Learn to fight with men present anyway, but it was a pain. At least at the north end practice I was attending women were officially welcome, unlike the only other one I knew of on the south end of Chicago, where the people running the practice had an attitude. So, when a knight moved to the Chicago sex cartoons area from Tennessee, and declared he was going to hold a "women's fighting practice" in a Western Suburb and offered all sorts of help getting there, etc., we were all enthusiastic, at first. Here was someone who said they were willing to train people who had been to a LOT sex cartoons of tournament fighting and won more than a few of them. That's how you get to be a knight, after all. Once I got there, though, things were "not as they seemed". It soon became clear that Sir Gregory thought that holding a
Women's fighting practice was not merely "a great way to meet women," which no one would have thought less of him for, but he also seemed to hold the opinion that we were all now "his". He particularly seemed clueless in regards to me. I really wouldn't have classified myself as the prettiest woman there, at five sex cartoons feet tall, long dark brown hair and brown eyes, slightly overweight but shapely, I am definitely more than "cute," but not a fashion model either. l was perhaps the most "exciting" in the sense that I am a strong minded and flamboyant individualist. Or maybe he just liked my fighting style, I don't know. I communicated multiple levels of "no". I ducked his grasps, removed his hands from my thighs, told him "don't do that" about various attempts to paw my breasts, arms, etc. I told him flat out I wasn't interested, and
He still kept trying. Unlike Wilde Bill's "friendly interest," his intent was obviously predatory, he wanted more than just to appreciate. After about two practices I decided I had had enough, and stopped attending. However, this was not to be my last encounter with Sir Gregory. Soon after the fighting practice disasters, I was attending a Ceilidh, sex cartoons an SCA event held outdoors during the summer on a piece of land in Wisconsin. I had planned to meet Rick, one of my lovers, at the event, and we sex cartoons were going to share my tent, but he had already warned me he was either going to already be there or he would arrive in the morning. Our group rolled in at ten o'clock at night, after the sun was down, and a practiced crew was waiting to get luggage handled and tents set up quickly in the dark. The members of the
Society are efficient and show forethought in such things. Much to my horror, Sir Gregory had volunteered to be in charge of the set-up crew, and planted MY tent within twenty feet of his, without so much as a "would this be o.k., Milady." There was nothing to be done about it, you don't chew people...
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