Page 47 of Allure

The guy—I think his name is Mike—tries to grab my arm, but I keep it bent and close to my chest. I think someone said that was a good move. Sensei. Mike has the mount position on me, and with his heavy weight, there isn't much of anything I can do.

"Come on, White Belt! You can't be on your back all the time. Move. Try to get on your side. Try to slip one leg out from beneath his and over the top. A half guard. That's what you want. Work toward guard."

“I’m trying,” I say through gritted teeth. “Doesn’t it look like it?”

“It looks like you’re a fish out of water.”

“I’m not flopping around,” I mumble. “I can’t move all that much.”

Mike chuckles. “Sorry, but…”

"No, don't apologize. I just…" I narrow my eyes and stare at Declan. "I need to create space, right? So can I…"

I go to push up on Mike’s shoulders, but the way his eyes light up and my straight arms make me realize my mistake in time to get my arms back so he can’t submit me somehow.

“Shit. Sorry! Um…”

This time, I try to put my forearm against Mike’s neck to force his head up and get some pressure off my chest. It doesn’t help much with his lower half, though, so I push on. Knee, trying to get him to what? Fall on me? Ugh!

“Keep fighting for half guard and then full guard, or actually, reset and try again. No matter what, White Belt, I don’t want to see you flat on your back again.”

I stare at Declan, but he’s already moving on.

Don't think sexual thoughts about the asshole. He's still an ass, even if you've learned about some of his issues. Don't give in.

Mike and I start over, and at first, I’m able to jostle with him for positioning as we’re both on one knee, but then he basically plows into me to knock me back.

“Mike! You can’t do that! You can blow out someone’s knees like that!” Declan shouts.

“I’m sorry.”

“White Belt, you’re with Sempai this round.”

I don’t even care that Declan is calling me White Belt and not by my name. It’s not the norm for him to call me Brooke, and he’s done that twice already.

Not that I’m keeping count.

Sempai Alan is seventeen years old. He's lanky, but he doesn't have nearly as much muscle on him as Declan does. His long limbs give me issues, but he's patient with me, telling me when I’m about to do something stupid but not telling me what I should do instead, which is fine. I find myself enjoying trying to figure out what to do. I still haven’t learned a single submission yet, not really, but then Sempai does manage to grab my arm, and suddenly, he’s swinging himself around to be perpendicular to me, a leg across my chest, the other on my throat, and he lifts his hips, and I almost forget that I’m supposed to tap out when it’s painful.

"What was that?" I ask, panting as we return to our starting positions.

“What happened?” Declan demands, coming over.

“I got her in an arm bar,” Sempai Alan says.

“So you were on your back again,” Declan says with a frown.

“She’s not doing bad at all for a white belt,” Sempai Alan says. “Are you close to being a yellow belt?”

“No idea.”

"She doesn't even have ten classes yet," Declan says. "You need thirty to be eligible to test for yellow belt."

“Damn,” Sempai Alan says. “You aren’t doing too badly.”

“Really?”

Declan snorts. “Don’t let that give you a fat head.”

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