Luke couldn't help it, even as he lunged with the blade towards her stomach. The wicked blade slicing through the short space between them. His muscles tensing as he anticipated the dreadful steel finding soft flesh. Beautiful, perfect flesh.

He simply thrilled at the closeness of her, breathed in the scent of her hot skin as she leant into him, soft hands enclosing his wrist.

Then the world turned upside down as Emma pivoted, right leg gracefully moving in a backwards arc, hands following, Luke somersaulting through the air to land, once again, flat on his back, the knife he held now pointing firmly at his own throat.

'See?'

Emma smiled down at him, not yet releasing his hands from a paralysing wrist lock.

'It's not about power or strength, just balance and technique! Again? I'll walk you through it slowly, honest, it's easy when you stop trying to use force! '

She released him and Luke sheepishly got to his feet, picked up the knife, and prepared to be floored by the girl he now knew he was falling for in more ways than one.

He was hopeless at Unarmed Defensive Tactics, useless at performing the wrist and arm-locks that would negate any future attacks against him as an Agent, readily admitting Emma was much, much, better.

Years of sports and weight training had instilled in him the need to be muscular, powerful, bulk up, be aggressive.

Now, working up a sweat against his smaller sparring partner, he wished he'd spent less time with the weights and maybe considered taking ballet classes instead! By the Mother, this girl was graceful!

So he was keen to practice and improve, rid himself of his preconceptions about the superiority of his own physical attributes, especially (he admitted to himself) if involved hours and hours of very close contact with the girl.

'OK, right-handed knife attack, really go for it, promise I won't hurt you….too much!'

He thrilled at the glint of humour in her eyes, finding her confidence amazingly sexy as she smiled up at him.

Emma stood, totally relaxed, waiting for the attack, left foot forward, hands held, thumbs touching, fingers spread to perform the butterfly catch.

Luke lunged at her stomach with the wicked blade, feeling her fingers wrap around his wrist, her thumbs on the back of his hand, fingers folding around the flesh of his palm, her body half turning to her right, away from his attack, the butterfly now pointing to the floor.

His momentum took him forwards, the girl no longer in front of him.

With him now off-balance, Emma stopped. Freezing the technique for him to view from his awkward position.

'Now your whole body wants to move forward, but you've lost balance? So…. if I bring my hands towards me, close to my stomach, knife pointing away from me…see the butterfly's wings are wrapped around your hand, my thumbs pointing straight out away from my waist? '

Luke gasped as the wrist-lock sent pain shooting up his arm, incapable of moving,

'Now....see my left foot…imagine a stick of chalk between my toes. I’m going to draw a big circle on the floor, my foot going behind me, hands following the arc as I turn to my left, still tight to my waist….and oops!'

Luke, totally off balance and wrist locked, had no option but to reverse direction, his back hitting the floor, though not as hard this time.

Emma continued her graceful arc, turning his wrist, following him downwards, right knee on the floor against his ribs, knife now pointing at his throat, his wrist immobile.

He smiled up at her, helpless and hopelessly lost in her eyes.

'At full speed, I'm just using your own impetus, and gravity, against you. No strength needed, no big muscles, just little old me! Again! I'll be the attacker, just try and be..…well, less like you!'

They both laughed as she allowed him to his feet.

And so it continued, Luke getting better, the pair moving in harmony, delighting in each other's closeness.

Each looking forward to their private lessons, each benefiting from the other's efforts.

Two weeks later, Emma and Luke shared their first kiss.

Freewayriding