La Belle Dame sans Merci

Makoto gasped, startled when Margaux called her out on the tension. Good God, could she really be so easy to read? It wasn’t like this was the first time in her life that she’d been angry about something. She knew how to hold it in, how to deal with it. That was Judo - the gentle way. Turning something negative into a positive. Redirecting.

Yet, here she was, one of the most famed judokas in the modern day, the pride of her nation, losing it over something so silly and stupid.

”Sorry, yeah, it’s just…” She ran a hand over her head, ruffling up the hair. ”Just a lot of things.”

She had been on the road to calming down when Margaux’s offer took her by surprise. It was nice of her, but so personal for someone she’d just met. There was the slight notion to turn her down and say a polite goodbye. But, again, it seemed like she was on the verge of making a friend, her first real friend in a long while, maybe even since Aigle left her life.

Plus, being honest? A massage sounded so good, right about now.

”Well, if you insist.” Makoto managed to find a little laugh and a smile to go along with it. ”Okay, one sec.” She turned the machine off, stopping her cool down early, and hopped off the machine after grabbing her towel. Makoto took Margaux’s hand, assuming the woman wanted to lead her over to the bench. Kind of weird, but maybe it was just a French thing.

Margaux couldn’t resist a slight giggle when she finally heard Makoto laugh, as reserved it may have been. This was a girl that looked best when she was in high spirits. She may have even deserved to be. The least that she could do was help the judoka ease herself into her own coffin.

When Makoto took her hand, Margaux would happily lead the woman over to the bench. This was a tad more effort than she was used to to make herself appear as formal, but so long as the Olympian felt comfortable, that was all that mattered. After sitting the jogger down, the Frenchwoman would step around behind her, placing her umbrella down on the bench beside the judoka. Rubbing her hands together for a moment, she’d look over the woman’s shoulder for a little eye contact.

“Just do your best to keep your back straight. Let me know if you feel any discomfort.”

Taking her place once again behind the woman, Margaux would run the tips of her fingers along the woman’s shoulders. She graced the skin gently before coasting up her neck, feeling out whatever hard spots existed beneath that supple skin. Her eyes wandered elsewhere, taking in the woman’s complete form now that she was a hair's breadth away. Such beautiful muscle tone. So sleek and firm over every inch of her. The smell of cherry blossoms filled the air. She licked her lips. Yes, this was the right decision after all.

“Go ahead, then, Madame Aihara.” She continued with her inspection as she spoke. “What is it exactly that has you so upset? Tell me, if you would.”

While they were mostly alone, the small handful of other wrestlers in the room were giving them quick glances as she and Margaux made their way to the bench. She couldn’t be too mad at them for being a little suspicious. The handholding probably gave them the wrong idea, though Makoto could imagine worse people to have that impression with.

It was a short walk, anyway, and Makoto promptly sat down on the chair and opened up for Margaux’s ease straightening as much as possible. She jumped at the first touch - God, it had been so long since she’d had such a delicate touch from another woman - but relaxed soon enough, as Margaux went about her work.

And what work it was, too. Margaux had a gentle, heavenly touch that played about the sinews, tickled Makoto, made her shiver, erased the tension like magic. She wasn’t kidding about her experience, no question there. Her muscles shifted about, rising and falling in response to every shock.

”Yes…” She bit her lip to keep a moan concealed, then focused on Margaux’s question. She wasn’t one to vocalize such things, but maybe that was the problem? She could use a good ear to hear her out. ”I’m just...I’ve done nothing but lose since I got to the AFW. I’m tired of that. The weird thing, I know it doesn’t have to be this way. If I sank to their level, fought dirty, fought mean, I could beat them. But…” She shrugged, then closed her eyes as Margaux hit on a tender spot. Makoto kept her fingers in her lap, fidgeting as they spoke. ”I’m sorry, Margaux-san. I’m rambling.”

Three years. This is how sensitive someone could become in that time, was it?

It was hard for her to ignore that jump. Her entire body acted as though it had stepped on a pinprick. For a martial artist, her composure was that of an amateur. She really was wearing down. It was a truly brave soul that continued carrying on in a business such as this. Margaux could respect all of it.

But she could make even better use of it. The body, for all its complexity, had a very straightforward means of bringing forth a response. The central nervous system was encased by the spinal cord, bringing leading all the way up the back of the neck. The portion that Makoto had so helpfully exposed to her.

Her fingers continued their delicate work as she used them to ever so subtly bring the Olympian into closer range. Not too much movement. Not enough to notice herself leaning backward, but enough to bring the neck within range. She’d let out a less than genuine sigh at the judoka’s words, letting warm breaths wash over her from behind.

“No, I understand fully. You have nothing at all to feel sorry for, Makoto." Her fingers traced gentle circles at he base of her neck. “All of these knots...I see how heavily this weighs on you. It is no small task, defending one’s honor in such a dishonorable place. I admire you for it.” Her thumbs twiddled against both sides of her neck, channeling a soothing rhythm down her spine. “But...is the only choice merely for you to sink to their level? Surely there are better ways to go about this?”

”Margaux-san…”

A sharp gasp passed through Makoto’s lips as those heavenly fingers were to work, playing at every music, easing the tendons, undoing the years of tension. The Frenchwoman hadn’t been exaggerating her skills. She worked the body like an instrument, one she was a virtuoso with, and the Judo Babe moaned as she experience sensations she didn’t even know her body could feel. ”Wow.” She bit her lip, keeping some of the lewd sounds in. ”You are good.”

It wasn’t just the physical that Margaux attended to, though. She did an excellent job of listening, giving Makoto a sympathetic ear. Something she hadn’t had for a long, long time.

It felt good. All over. She’d forgotten how nice it could be to just talk to someone about things.

”I wish there were better ways. I’d love to take them. But I have no idea what they are. Everyone else is taking the easy way, getting dirty, and it just feels like I handicap myself for no real reason.”

She shivered a bit as Margaux’s breath passed over her neck, setting off the nerves. ”Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m losing my edge, if I ever had one in the first place.” She arched her head up, looking at Margaux upside down. ”What would you do? I mean, what will you do, when you start running into the same things?”

It might’ve been presumptive to imply that Margaux would have the same troubles, but it was had to not think that. Margaux seemed like a nice, sweet, the sort that the AFW meat grinder had no trouble ruining.

Oh, there were many ways to deal with the occasional dissident that had managed to provoke her. It was rare, but it certainly did happen. And when it did, she would break them. Utterly confound them. Educate them on what it meant to go against her. Complete subjugation. Anything less left their pride intact, and their mind unchanged.

An answer that would no doubt earn a less than welcoming response from the Olympian. She couldn’t present herself as too capable, it seemed. No matter. Regardless of public opinion, she wasn’t wholly devoid of empathy. Margaux merely called for it when it was needed.

“I...am not entirely sure.” Her eyes averted themselves from the judoka’s. “Train harder, I would imagine. Seek help. Alter my approach. Perhaps even a change of appearance. I do not believe there is anyone correct answer to misery.” She brought her hands away from her shoulders for a moment, drifting them upwards to cup Makoto’s temples as the two looked towards one another. “The one thing I would not do, however, is give in. You are so much stronger than that. I can feel it from you. A mind such as yours has limitless potential, Madame Aihara.” She made eye contact once again as a warm smile graced her lips. “I think you have merely become blind to it.”

She brought her hands back down and went to work once again on her shoulders, albeit closer to the triceps than before. She moved her thumbs along the tendons, reliving the overdue extension on her arms.

“It is a long and treacherous road ahead. That is all I know, but one needn't walk it alone.” She gave Makoto a sidelong glance. “Et vos amis? Is there nobody you can turn to that understands these hardships?”

The ‘train harder’ comment got a real laugh out of Makoto. A wry, dry laugh, the kind that rarely passed through her lips when anyone was around to hear it. Not that it was bad advince in and of itself, but…

”I train hard. Six days a week, three hours a day. That’s been the way since…” She blinked for a few moments, trying to remember how long it had been since she began that routine. God, she was getting old. ”Still, I mean, you’re not wrong. It would be nice to get some help, to have someone to work with and train with. Get some outside eyes.” She had a quick hiss, as Margaux happened up a particularly tender spot and zeroed in on it. ”But I don’t have many friends, here. The few I do have are barely around.”

She hadn’t had a happy tone to start with, but the mention of going it alone brought it to a new low. Judo was a hard road, but she hadn’t been walking it alone. She had Aigle. She was happy. Everything seemed so right in the world for a while, and then it was all just ripped away from her. Makoto felt like she would never finish picking up the pieces.

”I did have someone like that. Someone close.” Makoto closed her eyes, picturing her, thinking of her, longing for her. She swore, she could even smell her, now. That weird goat cheese smell she’d come to grow so used to. ”But she’s gone. We parted ways. Different life paths, I guess.” She looked off to the side, only to find Margaux looking back in a similar way. Little startling, that.

”What about you? Is there anyone like that in your life?”

To some degree, Margaux could respect this woman’s dedication. Fighting in itself was difficult to maintain a sense of honor and fairness in. To resist the urge to win at all costs and treat one’s adversary with the same respect one would expect from them. Fighting for entertainment, however, was an entirely different beast, where notions such as that were done away with in haste. It was as brave as it was dangerous for the Olympian to walk this road alone. That was, until she learned the woman hadn’t always been like this.

Ah. Is this where the crack sprouted from? A hole in the heart? All Margaux had was theories at the moment, but this one at the very least looked rather viable. There weren’t many things she could imagine that would turn a hardened judoka, pushing herself six days a week, to cast her honor aside so readily. Madame Aihara was truly at a crossroads. How fortunate for her that their paths should meet.

Margaux heard the woman’s question and giggled. She resisted the urge to do it right away. Love. Such a silly concept. “Not in a long time, I am afraid. This may sound quite absurd coming from your masseuse, but I think I lack the delicacy for certain things.” She let out a long sigh. “I do not know. There are some days where I long for the feeling again. Quelques nuits aussi.”

She brushed her hands gently against Makoto’s skin, sliding them from her shoulders up to her neck. She’d gently place her palms against the nape, forcing the Olympian to look forward as Margaux brought her thumbs up towards the back of her head. Slowly, she’d make easy circles at the base of her skull, easing her suboccipitals and sending warm waves of relief down her spine.

“We are both rather lonely people, it would appear? Perhaps our...remedy lies there.”

Margaux had an amazing ability to soothe, and it wasn’t just in her talented hands. Those were good, of course, doing an excellent job of melting the tension in her body to nothingness, of relaxing the muscles and giving her a euphoric bliss. But what was really putting her mind at ease was the voice. Both what Margaux was saying, and the lilting way in which she said it.

Her giggle brought a smile to the judoka’s face, one of the warmest she’d had in a while, and she looked up at Margaux from the corner of her eye, sharing in the moment. ”They tell you it’s better to have love and lose it than to never have it in the first place, but…”

What Margaux said next surprised her, though. Bolder than she’d expected, and she couldn’t help but stiffen a bit, even with the wonderful job she was doing. Did she understand the Frenchwoman correctly? It seemed like a proposition for something rather personal, incredibly so for two people who had just met. Then again, this was the AFW. Women had sex with strangers on a constant basis.

Then again, it was possible she was reading Margaux all wrong. Best to explore. ”You...could be right. What were you thinking, specifically?”

It didn’t take her otherwise intimate knowledge of the human body to know what Makoto was thinking. The bated breath, the slight jerk of her head too small to notice from afar. Even for such a gentle soul, lust could always weaken the barriers just a little further, couldn’t it?

She felt the woman straighten up, as minor as the reflex may have been. Her fingertips could feel the apprehension. The judoka was listening to her proposal. It was a different question entirely of whether or not she would like it. Softening the sell may be a good idea.

She took a gentle step forward as she continued treating the back of the woman’s neck, slowly enough to minimize any vibrations. Closing the distance, letting her chest gently grace the nape of her neck, the Frenchwoman’s hands would run back down, continuing her work as she thought on her propositon. She breathed in, then out. Letting their beating hearts connect and their warm skin intermingle.

“Well, how should I explain this?” She tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brows. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but you have opened up to me so readily. More so than even my closest acquaintances have done in some time. I...feel as though I can trust you Madame Aihara, and I hope you can say something similar for me as well." Her eyes came back to the Olympian as her fingers worked slower and slower along her shoulders. "So, it is my hope that you won’t be offended by what I am about to ask of you. If this makes you feel uncomfortable, please reject the proposition right away. It is only my wish that you will take it with the utmost seriousness and sincerity.”

Margaux coughed before leaning forward, pressing her chest ever so slightly forward as she did her best to look at the woman from over her shoulder. Here it went.

“Makoto...would you like to….be my sparring partner?”