Chapter Two
Class Begins
When McGee parks his car in the lot behind St. Mary the Virgin Episcopal Church and crosses to the steps to the Rectory door, he rings the bell and has to wait only a few seconds. He'd changed before leaving work and now wears a set of gray sweat clothes with large blue NCIS lettering emblazoned across his chest. When the door opens Tim laughs, seeing Siobhan clad in identical clothes.
"What's funny?"
"Nothing. It's just that we look like, er, that is..." Those sweats really do look very good on her.
"Like what?" She knows him well enough to know why he'd second guessed himself. "Like two Agents?" It hadn't really been the effect she'd striven for, but if this will make him more comfortable she'll go for it - for now.
"Er, yeah."
"And you call me a terrible liar."
"Well, you are." He knows how badly he's failed, however. He'd started to say 'a married couple' but to cover his gaff he looks her over even more closely, almost blatantly in fact. Where his clothes are comfortably loose, he imagines hers could be sprayed on, but he'd love to have taken a brush - a tiny brush - to her. "You look really good. I've never met anyone who could make that outfit look so sexy."
"You do."
The compliment undermines his poise. Again. The look in her green eyes does it even more so. "Er, thanks."
"You're very welcome."
x
"You're looking at me like you want to go four falls with me right now." But then she grins at his flummoxed expression, intending to leave him very uncertain if she'd put up a fight if he did grab her and do what his eyes had shouted.
She'd purchased workout clothes some months ago in the Headquarters store for keeping in shape in the gym after her duty hours on Tuesdays, and more often than not since he and Ziva had broken off and they started dating they did not work out alone. But they kept in touch so she always knew when he could meet her after shift change or if she'd be alone for she had bought two sets of the sweats. She has them in two sizes, designated in her own mind 'workout' and 'Timmy'.
It can be ever so much fun wearing this set.
"Everyone's in the Hall, warming up," she says, switching from a sexy to an all-business manner so quickly she hopes he can't keep up as she lets him into the foyer and closes the rear door behind him. "We'll be ready whenever you are."
"The sooner the better." 'The sooner it'll be over,' he finishes secretly.
x
He follows her, quite content to follow her through the Rectory and down the corridor past offices, Sacristy and Vesting rooms, but outside the door she halts and looks back over her shoulder. "Timmy," she says, her voice heavy with reprimand, "you are heating up my bum."
She grins at his expression of guilty horror and leads him through the door into Hamilton Hall.
x
There, assembled on thickly padded gym mats laid upon the floor to form a 20 by 30 area, Tim meets his class. Actually, he stops dead at the door upon first glimpse of them.
There are eight; he'd already been told they range from 17 to 19 and they're already warmed up. Their attire, unlike his and Shav's, spans a rainbow of color but consists of sports bras and tight gym shorts outlining curvaceous hips.
"Uhhh, Shav?" he says very quietly, not moving lips or a muscle of his face, "could I have a word with you?"
x
Rather than withdrawing back into the corridor, she turns to face him. Past her shoulder he can see activity on the mat has stopped as the girls look on.
"Yes, Timmy?"
"They're girls!" He barely keeps this whisper from carrying past her.
She glances back, flashing an assuring smile to convey that the class will begin straight away. The look she gives Tim when she turns back communicates her question better than words, but her tone is casual and her words don't carry. "Yes, they are. Women, actually."
"Okay, women," he doesn't want this to deviate into a PC issue. He tries to fight his voice down so it doesn't come out panicked. "You didn't say they were women!"
"Is that a problem?"
"YES!"
"I asked you to help teach some young people who need to learn to protect themselves in dangerous situations. I don't feel anatomy has anything to do with it."
"Well, it–!" Looking past her to the young women's faces - a lot of them are really very, very attractive - he can't say it does and hope not to sound like a hypocrite. It's true he'd spent the afternoon thinking in terms of street fighting among young men and few of the techniques he'd planned apply now, but that's not the issue. "All right, I'll do it. Somehow. But no more surprises!" He starts to step past her.
"I can't promise that."
He halts, but doesn't answer her. His reply isn't one meant to be overheard, and he hopes none of the girls can read lips even if he dared say it here. But he feels very close to an answer to the question he'd asked the priest earlier today.
x
He's left to follow her into the hall, wondering if he'd prefer to face a furious Gibbs instead. Looking at these very attractive ... young ... nubile ... ('Ho boy, where's Gibbs when I need him?') girls waiting for him to teach them, he decides he would.
"I hope you're all warmed up for our Instructor," Siobhan says, her broad double entendré received with smiles that further undo his confidence. "He's about to do something special with each of you."
They grin in anticipation, spiced by their hostess' tone and Tim feels his heart burst out of his chest to go splat in a lump on the floor.
Just the thought of grappling with any of these scantily clad gir – young women – some of whom are at least 18 or 19 if he could only be sure which ones, makes him want to call the whole thing off, promise or no.
Safer - and preferable - is to walk up to Gibbs and slap him. Then his death would be quick. Painful, but quick.
x
Thoughts of the required quarterly Sexual Harassment programs and Green - Yellow - Red Light behavior tear at him further. 'If anyone finds out about tonight - what am I thinking? Of course they're going to find out!'
All it will take is Tony DiNozzo and three spare minutes for all of Operations to know everything.
It's more than just coming up for Review, more than the Gibbs-whacking he'll get for getting himself into this compromising situation, it's–
It's...
They're girls!
x
"As I told you," Siobhan continues, oblivious to his inner self-assault, "we were scheduled to be taught by Joan Zizmor, but there's been a cancellation. But I'd like to present Special Agent Timothy McGee of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service who has very kindly offered to step in to help. So, ladies, I leave you in his …" she actually gives him an 'elevator inspection' in front of these young women, "very capable hands."
There are giggles mingled with the applause. He wants the ground under these mats to open up and the lava pools to consume him.
'Gibbs, please come out here so I can slap you...'
x
"Thank you, Reverend O'Mallory." He doesn't know how much formality he should use, so in an effort to hide his discomfort he uses it all. That they're dating may be a non-secret - (in these outfits if someone doesn't get a clue…) - but that doesn't necessarily mean everyone knows it - and these women aren't going to know it! He doesn't even know how many of these gir – young women – are even parishioners or ….
He shoves these chaotic thoughts aside as hard as he can, steps forward onto the middle of the mats, knowing that Siobhan, whose known him for almost two decades, can see that his stage confidence is the sheerest acting.
x
The girls - women - sit on the west edge of the mat at Siobhan's direction, lined up before him, while she stands off near the northern edge of the 20 by 30 foot rectangle to his right, just enough to be in sight but unobtrusive.
"Well, ladies, before we get started I have to make a confession."
"Uh oh," one of them says, eliciting a spattering of laughter.
"Not to her," he assures them, glancing at his old friend's extra innocent expression. He has plans for what he will say to herlater - and they don't involve confession. "To you. When I came here it was with the expectation that I was going to be teaching combat techniques to young men."
"Why would you think that?" an Asian girl – young woman – asks, her tone mystified.
"Well, er, just that the conversation I had with Rev – well, I structured things based on someone fighting against a larger and stronger opponent."
"Women always have to deal with 'opponents' who are bigger and stronger," a Latina woman points out.
"Er, yes, true." At six one he's the tallest in the room. Siobhan's five and ten hadn't even been a particularly notable issue - until now.
"Why would you think you're teaching men," a black woman asks, "when this is a Course on 'Preventing Date Rape'?"
"D-d-d-d-d-d," he turns to O'Mallory, swallowing the word very hard. It cuts his throat going down. "Reverend, may I have another word with … oh, never mind." He turns back. "Okay, ladies, it seems we had a communications error but I'll deal with that later." His look to Shav is now heavy with promise and threat. "All right. Day – date ray – r - rape." He takes a deep breath, shakes his arms, exhales hard. "Okay. Let's see. Okay. Yes. Date r - r - rape." He needs another deep breath, lets it out hard in "Okay! Well, I have a few ideas."
"I'll bet you do," Siobhan says sotto vocé, sparking even more laughter. It completely derails him. Again. And he'd just gotten the train righted.
He'd forgotten, in their close and casual relationship, how devastating her humor can be, especially when she feels someone needs to be taken down a peg or two. Why she's doing it to him, now, is something he'll discuss with her later.
Right now he only wants to know which particularly odious sin he's guilty of that has led him to this, but he can't think of anything thing that bad.
Perhaps she has a different viewpoint?
x
"All right, can I get a volunteer?" 'Please say no!' The girls – young women – look among themselves and a blonde gi – young woman – steps forward and comes up beside him on the collected mats. Tim is very relieved it's not the taller one, the one with the large … qualities.
"Okay, girls," Siobhan speaks up from the north edge, "before we begin, I have it on good authority that Special Agent McGee hopes to raise a family someday, so take it easy on him."
The laughter disperses any lingering tension among the women – and gives it all to McGee.
x
"Well, let's see. Ah, yes. One thing to keep in mind in a dating situation, if it feels like it's going to get out of control, is that if you maintain a confident, strong manner you have a first, important measure of control. You want to make it clear you are in command, particularly of your own body." He turns to the blonde woman. "Can you do this?"
"DON'T YOU TOUCH MY PUSSY!" her strident command drives him away quickly right off the north edge of the mat to a wave of giggles.
Hand to his chest, he takes a deep breath, lets it out hard and glances at Shav standing beside him. She's not smiling but only because her lips are very tightly pressed between teeth. Behind her gold framed glasses, however, her emerald eyes sparkle with silent hilarity.
"That's not bad," he says, stepping back onto the mat. "Explosive, but not bad. I think you've got the basics of that down." He steps back to her, hoping it's safe to do so. "But what I had in mind, for a start, is something a little less explosive."
"All right."
He gestures toward where she'd been seated at the west edge of the huge rectangle of mats and she resumes her place.
x
"Now, most situations follow a progression," he says as he establishes a place on the mat and determines not to leave it again. "They start slowly, and if the guy gets the sense that you don't mind, or are willing, it goes up a bit more. You want to establish a boundary at the first sign, a limit beyond which you don't want to go. Now," he surveys the other girls, choosing the one who won't meet his eyes, "you, miss, would you come up please?"
"Me?" Her voice is tiny, as though she's hoping he meant someone else.
"Yes. I promise it won't hurt a bit." One of the others gives her an encouraging push, she rises and steps forward. She's five two, the height of Ducky's new Assistant. For an instant he thinks of having Samantha Sky in this class and recoils from the thought. The blonde imp would be worse than all these girls combined. "Thank you. Now…?"
"Judy."
"Judy, you don't want me to touch you."
She looks high up to him, her tiny "I don't?" prompting giggles from the others. Yes, Sammy is well represented here, but at least she'd be only one.
"No, you don't." Then, pushing back his own apprehension, between them he could drown, he turns her toward the others and puts his arm about her shoulders, his hand coming down near but not touching her breast. In fact, he makes it very clear his hand is far away from that spot. Quite definitely far away. From all possible angles.
But if he's uncomfortable, she is more so. She cringes, her "please don't touch me" is barely a whisper that telegraphs her fear.
"That won't convince me." Her plea is a little louder. "Listen; remember what I said about dating situations being a progression. You have to establish your position right from the start and here's how to do it. Now, if you try to fight his arm, you'll lose; he's stronger than you are and has the advantage, but not completely. Everyone has weaknesses and one of them is right here," he lifts his pinky. "The pinky is the weakest finger and if you take hold of it with your hand – gently, no breaking – and just lift, his hand will come right off."
She follows his direction, lifting his hand away from her.
"At the same time, tell him 'no' in a firm, clear voice." She tries it. "What?" She says again. "How's that?" A bit louder. "I Can't Hear You." Her final try is as sharp and firm as he'd wanted.
"Better. Let's try it again." He puts his arm about her, she immediately grabs his pinky and lifts his hand away, at the same time making her intent very clear. "Excellent. Thank you."
She returns to the group, grinning proudly that she was able to establish her will against so mountainous a man.
"Now remember, this can hurt a lot, and presumably if you're dating him you don't want to hurt him. You can break his finger with too much force so always moderate your force to the situation. If he respects you from the start then you've won, but don't jump right into conflict unless you have to."
x
He chooses a tall girl with short pale blonde, almost white hair. "Now, would you come up please? Thank you. What's your name?"
"Sylvetka," she says, her accent strong.
"Sylvetka, there's another way to do this, still using the weakness of the small finger rather than the strength of the hand. You close my finger over between your thumb and forefinger. That's it, squeeze the nail against the finger's first joint, now press it inward – careful, I need that! Now move my hand away while holding my finger." Her refusal to be touched is clear and sharp.