“It has been my experience that what helps a woman relax more than anything, is to punch something. Am I right, ladies?”
We all yelled in unison. Li put his hand up to his ear.
“I’m sorry. Please repeat. My hearing is fading.”
We bellowed louder, satisfying him.
“Since we men don’t much fancy being punching bags, we shall use the standing heavy bags. Taking turns, work out in pairs. Ladies first.”
We put on our gloves and started jabbing the huge, padded, water filled contraptions. I took a few experimental hits at mine, while Li walked around, correcting. When he got back to me, he frowned.
“Widen your stance, Kate. Guard your body more. Give it hell. It can’t bleed.”
I hit it harder. He continued to frown.
“Kathleen, Brent didn’t spend a butt load of money on top of the line, professional grade heavies for you to tap it like a delicate flower. Smack the f**ker!” His fist shot out, hammering the bag so hard, it jumped slightly. The water in the bottom made the blow sound like a gong. “See that label?” He pointed to the name of the manufacturer, about head height for me. “Picture a face there. Picture the man who broke your heart and make him pay.”
I raised my hand to punch. Before I could strike, he pointed a few feet lower.
“His nuts are right there,” he said. “You have knees and feet as well as hands.”
© 2017 Dellani Oakes
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