Chapter 30: Finding a Dojo

Authors Note:

Once again, my heartfelt thanks go to Dr Mark for continuing to edit my work and turning it into something readable.

Here we go...

It didn’t take much to catch up on the days I had missed. The only lecture that I was really upset about missing was in ethics, and I went to see the professor between my first two classes.

I explained that I had been called away on an emergency, but he didn’t seem overly impressed.

“There’s a minimum attendance requirement for the class, Mr. Stott,” he said. “This is your first absence, so I’m disinclined to listen to excuses or to give lectures. Your work thus far has been good, so just make sure you don’t fall behind. It’s a terrible reason to have to fail a student when they seem to grasp the material, but I must insist. Lively debate is crucial to an exploration of ethics.”

Just like that, I was a regular college student again. It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I’ll admit that I’d vaguely entertained the idea of flashing my ID. I did, after all, have a very, very good reason for having missed the class. A bit out of sorts from having been preempted, I shuffled my feet and turned to leave.

“I didn’t see any visible injuries,” he said to my back, “so I’m assuming they still didn’t bring enough goons.”

I turned my head and caught a smile.

“White supremacists, technically,” I replied. “And this time, we went to them.”

He didn’t fully rise to the bait, but I got a reaction. That was good enough for me.

The other professors didn’t really care about attendance; papers and tests covered ninety percent or more of the grades. I appreciated that my ethics professor felt differently, and I genuinely enjoyed the class. I hoped I wouldn’t miss any more of them, but I supposed I couldn’t be sure.

I met the girls for lunch, and afterwards had a couple of hypnotherapy consultations before my last class. I’d gotten lucky with those, and hadn’t had to cancel or reschedule any. Still, I resolved that it was well past time to get some help. A secretary would’ve been able to handle things for me during my trip, had its timing been less fortuitous.

Despite my lingering hesitation about asking my girls – it seemed a bit of a conflict of interest to have a fiancée as an employee – I decided to just do it. They’d already expressed interest, and I trusted all three of them to be professional. Going through a whole interview process with strangers would add even more of a delay, and would put something else on my already-full plate.

“I’ll do it,” said Mary immediately.

Amanda pouted. “I was hoping he was going to recruit some hot college freshman,” she said, and I smiled.

“A bit clichéd don’t you think?” I asked.

Amanda grinned. “Just because it’s a cliché, doesn’t mean it’s not hot!!”

Jules rolled her eyes.

After lunch I was approached by the head janitor, who had finished his course and had stopped smoking. He told me that he had some friends who were struggling too, and had been amazed at the results he’d gotten. He asked for cards – cards I still didn’t have to give. I was a bit embarrassed, but spelled out my email address for him, which he typed into his phone.

We stopped at the print shop on my way home. The guy behind the counter upsold me on a package deal: a dedicated work email address, a single-page website, and a thousand business cards. He quoted me four hundred and fifty dollars, plus tax. I wasn’t in the mood to haggle or shop around, so I accepted the offer and sat down with him immediately to talk designs.

For simplicity’s sake, I decided to just use my own name. After checking the regulations on the state website as to what I could legally call myself, I ended up with Caleb Stott, Licensed Hypnotherapist. (Licensed in the state of Oregon.) My license number was printed underneath, just in case anyone wanted to check.

When I paid up, he told me the website would be live within twenty-four hours, and that I could come back in a few days to pick up the cards. The fee included registering the domain name, and the email address could be anything I wanted at calebstott.com. It seemed pretty cool to have my name as my email address, though that did make it harder to think of something to put before the at symbol.

The young man said I could have a single Microsoft Exchange account for less than ten dollars per month. I could create as many email addresses at calebstott.com as I wanted, and that everything sent to any of them could be diverted to my exchange account.

I looked to Jules. “Or you could just set up a gmail account – say calebstotthypnotherapy at gmail dot com, “ she said. “Then divert all the mails to that. Best thing about that – is it would be free.”

I agreed. Mary decided that the email address on the cards and the website would be enquiries at calebstott dot com. She was earning her pay already.

He asked me for my telephone number in case there were any problems, and then asked me what kind of things I treated with my hypnosis.

I ‘heard’ from him that he was hoping for help with his confidence. As a trenchant example, he wanted to ask me if I might like to get a drink with him sometime, but was far too nervous and insecure to do so. The gaggle of girls with me wasn’t helping, but he knew that that wasn’t the real issue. I told him that up that point I had only handled weight loss and smoking cessation, but that I could definitely help with more general concerns. He brightened at that. I promised we’d discuss it when I came back to pick up my cards.

I left the print shop wondering about the guy. He was definitely a fit young man, but there was no real attraction for me. I shook my head at both the tragedy and the comedy; it seemed to me like I’d just been given a whole month or more to decide how to gently reject somebody - once I’d gotten paid to help them muster the courage to ask me out in the first place.

Gracie arrived home just after six, and she was ecstatic. Arnold had tested her, and had found that she remembered everything she needed to pass muster as a certified accountant. I joked with her that I needed an accountant now that my hypnotherapy business was taking off, and she legitimately offered to talk me through the tax implications and how to set things up. I had half a mind to take her up on it when tax time came around, provided she wasn’t undercover.

I made dinner, and then Gracie came to me and asked a favour. I had known since she had come home that she was going to ask, but I waited for her to bring it up.

“Caleb,” she asked, “do you think that you could come with me to pick my stuff up from James’ place?”

“Sure,” I said. “Do you think he is likely to get upset?”

“I don’t know how he is going to react,” she admitted. “Would it be all right to take your truck as well as my car? I don’t have much, but that way we should be able to fit everything in one trip. The less I have to go back there, the easier it will be for everybody.”

The girls and Jules insisted on coming as well, which I initially thought was a bad idea, but then considered that their being there might prevent James from going too wild. I was tempted to let him – maybe even goad him. If anything, I decided, the girls being there would ultimately be to James’ benefit.

His place was about forty minutes from our house. When we arrived, I followed Gracie to the door, but stayed outside as she entered and spoke to James. It was only when I heard shouting that I decided to follow her in. I need not have worried. When I entered the living room, James was on the floor, his arm twisted up his back and Gracie sitting astride him.

“I’ll give you that one,” she said. “You try anything else, and I will arrest you for assault on a federal agent. Now go sit in your chair over there while I collect my things.”

She released him, and he got up slowly. He took a seat, glaring at her and then me.

“So, who is this little prick?” he asked with venom in his voice. “You cradle robbing now?”

“Caleb is just here to help me move my stuff,” Gracie said. “He’s a colleague from work, nothing more.”

“Bullshit,” he spat.

Gracie ignored him, went into one of the other rooms and began to pack up her clothes. Jules and Mary went through to help.

“What the fuck?” exclaimed James. “Who are the bitches?”

“Caleb!” Gracie called from the other room, before I could react. “Do you have any tools in your truck?”

I went through to see what she wanted.

“I have a gun safe bolted to the floor here,” she said. “I need to take it, but I don’t have any tools.”

I looked inside and saw the fittings holding the safe down. I didn’t have tools, but my TK had no trouble undoing the bolts. I picked up the safe and carried it out of the apartment and put it into my truck. It wasn’t light.

It took us about an hour to get all of Gracie’s belongings loaded into her car and my truck. As she did a last pass through the apartment, James caught her attention. He had something in his hand: a china figurine. It looked old, and fragile.

“Don’t forget this,” he said, holding it up.

Gracie’s eyes widened a little. “James, put that down.” she said quietly.

“Here,” he said with a malicious grin. “Catch.” He threw the figurine at her with such force that even if she had been able to catch it, it probably would have shattered in her hand. Gracie squeaked in dismay, but once again my TK was up to the task. I stepped in front of Gracie, caught the figurine with my TK, and plucked it out of the air with my hand, moving so quickly that it appeared that I had simply caught it. It was completely unscathed. I handed it to Gracie.

Robbed of his petty revenge, James scowled and slumped back down into his chair.

“Bye, James,” Gracie said, dropping a set of keys on the table. “Don’t try to contact me. I will get a restraining order against you if I must.”

James ignored her, and we left the apartment. Gracie heaved a sigh of relief as we climbed into our various vehicles. Two hours later, we were back in our house, and had carried all her belongings into her room. I caught her gently rubbing the figurine I’d rescued, reluctant to even place it on her desk. Her eyes were wet. She finally noticed me staring, and didn’t seem ashamed.

“It was from my grandma, before she died,” she said. “Thank you.”

“And you deserve to be treated at least as well,” I said.

She walked over and gave me a tight hug. I kissed her on the top of her head and let the moment linger. When we separated, I gave her a parting smile and headed off to bed.

I was awoken a couple of hours later, and, although I was still half asleep, I was I saw Mary and Amanda tag-teaming Gracie into an orgasmic coma on the other side of the bed. Jules was snuggled into me. When she saw I was awake, she smiled up at me.

“They didn’t want to disturb you,” she whispered, “but they knew how you felt about them having sex with others when you weren’t around. Gracie needed cheering up, and the twins need to share as much as you do. You know that they are holding back on your behalf. It’s not just you that is damaged by not sharing. You have to remember that they are Empaths, too, and need to share as much as you do.”

I thought about that for a few minutes as the sleepiness left my brain. It was true; I was being selfish. I knew how much I needed to share, and how much it hurt not to. I could have easily had the hotel clerk two nights prior, and the guy at the print shop, although he hadn’t really done much for me. I was sterile, as were the girls, so there was no chance of unwanted pregnancies. We were fully disease-resistant too. That left me tragically bereft of excuses, forced to admit that the problem was me.

I was tempted at the last to blame my upbringing, but I knew that would have been a lie. My problem was my own sense of insecurity. I was scared that if the girls had sex with someone else, they would move on; that I would lose them; that somehow it would be cheating, even if everybody knew and agreed in advance. I had to admit that I was only limiting my own activities in some kind of attempt to justify not ‘allowing’ the girls free rein to share whenever they felt they needed to. I was hurting them, and I needed to stop.

I knew how the girls felt about me. I could feel it through the bond. After the girls’ research and my session with Jeevan, I knew for certain that the love I felt wasn’t a deception or Compelled. I knew that I had to trust them, and to be realistic. We were, all of us, twenty years old. If Dianna was to be believed, we could live to be two hundred or even older. It was both amazing and a little scary to think that we might still be so deeply in love in forty, eighty, or one hundred years’ time. A part of me truly believed we would be. In light of that, sharing should not have been such an issue.

I decided at that moment that I’d change my behavior first, and see if my attitude followed. I resolved to make it clear to the girls that all of us had free rein to share whenever we felt the need or desire, regardless of who was physically present and we could share the experiences between ourselves later.

I examined my feelings as I made the decision. Despite my lingering discomfort, it felt like the right thing to do – ethically speaking, one might say. I certainly didn’t feel jealous of them as they were riding Gracie into a willing oblivion. Mary was squatting over Gracie’s face as the older girl lapped and sucked at her pussy while Amanda used her tongue and fingers to bring Gracie to yet another orgasm. I watched, and realised that I was enjoying the sight without becoming horny myself.

It was weird. I wasn’t involved, and while it made me happy to see all of them having a good time and enjoying each other, I had no desire to join in. It was like getting a fleeting glimpse of Jules’ perspective, I thought.

I pulled Jules closer to me and kissed the top of her head. “I love you,” I said to her, and she smiled up at me. I looked across at the twins. Mary looked back at me and smiled, and then her eyes rolled as she came. I went back to sleep.

At four the next morning, I decided that, despite the cold, I would go out for a run. It had been some time since I had run any distance, so I covered about ten miles at a leisurely pace. When I got back to the house I did some TK training, lifting all the vehicles and the hot tub again. It was becoming boring. I barely made a dent in my indicator, and I guesstimated that with my truck, plus three cars and the hot tub, I was holding up twenty-five thousand pounds or so. It wasn’t even taxing anymore. I needed to find something bigger to lift.

Gracie came into the kitchen as I was making breakfast.

“Enjoy yourself last night?” I asked, grinning at her.

She blushed. “I thought you were asleep,” she said semi-accusingly.

“Kind of hard to sleep with all that noise,” I replied. “Not to mention the wriggling around.”

“Caleb, I don’t...” she began.

“Hey,” I said, “it’s fine. One of the things about Empathy is that Empaths need to share. That means the twins needed you as much as you needed them last night. It’s no big deal, as long as you had fun. Did they convert you?”

“Not entirely,” she said, grinning at me. “I’ll still enjoy a good dicking, but let’s just say I have more options than I did before.”

“Just remember,” I said to her, “if you want to roleplay - be submissive - then that’s fine. But there’s a difference between that and what James was doing to you. You are worth so much more. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She looked into my face for a few long seconds, then nodded.

“You want breakfast?” I asked, changing the subject. “I’m doing eggs Benedict.”

The girls joined us a few minutes later, and we all ate together.

After breakfast, before we left for PSU, Gracie said to me, “I think I’m having my final briefing today. It’s going to be the go-no-go decision. If it’s a go then I’ll be going undercover sometime in the next few days, and I might be out of touch for up to a month. Is my stuff okay here until then, or should I make arrangements to move it before I go under?”

“Your stuff is fine where it is,” I said. “Keep safe and make sure you come back okay. Okay?”

She nodded. “I will. Remember, if you should happen to run into me at any time before then, you don’t know me.”

I nodded. “Am I likely to see you? Is the operation nearby?”

“Not really, but you never know.” she said. “Loads of agents have had their cover blown thanks to an unfortunate chance meeting.”

“I’ll make sure the girls know,” I said. “Be careful.”

She kissed me on the cheek and then grinned. “Have a nice day at school dear,” she said before climbing into her car and driving off.

During the ride to PSU, I thought about what Gracie was about to do, and was amazed at the courage that it would require. She would be going undercover with no backup into a dangerous situation. She wouldn’t have her badge or gun to rely upon, and without any powers, she would be at the mercy of whoever was around her. She had guts, and I admired her for it.

I did a double take as I was driving, noticing something that I was certain hadn’t been there before. There was a martial arts dojo in a block of businesses I drove past. I determined to go check it out on my way home and see if I could learn anything from them.

My first business for the day was a couple of repeat weight loss clients. I put each into a ‘trance’ and checked my emails. Five new people wanted to avail themselves of my services. Three of them were students, but there were two others from outside PSU. I wasn’t sure where they had got my email from, although it could have been Jamie’s husband or even the janitor. Both had promised to give out my details. I wondered how long it would be before the work emails to my personal address would stop coming in – a problem I’d created for myself, of course. Still, I was very much looking forward to having Mary take over that side of the business completely.

If nothing else, I decided, I could make a damn good living as a hypnotherapist. I was averaging twelve to fifteen sessions a week. That was between six hundred and seven hundred and fifty dollars in fees alone. I had a waiting list of about twenty clients too. Had I not had to attend classes, I could have worked full time. I’d still have had a waiting list even at that. Then there was my FBI retainer, plus the thirty hours for the ‘consultancy’ at Prentiss’s compound and the twenty hours for training Gracie’s memories. I was starting to amass quite a lot of cash.

I got Amanda to drop me off at the dojo on our way home. I would walk the rest of the way when I was done.

I had examined my memories of that journey from the last few weeks and found that, up until two weeks ago, the dojo hadn’t been there. The unit had been empty for a while, and then signs had gone up about three weeks prior saying the unit had been rented. The front had been boarded off until two weeks prior, and when they were taken down, the dojo appeared. I just hadn’t noticed it until that morning.

There was an electronic beep as I opened the door and entered. Inside was as expected. There were pictures all around of various people either fighting in competitions or sparring. There was a huge mat - probably about fifty feet square - and then some changing rooms off to one side. A young woman, aged around twenty-five, sat at a reception desk just inside the door. Her eyes lit up as I entered. I heard her thoughts.

“At last.”

Apparently there hadn’t been a lot of business.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely.

“I have been learning some martial arts,” I said. “My teacher told me I should join a dojo and get a different perspective from a new teacher.”

“What belt are you?” she asked.

I grimaced. “I haven’t taken any gradings,” I said. “I just trained.”

She looked me up and down.

“We would have to assess your level then,” she said. “There would be a joining fee of two hundred and fifty dollars, and then a session fee of forty dollars for the assessment. Once we know where you are, we can plan as to how to progress.”

I thought about that for a moment.

“Can I meet the teacher?” I asked. “No offence, but I don’t see the point in paying all that money if they have nothing to teach me.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“How long have you been training?” she asked.

“About ten months,” I said.

“I’m sure that we have something to offer,” she said, smiling politely, but I clearly heard her thought.

“Arrogant prick. He’s trained for ten months and thinks he’s fucking Bruce Lee. Maybe I should get him on the mat and show him a thing or two.”

“Are you one of the trainers?” I asked.

She nodded. “I have been training since I was very young. My father is the sensei, but he isn’t here just now. I tell you what: if you join, and then find out that we have nothing to teach you, I’ll refund all your money, including the session fee. I don’t think you’ll find a better deal than that.”

I thought about it for a second, and then decided to take the risk. It wasn’t a huge amount of money, and even if the dojo reneged on her deal, I supposed it would be interesting to see where I was in its grading system.

“Do you have a gi?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“We have a limited stock,” she began, “or you can buy them at the sporting goods store in the mall, although those are not as good quality. They are ninety dollars from us, and a belt is an extra fifteen. As you are not graded, you would need to buy a white belt, but once we grade you, I will swap it out for whatever colour you need at no charge.”

“So,” I said, “for the membership fee, plus the gi, belt, and session fee, you need three hundred and ninety-five dollars?”

She nodded, and I handed her my card. She looked surprised, but accepted it and swiped it, ringing up the amount on the register. Then she gave me a couple of forms to fill out.

“Let me go get your gi,” she said once I was done. She darted behind a door and reemerged holding two.

“I guessed your size.” she said. “You’ll need to go into the changing room and try these on. See which fits you best. You need them to be comfortable and not restrict your movement in any way.” She also handed me a white belt. “You know how to tie one of these?”

I shook my head.

“Figure out which gi you need,” she said, “and then come out. I’ll show you.”

I went into the changing room and tried on the larger of the two gis. It fit me well. I could move and kick to any height without it restricting me. I didn’t bother even trying the other one on. Leaving my street clothes in a locker in the changing room, I went back out barefoot and went over to her.

“Good,” she said. “That’s a good fit for you.”

Since I wasn’t wearing a belt, my top was open, and I saw her eyes flick up and down my chest and abs. She hid it well, but I saw arousal in her aura. She pulled my gi closed, wrapped the belt around my waist, and showed me how to tie it properly.

“How does that feel?” she asked.

I moved around experimentally. “Good,” I said. Just then I heard the electronic beep of the door, and an older man - perhaps in his mid-fifties - entered.

“Nice timing,” she said. “Dad, this is Mr. Stott. He’s been training for about ten months, but hasn’t graded yet. His teacher told him to join a dojo. I said we could do an assessment session.”

The older man looked me up and down. “You a student?” he asked, and I nodded.

“I’m at PSU,” I said. “I’m looking to get into law enforcement. Hoping for the FBI.”

“I’m Kevin,” he said, “and this is Carys.” He held out his hand and I shook it. His aura radiated calm, confidence and power. I was certain that I could learn from him.

“Carys,” he continued, “why don’t you go get changed? Perhaps we can see where Mr. Stott is up to.

“What style were you training in?” he asked me as she entered the changing room.

“Shotokan Karate,” I said.

He nodded. “Did you learn any katas?”

I nodded again. I listed those I had learned, and his eyes widened.

“You say you have been training for ten months?” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“And you know Nidan level kata?” he asked.

I nodded. “Kanku Dai,” I said.

“Go warm up on the mat please,” he said, and I moved to comply. When Carys came out, he went into the changing room and came out shortly wearing a black gi and a black and red belt.

Carys wore a white gi with a black belt. She also began doing stretches on the mat.

Kevin came to the edge of the mat. As he walked on, I stopped what I was doing, turned and bowed to him. I didn’t know exactly why I was doing that, but it seemed to be the thing to do. I noted that Carys had also done the same, and he returned the bow.

“Are you ready?” he asked me.

“Yes, Sensei,” I replied. Again, I wasn’t sure why I called him that, but it seemed correct.

“Show me Kanku Dai,” he said.

Carys moved to the edge of the mat and knelt, Kevin stepped back to give me room. I relaxed and adopted the first position and held it for a moment. Then I flowed into the kata. It was a dance I had practiced over and over - so many times it had become almost as familiar as walking or breathing. Each movement was precise and exact. I felt the power of each motion flowing through my body as I went through the routine. The dojo didn’t exist; neither Kevin nor Carys existed - only me and the movement. I thrilled at the feeling of it, and when I reached the end of the dance, I was almost disappointed.

I ‘heard’ Carys’s thought. “Fuck me, how is he that level after only ten months? And why do I want to fight him even more now? He might actually win.”

Glancing across at her, I saw in her aura that her desire to get me on the mat wasn’t all about fighting. Apparently her pride wasn’t going to let her admit that other part just yet.

Kevin stood; his eyes narrowed as he looked at me.

“Where did you learn?” he asked. I saw suspicion in his aura.

“I was taught by a friend who is an instructor with the FBI,” I said. “I consult with them from time to time.” For some reason it was suddenly important to me to gain Kevin’s trust and acceptance.

“In ten months, he has taught you to Nidan level?” he asked. “How many hours per day are you training?”

“I average between three and five depending on whether I’m in classes or not. I get up at four most mornings and train, although I have recently not been doing as much martial arts training. I run sometimes instead.”

“What is your goal?” he asked. “Are you just after grading, or is there a purpose to your learning?”

“As I said,” I replied, “I am interested in joining the FBI. I need to be able to defend myself as an agent. I have no interest in belts of any colour. I have no interest in competing in championships or competitions. I have done that already. I’m a college wrestling champion, or was before I dropped it. I just want to be the best fighter I can be, so I can keep myself, and those I am responsible for, safe. I am also interested in developing my mental discipline as much as I can. I have, in the past, made questionable decisions under pressure. I would like to learn the discipline to master myself and ensure that I can think clearly and act correctly no matter what I am facing.”

“Have you been in proper combat?” he asked.

I grimaced. “Once only,” I said.

“Did you win?” he asked, and I nodded.

“What happened?”

“I can show you,” I said. “The fight was recorded.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, but nodded. I went into the changing room and retrieved my phone. When I came out, he was standing on the edge of the mat, waiting. I queued up the video and handed him my phone. Carys watched over his shoulder as the fight between me and Jasper played. As the fight progressed, I saw more and more purple surrounding her. The crack of Jasper’s arm breaking, audible even on the poor recording, made her flinch, and the purple receded a little, although not completely.

“What was the fight about?” he asked.

I told him everything. Then he watched the fight again.

“And that is why you broke his arm,” he said. “Revenge.”

I looked down. “Yes,” I said. “As I said before, I have made some questionable decisions when under pressure that I would rather I had not made. I need to learn the discipline not to make such decisions in the future.”

He nodded. “At your level, you could have delivered a fatal strike, and you would have been legally justified, given that you were facing two armed opponents. Yet you did not. I don’t believe that your decision to break his arm was so unreasonable as you think. However, you could also have disabled him without causing such injury. I suspect you are harder on yourself than you should be. I also sense that there is something important that you are not telling me, yet I don’t sense malicious deception in you. Perhaps one day you will trust me enough to tell me the entire truth.