“Why don’t you complain?” a female friend had asked her.

It was a sore point, because she had complained, more than once. But when her colleagues were asked to verify what she said, they all protected each other and implied that she was a fantasist who made these allegations up. You could never break the wall of silence -or omerta – concerning their behaviour, because they all behaved in the same way.

“Why don’t you learn self-defence?” her friend had suggested.

Now there’s a thought! Wouldn’t it be great, the next time one of those perverts “accidentally” touched her arse, if she could put him on his back? Wouldn’t it be satisfying to hear him moan in pain? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to get her revenge?

*****

“You can’t learn self-defence in those clothes, especially the stiletto heels,” her instructor, Jeff, told her.

“But that’s the whole point,” Kate argued. “My harassment always takes place in the office, when I’m wearing clothes like these. I want to be able to defend myself when I’m looking like this. I tell you what. I’m wearing a leotard under this skirt and jacket. I can practice in that, but I want to keep the heels on.”

“No, it can’t be done,” Jeff replied adamantly.

“Not even if I pay you double?” Kate asked, persuasively.

“Well, perhaps we could make an exception …”

“Good. Now, I want to learn about a man’s vulnerabilities, so I would like you to be naked.”

“Absolutely, definitely, categorically no!”

“Shall we say … four times the amount of money?”

“Okay,” Jeff began, once the haggling was over to their mutual satisfaction. “We’ll start with some stretching exercises. Now, relax, and I want you to bend forward, while raising each leg behind you as high as you can. I’ll stand behind you and hold you under your arms, so you won’t fall. Good! You have a very supple, versatile body. Tell me, do you dance?

“Oh, yes. I love dancing, and I have ballet classes twice a week.”

“It shows. You’re halfway to being able to defend yourself with the dancing already. It gives you speed and adaptability. You should have no problem with high kicks, for example.”

“I’d look good high kicking in this outfit with these stiletto heels too, wouldn’t I? Dead sexy!”

Although Jeff readily agreed inwardly, he wasn’t happy about the way the conversation was going. Yes, she looked ravishing in her translucent, gauzy black leotard – but it was distracting. The black bra she wore underneath it seemed to make her breasts point at him when she faced him. It’s hard enough to be professional when you’re stark naked in the presence of a beauty like Kate, he thought, without her suggestive comments. She also seemed to be pushing her bottom into his lower stomach harder than was strictly necessary.

“Okay, great, he told her hoarsely. Now, can you bring your left leg up over my left arm and bend the knee? Oh, perfect!”

Well yes, but in supporting her, his right hand was on her sex. Quickly Jeff, leave that exercise, and concentrate on something less tempting.

“Okay, can you balance on your hands as if you were doing push-ups? I’ll raise each leg one after the other, and I want you to tell me when it starts to hurt. We need to push the boundaries of pain to give you the maximum flexibility.”

“Oh, I’m very flexible, in more ways than you can imagine!”

“I bet you are,” he thought privately, and began to wonder if the men in the office were right about her after all. Did she shove her arse at them, and then complain when they responded?

“Oh, that’s great!” he told her, holding her left ankle so that her leg was at right angles to the rest of her body, with her back arched forward.

“Right, now stand for me, please. Okay, now just as if you were in ballet, can you stand on one leg and raise the other one behind you as high as you can? Nice, dainty pose, excellent. That’s an ideal position for a super kick. You know what one of those is?”

“Certainly, they’re among my favourites. I’ve watched women do them on men, and I’ve always wanted to have a go.”

“You know, the idea is not to go looking for a fight,” Jeff told her, very much the instructor. “It’s called self-defence for a reason.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” this strange woman asked. “Anyway, carry on, please.”

So he did, but really there was very little that Kate needed to learn with the exercises. She knew so much about them that she seemed to take over the class. Pushing herself against him and facing him, she raised her right leg so that her calf rested on his left shoulder. He held her steady, but he found he was clasping her buttocks. Steady Jeff, what do you think you’re doing? (On the other hand, she did nothing to discourage him.)

“Good,” he croaked, trying to take back the initiative in running the class. “Now, lie on your back, please. Okay, I want you to raise yourself off the mat so that only your head, shoulders, and your left foot are on it. Now, raise your right leg straight up so that I can hold your shoe. Do you feel any tension?”

“Not much,” she answered.

“That’s great,” he told her. “Your dancing is indispensable.”

“I know, strength and grace go together. I think a woman can look beautiful when she fights – especially when using her long, shapely legs to, as I call it, ‘power kick’ or to scissor a man. Imagine these beauties ensnaring your neck!”

Jeff cleared his throat. “Right, now stand on your other leg, please, facing away from me. That’s right, now if you would raise your left leg so that I hold it by the knee …”

Kate stood against him, pushing her body harder than necessary into him, so that her buttocks ground against his naked manhood. Jeff found himself shaking slightly.

“You’re in excellent shape!” he informed her, meaning every word. Now we’ll try some self-defence for real. I’m going to grab you from behind, and I want you to try to get out of it, using these simple techniques.” He mimed the approved methods of elbow strike, bend and shoulder throw.

Then he held her. But he broke all the professional rules. His left hand was on her breast, while his right hovered over her sex. Meanwhile, her left hand was over his, if anything inviting him to have a feel, while her right rested on the top of his thigh. She raised her left leg …

Jeff yelped, startled and injured.

“You see how useful stiletto heels can be?” Kate asked him, after the pointed weapon had executed a precision strike on his foot. “Now then, elbow defence,” she continued, catching him unawares sharply under the chin with her right elbow, “and for a bit of variation, a good old punch on the balls,” she concluded, squatting in the elegant way that only a dancer can, and back punching right on target. Jeff shrieked in agony and collapsed on his back.

“I believe in taking the fight to the enemy,” Kate announced, squatting over him and punching him in the eye.

Her sudden transformation from defence to attack had disorientated Jeff, and he lay sprawled on his back, nursing unexpected wounds to his foot, chin, balls and eye. Not for the first time, he wondered whether she believed in provoking the fight in the first place. Seeing her celebrate over him did nothing to dispel his doubts.

“Well come on,” Kate demanded, as he seemed to her to wallow in his suffering, “we’re wasting time.”

“Oh, sorry,” Jeff found himself saying, while he got up. “Okay, well done, that was a good, er, defence, if slightly unorthodox. Right, now I’m going to attack you, and I want you to take evasive action. Oh, good!” he cried, as she leant back out of the way of a mock right cross. “Very deft, excellent footwork, very fit and adaptable,” he concluded, almost licking his lips.

“Don’t patronise me!” Kate hissed, hooking a shiny, smart, expensive ladies’ stiletto-heeled shoe hard into his balls.

“I wasn’t - ah, SHIT!” Jeff protested, then reacted as Kate thrust her right elbow into his face while he nursed his balls, sending him down in a tumble. She looked on, satisfied, while he lay whimpering in the foetal position.

But she never seemed to be satisfied for long. Soon she was insisting that he get up again, and when he was slow in doing so, “helped” him up by pulling his ear.

“I think we should finish the class,” groaned Jeff, still nursing his manhood.

“Well I don’t,” Kate snapped back. “We’ve only been half an hour, and I paid for a full hour.”

“Yes, but I didn’t expect to be kicked and punched in the balls,” he countered.

“And I didn’t expect to have my arse groped,” she fired back indignantly.

“Sorry, but you made it impossible for me not to,” he argued, with partial justification.

“How dare you! If you won’t continue the class, I’ll let it be known that you grabbed my arse, and you’ll never be able to teach self-defence to women again!”

“Okay, okay,” Jeff replied, convinced of the need to give in. “Right, we’ll practice a throw followed by scissors. I’ll grab you from behind again, and I want you to try out a hip toss, like this,” and he proceeded to demonstrate. “Then we’ll work on scissors and see how effective they are.”

“Okay, now I’ll grab you from behind …”

“Grab my arse again, more like,” Kate interrupted him, whisking him up and over.

“She’s done this before,” Jeff thought, as she had him in the air, looking up at the ceiling, before landing with a jolt on his back.

“Imagine these beauties, ensnaring your neck!” Kate chuckled, as she proceeded to do just that. She was above Jeff, on her back and supporting herself on her hands, while she trapped his neck in her formidable, long, shapely, dancer’s legs.

“Feel my thighs, why don’t you?” she mocked his feeble attempts to free himself from the head scissor.

Never mind going naked and agreeing to teach her even though she was wearing stiletto heels, Jeff fully earned the money she paid him in the pain she inflicted. The idea of a practice, surely, is to learn, and not actually hurt your opponent/instructor? Also, he had said they would “try out” scissors, not constrict his neck so much that he struggled to breathe.

Kate relaxed her support, pushing her arms behind her so that she lay on the small of her back. This enabled her to bring her legs up vertically, dragging Jeff by his neck onto his knees so that his head drooped just over her breasts.

“Seeing you like my tits so much, I thought you’d like a closer look!” she told him, sounding like the typical girl in comedy-dramas who gets into fights with men. Comics, too. (They always have to come out with wisecracks, don’t they?)

“The men in my office are always furtively staring at my tits, too. Mind you, I go in there practically showing the lot. I love to lead a man on, then punish him.”

“Thought so,” thought Jeff, desperately trying to stay conscious as she pulled him down onto his front, but with his head raised slightly.

Lying across him now, she crossed her legs like a pretty secretary, but over his far shoulder, still imprisoning his neck. This way she could look at his face from side on. His suffering amused her. She moved him this way and that, just for the hell of it. It had no use, other than to demonstrate to him that she could do just as she wanted with him. She steered his neck so that he had to look at her face now, and he could see her laughing at his pain and discomfort. What a sadist!

Moving onto her side, Kate pushed his head down onto the floor and trapped his left arm under her hip, while keeping the scissor going. She wasn’t going to give that up. At least, not until he passed out. It shouldn’t take long now, either. She worked those fearsome, beautiful legs and applied yet more raw strength to the hold. One more squeeze … Yes! Jeff flopped. She had knocked out the self-defence instructor!

Kate stood over her vanquished “opponent” and celebrated. Uniquely, for anyone in full-time work, she was looking forward to Monday morning.