I couldn't believe it, my neighbor Irina, standing in the doorway of my yoga class. She seemed hesitant, lost, which is not unusual for a first time drop-in. I quickly excused myself from another student and walked over to her. "Hey, welcome to my class." She smiled at me, her eyes a warm brown blend of both mischief and desire.
"So, this is what keeps you so busy, fit women in tight clothing?" She chuckled to herself. I thought it was ironic since she was wearing a pair of tight leggings and crop top herself, and my mind started to wander to a few days before when we had fucked on the chaise lounge in her backyard. She was radiant and pleasantly thick, or a little chubby even. At around 5'4" she was the perfect fun sized woman.
I had no idea why she was here, or how she knew about this, maybe I had mentioned it in passing at some point? I couldn't remember.
"I just do this once a week, keeps me off the streets."
"And in the sheets?"
"Not yet...," I paused, "Do you need a mat?" It was a rhetorical question; she did not have one with her.
She blanked her face and tried to look serious. "Oh yes, I seem to have lost mine."
"You've done yoga before?"
"No." She winked at me, and I turned to find a clean mat in a storage cubicle and a couple of foam blocks.
"Place your mat wherever there is room." I'm sure she would have liked to be front and center, but those spots were already filled with not-so-fit middle-aged women in tight clothing. She picked a spot in the second row off to the side, and sat down on her mat, watching me chat with some of my regular students.
I had my regulars, and some of them I counted as friends. I know some of the popularity of my class was due to my easy-going manner and some of it to my looks. I don't consider myself handsome, but my salt and pepper hair, blue eyes and tall, "almost fit" physique, seemed to be a good combination for the kind of women that frequented my class. I didn't get many of the young professional types who were looking for body sculpting or a workout, just people that wanted to stay a little loose and have a quasi-spiritual experience while looking at a guy with a decent ass in spandex.
I began class on time, and after the usual 3 OM's, we did a light meditation in Balasana. The class that night was focusing on hip openers, but I always start out with the customary eight sun salutations. I like a slow yoga, and I'm more about control, so we stand for a moment in Tadasana, move (as) slowly (as possible) into Chaturanga, extend the hips up into Adho Mukha Svanasana (with hip circles of course), back into Chaturanga, and then I like to have them try to float their feet forward to their hands (rather than jump, but it takes great control), and then stand again in Tadasana.
Irina was certainly trying, but it's hard to get the proper alignment simply from watching others. Sometimes I do the Asana's with the class, and sometimes I stroll about the room, offering alignment tips. That night I hovered pretty closely near Irina. She needed a little tap here, or a firm hand there, to get her to straighten her arm, or drop her belly (she liked the assist I gave her in downward dog), or make sure her feet were parallel. We went through some Ashwa lunges (and variations), Eka Pada Rajakapotasana, Skandasana, Malasana, and my favorite, Setu Bandha Sarvangasana, which I assisted with a foam block under her sacrum. I closed with them holding Ananda Balasana until they didn't want to and settled into Shavasana while meditative music played.
"Next week we'll be working with our lower back, and I'm sure you'll all be glad to know we'll be doing Setu Bandha Sarvangasana again."
"I love Bridge pose," one of the women exclaimed. I smiled at her.
Everyone got up and started rolling up their mats and moving to the water cooler. Except Irina. She just remained motionless on her mat; eyes closed. I squatted next to her, "Was it that boring?"
She opened one eye and looked at me. "Hip openers? Are you trying to tell me something?"
"Hip related injuries become much more common as we age." I had become accustomed to being strictly professional while in the studio and always with students. Flirting was definitely something I had an unwritten rule against.
"Ouch."
I stood up and offered her my hand. She allowed me to help her stand, not that she needed it, and in a breach of my usual decorum I leaned into her, whispering "I'd be happy to help you open your hips some more."
She giggled at that. "You hot yoga teachers, always preying on your students." I feigned indignation.
"Wrong. I'm not hot." She simply arched her eyebrow at me. I took her mat and sprayed it down with some cleaner and wiped it dry before rolling it back up and putting it away again.
"Tom, 5 minutes?" It was Ray, the studio owner, we always went out for a beer after my class, as it was the last one of the day, on the slowest day of the week.
"Sure," I glanced at Irina. "I... we, we always go out after class." She smiled warmly.
"My hips can wait." She looked down at her bare feet, "Do your thing, I've got to get up early tomorrow anyway and need to get home." I felt like she was being polite but disappointed. "It's good to have friends." I didn't know what to say.
We both got our shoes on in the lobby as I said my goodbyes and the students dispersed. Irina lingered by the door. I am always careful never to presume anything having to do with touching a student (or anyone for that matter). Even assists require some level of explicit consent beyond a tap or a joint adjustment. In her case I felt I was being overly formal when I opened my arms and asked if I could get a hug.
"Tom! What will people think?!"
"That I'm human?"
"Scandalous!" And she walked into my arms. She had a slight woodsy/spicy scent, mingled with her own natural odor, and feeling her warm body against mine instantly invoked the arousal I had felt just days earlier. She had her breasts pressed against me and it was a real struggle not to grab her ass.
"Do you do private lessons?"
"Not usually, but in your case, I might make an exception."
"How much?"
"The first one is free, but I'm sure we can make an arrangement after that." The back lights went out, as Ray locked the office door. Sadly, our hug ended.
She pulled out her phone and started tapping at it. "How does 11 Friday sound?" I didn't even pull my phone out.
