Working Out Another Issue

SWEATY

STINKY

STUPID

EGO TRIP!

JERK

NARCISSIST

MUSCLEHEAD

SELFISH BASTARD!

Embarrassed by the vehemence of the words she had scrawled, Emma flipped the sheet on her tablet. She was startled to see that she had been pressing hard enough on the pen to make clear indentations in the second page as well.

Starting over, she wrote at the top,

Why My Husband Lifts Weights.

That was the assignment she was supposed to write for their marriage therapist this week. What a lame headline! Thoroughly irritated, she scribbled a flurry of venomous subtitles:

Obsession, or Mere Compulsion?

More Productive than Pounding Sand?

Quest to Become a Human Forklift

Don't They Make Machines To Do That?

Neanderthal Vestigial Behavior Persists

As she sighed and flipped again to another new page, Emma thought about the path that had brought them to this point. Sure they fought, every married couple did, but how did they get to the degree of distance and isolation that drove them to a 'marital counselor'?

So lost was Emma in her thoughts that she didn't hear Jason's measured footsteps. Slightly startled as he entered the kitchen, she was glad she had already hidden her first two pages.

"OK, I finished sending out those emails and we can talk now. Shall I put on some coffee?" he asked.

"Uh, fine," she stammered. "Yes, in fact, that sounds nice," she added, trying to act somewhat more composed.

As Jason turned and busied himself at the coffee maker, Emma was struck with a glimmer of hope that perhaps the counseling was paying off. Last week's assignment had been for Jason to try to understand why she wanted time away on the weekends to get together with her friends. He did seem to start to appreciate something of the rich fabric of the socialization, the meshing of feelings and experiences those gatherings represented. Now today, he surprised her by taking the time to prepare a sit-down coffee for two. Tender; intimate, even. A small step perhaps, but a nice one.

She felt her shoulders unclench slightly as the aroma of roasted beans spread like sunshine over her. During the week, caffeine was merely the fuel for her frantic office at the newspaper. On a Saturday morning like this, however, as with her circle of women friends, it was a treat to savor and linger over.

While the coffee maker neared the end of its familiar burbling, Emma rewrote today's title. The tensions of their recent conflicts gnawed at her again, and not quite consciously, she wrote something on the second line:

who what when where why how.

Although she had been a professional news writer for years, she found those novice crutches oddly comforting, like handrails helping to guide her through the uneasy fog their marriage had become.

Jason brought over two large mugs of the steaming brew and they added their cream and sugar. He gazed at Emma as she stirred her cup. She looked so beautiful, with delicate, calm fingers poised around the edge of her mug. Why did it seem as though the good times were buried under ten thousand arguments? A minute passed while he watched Emma gazing into the whorls of her coffee, deep in thought.

Finally he spoke up gently. "You wanted to work on our assignment?"

"Mm-hmm," she replied, rousing herself. "Doctor Wilson said I could treat this like an ordinary newspaper article, so we should probably just start with the basics."

Choosing neutral language was an important piece of interviewing anyone, from politicians to criminals, but with the baggage of a troubled marriage it was a more painstaking process than she had expected. She had to discard several phrases like

... take so much time away from your family

and

... hide in your damn basement

.

Finally, Emma opened with, "My assignment is to investigate why you work out." Then, with evident irritation, "I'm not sure what good this all will do, but why don't you start by telling me a little about yourself." Emma regretted the sarcastic dig as soon as she had uttered it, but she was too proud to try to patch it over.

Jason bristled at the implication that the counseling process in general and this week's assignment in particular were a waste of time. He reminded himself that along the road of their relationship, every bump was in fact a fork where he had to consciously choose between escalation and forgiveness.

Taking a deep breath and a long sip of coffee, he let the stab of anger fade. "I'm Jason Carpenter. I'm a professor. I have a beautiful wife and two-point-two kids. Scott and Emily are at their grandparents and, judging by the barking, Buster is chasing a squirrel. Maybe I should rethink that count, though, since he eats a lot larger share than point-two."

Emma smiled slightly at his wry humor and made a little note on her page, then continued. "That sounds like a pretty intellectual background for someone who's into bodybuilding."

"I don't think I'd call it 'bodybuilding'," Jason answered after a second.

"Why don't you tell me what terms would fit better?" Emma invited disarmingly. She smiled inwardly to see that Jason had risen to her standard journalist's bait and moved from

who

to

what

without noticing.

"It's no big deal, I guess," Jason considered. "'Bodybuilding' seems to imply a goal of only muscles rather than overall fitness. 'Working out' seems a little too general, like it would include the latest celebrity-yoga-in-a-swimming-pool fad. I guess I've preferred 'lifting weights' since it sounds a little more macho."

"So,

when

do you like to lift weights?" she continued, deliberately echoing his word preference.

"I used to like to work out over lunchtime at the fitness center on campus," Jason explained. "Since Scott was born, though, I started working out more at home in the evenings, and I haven't been back to the gym at all since Emily came along. This way, I get my office-work done in a shorter period of time to get home earlier. At home, if I get a chance to work out, I do. If not, I don't."

"Hmm," Emma realized. "So you figure that you are actually saving time by working out at home?"

"Yes," he replied. "It gets me home and available for more hours. I usually lift after the kids are in bed. If you're in the middle of a movie and I have time for a glorious whole hour, I indulge, but I've broken up my routine so that I have workouts planned for fifteen minutes, or even five minutes, if that's all I have."

"Interesting," Emma led. "Well, you've already started to tell me

where

. You would work out at the university if you could, but now you mostly lift at home."

"Right."

"So show me where."

"Now?"

"That's what an investigative journalist does: investigate," she smiled.

"What about our coffee?" he asked.

"Bring it along." The coffee mugs were a prop Emma might have used to disarm a suspicious bookie or shady salesman, but they should work in this case as well, to neutralize the polarity of the venue. Instead of entering HIS domain with her as an intruder or inquisitor, they were simply relocating their breakfast-table coffee chat.

Emma stood up for emphasis. "Lead on... Down to the dungeon!" She immediately realized there were unintentional negative overtones in what she had planned to be a light-hearted bit of humor, but hoped it would be taken in the right spirit. As they walked down the steps, she realized she hadn't been down to the basement in more than a year, always sending Jason to take boxes down or bring seasonal decorations up. Now she realized that from the main part of the storage area, the exercise portion wasn't even visible.

As they walked around the wall of boxes that defined this end of the basement, Emma's blood pressure spiked. Only the fact that this was a therapy assignment restrained her from shouting out her first impressions:

Why are you using so much space we could use for storage? Since when did you buy this much workout gear? How much did all this cost?

Desperate for some time to compose herself, she spied at a picnic table that was awaiting warmer weather before reemerging onto the patio. Sitting down uneasily, she took a long sip of coffee. She glanced over at Jason to see if he was awaiting her reaction. He was sitting on the same side of the picnic table, appearing to nonchalantly drink his coffee, but from the waist down, his body language was painfully easy to read. He was perched on the edge of his seat as far away from her as possible, legs tensed as though readying himself to spring into a verbal counterattack if necessary.

Not yet calm enough to speak civilly, Emma consciously unclenched her teeth to take a second, even longer sip of coffee. As she relaxed slightly, it occurred to her that if he had to have an obsession, maybe this one was better than bass fishing or some extramarital nookie.

"This is a nice space," she finally said out loud.

Relieved, Jason answered, "Thanks." With an obvious sense of relief and pride, he elaborated. "I reinforced my high school weight bench with steel tubing, and I designed and built the cable system last summer."

Finally, her gaze reached the far end of the area. She was shocked to see that it looked more like the free-weight area of a fitness club than a home gym. This was clearly excessive! Two ten-foot long shelves were loaded with dumbbells of all shapes and sizes, two floor stands held piles and piles of iron weight plates, and a wide floor to ceiling mirror stood behind the shelves. Now Emma found it impossible to conceal the edge in her voice, "That looks like a whole gym's-worth of weights. And a mirror???"

The defensiveness of his reply was evident. "When a 100-pound barbell set gets too light, most guys buy an expensive 300-pound Olympic-plate weight set. Instead, I bought a bunch of yard sale barbell sets and cheap, second-hand standard plates. Since I ended up with a lot of dumbbell bars, I can have them all set to different weights like a professional gym to save time. And the mirror is just to make sure that my technique and posture are correct so I don't get hurt."

Emma regrouped her thoughts for a moment as her initial annoyance at the extravagant array was replaced by a bit of respect for his skill, creativity, and frugality. "OK. Time for the tough question," Emma sighed as she drained the last of her coffee. "

Why

do you lift weights?"

"Lots of reasons." Jason hesitated. Like any good reporter, Emma let the silence persuade her interviewee to continue. "It makes me feel good on many levels," he finally concluded.

"In what ways?" Emma probed.

Jason thought a moment, then replied, "You remember when you would sit in the rocking chair and nurse little Emily?"

"I can't believe you had to use an illustration that involves my bare boobs!" Emma interjected, with an annoyance that was only partially intended to be humorous.

"Didn't that make you feel completely womanly?" Jason continued, undeterred. "You were doing something that was exclusively feminine on the physical level, but also nurturing and comforting your baby. so it was especially feminine on a spiritual level as well. It's like that for me. Guys don't have to slay tigers with their bare hands anymore, but there's something primal and masculine about lifting weights. It's probably endorphins like a runner's high, but exerting your muscles simply feels good."

"It's not just showing off like a peacock?" Emma challenged.

"I grew up always being teased for being skinny, so I guess I do like finally looking fit, but I don't walk around flexing and preening," he protested. "The bottom line, though, is that lifting weights has been more successful at dealing with my depression than all of the medications and therapists put together."

"I guess I have to agree with you there," Emma concurred. "You haven't been as moody or depressed as you were before, which has really helped us survive my crazy job." Thinking about his steady, supportive encouragement, she finally smiled. "OK. Last question:

how

?"

"What do you mean 'how’?"

"How do you lift weights, silly," Emma teased. "Show me that clever pulley system." Her opinion of Jason had elevated dramatically with today's revelations. It started with the intimate coffee time and finding out that he wasn't being wasteful with time or money on his hobby. The major change though, was her new understanding that his weightlifting was actually about mood and feelings rather than ego. She actually started feeling a bit flirtatious.

"I'm not in gym clothes," Jason protested.

"So, just take off your shirt."

Jason shrugged, slipped off his shirt and knelt on the floor facing her. Emma had to admit that the combination of jeans and no shirt looked pretty rugged on Jason. He grabbed the bar, pulled it down to his chest, and smoothly extended it back up to arm's length. As he continued his set, it occurred to her that he looked a lot more like a twenty-year old beach hunk than a middle-aged suburban dad.

As Jason headed back to sit at the picnic table, Emma prodded, "What? Nothing for legs?"

"Not with jeans on," he explained.

"Well, take them off," she laughed. "No need to be shy. I've seen you in your underwear before, you know."

Jason pulled off his stiff denim trousers with a slightly uncertain smile, walked over to a rack, and positioned a bar across the back of his shoulders. Emma had no idea how much the bar weighed, but the big stack of steel on each side looked quite intimidating. She watched as he squatted down as if he were sitting on his heels, and then drove the weight upwards. Through the thin material of his jockey shorts she could see his tush harden into nice tight handfuls each time he stood. As he returned the weight to the rack Emma declared, "Nice buns, honey!"

"I'll bet you say that to all the nearly naked guys you watch work out," he teased, panting slightly as he recovered from the exertion.

Emma felt a familiar tingle in her nipples as she looked at Jason. Here was a Greek-god treasure hidden in her own basement.

"One more," she suggested, not wanting to end the interview just yet. She hesitated, trying to recall things he'd tried to tell her about lifting over the years. "How about biceps?" she remembered.

Jason smiled, happy to have any excuse to do his favorite exercise. He picked up his angled bar, took up a stable stance, and began curling the weight to his shoulders while pumping his biceps with each contraction. Moments after that, he was totally lost 'in the zone,' counting reps to himself.

... nine, ten, eleven, ...

Emma enjoyed seeing Jason happy, and looking pretty buff, she had to admit. He did look fit and trim in everyday life, but when he was moving these weights, his muscles really popped out. Her mind wandered a bit as she contemplated that he actually looked like one of those guys-that-couldn't-be-real on the cover of a romance novel, from his slightly tousled hair, to his broad shoulders and chest, to his tight abs, to his...

"Is that your cock?" she exclaimed, observing the almost obscene protrusion in his briefs that pulsed visibly upward with each lift of the weights.

Looking down, Jason realized the answer was too obvious and embarrassing to admit out loud. "Sorry about that," he apologized as he quickly placed the weight on the floor and sat on the side of the weight bench.

"And what porno movie were you fantasizing about? Do you come down here to get aroused?" Emma demanded accusingly.

"Nothing like that," Jason tried to explain. "I figure it's just testosterone, adrenaline, and the blood pressure increase during a lift. It does happen more with bicep curls, but I think that's because you really have to put a lot of force through your hips to stay straight and stable when the weight moves so far in front of your body."

"Oh." Emma paused, relieved. Then she smiled. "You know, you're pretty cute when you're embarrassed."

She walked over, put one knee on the bench on either side of his hips and sat on his lap. She planted a kiss on his forehead and wrapped her arms around him in the kind of hug they hadn't taken the time for in months. Jason held her with a peacefulness that had seemed lost in the past.

The moment glowed with golden warmth as their breathing merged unconsciously into one rhythm. Finally, Jason lifted his head to kiss Emma. His lips were met with surprisingly warm, moist kisses. Her fingers caressed the sides of his face as she nibbled his lips, pulling his mouth toward her again and again.

The devilish look rose up in their eyes at the same time. Emma grabbed the bottom of her tee shirt while Jason reached in and up behind her to unhook the bra. The two garments were exuberantly discarded in one motion, and the two lovers embraced in a long, slow, skin-to-skin hug. The overwhelming closeness and happiness of the long-overdue embrace was a luxurious pleasure.

For Jason the cozy, peaceful atmosphere was gradually replaced by a realization that inexorably forced out every other thought in his conscious mind: that pressing against his chest were two very round, very soft, very womanly globes, tipped with two deliciously taut buds that electrified his skin where they touched.

Slowly, Jason began kissing down the side of Emma's neck. For Emma, the long drought of such sweet sensations caused her to tilt her head back, inviting his mouth to move lower. Jason was only too happy to oblige as he attempted to arouse each square inch in a gentle descent past her collarbones.

Emma's breathing accelerated as his lips began grazing the uppermost curves of her bosom. The tantalizing, gradual exploration fueled her yearning and she reached toward Jason's wrists to pull his hands into play.

A split second ahead of her, however, Jason slid his hands up her torso. Not to deliver the kind of elusive caresses a novice might be tempted to try, but instead as firm yet tender cups, feeling the exquisite weight of her breasts. His support gave them the gentle upward thrust she craved while lifting her aroused nipples toward his eager mouth, which he used to tease and then soothe every inch of her gorgeous swells. The pair lingered like young lovers first discovering the joys of being topless on a moonlit beach.

Emma finally noticed that she had been tilting her hips to sandwich Jason's warm cock between his taut belly and her throbbing clit. The sensation would be so much nicer without clothes. Slowly, she disentangled her arms from his. She swung her knees off the bench and led Jason by the hand into a standing position. While kneeling in front of him, she pulled his briefs over his hips and licked his solidly upright rod in a single stroke from base to tip, lingering at the swollen head to kiss away the cream that had leaked during their passion.

Jason bent down to pull the briefs off his feet. Then with one motion he scooped the unsuspecting Emma off her feet and gently placed her long-ways on the bench with her knees extending beyond. Kneeling between her legs, he began kissing her belly, gradually descending as his hands rolled down her shorts. Jason paused at intervals to make sure that the newly exposed areas of skin were covered with kisses before proceeding. When he reached the edge of her panties, he slid the shorts down and off.

The scent of her aroused womanhood filled his nostrils as he kissed her smooth flesh through the delicate lace. Emma gave a soft moan as his mouth enveloped her mound. She impatiently tugged her panties down, and Jason drew them sensuously down her thighs, then off entirely. The tang of her moist nectar was a rich reward as his tongue and lips stimulated her eager folds. As his exploration of her erogenous garden turned into a long unhurried interlude, her ever-increasing arousal brought Jason's mind back to the extended lovemaking that had been common during their newlywed years, but a museum rarity since having children.