Hello Lori,

Remember me from Friday night? It is Tyler, or maybe I should say Master Tyler C, the construction worker. Now do you remember? Well anyway, I have to tell you that I always have a great time going out with Master H and his students after one of his tests, but I have to admit, this past Friday was a bit more pleasurable. You make for some interesting conversation, among other things. Oh, by the way, there was no reason to thank me for losing to you, it was my pleasure. Anytime you want to do that again, I would not mind in the least. Hey, did Ringo ever pay you the twenty dollars for beating me? Don’t forget, we split everything 50/50.


I was so excited when I received this e-mail, my heart was pounding hard. I felt like I was in high school with a mad crush.I also checked out your web site over the weekend.
(You knew I would, didn't you?) And, I have to be honest, I never made it past your galleries!! Wow, you have an incredible body. But I probably sound like the other million people that visit your site. But you really do. I mean, on Friday, you looked great (I couldn’t help but notice). But what I saw over the weekend just confirms everything. Wow!! Double Wow!! You really are not camera shy, are you? Maybe I should rethink wrestling with you. It could be dangerous for me. No lie!! But, I never turn down a challenge. No matter how dangerous it could be.

I do have a couple of comments, though. First, I think that we should change our martial arts uniforms to match something more in the line of that black outfit you were wearing. It was the picture of you with the comment, “No, this is not my martial arts uniform.” I think the change would be good.

What else…Oh yes, “Lori the Valkyrie.” I can see you as a maiden riding a winged horse down a rainbow to pick up slain heroes. But after talking with you on Friday, I picture you more of riding down on a winged horse and possibly kicking some butt of your own. However, if you feel more inclined to take them to Valhalla and help heal their wounds, where do I sign up?

Anyway...I just re-read this thing. You know, it always sounds better in your head. Know what I mean? I will be back in NY in 2 weeks (I think the date is Dec. 3rd). Master H has a black belt test and has invited me back again. If you have time, stop by.

Oh yes, don’t forget, anytime you would like to come to our school in Connecticut, Milford to be exact, and work out for a while, you have an open invitation.

I think I will stop here. I was going to ask you a few more questions about things you said on Friday. Let’s just say you said some intriguing things on Friday. I don’t know if you were just playing around or if you were serious. But I think I will save them for another e-mail someday. I gotta get back to work.

Talk to you again soon,

Tyler

Monday morning, I left early for the office. The apartment felt stuffy with Mouse’s medical books stacked everywhere among the clutter of dishes and dirty clothes. I had to get out of there.

I never looked forward to my morning commute. I took the subway to 23rd Street and Sixth Avenue in Manhattan, then rode the Path train to Hoboken, New Jersey. From the train station, my office was about a five-minute walk. Fortunately that day, the early morning weather was nice, though cold, and I savored the winter sunshine. I slid my key in the lock, grateful that no one else would arrive for at least another half hour.

Back at the table and unable to deny my interest in this man with a goatee and slicked-back hair, I asked Tyler what he did for work.

“What do you think?” he asked teasingly.

I studied his biceps before speaking. “Construction?”

He laughed heartily. “That sounds like a lot more fun, but I’m an accountant.”

I tried to picture his muscular body crouched over a calculator with his glasses sliding down his nose, but it just didn’t fit. A puzzled look must have crept onto my face because he laughed again.

“Come on,” he said. He dragged me to the bar for another shot. “You’re really something.” His smile washed over me.

“Naw, I could take you any day of the week,” I joked. The bartender slammed the salt-rimmed shot glasses onto the counter and filled them to the brim.

“How about pinning me? I just might have to take you up on that.” Tyler’s soft tongue swept the rim of the glass, and he threw his head back.

Saturday morning, I was still dizzy with it all. The master I had dreamed of and studied for hours was suddenly a corporeal presence. I smiled and rolled over to find not Tyler in my bed, but Mouse, who had fallen asleep half naked after staying up late to study. My lips involuntarily stiffened as I looked at him. I rolled the other way and got out of bed.

Traffic was already bustling on First Avenue below the living room window. I laced up my running shoes and left for the gym, hoping Mouse would be gone by the time I got back.

We sat with our right arms perched on the table top, deadlocked in an arm wrestle. I was vaguely aware of the faces of Master H’s martial arts students that swarmed around us as I stared into Tyler’s eyes. He narrowed them slightly, and I took my cue to grind his elbow into the table, slam his arm backward to the table top, and claim my victory. Only then did the sound of the crowd rush into my ears again. The win, although plotted, enhanced my Tequila buzz and the dizzying effect of physical contact with Tyler.

I was a new student in Master H’s tae kwon do class. His studio had caught my eye on a beautiful day when I was walking down 23rd Street and Sixth Avenue in Manhattan. I walked a couple of blocks, glanced up for a second for some strange reason, and noticed a martial arts studio. It looked interesting to me. I had been training in tae kwon do for a while in Hoboken, New Jersey, and the school had just closed down. I kept walking until I hit 28th Street. Something inside me made me turn around; I headed back to the school without thinking. I hesitantly walked up the stairs to where I heard a class being held. Once I entered the studio, its beautiful hardwood floors and serene atmosphere calmed my anxiety. A few of the students turned around and looked at me. The master—a tall, muscular, Asian man with obvious grace and strength—welcomed me, introduced himself as Master H, and gave me videos of tae kwon do masters to watch and study. Within weeks, I was a regular student at Master H’s studio.

I watched the videos repeatedly. When my boyfriend, Mouse, asked about them, I said I was studying style and technique. But I was intrigued with one particular master. He looked to be quite a bit taller than I was, and his white gee accentuated his dark skin and crisp movements. He had obviously trained for many years, but there was something more than his martial arts skill that drew me to him. He seemed in control and at ease at every moment. His chiseled facial features and deep-set brown eyes seemed more real than a recorded image on a VHS tape. From the TV screen, his body called out to mine.

Friday’s test was my first in Master H’s studio. Although I had practiced martial arts for years, tae kwon do was a specific discipline, and I’d had to start at a white belt again. When I stood in my starched gee with the other students to perform the forms in front of the judges, I could think of nothing but the chafing fabric at the back of my neck. I tried to focus when Master H called us to attention, and I locked eyes with the judge directly in front of me. He was the master from the video.