Chapter Three
Expecting the Classic
"Agent McGee?"
"Yes?" he asks, turning to a svelt brunette seated at the edge of the mat, his tone rising, seeking.
"Mary. What if, well, what if you like the guy, and you've already gone to a certain point - or further - in the, well, but tonight - I mean this time - you don't want to go all the way?"
"You can always set limits, at any time. Just because you're into heavy petting or have - well, done it in the past, doesn't mean you have to do it this time. What I'm going to teach you tonight will be appropriate to a wide range of situations, you use your judgment as to how much force is necessary.
"Come on up and I'll show you something."
"Be good, Agent McGee," Siobhan admonishes from the north edge of the mat.
"Always." But he has to admit she was right; Mary had looked up at him fearfully at his invitation, but the laugh that cuts through the gathering eases her anxiety. When she's beside him, he turns her toward him so the other young women seated at the western edge of the mats are to her left.
"You know how it is when a guy just comes up and puts his hand on you like he owns you?"
"Oh, yeah!"
Tim reaches out, puts his right hand on her left shoulder. "Like this. What would you do?" With her left hand she reaches up, grabs his forearm and tries to push his hand up. "No, you're fighting his stronger muscles. Remember, you want to use your strength against his weaknesses. Use your right hand across your body on the back of mine, put your four fingers around the pinky side of my hand… now press your thumb into the middle of the back of my hand and twist." She twists his hand off her shoulder and pushes it far from her. "Always remember, go against the pinky side of his hand, not the thumb side." He takes her shoulder again. "Try it the other way." She uses her left hand, her fingers wrapping past his thumb and, struggle though she does, she can't budge his hand. "You see? I'm actually stronger this way, you're fighting my stronger muscles, but done the other way," she switches hands again, "you're the stronger one. Thank you."
x
"What about pressure points?" one of the others, a voluptuous woman with cocoa complexion, asks, then comes up at his gesture. "Hi, I'm Brenda."
"Hi, Brenda. Yes, there are pressure points and there are quite a few of them. Pressure to any of them hurts and can immobilize. Here's one, midway up the forearm on the thumb side, right over the radius. A good squeeze of the thumb on that spot – Ah! A little less."
"Sorry."
"Now that you know about pressure points, FORGET them! They're called 'points' for a reason; you either hit it right the first time or you don't at all. An expert might but you're not an expert. Here, try again." He reaches for her, she grabs his forearm and tries to position her thumb on the right spot; he turns his arm, she tries again and he twists his arm around to break her grip, grabs her shoulders, steps past and around her and pushes her back, trips her over his leg and eases her backward down onto the mat. "Like I said, forget them." He assists her to stand.
x
"How about if you've tried all those things and you really, really just have to hit him?" a lithe blonde with long hair almost to the mat asks.
"Well, I was going to go into that in part two, but as you asked, come on up. What's your name?"
"Lucy," she says, standing up.
"Well, Lucy," he positions her so the observers are to her left side and takes a step back, holds up his left hand braced by his right, "hit me. Stop!" he commands the instant her fist touches his palm, then comes around the frozen woman's right so the others can see him past her hand. Her hand has tilted upward so the first joints of her fingers are forward. "Look at the line of your fist; you swung right but then you tilted when you hit me. You want it to be a perfectly straight line from here," he touches her elbow bone, "to here," he finishes, drawing his finger up to touch her knuckles.
"The way you hit me, your fist curled back and you're going to sprain yourself. If your wrist isn't strong enough to deliver a power blow, let me show you a way that'll use that strength to your advantage." He opens her hand and bends it back, allowing her fingers to curl over. Now her hand is pointed upward almost perpendicular to the line of her forearm. "You thrust directly along this line, again from elbow to hand, but you're hitting now with the strong part of the base of your palm. That allows less risk to you and you can hit with far more force because you're not inclined to hold back for fear of spraining yourself.
"Your target," he draws her hand up to the base of his nose, "is right here, or under the chin but this is by far the better one. Hit him here and it's going to give him a bloody nose, but you're not done yet."
"I'm not?"
"No, you're not. That's because if it's gotten to the point where you have to hit, you want to do more than give him a bloody nose. See where your fingers are curled over like claws? Bring your hand forward as soon as you hit, then rake them down his face, like this." He controls her hand so the attack is only a touch.
"If he wears glasses it's even better, because you're going to rip them right off his face. That does two things. Not only is he going to get plenty scratched up by your sharp nails, and maybe you've blinded him if there's glasses involved - but now under your nails you've got small bits of his skin, which means his DNA. We Investigators like DNA, it lets us know who we're looking for and tells us a story even if, God forbid, you can't. Thank you."
x
When Lucy returns, somewhat shaken by the implications of this, he addresses the group. "If it's gotten to this point, scratch, bite, do anything you can to mark him up and get as much forensic evidence as you possibly can. I know one case that was solved because the young lady in a car was bent over the window and she bit the rubber molding, leaving her dental impressions in the rubber as proof she'd been in the car. That bite decided the case when no one believed her."
x
"What about a good knee to the crotch?" a tall, big breasted woman, the one he'd been afraid to deal with initially, asks while looking toward Siobhan standing at the north side of the huge rectangle.
"Yes, you're thinking about that famous 'battle' with Charlie Morley this past summer. First a knee, then she kicked a field goal." All heads nod, many smile at the image. "She got lucky. Forget it." The smiles vanish, but outrage fades when they look to the priest and see her confirmation in her eyes.
"If you're going to count on that, then one, you've already upped the level of violence to the max and two - it won't work."
"Come on!"
"Do it."
"What?"
"Come up here and knock your knee into my crotch."
She comes only two feet forward. "You're sure this is what you want?"
"I'm sure."
She walks up to him and does try. He slaps the outer side of her knee with his hand which spins her off balance, he grabs her shoulders as she turns and eases her down to the mat. "It works as a surprise, but he's going to expect that classic." He helps her up again.
"There's an even worse one – worse for you, that is. Try to use your right knee into my crotch again." She does, determined to be faster. He brings up his left knee across his body so her knee collides with his outer thigh, he immediately twists on his right foot, his leg thrusts hers aside so she's off balance, her legs spread wide and his leg snaps out fast and his foot halts an inch from her crotch.
Every woman in the room winces in sympathetic pain.
"Like I said, don't do it. You know where it'll leave you.
"This is better: grab my shoulders, take one step to the side past me and put your foot behind mine like I did with Brenda." She does so. "Now shove."
She does as directed and though it's an awkward move he goes down, rolls backward and up on his feet. "I was expecting that, he probably won't be able to roll out. But while he's down, what do you do next?"
"Run?"
"Right! You break the Olympic sprinting record getting out of there."
x
When she returns to the others, he notices one black girl has a very sour expression. "Yes?"
Caught at it, she's not hesitant about speaking her mind. "You've taught us a lot about the mild stuff, but for us it doesn't get mild. I was raped and I couldn't have done any of that. First thing I knew was when this guy's arms were around me and he was grabbing my tits and getting me down!"
"Fair enough. I'm going to be getting into some combination things soon but there are many methods if you really need to fight."
"Ooooh," Siobhan calls from the north edge. "May I?"
He looks dubiously at her - grappling with her was never in his plans - but if he's going to demonstrate some serious stuff he doesn't want to do it with any of these others. "Come on."
Stepping onto the mats, she addresses their seated guests. "Despite my being a dedicated pacifist, Special Agent McGee has me in his 'Advanced Class'." She waves a hand over the figure hugging gray sweats with the large blue NCIS blazoned across her chest. "You see, these aren't a 'gift' from Agent McGee," giggles from many of the girls at the implication from how closely the clothes hug her, "I actually do work for NCIS and, after what happened this summer, he's made sure I start learning what I need to protect myself. Now Alyiah, what happened to you?"
"Guy come up behind me, put his right arm around and grab my left tit and pulled me down."
"Reverend, let's show then the real thing."
She doesn't mask her surprise. "You're sure."
"Sure."
"Okay. It really has been nice knowing you."
"Bring it."
She looks to the line of women. "You're my witnesses. Girls, do not try this at home."
Siobhan turns left, her back to McGee. "Go ahead, Special Agent McGee." When he doesn't move, she looks back over her shoulder. "Come on, you know you've always wanted to."
Explosive giggles almost make him call this off, but he finally does step behind her. "Just remember, Mother O'Mallory, I'm not Charlie Morley."
"Like I said earlier, Special Agent McGee, 'no promises'."
More delighted laughter increases his discomfort, but he finally does put his right arm around her, his cupped fingers a good four inches in front of her breast.
x
She looks back over her shoulder, her smile taking in the witnesses. "That the breast you can do?" He moves his hand another two inches further away. "Girls, we really have to teach him how it's done." More giggles. "Well, Agent McGee, you had your chance."
Her left hand comes down over and around his right, her thumb on the back of his hand and she twists his palm away to his sharp cry. She rams her right elbow into his ribs, holding and softening the blow at the impact but everyone can see she hit him as his breath wooshes out. Still holding his hand far off, she takes a half step left and brings her elbow back again, a harder blow to his abdomen that has every woman wince. Her fist snaps up to his nose though this time she pulls it an inch short. She brings her fist down hard and fast but though she hits his hip everyone knows the real target and several hands clamp over mouthes. Turning further, still not releasing his twisted right hand, she brings her right arm up and back and slams her forearm into the side of his neck hard enough to jerk his head, following through with the back of her fist into his cheek.
Releasing his right hand, she turns toward him, brings the heel of her left hand up under his nose, again holds back but then simulates ripping her nails down his face, using only her fingertips. Bringing her right hand back, she folds her fingers over to her upper palm, her hand straight from elbow to knuckles and rams the first joints of her fingers bladelike into his 'throat', actually striking his collarbone instead and some sharp cries testify to the terrible violence. Her nails then by his right ear, she rakes them horizontally across his face, reverses with her left hand to give him matching marks on his other side, actually still barely touching him. Then, as the eight women cry out in horror, hands covering mouths, she digs the nails of both clawed hands into his eyes and then rakes them down his cheeks.
A step back, half turn and her foot comes up and this time she doesn't hold back - her kick into his NCIS staggers him.
She follows and her left hand grips the waistband of his sweats and she braces with her right foot and with her left foot she kicks the side of his right knee, immediately brings the side of her foot down along his shin to stomp into his instep.
Still holding his waistband, she steps back on her left foot and brings her right knee up in a devastating impact into his crotch, actually catching his hip instead. She releases him when he bends over, takes a half step back, grabs his hair and rams her knee up into his forehead.
He's knocked off his feet, actually leaves the mat, slaps it in time to absorb much of the force of his impact as he lands flat upon his back and Siobhan runs off the mats.
x
Wild applause and cheers greet this demonstration as Siobhan returns - but these fade quickly with the realization that McGee isn't moving.
"Agent McGee?" she calls, mounting apprehension bringing her to him. She'd pulled all her punches - hadn't she? "Tim?"
The others join her as, apprehension turning rapidly to fear, she crouches down beside him. "Timmy?" She'd pulled everything, but in the end did she overdo it? "Timmy - wake up!" Deeply frightened, she falls to her knees and shakes him. "TIMMY?" She looks back to the knot of women crouched behind her. "Someone call 9-1–"
He grabs her just above the blue letters of her shirt, pulls her over him, her cry sharp as she's twisted over his body, lands on her back on the mat and he's straddling her, still clutching her shirt.
"One hundred points for technique," he bends and kisses the tip of her nose, "but minus five million for coming back."
Releasing her, he gets up, helps her to her feet and she tugs her shirt back down.
"Now," he addresses his students surrounding them, not for anything willing to admit this hadn't all been planned and not yet wanting to decipher the look she gave him, for she'd by no means been annoyed, "before we go any further, I'd like you all to pair off and practice what we've covered so far."
x
He walks among the women, working for some time with each pair, correcting and advising. Eventually he winds up on the north edge of the mat with Siobhan.
"Thank you," she says softly.
"Don't mention it," he answers as quietly.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?"
He smiles. "Course not. You were perfect, especially that end."
She smiles ruefully. In the real world 'that end' could have been her tragic mistake. "Don't scare me next time."
"Like you said, 'no promises'." Their brief hand clasp down by their sides goes unnoticed, hidden by their bodies.
"Still wish they were men?"
He considers the question. He'd been uncomfortable about even touching any of these g– women, let alone getting into such issues as date rape, but "No. No, this is very important. This … is important."
"I thought so."
He's uncertain that he catches all her meaning. She frequently means more than she says but this time it feels more cryptic than usual. "Come on, time for the next lesson."