Flight Maneuvers

Title: Flight Maneuvers
Author: Ginny Powell
Rating: NC-17
Setting: Pre-TPM. Obi is young but over the age of consent.
Archive: Sure, just tell me.
Feedback: Of course! wmginnypowell@yahoo.com
Also available at my website:
http://www.geocities.com/wmginnypowell/swtpm.html
Disclaimer: George only wishes he could film stuff like this (I’m sure
he puts Natalie ins sts stuff in his head all the time).

Summary: O/f smut. Enjoy.

There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no death; there is the Force

Part 1

Obi-Wan Kenobi stripped off his sweat-soaked tunic and used it to wipe
off his bare chest before shoving it deep into his gym bag and pulling
out a cleaner version. He didn’t put the new one on right away,
though, letting the breeze from the large ventilation fan overhead cool
his overheated skin. He’d thrown his bag onto a random bench when he’d
arrived for his morning workout in the then nearly-empty gym. During
his workout he had of necessity focused on himself and hardly noticed
the others that had trailed in throughout the morning. Now that he was
finished, he could actually sit on the bench for a while and get a good
look at those around him. He liked to see how the other padawans
measured up. Especially the cute ones.

And there’s one now, he thought as two younger sparring padawans fought
there way across the room, revealing a figure in blue face down on the
mat. The hair revealed nothing (dark blonde in a standard padawan cut)
but the skintight blue workout suit left nothing to the imagination.
As he watched, she arched her back up, raising her head, then brought
her feet up to touch her hair. Obi smiled to himself; flexibility
could be an asset in a woman. Then his smile changed to a look of
amazement as her feet continued past her head, landing on the mat by
her shoulders. With a rocking motion, the woman suddenly rolled into a
full split, her arms stretched overhead, her skintight suit revealing
every nicely-proportioned curve of her body. This goes way beyond
flexibility, Obi thought. This is…giving me a hard-on. He shifted on
the bench, pulling the clean tunic across his lap to prevent
embarrassment, as the woman continued to perform amazing feats before
him. He was still staring when she finished and it was a few moments
before he realized that she was walking towards him and that he really
should be less obvious. Before he looked away, though, he glanced at
her face for the first time.

And realized he knew her. Well, knew of her. He’d seen her around
over the years, but their busy schedules had seldom left them in the
Temple at the same time. Several of his friends, though, had been much
luckier in that regard and had told him all about her. M’larie Kho,
the biggest slut in her age group. And now he could see what all the
fuss was about. It hadn’t been just exaggeration.

As he’d been thinking, she’d been walking, and now he found that she
was quite close. In fact, she seemed to be heading right towards him.
Unsure for the moment whether this was a good thing (in the back of his
mind was the worry that she’d seen him staring and was going to slap
him) he busied himself with rearranging the contents of his bag. When
he looked up again, she was pulling out her own bag and straddling
their now-shared bench. Obi felt he ought to say something.

“Hi,” was, unfortunately, all that came to mind.

“Hi,” she returned, flashing a smile that seemed to say that she knew
what he had really wanted to say and the answer was yes. Or maybe that
was just his overactive imagination.

“You’re M’larie Kho, aren’t you?” Obi went on, just in case it wasn’t
his imagination.

She nodded, then looked away to pull a water bottle from her bag.
Twisting off the cap, she tilted her head back and took a gulp, half
the neck of the bottle disappearing into her apparently very thirsty
mouth.

“Um, that was, uh, impressive out there,” he said lamely, gesturing
vaguely toward the mat. Damn sluggish brain! he cursed himself. Lack
of blood supply will do that.

“Thanks, Obi-Wan,” she answered, enjoying the look of pleased shock on
his face. She sharpened the effect by unzipping her suit to the navel
and rubbing the cold water bottle between the two slices of breast thus
revealed. “I’ve heard some rather impressive things about you.” Obi’s
eyes, which had been following the water bottle’s enviable course,
snapped up in time to see her own gaze fall to his lap. “Are they
true?”

Obi took a deep breath, hoping that oxygen might kick start his brain.
It seemed to work. “A Jedi doesn’t brag,” he replied, casually
slipping the tunic that still covered his lap onto one arm, then the
other, and finally over his head. M’larie’s gaze never wavered, and if
he was any judge, she seemed to like what she saw. Slowly, she brought
her eyes up to meet his.

“I’m having a piloting lesson at fourteenth hour,” she said,
unexpectedly.

Obi blinked again, his brain once more stymied by this sudden change in
topic. And the conversation had seemed to be going so well.

“Oh? And who is your instructor?” It seemed the appropriate thing to
ask.

“You are,” M’larie answered. “Hangar 5.” And with a swing of one
blue-sheathed leg, she was walking away from him. It wasn’t until she
shot him a smile over her shoulder as she passed through the door that
he realized what had just happened. And let himself smile.