Jen's movements epitomized poise and grace with a touch of sexuality that caught Craig's attention like no other subject had. Her blissful expressions contained a hint of complexity underneath the warm smile and beautiful voice.
Ten years behind a reporter's desk had taught Craig to spot and appreciate the deeper aspects of people, and Jen fit into that rare category of the truly intriguing.
From a folding chair off the edge of the practice mat, Craig watched as Jen directed a class of twenty students through various stretches and exercises that Craig couldn't pronounce. Her lean body moved with grace and control as her students attempted to emulate her poses on the aqua-colored cushioned floor, her dulcet voice gave instructions and encouragements over soft music playing from the stereo.
Craig jotted down his thoughts and impressions as he watched the class. All the students were barefoot like Jen, and wore tanktops with either tights or sweatpants. Most were in good physical shape, and the few who did have an extra layer of fat were still as limber and flexible as the rest. He felt out of place in blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a tee-shirt that clung too tightly to his belly
The group finished with a meditation pose, and after a few minutes of silence, they quietly stood up and headed to the locker rooms. Jen walked over to Craig and smiled. She had sculpted features and a small mouth and nose. Even barefoot, she stood a couple of inches taller than Craig.
"So, what do you think?" she said. She pulled her long blonde hair out of the rubber band that had held it behind her head.
"Quite impressive," Craig said. "Can you give me a run down of what I saw?"
"Basically, I took the class through a series of poses meant to help them concentrate on their breathing and improve their overall health," she said. "It's a combination of three different styles of yoga which all branch from hatha yoga - iyengar, viniyoga, and tantra."
Craig followed with more questions concerning the growing local interest in yoga, and as he listened to her speak, he found her slight accent attractive.
"So where are you originally from?" he said. "You have an accent I can't place."
"I have American parents, but I spent the first ten years of my life in China before moving to India for about five years," she said. "It was there I first began practicing yoga, and it was that instructor who handed down to me the method I currently teach."
As the students left, Jen said bye to each of them with a wave or an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and Craig noted the individual attention she gave each student.
She led Craig to the small back office where she sat behind a gray metal desk that took up a large portion of the cramped room. A computer sat on one corner of the desk, the monitor peppered with neon yellow and green sticky notes, and various papers were scattered over the rest of the surface. As if to relieve the claustrophobic condition of the office, scenic pictures of beaches and mountains were hung on the walls.
"This is the part of the business I don't like," she said. "The business of the business."
Jen discussed more of the business aspects of her teaching, and pointed out that the slim profit margin had forced her to live upstairs and had only allowed her to hire one part-time employee.
"Let me ask you this, Craig," she said. She walked around the desk and sat in the chair next to Craig with her left foot tucked under her right knee. For the first time Craig noticed the tattoo on the inner portion of her ankle. Definitely an Eastern design, it looked almost like an ornamented sickle. She leaned over close to him, moving into his personal space, her face only inches from his. If anyone else had moved in this close, he would have leaned back. Instead, he felt an urge to kiss her, then became embarrassed by his own thoughts after he tried to imagine how she looked when she kissed, or made love. "Would you be interested in a free month of yoga classes? Because I think you'd really enjoy it. In fact, I think you'd become addicted."
"I bet you say that to all the reporters," he joked.
Jen laughed, a cute, beautiful laugh. The temptation to close the small gap between them and kiss her became stronger.
"For now, I think the best bet will be to get you in here early in the morning, before the events of the day have zapped your energy," she said. "So, would you be interested in my seven a.m. class?"
Craig shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, if you don't mind me a little groggy."
"Oh, I'll fix that," she said. "Bring a pair of shorts to wear, and either a tee-shirt or tanktop. Now, do you want a quick tour of the upstairs?"
"Sure."
He followed her up the stairs next to the office. The second floor consisted of a hallway with four doors spaced throughout. She opened the closest door and led him inside. The small living room was furnished with only a couch, short table, chair, and television on a rolling stand. Off to the back an archway led to the kitchen area, and a closed door off to the right of the living room Craig assumed was her bedroom. The blank walls and the carpet were a neutral beige.
"Quite bare," she said. "But the only thing I ever do here is sleep and drink tea."
The room across the hall from her apartment was a small single room with a weight bench set in the middle of the room and a treadmill facing the window. The third room contained standard storage, an old vacuum cleaner, mop and bucket, boxes stacked against one wall.
As they walked back downstairs, Craig told her he had everything he needed to write the article, but Jen suggested he talk to her assistant Debra at least once before finishing.
"She might be able to add some insight as well," she said. "She teaches tomorrow night's intermediate class, I'll let her know you're stopping by." Craig usually did follow up work by phone, but his curiosity about the assistant, and the opportunity to possibly see Jen again, stopped him from correcting her.
Jen escorted Craig to the front door with more casual talk while he wondered if committing to a month of yoga would be more than he could do, but as she looked over at him and smiled, he realized that at that moment, he would have done nearly anything this woman had asked. He felt a little manipulated by her charm, but found he couldn't hold that against her.
She stayed inside and locked the door behind Craig as he stepped outside. She smiled at him and waved through the glass door. The large illuminated sign that said only "YOGA" lit the parking lot in an eerie jaundiced glow, casting long shadows towards the back of the lot.
Craig slowly walked to his car with a gut feeling he had missed something.
###
The next morning he arrived a few minutes early. The building looked different in the daylight. The two-story gray brick looked less pristine in full sunlight, the parking lot appeared patchier, and the glass door a little more smudged.
Craig entered and saw a few students, changed and ready to go, mill about in the middle of the room. He didn't see Jen anywhere as he headed towards the locker room, but one man in the group looked over at Craig and smiled.
The locker room consisted of one row of lockers and a bench. Craig couldn't imagine more than four or five men changing clothes in this small space at one time, but the floors and walls were clean, and the room lacked the sour smell of sweat he usually associated with locker rooms.
His ass had grown wider than his ego liked to admit, and his shorts were tighter than he wished they were. The tee-shirt he brought along fit snugly as well and only made him feel fatter. With memories of high school physical education classes flooding his mind, Craig empathized with the requisite fat kid in every gym class. He determined to buy new exercise clothes at the next opportunity.
He stepped out of the locker room and ambled towards the center of the practice mat with the rest of the students. They talked casually, and Craig stood just outside their circle. He compared the bodies of the two men and three women to his own short, stocky form, and felt out of place next to this health conscious group.
He could feel the coldness of the cushioned floor against his bare feet and the chilled air of the room brought goosebumps to his exposed skin. Although he couldn't hear the air conditioner running, it seemed too cold for the room to be naturally cooled.
The speakers in the corners of the room snapped, then played serene music of piano, a harp, and a flute. Jen came out from the back office and walked to the front of the practice area. Everyone spaced themselves out in two rows, and Craig formed a third row by himself behind the others. If he screwed up, he didn't want anyone to see.
"Let's start with Tadasana," she said. "Remember, keep your hips tucked forward and your chest up."
She took them through a series of methodic poses much easier than he had expected, and for the next thirty minutes, Craig followed a half-beat behind Jen and the rest of the class as they moved from standing to seated to reclined poses. She would occasionally verbalize encouragements that Craig tried to imagine were directed at him, and more than once, he caught her looking at him with a smile. With each pose, he tried to mimic the position and posture of the rest of the students, and found himself out of breath much quicker than he would have imagined.
They finished in a meditation pose that Craig couldn't force his legs into completely, and Jen showed him a simpler form he could use. Unused to sitting in that position, Craig's back began to ache after only a few moments and it became an effort not to slouch.
"Namaste," she said. "Thanks for coming."
The other students stood, while Craig groaned quietly and stretched his legs out in front of him.
Jen approached and loomed over him, but Craig made no effort to stand.
"That last pose was beginning to really hurt my back," he said.
Jen smiled down at him. "That just means you're not used to sitting up straight. With more practice, that will stop hurting and become more natural." She held out a hand and helped him up. Her grip was firm, and her skin soft.
He changed into his work clothes, while Jen waited for him, and she handed him a box of tea when he came out.
