Going Cougar

It started because I beat her nephew up. I had been in the USA for only two days too. Most of the first day had been spent getting through immigration from the wrong country, five weeks after the rest of my family entered, with a face looking like I had been through a train wreck. Then getting a missed flight to Colorado, then getting out to Boulder from Denver. I arrived home to the new place my family lived in feeling like I had been through a train wreck and slept for eleven hours.

I woke up to find that my brother and sister were at school and I was alone at home.

Habits die hard so I made myself breakfast and started training, after what I had been through the routine was to focus on fitness with low impact. So I settled down to a yoga routine followed by laps in the pool alternated with treading water in ten minute cycles. Then I dressed and considered the rest of the day, videos or finding a gym, or hitting the books. The scream from the house next door had me wandering outside to think.

I was from South Africa, hearing a scream there meant that you were advised to stay away or needed to come and help. Interpreting that was a matter experience. I found the phone my parents had bought and wandered to the house next door dialing nine one one on a video call, taking a chance. To my surprise the picture flashed up to show the lady answering. I explained who I was and why I was calling. Then I explained that I would investigate and let them see the situation to be able to make better decisions.

She advised against it but I was already switching to the other camera and ringing the door bell. A girl of maybe fifteen answered and stared up at me as I spoke quickly. She was frightened, that was clear the moment I saw her.

"I'm sorry but I was wondering if you could help me find this address? I just arrived from England and this lady... well could you help me please?" I said turning the phone for her to see the phone call.

She looked at the call and I saw relief wash over her face as her hand reached for the phone. As soon as she was holding it I grabbed her wrist, and pulled her as hard and fast as I could. Luckily front doors open outwards in the USA so she yelled in surprise as she went flying.

She wasn't very big and I had put all my strength and speed into the move so she didn't touch ground until she was eight feet away and over the lawn and then she hit ass first and skidded another six before coming to a stop. I took delighted note that she was wearing no clothes underneath although I winced in sympathy for the grass burn she was going to have.

I didn't have time to enjoy the view because as the door flew open I had seen a man with a gun and I turned back to see him pointing a fucking huge piece of artillery at me. The girl started screaming at him to stop and the noise was getting to him.

He was rattled and his pupils were extremely contracted. He was jittery and nervous, probably high. I took stock of him fast, older than me and the same height more or less. That was where it all stopped. I was one meter ninety, weighed ninety eight kilograms, and was conditioned through playing rugby. He was at least twenty kilograms lighter. He was far from fit too, looking as if he lived in a cave and ate reject fast food.

He was screaming that he was going to shoot me and she was screaming for him not to shoot me. This was not going to end well if it carried on. I went into an attention getting routine I had picked up from a team building expert on one rugby camp. I meant whispering to myself, counting quietly and clapping hands lightly, then repeating. It worked within three cycles and both were looking at me quietly.

"Now you see? We're all calming down. What's your name?" I asked the girl.

"Sheryl."

"There we go Sheryl, you see shouting just makes things worse. Speak calmly and we can all stay calm. I'm Ferdi by the way."

"Hey man! I've got the gun! You ain't the boss here!" the guy shouted.

"Ah right. What is your name?"

"Jerry. Now fucking get inside or I'll fucking blow you apart."

I looked at him thinking fast, that bullet at this range was going to go through me faster than my nervous system would process the fact. It had been some time and he hadn't fired yet. I had dealt with other armed individuals in South Africa and knew the the longer he refrained from shooting the less likely he would be to shoot when he needed to. How to keep him talking until I had an opening to take the gun off him...

I looked behind me and nodded at what I saw.

"No I don't think I should move."

"What?" Jerry asked.

"You see if I go inside and you shoot me the power in that gun will mean that the bullet will go through me, hit a wall and then probably bounce around the walls. Also if were to shoot me inside the bang would probably burst your eardrums. So I think you should consider shooting me here where the bullet will go through me, through that hedge, through that house wall and probably into that wall behind it where the cops could get a good ballistics match."

Jerry blinked.

"Have you ever shot anybody before Jerry?"

"Uh no."

"Right now it depends on the bullet right. A normal bullet will penetrate and go a long way through a target as close as I am. What kind of ammunition is in the gun?" I asked aware that Sheryl was holding a phone that was connected to emergency services and they would be taking note of every word.

"I dunno. What wall mister? There ain't nothing behind ya."

"Really?"

I looked around again.

"Yes there is, maybe I'm in the way. Let me show you." I replied and stepped out of the line of the gun.

Jerry kept the gun trained where it had been aiming. I could hardly believe how stupid he was as I stepped closer to him dropping my center of gravity, my one hand still outside of the nine of the weapon my body inside the line while looking where I had said there was a house wall.

"I don't see nothing mister."

Jerry later contended in court that the video was fake because he did not remember saying that. He definitely didn't see what hit him coming. I pulled my outside hand back and grabbed his gun hand. As I squeezed as hard as possible I leaned toward him, brought my other elbow up to hit him under his jaw with my entire weight rising as I jumped into the shot.

His jaws slapped together loudly, his knees buckled as his head rocked back. Blood immediately burst from between his lips as he started going down, he still had the gun though. I didn't let him fall, well not further than to his knees. I put my free hand in his hair and felt how greasy it was before slamming his face into my bent knee. I heard the satisfying sound of his nose breaking and knew the fight was effectively over but I was not finished because he had not dropped the gun yet.

I had a hold of his arm and a wrestling spin sent the into a pillar holding the porch roof up, I dimly heard the sirens as my fist hit him in the middle of his chest and then I was over him swinging as he tried to get away with legs that wouldn't carry a butterfly. I was tackled off him by a cop and I got out from under him easily and was about to launch at Jerry again when I realized the world was flashing blue and walked away a few paces with my hands up again.

There were two cops pointing guns at Jerry as he lay flat on his back still holding his gun. It took no expertise to see that he was not going to use it. He was flat on his back, very still, bleeding onto the lawn through his whole face and his gun hand's wrist was clearly broken. No person with a working wrist could point a gun at his own head with is arm outstretched and aiming along the back of his forearm.

"Can I press criminal charges against him officer?" I asked the cop sitting on his ass looking confused.

"Yeah sure! You might want to have your cheek looked at sir." He said pleased to get a formal complaint to arrest Jerry on.

I reached and felt blood on my cheek. I shrugged about it as red lights came to confront the problem of how to get the gun out of Jerry's broken hand and insisted on treating my cut cheek which basically meant the paramedic stared in horror as I cleaned the wound with saline solution and closed it up with surgical tape and then put a gauze dressing over it and taped down.

The paramedic was a bit freaked out as I gave my statement while doing the first aid and looking in the ambulances wing mirror. I let the cop come with me to get my passport He stood in the dining room looking at the medals and trophies in the cabinet and the trophy from my latest tour to the Home Countries of Rugby.

I explained that I had not come to the USA with the rest of my family because I had been selected to play for the South African National Under 18 Rugby Union Team in a mini tournament when I gave him the documents. He nodded and asked if he could take a picture. Not all the trophies were for playing rugby. Two were for water polo and one was for a cross between cross country running and marksmanship called Lazer Run. And then a few were for cricket. There were a couple of old and minor awards for judo, tennis, long distance running, and brief period of equestrian sports in which I did Gymkana, and dressage. I had grown too big to competitively carry on with those though, aside from judo but I had decided to focus on team sports. Judo had been a cross discipline anyway to get a better idea of how to deal with tackles.

He took a picture for the case file and then had me walk through my actions. I had just finished telling the cop and Jerry was being loaded into an ambulance when Sheryl's mother arrived. Seeing her I decided that I was going to drive a GM pickup truck. She was the stuff of dreams as she got out of her car dressed in her sales outfit. She was self assured, neat, fit, and trim. Maybe twenty centimeters shorter than me in her heels, light brown hair, she had very feminine hips, damn good looking legs, and firm breasts that seemed to stretch her shirt in just the right way as she walked across the lawn to introduce herself to the sergeant running the whole response.

It looked as if half the town's police force was arriving I could see two detectives in plain clothes looking around and speaking to officers, the ambulance was leaving with a cop inside to make sure that Jerry didn't escape despite being drugged to the eyeballs with morphine. I knew more cops were in the house with Sheryl too and wondered for the first time if I was going to be arrested.

I was wondering that as Sheryl's mother came across the lawn and stopped to look at me with the dressing on my cheek.

"Who are you?" She asked.

Her voice gave me an instant erection. Its was not exactly high, not very low. Unmistakably female.

"Ferdi Ma'am. I am the guy who called nine one one." I answered memorizing her face so that I did not stare down at her breasts.

"You're British?"

"South African ma'am, I live next door."

"Oh! You're Elaine's oldest? Wow! They said you were finishing up a commitment and would be coming soon. Welcome to the USA then. Thank you for calling nine one one and getting her away from Jerry."

"No trouble ma'am. Who is he anyway?"

"My nephew. My sister's son. A piece of shit if you need to know. He's been in trouble before and spends his time getting drunk or wasted. He's had a thing for Sheryl for awhile now... Thanks anyway." she said and was about to move into the house when she saw my mother on the sidewalk.

She waved and beckoned my mother closer then it was a chat. She had come from the elementary school she taught at to take me for an interview with the local coach and then I had to get to college for another interview with the admissions board. I had completely forgotten in dealing with the cops and sprinted home to get dressed.

My mother gave me a lecture about Amanda, Sheryl's mother, on the way to the interview with the coach. She was too old for me and I had no business trying anything on with her. She owned a GMC dealership, and would not be able to support my career with her own career, regardless of the career I chose.

The USA was not a country to pursue a professional career in Rugby in, and I thought football was way too predictable. This meant I would have to look at overseas teams like Lenster or Munster, or Marseille. They only recruited out of professional players with more that two years experience anyway and the only thing I could do here was to build a reputation to go to bigger clubs later.

If I chose to make a career out of my other passion, astronomy and astrophysics, it would mean going to a strong scientific university like MIT, or Stanford, Harvard, maybe look at doing my doctorate at Leeds University or Cambridge. UC Boulder did have a science faculty but it was not geared to generating PhD graduates in fields like physics and astrophysics, at least it was not known for that.

My mother went into all of this as she drove. I had worked the plan up when my parents got immigration clearance. She was reminding me of my professional plan.

She gave me money to get around and left me at the stadium that seemed to serve soccer, and rugby together. I asked around and got to the rugby coach who stared at me as I introduced myself and explained where I came from. It turned out that he had been expecting to need to tell a school senior sports student about rugby, his personal assistant had led him to believe that. It took him a few minutes to readjust and then he asked to see some of my games. I had a few school matches and inter provincial matches available on flash drives, and needed to go to Youtube to show him the international matches I had played in. He took note of where to find those matches and refused to commit but said that his team usually held trials in August, he would however take what I had given him into consideration and discuss with the management.

He walked me out and I pointed out that his scrums were setting with their feet too far back, they were risking collapsing even when they were winning the scrum because the props had their legs extended and had to take large strides to stay on their feet. It also made staying straight more difficult because all the flankers had to guide them were their arms instead of the their weight and direction of thrust, the line between flanker and contact with the opposing scrum got too long and then the prop was always going to turn under the pressure. The coach stood with me watching the scrum coach and scrumming machine nodding as I told him. He gave advice for getting to the college admissions center and said goodbye at the gate.

The college had already decided to accept my application when I arrived at that interview. They had my SAT scores verified and my sporting background made it an easy selection to make. There was a moment of stunned silence as I told them that I was interested in physics or astrophysics rather than sports sciences and that I was looking at doing a few business management courses too. The dean of student affairs had a look at my marks again and commented that I had the mathematics and science subjects. He put me up for a mathematics major and said that all the undergraduate science courses started with mathematics.

The best advice I had received from talking with ex professional rugby players had been to have a fall back profession ready at all times. The end of a career was one injury away and that injury could happen at any time. You also spent a great deal of time recovering from more minor injuries and having a business or profession to use while you recovered was good. To point to that they pointed out that only six of the players in the Springboks had no qualification outside rugby and those had family businesses or were studying something to have a fallback.

I was game for playing rugby as a career but I knew that at best that career would end before I was forty. That meant I had to be ready. My father had a small business that made concrete pots and terracing blocks with a sideline in pre-stressed concrete slabs and fencing that I could probably help to run. I was covering bases as much as I could with college.

It was too late for me to start the year, being June already and admissions already closed for the year. I was welcome to start the next though, that left me nine months to kill and grade twelve was pointless because I already had the academics.

I got home late in the afternoon to find that my father had hired me a lawyer. I was puzzled about why that would be needed for more than negotiating a contract with the rugby club but that would mean them being interested first. It turned out that it was quite foreseeable that Jerry or at least Jerry's family would sue me for assault. Additionally the cops were pressing an assault charge on the cop who had tackled me.

I sorted the cop out the next morning. He was in a misconduct review hearing and my lawyer got me in. I told the panel that I thought the cop had been brilliant in doing his job. There was one guy who tried to get me to say something about my cheek being cut and I wrote that off as accidental and preferable to me being arrested for killing somebody which might have happened had he not tackled me and stood up to shake his hand. The whole hearing fell apart right there and the cops not pursuing a charge easily made a decision that I was a good guy.

I asked about getting a driver's license and explained that I had learned to drive in a country that drove on the wrong side of the road. The cops were fast about that, the precinct commander had me drive a squad car a little then directed me to the DMV. He had a chat with the manager and an hour later I had my learner's permit, half an hour after that I had a license.

The officer dropped me at the GMC dealership and went back to work. I wandered into the dealership calling my father to tell him that I had a driver's license and was buying a car. My father asked me to look at three more pickups to use as site support vehicles and then five to get crews to site and get work done. That got a salesman's attention fast.

I had a surprise walking around the show room floor. It was only new vehicles. In South Africa dealerships sold new and used vehicles off the same show room floor. The used vehicles were another lot entirely and the salesman was not keen to let me go there.

Amanda saw me as word spread to her fast so she came to check. I was more in favor of a used truck for me because I was probably going to work with it and I didn't need it to look good, only work well. The vehicles for my father were working vehicles and I was growing frustrated with a salesman who was trying to push top end trim levels when I needed paint finishes that were tough or at least would not show scratches easily. I had no need for heated steering wheels, or massaging seats, or massive winches. I needed tow hitches, good brakes, good power, good mirrors, and good security features which the vehicles all had as baseline. The only additional trim I wanted was satellite navigation for a site foreman to get to the site.

Amanda saw that I was getting upset and worked fast. She asked and me about what was going on and I explained that I wanted a used truck for myself and trucks for my dad's business. And that the salesman was trying to push what I had not asked for, especially in the used truck department.

She chased the salesman away and called the used lot to bring a truck they had standing there then accepted an invitation to lunch for us to discuss what I wanted and to work up a deal. I had a look around while she made the call and saw the sales support and admin ladies come and go with pieces of paper. Most of all though I admired Amanda's ass as she went into the salesman's office and gave him a hard time.

One lady came up to me and showed me to some seats and offered coffee. She asked if I was allowed to drink coffee with being an international sportsman and I smiled at the question. Amanda had told somebody I was an athlete.