THE THORIAN SAGAS: 1. THE TRADER. (Completed).

Time to end this.

Monique saw the flush upon his face but did not understand it.

She had not seen everything that the others had seen.

He turned his back on them as he continued speaking to Monique, on the ground, except they had all seen too much.

She, Monique, could too easily inflame a man; any of these women could, and set him on fire, but that must not happen.

She had even smelled like a woman when he had been so close to her. It was a scent he had not noticed for many years, being mostly in the company of sweaty men. Fighting men, like himself.

His body should not be responding like this. That time for him, should be a full year away; but she... they... were getting through to him in a way that should not have been possible.

"We will stop there." He picked up his belt, seeing the woman who had been helping him; staring, mesmerized, breathless, as he quickly covered himself with his hand, struggling to get his belt on, and then followed that with more of his clothing.

She dared not help him now.

His instincts had been right. This had been a mistake.

He told himself that, over and over, but it was too late now.

They stared.

And this, was a man! A proper man. Something... someone... they had never seen before.

They all knew what they had seen.

He did not give in to his embarrassment... which had been a strange and foreign feeling for him.

He continued to try to get their interest back to where it should be, while saying nothing of the other; the damage had already been done.

"Do not take it badly that you did not succeed. You lost this time, but you will get better when you think about it, as you will."

He ignored those watching him silently with wide eyes, and shrugged into the rest of his clothes, watching Monique and her changing expression as she sat up, feeling well-beaten, maybe even shamed, but he hoped not.

He would need to be more careful the next time and have better control of his body. They had all seen too much.

There were so many warring, and conflicting feelings floating in that small space. Too many to think about.

She would challenge him again when he next came. He would make sure of that. So, this... yes... even this, with his body, if he was not careful, would be often repeated, but with a gradually changing outcome... as far as the wrestling went.

He would have to deal with his bodily responses each time, and not let them be seen.

These women were dangerous for him. He had not expected that. But he was also dangerous for them.

He would not fight naked again, as he usually did, but would wear that belt (or something even better), and he would need to provide her with one, and some other covering for her breasts, using some excuse about 'protection', and starting their training with one or two advantages for them, though not for him.

They could use his belt to grapple with him, but he could not use theirs.

Monique had been beaten easily, and might feel humiliated in front of her friends, yet he could see that she would not give in to that feeling. She had the right instincts.

A defeat, was to learn from.

He felt relieved about that.

Now he had to find some way to let her down easily, to accept that inevitable defeat.