A Well-Lived Life 2 - Book 8 - NIKA - Cover

A Well-Lived Life 2 - Book 8 - NIKA

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Chapter 67: A New Dojo for JM Martial Arts

Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 67: A New Dojo for JM Martial Arts - This is the continuation of the story told in "A Well-Lived Life 2", Book 7. If you haven't read the entire 10 book "A Well-Lived Life" and the first seven books of "A Well-Lived Life 2" you'll have extreme difficulty following the story. This is a dialog driven story. The author is a two-time Clitorids 'Author of the Year' winner (2015,2017) and won 'Best New Author' in the 2015.

Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Crime   Workplace   Polygamy/Polyamory   First   Slow  

June 17, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

When I arrived home from Racine, Jessica, Kara, and I went to the sauna.

“So, yes to both?” Jessica asked.

“Molly needs to have her test and I most likely won’t see her until after our family vacation. As for Melissa, I’m still going back and forth. In one sense, I’m concerned that I’m treating her as if she’s a little girl who doesn’t know what she wants and can’t deal with having sex with me. But I’m concerned about the business relationship. It started as mentoring, but it’s kind of moved on from that, but in the end, if things go south, it could cost NIKA quite a bit of money. Not to mention the fact that she’s Jennifer’s boss, which complicates things.”

“That’s another transitive application of your ‘nobody where your wives work rule’,” Kara said. “I suppose it does make sense to apply it to Jennifer, though I don’t think she’d care, really.”

“Probably not, but it does add another potential concern. I realize Melissa is an adult and a professional, but if I create problems for NIKA, we all know that Julia, Dave, and Elyse are going to be on my case, and rightly so. And so will Jamie. But I created my own problem, too. If I turn her down, THAT could create a problem. We passed the inflection point months and months ago. I should have just stuck to my guns about not flirting with Melissa.”

“What do you always say?” Jessica asked. “Nobody can irrevocably commit to having sex?”

“Yes. In this case, I put myself in a similar position with Melissa as I did with Cèlia. I’m stuck with two sub-optimal solutions. I need to learn to recognize the inflection points BEFORE I hit them. I do OK when I determine in advance what to do and stick to it. I THOUGHT I had done that in Melissa’s case, but I let myself slip. And part of it is because I decided to consider a waiver of the rules.”

“But doesn’t Cèlia’s argument apply here as well?” Kara asked. “That the tension will be there.”

“I have an out, if the two of you will allow me a bit of license.”

“Tell her we said no waiving the rules?” Jessica asked.

“Yes. I know it makes you two the bad guys, and it covers up my error, but it’s the simplest solution, and I have been telling her all along it’s an issue.”

“So why not just say ‘no’?”

“Because of what I said before - that it could still mess up the business arrangement. The whole thing is a mess because I crossed a line months ago. I needed to treat this the same way I treated my relationship with Gina and I failed.”

“I suppose it makes sense,” Jessica said. “Kara, even though it goes against our agreement to have our husband make these decisions, I think we should say ‘no’.”

“He is allowed to seek input from us,” Kara replied. “I agree. We should say ‘no’. BUT, Snuggle Bear needs to get control of this one last piece. So this is the one and only time.”

“Thanks,” I said, with a sigh of relief.

“You know, I was thinking about Marcia’s mom some more,” Jessica said. “Wasn’t ‘Aunt Jennie’ nine years older than you?”

“Yes,” I allowed, “but since then I’ve limited myself to women younger than me except on a few VERY rare occasions. I did make an exception for you, though you came in under the wire. Just.”

“Careful, Tiger. Make an ‘old lady’ crack and you’ll see just how good I am with a scalpel!”

“Who, me?” I chuckled.

“Don’t give me that ‘Alfred E. Neuman’ smirk, Tiger!” Jessica laughed. “And I still don’t get why you make such a big deal about ‘older women’ and yet you had no qualms about Sakurako being fourteen.”

“Steve has always preferred the younger, fresher girls, and with the exception of you and Anala, almost all the girls he’s been with have been younger. And I think there was only one exception to the ‘older girls’ rule if I remember from his journal.”

“That waitress? The one about whom he complained about her pubic hair? That was hilarious, given his issue with Kathy!”

“And ONLY Kathy!” I declared. “But Candace was just too much.”

“And the age thing?”

“Call it a preference or a quirk, I guess.”

“A kink?”

“If we’re talking teenagers, I suppose. But you know I’ve controlled that. Even to the point where I’m not considering anyone under eighteen.”

“Minus the defloration requests which are sure to come!” Kara giggled.

“And those will have to be considered on a case-by-case basis, with the default answer being ‘no’.”

“That’s quite the change, Snuggle Bear.”

“Not really, if you think about it,” Jessica said. “His lower age limit has been slowly creeping up, even without the punishments being made ever more severe.”

“Just another example of populist authoritarianism at its finest,” I sighed. “But, at times, even eighteen seems a bit young.”

“Would you consider Jillian Ingles if Marcia wasn’t your student?”

“Maybe. But Marcia is my student, so it doesn’t matter. Shall we soak in the Jacuzzi before we head to bed?”

“Yes!” came the joint reply.

June 18, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“Hey, Foo! Are you watching the race?”

“Yes. Michael’s birthday party is over.”

“I know,” I chuckled. “I was there! Where are they racing?”

“Michigan. Are we going to the second Michigan race?”

“We are. I have the tickets from Jason’s sister. Do you want to invite Eduardo?”

“He likes Formula One, not NASCAR. Next year he wants to take us to Canada to see the race in Montréal. Mom said it was OK.”

“You and Eduardo? Or is your mom going, too?”

“All four of us. Mom said she was going to talk to you.”

“She hasn’t, but it’s still a year away, so it’s not an issue. Where did Bill qualify?”

“34th. He’s driving a ‘Batman’ car!”

I sighed, “It’s just not the same as the red ‘Coors’ car. At least he’s back running his own team. Where did Ironhead qualify?”

“7th. And one of the cars Jason works on is 1st - Jeff Gordon. The other two cars are Terry Labonte in 15th and Ken Schrader in 40th.”

It was an interesting race, but Bill didn’t have a very good day. He ended up finishing 14th, one lap down. Jeff Gordon won the race, closing the gap on Sterling Marlin who was now leading the championship, due to Dale Earnhardt’s wreck on lap 128. Gordon was in third, but only twelve points behind Marlin, with Dale Earnhardt in second, just six points out of the lead. Bill was mired in thirteenth, 466 points behind, and had no hope of winning the Winston Cup.

“Bad day for both of our drivers,” I said. “But a good day for Jason.”

“Will they come visit?”

“They were planning to come around Thanksgiving, but I don’t think they will.”

“Because Abbie had her baby?”

“Yes. They’re going to see Jason’s mom and dad instead.”

“Can I go visit?” Matthew asked.

“I think it’s probably best to wait until the race, which is in February. The baby will be just over a year old then, and you might actually be able to play with him. When they’re first born, they mostly sleep. Remember when Albert was born?”

“Yes. He slept, ate, and pooped!”

“And so did you!” I replied as we both enjoyed a laugh.

“Can I go play with Jesse?”

“Yes, until dinner.”

“Thanks, Dad!”

He got off the couch and I went to the ‘Indian’ room to let my wives and Michelle know the race had ended and I was going to start making dinner. Michelle offered to help and we went to the kitchen together.

“What are we having tonight?” she asked.

“Oven fried chicken,” I said, “The chicken has been soaking in buttermilk since last night, so we just need to bread it and get it in the oven. I’ll do that if you’ll cut up the broccoli and cauliflower, please.”

Just before 6:00pm, everything was ready, and with help from Samantha and my sister, we got everything on the table for our Sunday family dinner. As always, we had a great dinner with awesome conversations, and when we finished, Elyse and her boys volunteered to clean up. The rest of us went to the great room where we spent the rest of the evening talking, drinking, and enjoying each other’s company.

June 19, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“Sensei, do you have a few minutes?” I asked after class on Monday evening.

“Sure. Come into my office.”

We went into his office and sat down.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Molly Kraus.”

“The young woman who runs the dojo in Racine you visited on Saturday afternoon?”

“Yes. I’m not sure she’s being properly mentored by her «shihan».”

“That’s a pretty serious thing to say, especially based on one visit. What’s your evidence?”

“Well, first of all, I haven’t seen her teach or demonstrate any skills, but she’s promoting students in order to encourage them to do better.”

Sensei Jim shook his head, “That will fail miserably every single time. I believe I demonstrated that for you with Jolene.”

“Yes, of course. But why do that?”

“The promotion from 1st Dan to 2nd Dan can be made purely on skill, and she has that. It’s the assistant instructor promotion that requires mental and spiritual discipline, the ability to teach, and a proper temperament. It served the purpose of showing you what would happen without doing any harm to the dojo. What rank is this student?”

“2nd Kyu. And I’d say Marcia is at least as proficient as he is at brown belt techniques. Her other student, Ted, is better by far and is easily going to leapfrog this one I’m talking about.”

“Did you say anything to Molly?”

“I did. I advised her to tell him the truth, take responsibility for what she did, and see what happens.”

“That would be your usual method.”

“I just didn’t feel it was a good idea to treat a belt as, in effect, a participation trophy.”

“Because it’s not. Yes, we’re a bit less strict for white to yellow, because, ultimately, the white belt is really only for rank beginners. Which is also why we introduced the white belt with the yellow stripes to signify a half-grade. But yellow is where we draw the line, even for minor weaknesses. What do you know about her «shihan»?”

“Nothing, really. But I get the sense that Molly knows there’s something wrong, or at least missing, He’s 6th Dan, and she’s 4th.”

“You need to be very careful with the student of another «shihan».”

“Which is why I’m talking to you. Are you trying to imply I shouldn’t have given her the advice I did?”

“No, that was probably OK. But promotion decisions, or mentoring in general, would be inappropriate without permission from her «shihan». You could practice with her, but that’s about it. Her «shihan» is the one who would ask another sensei to judge any testing, not her. Remember, she’s not ACTUALLY the master of that school.”

“So teaching in her dojo and evaluating her students?”

“Is something her «shihan» would need to approve. If you did that on Saturday, even at her request, you violated protocol.”

“Well, crap,” I sighed. “She asked and I didn’t even think about the fact that she’s only 4th Dan. I suppose I should apologize to her «shihan» for overstepping my bounds.”

“I’d advise just letting it be. It’s possible she asked him. But if not, and she mentions it to him, then it’s up to him to decide what to do. If HE follows protocol, he’ll call me, even though you’re a master in your own right.”

“I apologize to you for violating protocol.”

Sensei Jim shrugged, “It’s not as if you committed a heinous crime! Just remember for the future. It’s perfectly OK to befriend her, and answer questions for her, or even work out with her. But any issues relating to students have to be left to her «shihan».”

“Got it. I probably won’t see her again until after my trip to Europe. I’m curious, and I’m not saying this is the case, but how would someone go about changing «shihan»?”

“For anyone under black belt, you just basically do it. Obviously it’s polite to talk to your sensei about it, but it’s not required. Once you achieve black belt status, you have a responsibility to your «shihan» and your school. There’s no simple, default answer. In Molly’s situation, she would have to ask permission, and it might not be granted. In that case, technically, she’d have to close her school if she couldn’t work things out with her «shihan». But ultimately, nobody can enforce that. She WOULD lose accreditation, but if she didn’t care, then she could just do her own thing. There are non-accredited dojos here in Chicago run by 1st Dan black belts.”

“How do they promote?”

“Most of them simply declare themselves 5th or 6th Dan and move on. Their students can’t compete because their «shihan» can’t sign an entry form, but no accredited sensei would turn away one of their students if they wanted to transfer. They might test them to ensure they’re properly trained, but even that isn’t usually done. Any deficiencies are corrected before the next promotion.”

“Thanks for explaining this. I probably should have asked before.”

“I’d have had a talk with you before I retired. We’ll talk more about running a dojo in the future.”

“Thanks, Sensei!”

“You’re welcome.”

I left his office and joined Kara and Birgit for the walk home.

June 23, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“Hi, Steve!” Alec said when he answered the door of his Lincoln Park townhome.

“Hi, Alec!” I said, extending my hand to shake.

We shook and he brought me into a very well appointed house. Lisa was on the couch and jumped up and came over to me. I held out my arms and we exchanged a hug.

“Thank you so much,” she said.

“You’re welcome. According to Zeke, the FBI was VERY happy with what we pulled from Hart-Lincoln’s computers.”

“They should be. I gave them enough to bust all the partners on racketeering charges.”

“How are you doing?”

“Sleeping in a nice soft bed? Eating real food? Not being incarcerated? Awesome! Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure! I took the L because I wanted to be able to drink. Bourbon, please.”

“Blanton’s OK?”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

“Hi, Steve!” Wendy Glass called out as she walked into the room.

“Hi, Wendy,” I replied, and we exchanged a ‘society’ kiss.

“Thank you. Lisa is obviously glad to be home.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lisa brought me my glass of bourbon and brought her dad a glass of scotch.

“I can’t drink while I’m on parole,” Lisa said.

“Say what?” I asked in disbelief.

“It’s one of the requirements. No drugs. No booze. Random drug test. Random, unannounced visits from my PO to work or home. I have to tell my PO about all my friends, and so on. I had to call and let my PO know you’d be here and provide your name, address, and so on. But hey, it’s only a year and it beats the hell out of being in Logan! Oh, and I can’t associate with any known criminals.”

“So stay away from Chicago Aldermen?” I chuckled.

“I found a couple of possible buildings for your dojo,” Alec interjected. “One of them used to be a neighborhood grocery store. It’s bigger than your current place and is configured nearly how you’d want it, I think; a small office, a main room, and then a secondary room that was the stock room for the grocery store. There’s also a fairly large bathroom. The other building is two stories, and has more than twice as much space, but I suspect it’s a bit pricey for a karate dojo.”

“What’s the condition of the first building?”

“About what you’d expect from a building built in the early 50s. No major problems, but it shows wear and tear on the brickwork. The roof is relatively recent, and the heat and air conditioning are about fifteen years old, but in good working order.”

“We’d need to make some changing rooms with two showers each,” I said.

“That’s certainly possible and there’s more than enough room. Would you like to look at it?”

“Yes. When?”

“Lisa can show it to you, if that’s OK. Anytime next week will work. We’ll need to coordinate with the agent who has the listing.”

“Let me talk to Jim Miller, my sensei, tomorrow and I’ll call you on Monday.”

“Sounds good. What happened with your buyout of your competitor?”

“Hell if I know,” I said. “The only thing I know for sure is that one of the founders exercised his option to buy out the venture capital firm. But he had a chance to do that right at the beginning and said he couldn’t raise the funds. Now he can, but the company is in deep trouble, so I’m not sure why he’s doing it. I think he’d have been better off letting us buy them and taking his payout.”

“Ego. I’ve seen it before.”

“Well, then his ego is writing checks his company can’t cash,” I said. “They’ve had zero sales in the last month and pretty much their entire sales team left, either coming with us or going elsewhere. We also snapped up two of their best developers and a third one quit. And we’re getting inquiries from their current customers about switching.”

“I’ve seen stranger things. He may just not be able to let go. He was still involved after the VC invested, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you were buying him out and sending him packing?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all it takes at times. Just stick to your business plan and let him worry about saving his company.”

“That’s my plan.”

“Refresh your drink?” he asked.

I nodded and handed him the glass. He walked over to the bar and added more Blanton’s to the glass and brought it back to me.

“Looks as if the Devils are going to sweep the Wings,” I said. “They’re up three games to none. Not what the oddsmakers expected. But with the lockout, it was a strange season all the way.”

“Dinner is ready,” Wendy announced.

I followed Alec and Lisa into the dining room and took a seat across from Lisa.

“I remembered your dietary restrictions,” Alec said. “So Wendy prepared veal medallions, steamed broccoli, and a salad.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Are you still running every weekday morning?”

“Yes; with the same doctor friend I’ve been running with for several years now.”

“And they still don’t know what the problem is?”

“Not for sure. I’m going up to Mayo in August for another battery of tests, but this is just research, basically. The consensus, at the moment, is that we’ll only know for sure if they do a post-mortem on my hypothalamus, and even then, it may not be obvious. Maybe the improved imaging systems which are being developed will help, but nobody is counting on it.”

“Have you had any of those fainting spells you used to have?”

I shook my head, “The last one was when Jess was in the accident where my friend Jorge died. And that’s what led to that concussion and post-concussion syndrome.”

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