Monica
Today has been a long day I think to myself as I pull up to the gym carpark and by the looks of it, the one time I get for myself tonight isn't going to be any easier. As I look across the carpark, I bite my lip with nervousness.
He's here, he's still working. It makes for such an awkward training session. My eyes end up following him the whole night, well that is when he isn't watching me.
Maybe I should leave and come back later. I can't really afford to miss another workout all the junk food I've eaten lately has gone straight to my ass. I can almost feel it growing as I sit here.
You'd think that being a dancer I'd have more resolve and strength against the power of chocolate, unfortunately, my life sucks and I tend to eat my worries away.
I'm forever grateful to my boss Loretta for my job and for Dee for the introduction. I'm trying my best not to let either of them down, Loretta had seen potential in me when nobody else did. She saw ability and raw talent she told me. But I really think the only thing she really see's when she looks at me is desperation and need.
I'm a 32-year-old woman who just can't get her shit together, no matter how much I try. I've worked my ass off for years as a cleaner, manager, assistant and just about everything else I can think of to pay the bills but I only ever just managed to scrape my way through. I do have a reason for it though. My mum is terminally ill and I will do everything I can to make her life easier on her. It's the whole reason I took the job at Sinful's because let's face it what kind of introvert like myself wants to get on stage and jiggle around in her underpants for a living.
Not that the job isn't decent, it's high pay, medical cover, nobody touches me, I get to pick my own music and outfits. All in all, I could have done a lot worst I remind myself.
After my internal pep talk, I realize I can't just sit here and wait for him to leave he's probably going to be here all night again. Last week he was here until 3 am when I tried to sneak in after work.
As I lift my head and look around I notice our two cars are now the only ones left in the carpark. Sighing I grab my backpack and walk inside. As I step up to the counter and swipe my card I feel his eyes burning me, trailing down my back and lingering on my ass, burning a hole right through my tiny, bright red shorts. The longer his gaze lingers the more uncomfortable I get.
I turn and get my first look at him today, he's wearing grey track pants and a white wife-beater singlet, the singlet shows off his impressive tattoos running down his shoulders and over his arms. My stomach starts to churn as I trail my eyes down his body. He's ripped but not in the I'm so jacked I can't move through the door bodybuilder style, more a functional type of muscle, there isn't an inch of fat on his body. As I stare at him his lips quirk and he puffs himself out lapping up the attention. His chocolate brown eyes laughing at me.
This is the whole reason I could never be with anyone like him, his to arrogant, to self-centred, a life with him would be a misery. Too much like before I let one man use me it's not going to happen again.
With one last look and a frown, I turn my head and walk away, dismissing him with a glance. Not a word was spoken between us as usual.
I might take my clothes off for a living but I don't enjoy the attention, him, on the other hand, would love all eyes to be drawn to his build. He must have a little man syndrome, the last thing I need is a man who craves attention, I don't have time in my life for that. Not now, I'm not the same naive girl I used to be.
Sighing and shaking my head at myself I hit the weight room, enough pondering about the what if's with a man that would never look at me twice if he knew what I did for a living. The decent hard-working types never fall for girls who put their body's out there for everyone to see.
I scan the weight room and settle on the leg extension, time to burn off some fat I internally motivate myself, I jump on and start burning out fast sets of fifteen light weight to warm up.
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye as he heads upstairs to the office and staff changing rooms. Good now, maybe I'll get some peace to train. Every time he watches me I feel like I'm going to screw up as if every move I make is a mistake and he's picking apart my form.
Which isn't the case I'm proud to say I learnt from one of the best, my dad before he passed away was an IFBB pro, he won a lot of comps and being an only child the only time I was really able to spend with him was in the gym. This very gym to be exact, It might be a little run down to look at now, but back in the day, everything was shiny and new. This place holds some of my fondest memories of my father and of him, the one that always plays on my mind. I'd hate to have to train somewhere else because of one dickhead I can't get rid of, his image is starting to play in my head when I close my eyes, I don't like the feeling of replacing him.
As I space out my body working on instinct an older guy walks in and passes me with a brief hello on his way to the chest press machine in the corner. I glance up at the office door in the mirror in front of me to see if he noticed someone else walking in.
What I see has my jaw-dropping, his standing in the shadows of the doorframe watching me wrapped in nothing but a towel, water beading on his chest, dripping off his hair to making long, wet trails down his perfectly sculptured chest, trickling down his abs to be absorbed by the towel, his posture lose, arms at his side complete relaxed with me staring at him.
I shift on the machine, my legs pressing together. Wiggling in place, I can't help the arousal that floods my system. My breath panting I look over at the other guy hoping he hasn't noticed his back is to the office and he's focused on his own routine, complete obliviously.
