Tomcat

Chapter Five-1

Chapter Five

Tomas had been Tommy's silent companion since before conscience thought. Like some dormant growth, a tumor, mostly benign by sheer mind over malcontent, but always seething, festering just below the surface and ready to break out at the most inopportune time. But there were times when Tommy was more than happy to let him come freewheeling out of the bag!

Tommy was five, maybe six, when she began to realize she was somehow special. While her girlfriends had imaginary friends, Tommy had Tomas. And, before Tommy learned to control him, her behavior toward her playmates was, at times, somewhat dubious. While playing, she might touch in a place that was best left untouched. Her girlfriends would slink away, expressions of disbelief and fear marring their faces while Tomas retreated with wolfish satisfaction.

Tommy lost her best friend when she slipped her hands up under the girl's jumper and, lifting the girl by the buttocks, kissed her full on the mouth. The mother snatched the girl away from Tommy, horrified. But as much as the girlfriends distanced themselves, Tommy found the guys sought her out. Tommy was the girl they invited to the baseball diamond, or the swimming hole; and if her mother had seen her swinging out over the water, clad only in her pants and under-vest, she would have been dragged up in front of the priest.

For a long time, Tommy felt alienated; alone, not understanding what was happening, on the inside. But by the time she was ready for high school, she had learned to control Tomas and he became Tommy's deepest, darkest secret.

Earliest days in secondary school, Tommy acquired a boyfriend and lost her virginity. She was surprised to find it wasn't a pleasant experience. The fascinating and innocent moments of discovery were replaced with pain and the cold reality that she wasn't a little girl anymore. s*x was more about him than her; Tommy wanted nurturing, he wanted release. She struggled with it. Then something, or more precisely, someone, stepped in to change her life. The teacher's name was Miss Wade and she taught Tommy's gym class. The guys called Miss Wade, “Mighty Mouse” which was not a bad moniker. She was a little over five feet in her tennis shoes and her body had all the resilience of a truck tire.

Miss Wade's small stature had kept her out of professional sports. She wasn't beautiful, maybe pretty with a squarish face, high cheek bones, boyish haircut and expressive eyes. But, firmly in her late thirties, she was still “Miss” Wade. She ran her gym classes with all the tenacity of a drill sergeant but there wasn't one student that doubted Miss Wade's commitment, or her loyalty to “her girls.” She led them through an exercise program that had the girls all ragged-out and longing for the showers and Miss Wade never once shirked on her end; matching the students, move for move. But Miss Wade had five classes a day; Tommy's class, only three a week. And Miss Wade was just as energetic at the end of the day as she had been at eight in the morning. Somehow, she chose to single Tommy out.

It was true that Tommy was big for her age, standing a good head taller than her classmates. In fact, Tommy had a good six inches on Miss Wade. And Tommy was strong; a bit over-weight, but Miss Wade saw the potential. One morning she pulled Tommy out of the lineup and led her upstairs to a weight room. There were racks of free-weights, a bench; what Miss Wade called a speed bag and a body bag. She taught Tommy the stretches, curls, leg presses, bench presses. Months later, she gloved Tommy up and put her on the speed bag. She taught Tommy to dance with her fists and shuffle her feet.

It took a year before she thought Tommy was ready. Tommy had slimmed down, but gained weight. The boyfriend was gone. Her body had narrowed, hardened, and muscle was well defined in Tommy's arms, shoulders and legs. When she turned her back to a mirror, Tommy was surprised to find that she looked more like a guy!

Miss Wade approached Tommy in the office: “I've lined up a fight. A friend is coaching a young boxer, your age and same weight. You want a crack at him?”

“Him? It's a guy?”

Miss Wade shrugged. “Does it matter to you? You'll learn more during nine minutes in the ring with him, than I can teach you in the next year.”

“Do you want me to?” Tommy asked, suddenly feeling very insecure about her abilities.

Miss Wade reached out, touched Tommy's hair. “I'm sorry. I feel I've done well with you and I put my faith in your abilities. I guess I want to find out how well we've done together. Maybe that's a little selfish on my part and I apologize if you feel I am pushing you into something you don't want to do. That's not my intention. But you'll never know how good you are until you step into that ring. Can you understand?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“I'm not expecting you to knock him out. You need to know that right off. But I've seen the kid. I think you can box him. Toe to toe.”

Tommy stepped into the ring on a Saturday morning at a gym downtown; looking like a gladiator in her leather head gear, elbow pads, boxing boots and the bright red gloves that Miss Wade bought for her. Miss Wade had taped Tommy's breasts and hands and Tommy gripped a plastic retainer between her teeth. She was scared to death.

He looked big and Tommy was sure his arms were six inches longer than her's. Miss Wade gave a reassuring talk as Tommy sat in her corner, but Tommy didn't hear a damned thing. The bell sounded and Tommy was suddenly alone with the guy. He seemed to fill the gymnasium with bulk. Tommy walked toward him with her hands down. As she moved in close, she went all giddy inside. The overhead lights spun and the canvas mat came up to hit her in the ass. Tommy was more surprised than hurt. She took the mandatory count, levered herself up and the ref dusted off her gloves. Tommy couldn't wait to get at the kid. She was madder than a hoard of hornets.

Tommy went after him like a runaway truck and as he backed down, he pushed his right glove into her face in an effort to ward her off. Tommy was pissed. She slapped the glove away with her left, stepped in, and hit him hard with a right cross-over. He staggered and Tommy caught him under the chin with a rising left.

He stumbled, spun around and tried to clip Tommy with a right, but she tucked her chin under and the punch bounced off her shoulder. Tommy moved back to reassess.

He came at her again; pressing, but as Tommy backed away, she kept tossing out jabs that repeatedly landed on his chin. More annoying than damaging, it made him rework his strategy. In frustration, he launched himself forward, pushing Tommy back with his gloves to her shoulders; trying to corral her on the ropes. But Tommy came in under his arms and, stepping forward again, hit him with a combination to the face. He responded by draping his arms around her, trying to smother her jabs, his fists at her kidneys. Tommy leaned forward at the waist, pushing away, but landing solid blows to his midriff, just below the ribs; a three punch combination that had him sucking his wind.

They spared back and forth for three rounds. A lot of give, a lot of take, but when the final bell rang, Tommy was jubilant. She returned to her corner on jelly-knees and grinning like an i***t; so wide that her retainer popped from between her teeth. “Did I beat him?” Tommy gushed as Miss Wade positioned the stool under her knees.

“Well if you hadn't let him knock you on your can in the first round, it would have been a draw.”

“I didn't see it coming,” Tommy defended herself.

“Well then you learned your first lesson; didn't you? And don't ever forget it... hands up, eyes wide open. The punch you don't see will be the one that hurts you!”

In all of the years that followed, Tommy never forgot!

Ok, she had lost the fight. But Tommy didn't care a damn; she was elated. She had boxed well, against a guy no less, and she couldn't wait to fight again. Miss Wade loosened her head gear and pulled it free. Tommy's opponent's eyelids rolled up like window shades and his jaw slipped as she shook out her hair. Tommy laughed; the guy hadn't realized he'd been fighting a girl! Even as he made his way to the dressing room, his head kept flipping back. He was bewildered and mostly angry, and would have taken a re-match on the spot!

In her dressing room, Tommy leaned back against a massage table while Miss Wade unlaced the gloves and boots, then she pulled off Tommy's shorts and tee-shirt. She unwound the tape that held Tommy's breasts.

Tommy's n*****s were as hard as nail-points and Miss Wade paused.

Tommy sensed the loneliness, the longing, even, and felt sorta the same. Miss Wade reached and stripped Tommy of her underpants; then looked down. Tommy heard her breath catch as Miss Wade studied the thick lips, like a set of dark-mahogany castanets, hanging from beneath the soft black curls. Tommy's freakish c**t, the length and breadth of the tip of her little finger, strained rudely from between the folds. And everything was jazzy with the excitement of the fight.

Moisture appeared. A droplet of syrup, gathered, then trickled down into the crease. Even though Miss Wade's tongue was swollen, her mouth felt empty and dry. Miss Wade swallowed. Tommy watched as she extended a hand, reached down; was within an inch of touching. Tommy wasn't at all sure if she wanted it, to be touched; but instinctively recognized Miss Wade's ability to caress. Tommy also knew her own body well enough to realize that the first touch would galvanize her loins, that the orgasm would be instantaneous and send her reeling back across the table, helplessly wanting more.

Miss Wade caught the expectation; hesitated. Miss Wade didn't touch. The relationship between a boxer and her trainer is an intimate one. But Miss Wade was far too professional to be swayed: she was Tommy's teacher and Tommy was her student, and those boundaries were inequitably set, cast in stone. No, cried Tommy, inside. I didn't win but I fought well. I deserve a little something. Miss Wade shook herself. Turned away, toward the showers, stripping off her sports bra as she went. “I'll just be a sec,” she called back over a shoulder, leaving Tommy to reassess their relationship and feeling empty and cold.

Tommy continued training all through high-school and they had good successes together in the ring. But after Tommy graduated and went off to college, they drifted. While Tommy continued to work out religiously, and box occasionally, she had no need for a trainer. Then Tommy heard that Miss Wade had moved west to a new job, and hopefully a relationship. Tommy married David, and Tomas sulked.

Once Tommy's head had cleared and her hands had steadied to the point she felt she could get the Camry home in one piece, she backed out of the parking spot at the strip mall and drove straight to the liquor store.

David was still at work and Tommy thankfully soaked up the quiet and privacy of their home in a hot tub and tried to relax her strained body. Under cool shower spray, she douched, shaved and rinsed her hair; taking consolation in the simple tasks.

In the bedroom, Tommy examined her body and tended to the cuts and bruises.

The ring of the telephone jolted her senses and an involuntary gasp broke from her lips. “Yeah?” Tommy asked, expecting the voice of a stranger.

“Hey, it's me,” David said, “enjoying your day?”

“Sure. Not much doing. Just relaxing. What's up?” Her voice sounded ok, steady.

“Something's come up at work. Looks like we got a shot at a new account, but we gotta move fast; throw a presentation together. The boss is taking everyone out for a quick bite and then it's back to the office. We'll be burning the midnight oil. It will be late.”