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“Do you want me to punch you or what?”
Nahla blinked at Anisha a few times. “No? Why do you ask?”
“Because ever since I got back you've been doing all this shit for me –”
“Did you not like the wine?”
“No, the wine was – the wine was great.” Anisha paced to the other side of Nahla’s office. “I just can't stand you looking at me like–like a kicked dog. Just…figure out whatever the fuck it is you need to not feel guilty all the time and we can get it over with.”
Nahla contemplated this for a moment while Anisha stared out the window at the San Francisco skyline like it had personally offended her.
“All right. Tomorrow morning, 0500 hours, in the gym.”
Anisha groaned. “Have you Feds ever heard of sleeping in.”
Nahla was used to sparring with people taller than she was. Other than a Ferengi science officer she'd served with back in the 3080s, everyone was taller than she was. (Fun fact: Ferengi treated hitting below the belt as a matter of pride rather than necessity.)
Anisha was good, though. She didn't look like a heavy hitter, but her scrawny frame was apparently packed solid with whipcord muscles and she knew how to use them.
It only took a few minutes for her to have Nahla up against the padded wall with her hands pinned above her head. They were both breathing hard, standing close enough that Nahla could watch a bead of sweat trail down Anisha's neck and along her collarbone.
Nahla realized abruptly what it was she needed.
In four hundred years she had never once let herself learn impulse control, and she wasn't about to start now. She managed to twist out of Anisha's grip and start another round of sparring. This time Anisha went down, pinned against the mat, Nahla straddling her hips.
Nahla tangled her free hand in Anisha's short, thick hair and then bent down and kissed her, hard.
For about half a second she was pretty sure Anisha was going to break her nose after all, but then the younger woman started kissing back. Wriggled one hand free. Made a surprised/pleased sound low in her throat when she discovered Nahla hadn't bothered to wear a bra under her baggy T-shirt.
Nahla was trying to decide if she was willing to risk letting go of Anisha's other hand when she heard the sound of a door opening.
“What the fuck,” a voice said. A voice that sounded an awful lot like…
“Caleb, I can explain,” Nahla said. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to say after that, so it was probably for the best that Caleb had already turned around and marched right back out the door.