Fight or... Flirt? {Cameo}

Search. Be sought. Seduce. These are three vital steps, where none can be undermined or dismissed. The first will be accomplished at the gym. A pristine model must be discovered, who possess just the right qualities. Someone who’s strong, while not arrogant. And to please my personal preference, someone breathtaking enough to flatter my own exterior. But prior to my journey, the second aspect must be intensely considered.

The primary rule of being a student of Ms. Claudia, is to never chase after the ones we wish to capture. With the proper actions, any and all will flock to me. And my miraculous wardrobe assists in this greatly. Most females are aware that simple workout attire will not due, even if it should be for a mere training session. No amount of strength will demolish twenty-three if placed in an Arena. But admiration from others is a different story. So an appealing outfit slides across my body before departing to my daily routine.

Seduction is truly the key though. Drawing attention is an easy task, while maintaining the affection is much more of a challenge, one that I’m still attempting to grasp. A plethora of potentials greet my gaze as I enter the aroma of sweat and training, known as the career gym. Weights clash against the floor from a few that are seeking to show off. Weapons snipe past the atmosphere in strive to gain experience. And Trainees are sparring with one another to test their current status. Oh, where to begin?

Arms cross before me in a judgmental stare upon the other Careers. Did they truly believe they’d ever participate in this sort of combat within the Arena? Weapons are desired entertainment, and there for scattered generously. I’m unable to recall ever witnessing a hand-to-hand upon the screens, unless for only a moment in desperation to receive the fortune of a blade. A sarcastic scuffle seeps past my parted lips, though there is an itch of desire to be enlightened with the impact my knuckles can create. And luckily an opportunity comes creeping along to me.

“Hey, you up to spar?” He draws my focus immediately, and twists my cheeks into a confident smirk. Muscles and tattoos embrace his arms in a very appealing way, while a straightforward approach keeps me beyond interested. Right before me stands the catch I continuously seek, while little effort was required to receive such.

My nose crinkles from side to side as if internally debating his suggestions. “What kind of spar are we talking about? Because my preference is usually best without a large audience.” I tease without a bit of hesitation. “Right…career training.” Though I correct myself nearly instantly. If he can cut directly to the point, why can’t I as well? Another wicked chuckle ruffles across my tongue, before I actually return with an answer. “Why not, bring it.” I insist, while wasting no time to occupy a vacant mat.

“Don’t go to hard on me now. I’d hate to break a nail.” The taunting continuous, though I quickly follow with the first attack of attempting to swipe underneath his legs to get him on the floor…just where I want us.

Satisfaction breaches my confidence as my opponent is successfully forced to the mat below us. What was even his name? Curiosity crosses my stare upon him for a brief moment, waiting for his response time. And to no shock, he immediately retrieves to his feet and a combating guard. The way he springs back to an upright position is awing, the arch of his exterior to a straight posture, and the pristine placement of his stance. I’m unable to even prepare for his corresponding attack, as it happens simultaneously with his jump.

An elbow rams into my gut, taking the breath from me in a way I don’t approve. For a mere moment I step back, recollecting myself as his voice echoes within my head. “I tend to do that to people.” I play with his words on my ability to catch the majority off guard. This is merely one upon my array of talents.

Hands rest upon my knees, pretending the weak card to my advantage. Truthfully pain hardly affects me, no matter what the extent. But to allow other’s to be aware of such? That would be no fun at all. “Guess you’re not going easy on me.” There’s a twinkle of enjoyment within my tone, pleased by this result.

Without a second of preparation to warn him, I’m hauling forward to counteract him. My heavy fist flies upward, aiming for bellow his chin for a brutal response. Would hate to harm those beautiful features of his. But the head is the primary target to truly disarm someone. Now this is becoming quite entertaining. Hope he doesn’t bite his tongue, in more ways then one.