3.7 (Thursday, Dec. 9, 1999)
After thirty minutes of line drills and form practice, Tyler released us to spar. I paired up with Jessica first, a short, butch-style woman who regularly pursued conversations about femalemuscle.com with me.
Tyler sparred with a large Jamaican man not far from Jessica and me. Their kicks and punches were much louder than any other pair’s, and I found myself distracted by Tyler’s grunts. Jessica snuck in a couple kicks to my stomach and several punches to my face. Every time I tried to take the offensive, she skillfully blocked my moves. I focused harder and blocked a punch from Jessica, then pulled her in to deliver a kick to her lower back.
Just then, a louder-than-normal grunt came from Tyler’s direction, and his partner went airborne. Jessica and I both paused to watch the man land on the hardwood floor and skid several feet before coming to a stop. Tyler stood where he was, breathing deeply with his head lowered toward his partner, who was now gingerly picking himself up off the floor.
“Kalyeo,” Master H called out.
Tyler took his cue and helped the Jamaican man up. “Switch partners and continue sparring,” he said to the rest of the students.


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