After breakfast, Quillish excused himself.

"Sir, I am needed at the academy. It seems there has been a teacher-student strike regarding curriculum and how it should be taught. I do apologize." Quillish was standing in the massive doorway that connected the massive kitchen to the massive living room, where ornate pieces of furniture gathered majestically around a large, medieval fireplace.

A flash of annoyance crossed the detective's face before he cleared his throat and said, "Of course. That's alright, I suppose I wouldn't be needing you for much today anyway. May and I have a lot of… bonding to do. I don't need your interference for that." He shot me a sideways glance and I hastily took another sip of my orange juice. He was sitting directly next to me at the table.

Quillish regarded me carefully before addressing L again. "I should be back in two days. Please be on your best behavior until then. I might have a surprise for you." He grinned, and the two exchanged an almost impish father-to-son expression.

"Well," continued the old man. "I shall see you two in two days. Good luck, Miss Campbell."

"May," I said. "Please, call me May from now on."

"May," the old man contemplated. "That was the name of an old friend of mine back in the day. Interesting choice." And with that, he left the giant house, got into his giant SUV, and drove out of the giant driveway.

I felt his gaze before turning my head to look at him. He was eyeing me over with inquisition in his eyes, and after what seemed like ten years he finally spoke. "How well can you perform self defense?"

The question caught me off guard, but I stammered for an answer. I never really made much time for it in schooling, mostly theoretical stuff and then my music… "Well, I—" before I could finish the first half of my sentence, L shot forward and swiped my chair out from underneath me, my back flying backward and my legs hitting the table. I crashed to the rug, and suddenly my arms that had flung out to try and protect my fall were pinned above my head on the floor by L's long fingers. He loomed over me, his head upside down to my face. I was shocked.

"What should you have done to avoid falling down and being overtaken by me?" He asked, completely calm and nonchalantly. Class has just begun.

"I- I-" I stammered. "I didn't know you were going to do that—"

"Typically," the detective rolled his eyes. "The assailant doesn't want their victim to know when they are about to attack." His breath smelled of syrup and mint at the same time. My heart raced. What had I gotten myself into? L sighed and stood, offering a slender hand to help me stand up. I apprehensively accepted, and with the little dignity I had left, I stood and straightened my clothes, clearing my throat and trying to recapture any form of decency from before that sudden attack occupied my space.

"Follow me," he said, his voice quivering with amusement. "We will start with the basics today. You must really learn to develop your reflexes." He looked me up and down, first staring at my neck, and then lingering at my chest before examining my arms and legs. He blinked dismissively. "Yes we will learn how to work that small… frame of yours. I'm excited already." He turned and walked out of the kitchen, expecting me to follow.

I followed, dumbfounded and anxious as ever.

He led me out into a ginormous garden that had a pathway leading to another building made entirely of tinted glass windows. When we got inside I could see that it was a sort of fitness center, with exercise machines and a whole designated swimming pool for laps and leisure all inside. We went up to the second floor which had a room specifically for boxing and a blank room with matted flooring, mirrors that lined the walls, and a locker room off to the right. It was this room that we entered.

"Right," L suddenly exclaimed, and he began taking of his shirt. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to look away.

"Um, sir," I said, blushing crimson from ear to ear. "I could go out, if you'd like."

"Huh?" said the detective, confused. "Oh, why? Are you planning on changing out there? There's a locker room to the right with gym clothes waiting for you to change into. Be my guest." He grinned and pointed a slender finger in the direction of the locker room. I looked up briefly. He seemed so thin, but his build was actually very lean and toned. Muscles peaked through his milky white skin and rippled down his abdomen, a washboard stomach pivoting dangerously in a V where the start of his pants rested. His trail was dark and silky, and—I looked away, cleared my throat, and headed for the locker room.

Inside, there was an open shower with nothing covering it for privacy, no doors, and only shelves containing towels and soap. There was a locker right in front that had a sports bra and exercise leggings inside. I blanched. Was I expected to wear this?

"Everything alright?" came L's satin voice, making the hairs on my neck stand. I jumped and turned to see him in the entry way, still shirtless. He sauntered in and opened the locker right next to mine. His hair smelled like strawberries and I couldn't take any of it.

"Oh! Am I supposed to wear… this?" I eye-gestured toward the clothes in my locker.

L looked at me sideways as though I had asked him the dumbest question of the month. "Yes… You haven't even tried it on yet, to see if it fits. Which I'm sure it will." He turned back to his locker and pulled out only a pair of gym shorts. He began to unbutton his pants. I gasped and turned to look away.

"Um, are you changing right here?" I stupidly asked, my voice hiking up in pitch. God, what is the matter with this guy? And why was it so oddly enticing to witness? Wait—did I just think that?

L chuckled deep within his throat. "I apologize. I am just so used to Wata- Quillish having seen every inch of my body that I forget you haven't. Please understand that at some point we will have to get well acquainted with each other in order for our partnership to work. I hope something as trivial as undressing to change for a training session doesn't bother you too much." He had a hint of condescension and pleasure in his voice that I knew I could detect. Why on earth Quillish would have had to see every inch on L's body was far from my mind's grasp at the moment.

"I see, I'm sorry." I said, and the detective just chuckled and left the locker room.

I managed to fit into the clothes perfectly, but the tights were so form fitting and perfect that I felt like I wasn't even wearing pants at all.

When I walked out into the room, L was sitting in the middle of the floor stretching.

When L exited the locker room, he chuckled inwardly at the girl's reaction to his behavior. He had forgotten that in the normal world, males and females simply don't undress in front of each other unless they were sexually comfortable with each other. But L hadn't been sexually uncomfortable since as long as he could remember, but the thought of his actions evoking such a response from Antoinette was oddly entertaining. L's stomach jumped a little with an unknown longing that creeped down to the hem of his shorts.

Dear God, he thought, suddenly uncomfortable with his own response to his thoughts. He carefully lowered himself to the floor and began stretching, directing his thoughts to more mundane things like the weather and what day of the week it was, instead of the attractive young lady delivered to his home the night before. There it is again, he winced. Attractive. Stop thinking like that.

Antoinette finally exited the locker room and was walking toward him. Her figure showed off that of an hourglass, and her petite size worked favorably for her features: a defined collar bone, slim stomach, and rounded hips, her hip bones peeking through the seams of the skin-tight leggings—Wait, L groaned inwardly, his thumb pressed against his lips as she closed her distance.

She sat down across from him and crossed her arms over her chest. Her face was flushed and her self-consciousness made L smile to himself. Her arms crossed only accentuated her cleavage, and L didn't mind that at all.

I am, after all, he rationalized with himself, finally allowing these thoughts to come freely. I am a man.

He wouldn't stop looking at me with those huge invasive eyes of his until I uncomfortably cleared my throat to snap him out of it. His gaze was penetrating and made my heart accelerate with apprehension and excitement. I couldn't believe that this was the man I idolized all this time. Well, I guess I could. A man with his brain and talent would have to be a bit eccentric… I just wasn't expecting all this on the first day, is all.

"Spread your legs," he said gruffly, his hair casting a shadow over his eyes.

"What," I said, startled by his forwardness. He stood up suddenly, still shirtless, but at least he had on long gym shorts. He nudged my legs apart with his foot so that I was making a V with my legs. He walked around behind me and put his hands on my bare shoulders. His hands were very warm, and the touch made my stomach not and sent tremors down my abdomen. Oh God….

The detective crouched and leaned forward, his hair brushing my neck and his breath hot in my ear. "Bend over," he murmured, and the imagery gave me goosebumps. I could feel myself getting hot all over in response to his suggestive behavior—but it wasn't suggestive, was it? He's teaching me how to stretch… Get it together, Antoinette, you perv. Just because you obsessed over this until recently, unmasked man, doesn't mean that you can imagine anything remotely sexual—shutup shutup.

L pushed gently on my shoulders and guided my forward in a stretch. I reached out my arms and felt the strain in my calves and thighs. Oh God. I'm so out of shape. Why am I doing this again?

"You should feel the tension in your calves, thighs, and your… buttox," he murmured again in my ear, his voice husky and deep. Oh God. "Now, go down deeper." He gently pushed again, and I reached my limit. It was painful as fuck but his calm demeanor somehow made me want to do whatever it was he said. Suddenly, he stood again, and the warmth of his body from behind me now walked over in front of me.

"That's not low enough," he observed, settling down in the same position in front of me, our feet touching. "Give me your hands," he ordered.

I tried to hide the redness in my face but I was forced to look at him. To my surprise, he, too, seemed to be battling some inner demons. No you idiot, I thought to myself. You're just a perv.

I reached out my hands hoping to God they weren't clammy from my impure thoughts, and he grasped my fingers with his, only holding the tips. He pulled back, and my stretch was brought forward even more painfully and I tried to stifle a groan but was unsuccessful. I could feel my body heating up again.

L chuckled inwardly. "Breathe, Miss May, you're strawberry red all over. Exhale when you stretch forward, breathe in when you pull back." He pushed gently and I breathed in as he said before he pulled again and sent a rippling tension through my lower body and back. It was then that I realized my cleavage was probably flashing itself bright with Christmas lights because of my position, and also I realized that my eyes were level to his crotch, which was also just as alarmingly noticeable. My stomach leaped around once more. Oh God.

"I think that's enough of that," he finally said, and as he let go of my hands and I sat up, I caught his eyes lingering at my chest before flashing quickly away, as though catching himself in his indecency. He shoved a thumb into his mouth. I just sat mutely. What in the world.

"I believe we can now start with the first lesson. I think it's best to teach these kinds of things with scenarios." He stepped toward me, only a foot away, and I couldn't stop myself by then from staring at his chest and abdomen. Holy crap.

"Miss May, my eyes are up here," he said with a tinge of arrogance and amusement.

I gulped. "Oh—I'm so sorry I wasn't I was just—" I pathetically stammered.

"Tell me, have you never seen a man's body before?" He asked teasingly.

I didn't know what to do. "Of course, I have, but I—"

"You have? Was it a boyfriend?" His tone suddenly changed.

Why was he asking me this? Good Lord. "What? No, sir, I just I mean we all had gym at some point and—"

"I see, so then why are you acting as though you are undressing me even further with your eyes, hmm?" He was laughing at me now. I could hear it in his voice.

Words could not describe my embarrassment. "I'm… sorry?"

"I suppose I understand what kind of scenario you want for today, then. But I think you have the roles switched. I'm the one who is supposed to want to undress you." The detective smirked and utter amusement shone in his eyes.

I literally could feel my heart explode and all the excess blood somehow flooded my entire face. He wanted to—what?

"Let's say I'm a bad guy, mmm? A repeat offender with one goal in mind: to get you vulnerable so that I can have my way."

He stepped closer, if that was possible at this point, and his slouched figure loomed over me once again. "What would you do?"

I stepped back. "I would try to move away from you." I was out of breath.

The detective tsked and responded, "I expect that. So I'd naturally reach out and grab you with force." He gently grabbed my shoulders, though, and pulled me closer to him so that his bare chest was directly against mine. Oh God. "Since I have you here, your first move should be with your legs. Try and unbalance me by kneeing."

I did as I was told and mimicked kneeing him in his… delicate area. "Good," he said, moving away from me. "Now, we'll try this again, real time, and I want to see what your instincts are."

"What? But we just start—" He lunged toward me and before I knew it, had me pinned down on the matt, straddling me and holding my wrists down with his hands. My heart stopped.