Dana joins Randy at the gym, where he teaches her about strength training—and the two of them take advantage of the shower to get some much-needed exercise of a different sort. Sadly that's most of the sex Dana gets during finals. Near the end of Christmas break, Dana arrives in Arlington to visit Zoe's family. Not a lot of sex in this one, folks—but there's plenty next time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-
Dana woke to Randy prodding her—and not in a good way. "Wakey, wakey."
The room—Randy's room, she remembered -- was blindingly bright. Dana peered through one slitted eye, the other screwed tightly shut. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded. Or intended to. Her voice came out slurred with sleep.
"Time to go to the gym," Randy chirped, obscenely cheerful for so early in the morning.
"Don't wanna," Dana replied, closing her eye, and fading fast.
"Yes, you do," Randy said. "You told me so."
Yes, she had. But that was last night, when the prospect of rising at dawn to go work out was still far enough away to be safely theoretical. Now it felt like volunteering for her own execution.
Randy stripped away the nest of warm bedclothes, leaving her face down in only her skin. "Cruel!" Dana muttered.
She felt Randy fondle her ass. "You're the one who said she wanted a nice round ass you could bounce quarters off of."
Dana sighed theatrically. Yes, again, she'd said that. "I did."
"So?"
Dana sighed again. "Fine."
She pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, yawning behind the back of one hand. The room seemed marginally less blindingly bright. Randy was dressed, alert -- and chuckling. "What's so funny?" she demanded crossly.
"You look like Popeye when you squint like that."
Dana scowled, which only made him laugh harder. She wished she could argue, but she couldn't. She'd always been sensitive to glare, and her parents had photos of her as a two year-old with the same one-eyed squint. He wasn't wrong.
She settled for a huff of displeasure and shuffled into the bathroom with her backpack. She had just finished brushing her teeth when she realized she'd left the jersey behind. She shrugged, too sleepy still to worry. Anyone who might see her naked had already shared her bed. Screw it.
Dana felt more awake—and more human—after a quick shower. Randy stood by the window, fingers tapping impatiently against his thigh as he stared out the window. She dressed under his watchful eye, pleased by his attention.
"Got your gym clothes?" Randy asked when she was done.
"Yeah." Dana lifted her backpack.
"Okay," Randy said, picking up a gym bag. "Let's go."
Dana followed him out of the building and across campus. It was a bright, cold day and she shivered inside her coat. She'd bring a sweater next time.
"Do you always work out so early?" Dana asked, breaking the silence.
"It's not that early, really," Randy said, "but yeah."
Dana checked her phone. It was a few minutes past eight. Later than she'd thought, but still way early for someone used to sleeping in until eleven on Sundays. Plus, she hadn't gotten to sleep until late. Dana smiled at the memories.
They crossed the campus and continued walking. "How far is it?" Dana asked.
"We're here," Randy said, pointing out a small commercial building on the corner.
The gym wasn't anything like Dana had expected. It wasn't a huge, sprawling glass and chrome temple to fitness. No big commercial facility. It was clearly a repurposed storefront. Large tinted windows let sunlight in while shielding the interior from prying eyes. Randy used a key card to unlock the door.
Randy turned on the lights, then signed in on a clipboard that rested on a counter top by the door. The counter had a glass-front display area filled with work-out gear and big jars of what the labels said was protein powder. A line of treadmills ran the length of one wall, as well as a second row of bicycle and rowing machines. The middle of the floor was fairly open, with large mats and some ropes hanging from the ceiling overhead. The far wall was lined with racks of weights, from tiny dumbbells up to barbells and huge metal plates. Several metal frames stood nearby, their purpose unknown to her.
"Are we alone?" Dana asked.
Randy glanced around. "There might be someone in the office back there," he said, leading her toward the area, "but for the moment, yeah."
"Back there" was a corridor Dana hadn't noticed. A bank of small lockers and a coat rack lined one wall. There were several doors, one leading to an office. The others looked like closets, but were two small changing rooms and two showers, each only large enough for one person—or two, in their case.
Changed into shorts and a t-shirt, Dana followed Randy over to the wall of weights. "You're sure I'm not gonna get big, bulging muscles?" Dana asked, only half kidding.
Randy smiled. "Not from a single workout, no," he said. "You have to work long and hard to develop a bodybuilder's physique, and that's not what we're doing."
"You said it would be hard work."
Randy placed a barbell inside one of the metal frameworks, then paused to look at her. "It is. Strength training isn't complicated, but it's hard work. And it's not bodybuilding, either. We're not looking to develop 'big, bulging muscles' here. Just strength."
He stepped over to put his arms around her. "You will add some muscle mass if you work at this, but how much is up to you. You'll definitely have a bigger, firmer booty when we're done, which is what you said you wanted." He lowered his hands to fondle her ass. "Not that I don't like it just fine as is."
Dana rested her cheek on his shoulder to hide her face. She appreciated his words, though she had no doubts that he liked her body. He made that clear quite frequently. But try as she might, she couldn't entirely avoid comparing herself to Zoe or June, or countless other women. If she could really improve her skinny physique, acquire some curves—and strength—she wanted to do it.
"Okay," Dana said, lifting her head to look at him. "Let's do this."
* * *
Randy was right—it wasn't complicated, but it was hard. He did each exercise himself first while Dana watched. Watched and marveled. She thought he was lifting a lot right off the bat, but he kept adding weight with each set—and those were only warm ups! She'd known he was strong, but the weight he used for his actual workout was amazing.
After he'd finished each exercise, Randy unloaded the bar and coached Dana through the exercise. He spent a lot of time explaining the theory and practice of each exercise, and correcting her form. There were a lot of details to keep track off, and the bar alone was heavier than she'd expected. He touched her a lot as he coached her, but his touch was impersonal and not at all playful. He was completely focused on teaching her.
Dana found both his strength and his focus unexpectedly arousing. She already knew his strength turned her on, but seeing just how strong he was, and how carefully he instructed her made her want to drag him off somewhere private and fuck him. Instead, she did her best to suppress her desires and give his instruction the attention it deserved.
By the time they were done, they both were sweating heavily and Dana was breathing hard, feeling distinctly weak and out of shape. "Don't," Randy said when she mentioned it. "Everybody has to start somewhere. If you keep working at it, adding a little weight each time, you'll be lifting more weight than you ever imagined you could before you know it."
Dana had no reason to doubt him, but her self-image as a skinny, nonathletic girl was hard to shake. "Look at her," Randy said, gesturing at another patron.
The gym had filled up while they were working out. Dana saw a woman who looked to be in her forties, not much taller than Dana but with a thicker figure. She was deadlifting a considerable weight. Nowhere near what Randy had lifted, but far more than Dana was capable of.
"She didn't start at that level," Randy said. "She worked up to it. And so can you."
Randy leaned in and Dana felt him grab her ass. The arousal she'd mostly banked came roaring back. "Besides," he said quietly, "lifting heavy is also good for your stamina. You'll be able to fuck longer and harder. If nothing else motivates you, I'm sure that will. Right?"
Dana turned to face Randy, stepping in close to hide the sudden hold she took on his cock through his gym shorts. "Yes," she said. "Yes, it will."
She met his gaze, letting the desire that filled her show in her eyes. "I need a shower. And so do you."
"Why, Miss Smith, what kind of guy do you think I am?" Randy asked, doing his best to look scandalized.
Dana picked up her backpack and grabbed Randy's hand. "The lucky kind," she said.
He laughed, snatched up his gym bag, and let her drag him toward the rear of the gym and into one of the showers. It was the size of a walk-in closet, with a concrete floor, tile walls, and a curtain separating the tiny changing area from the shower itself. A single overhead light lit the room weakly.
Dana dropped her bag in a corner. She stripped quickly, then turned to Randy, who had gotten as far as removing his shirt and shoes. The sight him thrilled her, and she felt a hollow ache between her legs that could only be soothed by feeling him inside her. She crouched at his feet and yanked his shorts and jockstrap roughly down to his knees.
