Those Who Hunt: Kiss Before Dying

Johari Mubarak was silently grateful to be indoors as the monitor mounted on the wall in front of her bed lent insight to how several citizens felt about the uncomfortably sticky weather. Moments earlier, Johari had risen from a restless slumber.  She moistened her lips with a few flicks of her tongue before scooting her body to the edge of the king sized bed. Excitement had made sleep nearly impossible.  In a few hours she would be submitting her newest research paper to be peer reviewed. Johari stretched her slender arms above her head.  Her over-sized night shirt slid away from her shoulder and caused her hand to dip inside the cuff.  The shirt had been a gift and even two years and ten pounds later, was still too large for her supple frame. A yawn forced the sleep from her ears.  Immediately they were flooded with sound.  She was particularly annoyed by the shuffling of feet outside her door.   For reasons not disclosed to her, Johari's father had assigned her two bodyguards. It was far too early for Johari to grace either of the men with her presence.  Unfortunately for her, one of them did not share that sentiment.   She rolled her eyes at the sound of a light rapping on her door.  Seconds later, she opened the door just enough for her to see several pieces of clothing inside of a clear garment bag.  Her demeanor changed as she snatched it from the outstretched arm it dangled from and closed the door again with a quick word of thanks.   The man mumbled something that was lost in the sound of an ecstatic young woman tossing plastic onto her bed.                                                                                    * Two hours late Johari was barely able to muster a smile at the eleventh fighter she had encountered.  He was nearly a foot taller than her and had tried to impress her with dubious claims of his legendary stamina “inside the ring and out".  She excused herself and headed for the drink table. The night was not going as she envisioned. Far too many of the men present seemed less excited about the prospect of joining the Institute and were more focused on being recruited. None of the men she had spoken to had piqued her interest.  Johari bit her lip as she struggled to hold in a scream of frustration.  Her disappointment was palpable.  So many of them—including two she had specifically wanted to meet in person—seemed to be only concerned with how much money they could negotiate from other organizations with a letter of recruitment from the Institute.  As more than one man had mentioned, they were even more interested in how many women they would bed as a result. The thought of one of them touching her was nearly enough to drive her into a murderous rage.  With her father’s connections, she could probably get away with it. Johari allowed the thought to linger a moment longer then focused on her fourth glass of the delicious concoction she had been drinking. “Hi.” Stirred from her thoughts, Johari raised her eyes from her beverage and towards the man who spoke to her. “Hello.”  She appraised his looks.  He had a build suited for a collegiate wrestler; not too bulky, but solid. The man was a shade or two darker than her and while not model handsome like some of the men in attendance, he had a certain boyish charm to his face that made him appealing. “Having fun?” “Truthfully, I’m bored out of my mind.  I thought things would be, more fun, I suppose.” “Well, I could start a fight with the biggest guy in the room.”  He flashed a quick grin. “That might prove entertaining.”  Johari returned the smile. “Yeah, but I just bought this shirt and I’m trying to impress you with my sense of style...” “It’s okay; you don’t have to get beat up for my entertainment. This time.” “Thanks. If we didn’t have to dress up though, that guy,” he pointed to a mammoth man just south of seven feet in height and easily two hundred and eighty pounds of chiseled muscle, “would get the beat down of a lifetime.” “I’m sure he would.” “I’m James by the way.” He extended his hand and she placed her fingers against his palm. “Johari.” “A pleasure to meet you Johari.” James squeezed her hand firmly. “So tell me James, were you just trying to impress me, or are you a fighter as well?” “My trainer would beg to differ, but yeah, I’ve had a fight or two.  I’m actually fighting Saturday after next against the WFL light heavyweight champion for my tryout." "That's amazing. I've seen him fight a couple of times.  Are you ready for him?" "As ready as I can be. You can't let these sort of things pass you by. Opportunity knocked, so I answered the door and hoped it wasn’t a bill collector.” “You’re silly.” “You wouldn’t believe how many people tell me that.” “I like it.” “Really?  Well, judging by the atmosphere, I don’t think these guys will be dancing.” “But do you?” “Dance?  Just good enough not to embarrass myself at family reunions.” “Why don’t you show me?  Follow me.”  She took his hand and led him first to where a hotel staff person was guarding her evening bag then to the elevator.