ, gave off an air of strength, if not quite as much intensity as the taller woman.

As Erin watched the two students rolling around on the mat, she turned to DJ. That’s fascinating. Can I ask you what they’re doing?

They’re practicing submissions from the guard position.

DJ saw the confusion in Erin’s eyes and continued. When you find yourself on your back and your opponent is on top, you want to immediately wrap your legs around her body to keep her from posturing up into a ground and pound position. That’s called a closed guard. It may seem like the fighter on top is in the dominant position, but you can try a lot of things from the guard. One thing you can do is to try to set your opponent up for a submission. That’s what they’re working on.

Erin was totally lost. Okay, way too many concepts in that explanation. Can you clarify a bit?

Well, you know, I could show you some of these moves if you’d be willing to get your nose dirty, so to speak, DJ smirked.

That’d be great. I’d love to take you on, one on one, Erin grinned flirtatiously. Did I just say that? Erin wasn’t sure what was happening here.

Either was DJ. Is she just kidding or am I reading this woman correctly?

Why would I be flirting with her? Erin thought, she’s a woman.

After the brief pause, DJ replied, You sure about that? This isn’t an easy sport for beginners. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.

I’m tougher than I look, Erin responded with pride. I’ve done some aerobic boxing.

Oh well then, my mistake, DJ muttered.

Erin ignored the sarcasm. Look, I’d really like to see what this stuff is all about. It’ll make for a much better story. Besides, I trust that you won’t hurt me. Erin playfully punched DJ’s arm. Why am I being so familiar with this woman? I’ve just met her. Now she was afraid she might be blushing so she quickly added, I’ll sign a release if that’ll make you feel better.

I don’t think that’ll be necessary but, okay, if you really want a lesson, you’re on. Come by tomorrow morning at seven. That’s before we open. We’ll have time to work out a bit.

It’s a date. Yikes, why did I use that word? I’ll see you then, Erin said with as much composure as she could muster.

DJ watched the reporter as she left the gym. Jordan came over and recognized the look in DJ’s eyes.

She’s cute. But I see you noticed that, Jordan said, teasing her friend.

Don’t start. DJ answered, Even if she was gay, and she isn’t, she’s not my type.

Oh please, that woman is everyone’s type.

"Fine, you ask her out."

DJ knew she wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all herself. Erin had, indeed, made an impression—an unwanted impression, but there was no denying it was there.

Jordan put her arm around DJ and whispered in her ear, Looking forward to hearing how that little workout session goes tomorrow.

DJ walked away mumbling, Bite me.

Chapter Two

DJ woke up the next morning at five a.m. and couldn’t get back to sleep. She lived only fifteen minutes from the gym, so she had some time to kill. Maybe she could finally unpack those boxes from the move. She’d lived in this apartment for almost a year, and there were still several boxes taking up room in the corners. Nah, she decided. If I haven’t needed the contents of these boxes for a year, how important can they be?

She made herself some coffee and gazed out the kitchen window. In her mind, she replayed yesterday’s encounter with Erin. DJ was pretty sure the woman was straight. She was usually spot on with her gaydar, even if the very attractive blonde did appear to be a bit flirtatious. That didn’t mean anything. Straight women flirted with DJ all the time. She usually just chalked it up to bi-curiosity and knew enough to steer clear. But as much as she had tried to present Erin with her usual hardened exterior, DJ realized she had displayed definite chinks in her armor. She’d have to watch out for that today.

Meanwhile, across town, Erin was packing her gym clothes into a small Sports Illustrated bag that Chip had gotten free for subscribing to the magazine. She glanced over to the bed. He was still asleep. Chip looked so sweet when he was unconscious. Lately, he had been acting pretty surly when awake. They both knew something was wrong, but they never seemed to have the time to talk about it.

She and Chip had been together for almost five years, but the romance had definitely moved on from the relationship. She often wondered if the two of them were merely settling for each other now. Erin had seen that happen with some of her friends, and had promised herself she would never let it happen to her. If she was being totally honest with herself, however, Erin knew that she and Chip should have ended this thing months ago. Well, this isn’t the time to dwell on it. I have a date for a workout. And why do I keep referring to this as a date? She zipped up her gym bag and quietly left the apartment.

When Erin opened the gym door, she saw DJ kicking the heavy bag. DJ was dressed in a martial arts gi, the two-piece uniform consisting of loose white pants and a wraparound jacket with a cloth belt. DJ’s belt, not surprisingly, was black. Her face was glistening with sweat. That’s a good look for her, Erin mused. She continued to watch DJ’s workout. Each one of her kicks made a loud, thwacking sound on the bag. It was very impressive.

Finally, Erin walked up to her and said hello. Good morning, DJ replied. Glad you could make it. She picked up a towel from the floor and dried herself off a bit.

Where can I change? Erin asked, glancing around the gym.

Locker room’s always good, DJ pointed to the back of the gym. Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll put some gloves on you and we can get started.

Erin returned a few minutes later in a T-shirt and shorts.

Is there anything in particular you’d like to try? DJ asked while putting the gloves on Erin.

I’ve been thinking about that guard position you were talking about yesterday. Can you show me that?

Sure, top or bottom?

Excuse me? Erin responded with an embarrassed grin.

DJ realized how that sounded as soon as the words left her mouth. Yeah, all I mean is, do you want to learn this skill from the ground, or do you want to start in my guard, which would put you…on top?

On top of you? Yes, I think I’d like to try that. Oh my god, can I stick my foot any further into my mouth? I can’t believe I just said that. DJ was thinking the same thing, but Erin’s expression was unreadable.

They walked over to the mat and DJ lay on her back. Okay, let’s go.

Erin remembered what she had seen on this mat yesterday. She gingerly placed herself on top of DJ, and the tall woman wrapped her long legs around Erin’s middle and locked her ankles together. Then, with her arms, DJ brought Erin’s head down till it was resting on DJ’s upper chest.

There was total silence for a few awkward moments. DJ had been in this position a thousand times in training. She tried to remain professional, but there was no escaping the fact that Erin’s soft, curvy body on top of hers was having an effect.

Then DJ spoke, rather softly, "You see, when you’re in this position, even though you’re on top, what I’m doing with my legs and by holding your head down, it limits the damage you can do to me. At least the physical damage. And is she wearing perfume? Yes, she is. DJ wasn’t sure what scent the blonde had on. She only knew it was affecting her heart rate. Yeah, that’s right DJ. It’s the perfume. You keep telling yourself that.

Back to the lesson, she thought. One of the moves you can try now is to posture up so you can get some clear shots at my head.

Um, excuse me, but how exactly am I supposed to do that?

Grab my wrists and pry my arms apart, or maybe try some punches to my stomach, then use your hips to roll your body and get out of my guard. She continued, What you’re in right now is called a closed guard. If my ankles weren’t locked, it would be an open guard. In either case, you want to pass my guard and get into side control, and then try for the full mount. From that position, you can get good, solid blows to my head. That’s called ground and pound.

Fascinatingly terminology in this sport, Erin mumbled from her inelegant position. She tried to extricate herself, but those legs were wrapped tight and her head felt like it was in a vice.

DJ noticed Erin’s frustration. How’s this? Why don’t I get on top and show you how to get out of this position?

Wonderful idea, Erin quickly agreed and the two women rose from the floor. Erin had to admit that it wasn’t a totally unpleasant idea, having the athletic woman lying on top of her.

This would be a good opportunity to show you a takedown, DJ said.

What’s that now? Erin replied. But as soon as they were facing each other, Erin found herself in a body lock and subsequently lifted off the mat. Seconds later she was unceremoniously dumped on her butt.

DJ was now, indeed, in the top position.

Why do I feel like a rag doll? Erin muttered.

DJ smiled down at her and said, This is all brand new to you. You’re supposed to feel that way.

Glad to know I’m doing it right, Erin remarked acerbically.

Hey, you were the one who asked for a lesson. Don’t punk out on me now.

Who’s punking out? Erin said defensively. I’m just saying this is a lot to take in. I mean, in one lesson."

DJ lifted herself up so she was straddling Erin. You could sign up for lessons. We have beginner’s classes.

Mmm, Erin replied as she looked up into those striking blue eyes. Do you teach the beginner’s classes? she asked hopefully.

Her tone did not escape DJ’s notice. I teach some of them. Jordan and I share that task. Are you interested? DJ said, trying not to sound too overly enthusiastic. "It would be great for your story, and it’s a first rate workout. Some women take classes just