Author's Note: the next couple of chapters feature more premise-establishing and world-building and less focus on the sex. It's still in there, obviously, but if you're looking for a quicker finish, you may wish to read a different story. :)
--
In the end, I decided to reach out to Diana.
I have to admit, I was torn. I knew the least about Diana, after all. But she hadn't lied to me, hadn't gone on a date with me under false pretenses. Both Viv
and
Lauren could've told me more if they had wanted to.
I knew she was friends with Viv and Lauren, or at least on friendly enough terms to be in that photo. And that she had made me cum in my pants during a jiu jitsu class, I guess. I still couldn't believe that had happened.
Beyond that, I didn't know anything about her -- but she didn't know anything about me either. Didn't know I had met Viv or Lauren. That might be helpful.
This was one of those decisions that, in retrospect, turned out to be a big deal. You'll see why soon enough.
---
Anyway, decision made, I texted my coach.
Matt: hey, can you give me Diana's phone number or email? I want to ask if she wants to watch the next UFC fight with some of the guys.
Coach: Matt. She just joined the gym. If you hit on her I will be very disappointed.
It was a reasonable assumption.
Matt: That isn't the plan, coach. Honest.
I was being honest. Even if she was hot, and even if thinking about how she'd moved against me during class made me think she'd be incredible in bed.
Coach: OK. See you next week. You have to work on taking the initiative more btw, it looked to me like you're playing a very defensive game. Probably why she beat you. She was on offense more.
My face flushed reading that. The coach obviously didn't know it, but
on offense
had to be the euphemism of the century.
Matt: Thanks coach. Will do.
His next message was her phone number.
I gave him a thumbs up emoji.
---
I debated texting Diana, but decided to call. Better to get her reactions in real time. I punched the numbers in and hit dial before I could overthink this further. The phone picked up on the first ring. My heart was beating fast.
Here we go.
"Yeah, hello?" A woman's voice, guarded. I recognized Diana.
"Is this Diana? It's Matt, from the gym earlier today; the coach gave me your number."
"Oh hey,
Matt
. What's up? Hoping to set up a rematch? You don't have to worry, I signed up for a membership after that open mat, so we can just roll again next week...unless you were hoping for a different kind of rematch..." She sounded amused.
I blushed. "N-no, uh, that is...I'm...wondering if I can ask you some questions."
"Oh yeah? About my
good technique?"
Even through the phone, I could hear that half-smile on her face.
I tried to muscle past the teasing, decided to opt for direct. "N-no. I'm, um...a thaumaturge. And, uh, I could use some...help understanding what that means."
I didn't know what it meant, but the word had the impact I had been hoping for: the dead silence on the other end lasted a full ten seconds. When she did respond, her voice was neutral. "Where'd you hear that word?"
I hesitated, trying to decide whether to lie, or maybe which lie to tell.
But before I could say anything, she spoke again. "You know what? It doesn't matter. You're gonna get yourself hurt, or worse, if you just go around
announcing
it like that. Let's talk. In person. Someplace quiet, but public. Got a favorite dive bar or something? Meet in half an hour?"
---
Thirty minutes later, I was at the Dew Drop Inn -- the same place I'd met Lauren for the first date that had started all of this. I didn't see Diana; I must've arrived first. I sat in one of the corner booths where I'd be able to see her come in. It was Sunday afternoon, and there weren't many people.
The anticipation of finally getting some
answers
was killing me. I ordered a beer and took big, long swigs.
Diana showed up late, nearly a full twenty minutes after me. Her eyes scanned the restaurant, noted me, and then kept scanning. I could tell she was giving the place a very thorough once over -- for what, I wasn't sure. But she seemed satisfied, and eventually approached.
Her short black hair looked a little damp. She was wearing a tank top, some gym shorts, and slides -- it looked like she had just come from showering at the gym, or maybe she was just having a lazy Sunday afternoon. The tank was a ratty Metallica t-shirt, sleeves removed. A few holes revealed a white sports bra underneath, peeking through in several places.
This outfit gave me a much better view of her tattoos than her jiu jitsu gi had. And she was absolutely covered in a head-turning number of tattoos. Most of them seemed to be of animals, done in black ink. A jellyfish and a squid wrapped around each other up the length of one arm, forming a sleeve. A gorilla on her right thigh. A lioness, or maybe a panther, on her left. Some kind of big bird of prey -- an eagle, maybe, or a falcon -- on her other arm.
Admittedly, though, my gaze mostly lingered on those gym shorts as she twisted sideways to get into the booth. Fuck, she
really
filled them out.
She sat down across from me just as the server was walking past. She ordered a shot of Jameson.
Her brown eyes met mine, and quirked up into that lazy smile for just a second. "If you just heard that word someplace and this is some kind of weird attempt to get me out on a date with you, you're going to regret it." I could hear the threat in her voice.
I shook my head. I opened my mouth to say something, to thank her for being willing to talk.
Diana held up one finger. "Okay, look, I don't really know you. So I don't really
trust
you. And beyond that, it's pretty fucking clear you have no idea what you're doing."
I closed my mouth and just nodded instead of speaking.
She continued. "But I think we could help each other out. So let's make this an even exchange of information. We trade questions. You ask one, I answer. Then I get to ask you a question. You answer it. We take turns. When one of us doesn't want to answer, we're done here."
I considered this. "How can I trust that you'll be honest?"
She laughed. "We'll count this as a freebie, not as your first question. You can't, not entirely. But I can't either, can I? I'm willing to do this because I think you can be helpful to me. So I'm going to be straight with you, as long as you're straight with me. If you think I'm lying, you should get up and leave."
I could be
helpful
to her? Well, that piqued my interest.
Diana must've read some expression on my face, because she added, "
And
, before you get some idea that you've got the advantage here, I've obviously got something you want, too:
information
. So you'll want to be honest with me, or I won't help
you
. The minute I think you're peddling bullshit, I'm out of here too."
I nodded. "Fair enough."
She sat back and crossed her arms. "So: you can go first. Ask."
"What's a thaumaturge?" My mouth was suddenly dry.
Finally
.
I kept my voice low. She gave a cursory glance aorund, and then responded, her voice a quiet monotone. It sounded like she was rattling off a definition.
"Thaumaturges are a type of willworker. They practice thaumaturgy: the art of transmuting
effort
into
magic
."
I blinked.
Magic?
But she looked serious. "What the fuck? Magic?" I was incredulous.
"That's
another
question and it's not your turn to ask anymore. So I'm not going to answer. But I'll help anyway." She paused and, without any ceremony, downed the shot of Jameson.
Then, she leaned forward, put her elbow on the table, and gave me that little smile. "Arm wrestle me."
I looked at her, still incredulous. "How will that help?"
I was in good shape. And we had rolled earlier today. She was strong, for a woman; but I
knew
I was stronger than her. She probably knew it, too.
She raised an eyebrow. "Scared you'll lose? You tapped to a girl once already today, remember?" The little smile got bigger. "And you didn't seem to mind."
"That's not why--" But I could see she was just trying to get a rise out of me. I rolled my eyes, shrugged, and reached across the table to clasp hands with her.
Her hand was warm, and her grip was strong.
I began exerting force, slowly. I didn't want to hurt her. But she was strong enough to resist, so I started applying some serious pressure. I could see the muscles in my arm cording and shifting as I struggled.
To my surprise, it felt like attempting to bend an iron bar with one hand. There was
zero
give, none. I applied
even more
force. My elbow and shoulder were starting to complain about the torque they were under. I glanced up at her in astonishment.
She looked
bored
, if anything, just that slight smile. "Use both hands, if you want. Just don't hurt yourself, ok?"
I brought my other hand on top of my first, throwing my weight into it, giving it all I could. Her arm maybe wavered, a tiny bit.
Maybe
.
And then, slowly, inexorably, she twisted her arm and shoulder, pinning the back of both my hands to the table in a single movement.
I watched it happen, disbelief on my face, resisting as hard as I could, as she pinned my hands. She did it smoothly. Controlled. The same way I would win in an arm-wrestling match against a four-year-old -- easily, but carefully, so I didn't injure them.
She let go after that, and I shook my arms out; my shoulder ached.
It was the very first time I had felt the effects of magic firsthand.
I handled it about as well as you'd expect.
"That was--you must know some kind of
trick
, or--" I spluttered.
