Here's another fictional story about Kim the yoga teacher. I didn't like this one as much as the two previous ones, so you might want to go back and read the other two. The three stories are not connected to each other except in being inspired by the same real-life person...who, by the way, is really a great teacher.
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Mark looked up at her deep brown eyes, then at her smiling lips. As he continued to struggle, his gaze dropped down to her slender shoulders and the delicate curve of her collarbone, so elegant and feminine. Finally his eyes settled on her breasts: small, like a girl’s, just barely two halves of a peach, her nipples hard against her tight green top.
“Had enough?” Kim asked.
Mark jerked his gaze away from Kim’s breasts, directly over his head, and back to her face. He didn’t reply. Instead he tried once more to jerk his arms free from her grasp, to plant his feet on the floor and bridge her off, to somehow get off his back. Once more, Mark failed, and Kim remained seated on his chest, her thighs squeezing him tightly, her small hands gripping his wrists and pinning his arms helplessly to the floor over his head.
“I hate to say it,” Kim giggled, “but I think I win.”
* * * * *
It had started out as a silly discussion, then worked its way into a meaningless argument. “Boys are so stupid,” Kim moaned, rolling her eyes. “You always think there has to be a winner and a loser. Don’t you do anything at all if you can’t win at it?”
“I can’t help it if there are winners and losers in life!” shouted Mark. “I didn’t make it that way. Your fairy world of yoga and ‘let’s all get along’ and Kum-By-Yah doesn’t work for real people. Either you win or you lose in life.”
“So are you saying I’m a loser because I teach yoga? If I were a winner I would teach shooting classes or boxing or wrestling or something?”
“No, that’s not it,” said Mark. “It’s just...,” he tried to continue. He couldn’t find the next words.
“That is it, isn’t it!” Kim exclaimed. “You really don’t respect yoga!”
“Of course I do,” Mark said. “I mean, it’s not a sport, like wrestling or anything. It’s okay as something to do. But….”
“But what?” Kim asked. “But what?”
“Well, there’s not a point to it, is there? You don’t see yoga people going out and changing the world. I mean, people who learn how to win and lose, they’re the ones who make a difference in the world.”
Kim rolled her eyes again. “Why am I even talking to you. You haven’t even ever done yoga.”
“So?” snapped Mark. “You’ve never played football or soccer or wrestled. They’re all a lot harder than yoga. That’s just a bunch of stretching.”
Kim almost lost her temper, but she calmed herself. “Ok, why don’t you come to my yoga class tomorrow?”
“Sure,” spat Mark. “It’ll be fun to dominate all the soccer moms. But then what are you going to do?”
“Huh?”
“Are you going to join a football team?”
“No, of course not.” Kim paused. Then she smiled. “But I’ll wrestle you afterward.”
Mark stared at her blankly. “What?”
“Afraid?” Kim grinned.
* * * * * *
The yoga class lasted for an hour and a half. For the first thirty minutes Mark did every pose with ease, with gusto even. During a plank pose, however, Mark felt his arms begin to quake, ever so slightly. The plank is like the top part of a push-up, and Mark could do plenty of those. But he’d never held a plank for over a minute. And he’d never done five of them in close succession. Similarly, he had no problem doing a deep lunge. But holding a lunge, while twisting his torso to the side, for two minutes was not so easy. The third time his quadriceps began to quiver violently. By the time the class was an hour old all his major muscle groups were filled with lactic acid; his muscles were all shaking involuntarily. Occasionally he tried to do a pose halfway, and each time Kim caught his eye and grinned knowingly, causing him to engage in the position more completely…and more fatiguingly.
* * * * * *
When the other students had finally trickled out, Mark and Kim faced each other in the center of the room.
“You think you wore me out, don’t you?” said Mark.
Kim smiled innocently. “I’m just glad you did yoga. I hoped you liked it.”
Mark glared at her. “It was fine.”
“Did it bother you not to have winners and losers?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Mark barked. “Because I’m going to win now!” He lunged at Kim.
His attack caught her off guard, and in seconds she was on her back. Mark easily seized her wrists and forced them to the floor. As he tried to straddle her, Kim used her flexibility to her advantage. She easily pulled her knees to her chest, folding herself in half, and managed to force her feet into Mark’s face. Before he could react she pistoned her legs and pushed him up and off powerfully, sending him rolling across the floor.
“This is fun!” Kim yelped as she sprang on top of him. She struggled to grab his arms while he flailed about, trying to avoid her grip. Mark thought that he would easily roll her off. In fact, she also assumed that he would easily dislodge her. Instead, the unthinkable happened. Kim managed to straddle him—he who outweighed her by over sixty pounds—and force his wrists to the floor.
For five minutes they struggled, but he could never free himself from her grasp. The longer she sat atop his chest, the weaker his struggles became. Mark couldn’t believe how tightly her small hands were able to grasp his wrists. He couldn’t believe how heavy she seemed, even though she barely weighed one hundred pounds.
* * * * * *
“You win,” he said, finally, his voice nearly a whisper.
“I know,” said Kim. “Now look at my face and say it.”
“You win,” he said, staring at her red lips and then her brown eyes.
“I know.” Kim licked her lips.
