Heaven’s Gate
2 Demonstration
I CUT CLASS ON FRIDAY. Janet Anderson had spent Thursday night with us and early Friday we drove into Indy to the airport. I was thankful that she had taken care of all our travel arrangements. We had hotel rooms for two nights and would fly back on Sunday evening. Saturday was Whitney’s graduation from boot camp at Parris Island, but Friday was family day.
Just a few more hours and I’d have her in my arms again.
We were met by a bus and transported to the base where we watched several demonstrations by the recruits. They had a five-mile run, in formation. Then they were dismissed to shower and reassemble for the parade while we had lunch served in the mess. We all went to the parade deck to watch our Marines march out and take formation in front of us. They were awesome. A sergeant said a few words and then dismissed the platoon. That was our cue to rush out onto the field and find our Marine. She wasn’t hard to spot. She stood nearly a head taller than the rest of the female Marines. I hugged Whitney and turned her loose so she could hug her mom. She looked so incredible in her tan dress blouse and dark green slacks. She wore a little pillbox hat with a bill in front. I could see my reflection in her shoes.
There were very few kisses being bestowed on the parade deck, so I restrained myself with just a light peck. I’m sure the picture we made looked like she was greeting a little brother.
We stood and talked. Mostly her mother just kept exclaiming how proud she was. I had to agree. Then Whitney took us over to the short line to meet her drill instructor. It was sort of formal at first as she made introductions and then we listened to the drill instructor praise the way Whitney had performed and how pleased he was that she would be going to officer candidate school.
“Sergeant Klaeffer,” Whitney said, “this is my master.” I looked at her, startled. That hardly sounded like something you would say to a Marine sergeant! Apparently, however, the sergeant knew what she was talking about.
“Ah. Sensei,” he said, bowing his head, slightly. “Recruit Anderson has represented you well and has been instrumental as assistant instructor in hand-to-hand combat. I confess, I expected someone a bit… older.” I glanced at Whitney and could see the pleading in her eyes. Now was not the time to deny anything.
“Sergeant, Recruit Anderson will represent the Marines well, too. We have discovered in our journey together that age is of little matter and that the roles of student and master may change frequently,” I said.
“Well said, sir. Perhaps you would consent to a demonstration this evening. The recruits are not released until after the ceremony tomorrow and I confess that there are quite a number who would like to see Recruit Anderson face an equal challenge. Would you be willing?” he asked. So that was why Whitney wanted me to bring both my working and formal gi. I had anticipated that she would want to spar tomorrow night. I had no idea she would want something earlier.
“I would be honored to find what my pupil can teach me after three months in your company,” I said.
“1900 hours, then,” he said. “I will have you escorted from the gate.” He turned to Janet. “I hope you will forgive us for snatching your escort away for the evening, Mrs. Anderson,” he said.
“Oh, I expected that I would be abandoned sooner or later,” she smiled. “I’ve seen the two of them develop for the past seventeen years. You will enjoy the display.”
I ate a quiet and light dinner with Whitney’s mother. She seemed amused.
“You know she is going to tear me a new one,” I grumped. I pushed my Caesar salad away, mostly uneaten. “They teach them to fight dirty here.”
“When have you ever fought according to the rules of some competition?” she laughed. “Or when has Whitney? Master Cho taught her to defend herself. It had nothing to do with competition.”
“Yes, but…”
“I heard that you took Coach Hancock in a match.”
“It was really a draw.”
“Not according to what he said. He said you pulled all your punches and simply touched him at will.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to go all out. He’s like fifty, you know.”
“If you take that attitude onto the mats with Whitney tonight, they will carry you out and she will feel ashamed.”
“What?”
“You’ve always sparred all out with Whitney. If you do less tonight, she will feel ashamed and lash out at you. The truth is, you have to defeat her.”
“I don’t understand. Won’t that humiliate her in front of her sergeant and fellow recruits?”
“Not as much as you letting her win.”
I felt silly showing up at the gate in my gi with nothing more than my ID and my slip-ons. Whitney and I never sparred in uniforms except when we demonstrated once at the high school. The recruit who escorted me to the gym could make two of me. I felt like a little shrimp again.
“A red belt, master?” the sergeant asked when he met me next to the mats.
“Our discipline does not use belts,” I explained. “Red is my house color.”
“I see. That explains Anderson’s reluctance to accept the black belt of an instructor.”
“My preference would be to shed the gi entirely,” I said. “As I believe hers would be.”
“Hmm. Let me think about that.” He led me to the mats and I stood patiently as Whitney approached from the other side. The sergeant went over to talk to her. Seated around the mats were over a hundred recruits.
“You sure are a little guy,” my escort said, standing beside me. “Are you sure you can take Andy?”
“No,” I said. “That’s why she’s a Marine and not me.” The guy chuckled.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
“Recruits!” the sergeant shouted from the center of the mats. He even had stripes on the sleeve of his gi.
“Sir! Yes, sir!” came the response.
“For the past twelve weeks, you’ve been having your asses handed to you on a platter by Recruit Anderson. Is there anyone here who believes he or she has a chance to take Anderson to the mats in three falls?” There was silence. “That…” the sergeant pointed at me, “non-Marine is the man she calls her master. “This might be the only chance any of you ever have to witness a little payback.” There were a few laughs at that and I could see that even though the sergeant ruled these guys with an iron hand, he wasn’t without a sense of humor. I was relieved. “I am informed that the normal discipline for these combatants does not use a gi. We will witness this as Marines without catcalls or other disrespect. Is that clear?”
“Sir. Yes, sir.”
“Recruit Anderson and Master Bri. You may approach this unarmed combat as you would normally spar. This will be a contest for two falls out of three. You will begin combat on my whistle and cease on my whistle. Is that clear?” Whitney barked out the Marine response. I simply bowed slightly. “Prepare for combat!” he snapped. I kicked out of my slip-ons and stripped off my belt and jacket. Whitney did the same thing. I thought she would stay at that, but she shimmied out of her trousers as well. I quickly stripped off and then challenged her by stripping out of my briefs. I stepped onto the mats naked. Whitney only hesitated for a moment before she shed her sports bra and white cotton panties. There was a palpable holding of breath around the mats. We both stepped up and bowed to each other. The sergeant’s whistle blew.
I’d done some warmups before I got to the base, but I was still stretching out some of my scar tissue when Whitney began an attack that was intended to take me out quickly. I was a rock, but the force of her blow set me back several feet. I caught my balance and landed erect. Then there was the whirling, punching, maddening dervish of Whitney Anderson raining down blows and kicks as I loosened up. She spotted the fact that I wasn’t quite limber and raised me off my feet with a kick to my chest and I hit the floor on my butt. I bounced back up, but the whistle blew. There were cheers. We backed off and bowed to each other. I took a deep breath and before it had completely cleared my lungs, the whistle blew and Whitney was on the attack again.
Only I wasn’t there. I’m sure that to the recruits it looked like her hand passed right through me. I remembered what it looked like the first time I saw Whitney punch Coach Hancock and he turned to water. I just flowed past her and then rolled under her when she swung with a roundhouse kick. It was game on and we were reading each other. Whitney’s style had changed in the past weeks to one that was more aggressive, like Coach Hancock’s. She was constantly on the attack and I was moving through and past her blows. It was like we were of one mind. I never felt this way except when I was sparring with Whitney.
Oh, blows were landed. I’m sure the strikes echoed in the gymnasium. I was thankful that I’d packed arnica cream in my suitcase, expecting that Whitney would want to spar when she got her leave the next day. I didn’t expect that I’d be going three rounds with her in the Marines’ gymnasium.
I saw her gather air and force it toward me, but I wasn’t where her blow was aimed. Instead, my arm connected with the back of her neck and she fell to the mat. The whistle blew. We stepped to the edge of the mat and bowed. The whistle blew again.
Whitney did not revert to our old styles. Instead, she became even more aggressive. If her fellow recruits had faced this over the past twelve weeks, it was no wonder they were looking for a surrogate victory. I knew what she was looking for and I wondered if she had found a defense. I waited. We exchanged blows and once I caught the sergeant out of the corner of my eye raising his whistle. He lowered it again. Our audience was attentive, breath held. Who was the master here? I was no longer certain. Whitney had always been my master until I had summoned fire when I faced Wayne Enders. There was no way that I was going to defeat my one-time master unless I could summon and control the fire within me.
We continued to rain blows upon each other. Whitney was beginning to wear me down. She was not holding back; was not pulling her punches. I saw the kick as it approached my head and intercepted it with a wall of fire.
Fire. It is not sheets of flame. Fire is the purest form of energy that we know. It consumes all matter that it touches and turns it into heat and light. An electrical spark is a type of fire. A forest conflagration is another type. I had fried Wayne Enders’ brain when I struck out at him. I understood that now. I accepted it. It had to be done. But fire was also the primeval defense against the wild things. They would not/could not approach. And this—this sheet of pure energy—the power of the universe—is what I placed between myself and Whitney. She struck it full force and fell.
She fell for an eternity. All the power she had placed into that kick was returned against her. I stepped around her and knelt beneath her as she fell, floating to the earth. I caught her head in my hands as she touched the mats and poured the life force she had expended back into her body.
I don’t know what the recruits had seen, or what they thought they saw. What I knew was that this was my precious beloved and I would not let her come to harm. I cushioned her fall and bent to kiss her lips.
Whitney coughed and sputtered as the whistle blew. There was silence in the Marine gymnasium. I stood and offered my hand to Whitney. She stood beside me. We turned and bowed to each other and then turned to retrieve our gis and put them on. The sergeant stepped to the center of the mats.
“Semper Fi!” he barked.
“Oorah!” the recruits answered.
“Dismissed!”
They marched in their tan and green across the parade ground. Each platoon was addressed by its drill instructor. The drill instructor walked down the row of recruits handing each one the eagle-globe-anchor pin and saying “Congratulations, Marine.” I stood next to Janet in my red house robes, looking different than most of the people there, though there were parents of Indian descent in their unique attire.
And I was so proud of her I could burst.
She came from her barracks in less formal attire, but still a Marine, with her stripe and her pin. She hugged us both and this time the kiss she gave me was not subdued.
“I have twenty-four hours of liberty before I have to be back to be shipped to Quantico,” she said. “Mom, I know you want to talk and we’ll have dinner at 1800 hours. That gives me two hours to go to the hotel and fuck my man into oblivion.”
And that was what we did.
I loved Whitney and caressed her. I spread arnica on her bruises. I sank into her depths with my cock and made love. We barely made it to dinner on time. I gave Whitney the dinnertime with her mother as I went to a different restaurant not far away and had the steak that I planned to have the night before. A number of young men and women paused at my table and nodded to me. They did not say anything. I nodded back and was filled with pride in every one of those young men and women who had just become Marines.
When I returned to my room, it was to find Whitney naked and waiting for me. I sincerely hoped she would get some sleep before reporting to officer candidate school in Quantico on Monday. We certainly didn’t get any Saturday night.
For my part, I was back at the studio Monday morning interviewing potential chefs for Young Cooking. I would have more and more guest chefs this fall. Eventually, I would select one—well, we would all select one—who would become the new chef for Young Cooking. By January it would no longer be my show.
“Darling, what do you want in a new chef?” I asked as Elaine cuddled in my arms after class Tuesday night. “Really, we need to consider this as the cooking segment of Chick Chat and not as Young Cooking with Chef Brian.”
“Oh. I don’t want to think of it that way. I always want it to be you,” Elaine moaned. She was gearing up for the beginning of the season on Labor Day. We had less than a week until production started again. It was clear that Dolly and Debbie could only step in occasionally now that the Heartthrob Café was open and expanding its business. It required at least one of the girls to be on duty each day. Dani was still a little shy about appearing on television with the scar on her jaw and the slight crispness it had given to her speech patterns. She would have plastic surgery soon to repair the scar damage on her face, but she still was a mother and only spent the breakfast hour at the café with Xan in a Snugli.
“Well, it really is your show, now,” I said. “Maybe we should drop the cooking segment completely. Or just have it, say, a couple times a week. Then you could have a fashion segment or something else on the other days.”
“That could work. Are you sure you just don’t want me to have another young chef around to seduce?” she giggled.
“What young chef did you ever seduce?” I asked. “Seems to me I was being pretty bold.”
“Yeah. The first thing I thought when you told me you were a freshman was ‘Am I going to jail?’ I actually looked up the laws to make sure dating you wasn’t the same as statutory rape,” she laughed.
“We survived it. I’ve been feeling so nostalgic lately. There are so many cool things that we used to do.”
“We still do cool things. Only now, after we do them, we actually have sex. With full penetration. And you come in my unprotected pussy. Over and over.”
“Unprotected?” I asked. Was she telling me something?
“You know. Without a condom. Don’t worry. I’m on birth control. It’s tempting, but with the show where it is, it would definitely be bad timing.”
“Elaine, my love, when the timing is right, you know I would be happy to be the father of your children. If you’ll still have me,” I said.
“Brian, from what I thought was a casual flirtation, I’ve grown to love you and to love all our hearthmates. I will love all your children by whichever mothers they come, and perhaps one day I will invite you into my truly unprotected sex to plant our baby there, too. But no time soon. I’m doing what I love and I still get to stay here at home with you. I was so afraid I would have to move to New York or LA. When I graduated, I was seriously considering giving up my career decision because I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving. But Hannah saved me. You saved me. I’m an actress and a star and I have my family and my love. What could be better?”
What, indeed?
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