Gym Time

The phone rings and it's Matt.

"Where are you?" Liz asks him. "I thought you froze to death on some street corner."

"Did you work out yet today?" he asked her.

Her eyebrows go up, even though he can't see them. "If this about that piece of cake, really, you can let it go--"

"What? No, I'm over at Joe D's and wanted to know if you could come over and keep me company. I'm closing for him."

Joe D. is Matt's friend who owns a gym on Court Street. Matt works out there and helps out if needed. Apparently tonight he was needed.

Liz hesitates. "How much longer are you there for? It's awfully cold to go out..."

Matt begins to wheedle. "Come on, you know you want to, you'll feel so much better. And, since you mentioned the cake--"

"I'll come," says Liz abruptly, and hangs up. She stands and rolls her eyes at the phone, then grins. She's not entirely positive a nice trot over to Court Street is what she wants with the temperature in the teens, but she'll probably feel better.

After the cold and the wind blowing off the harbor, the gym feels as warm as a womb. Matt is sitting at the desk, fiddling with the computer, and as far as Liz can see, he's the only one in the place.

"Land office business you're doing here," she observes. "No wonder you wanted some company."

"Joe D. said he didn't think there would be anyone, but he wanted to keep it open anyway, just in case. But I think now that you're here, I'm going to lock up."

Liz is annoyed. "You hauled me out in this, so you could lock up once I got here? Are you for real?"

Matt looks at her almost appraisingly. He seems to be turning something over in his mind, but for a moment or two says nothing. Then, finally, almost as though he's beginning in mid-thought, he says, "...I sort of wanted to be your....personal trainer tonight...." and then trails off. Liz is puzzled and looks at him quizzically. Then he says, "Why don't you go warm up on the elliptical? I know you're dying to get at the machines."

As she's beginning to work up a sweat, Matt turns down the lights. Bluesy music has replaced classic rock. Liz is well and thoroughly confused now, but keeps on till the end. As she's finishing the cool-down, Matt appears beside her.

"What is going on?" she asks him.

Disingenuously, he says, "Did we really need all those lights for just the two of us?" then, giving her no time to answer, "Why don't you start with some lat pulldowns?"

Liz loves this machine. It is a guaranteed endorphin rush, every single time, and so she sets the seat and then the weights and starts to settle herself down.

"Wait."

"What?"

"You have such a nice strong back. I'd like to be able to see it while you do this."

"You want me to...?"

"Take off your shirt. Let me see the muscles work."

"Did aliens suck your brain out through your skull or something? What is UP with you?"

"Will you do it for me?"

Sighing, and somewhat embarrassed, mostly because it feels so strange, Liz pulls her shirt over her head. Her sports bra covers a lot, after all, and it's not as though Matt has not seen every inch of her, and in nearly every state. She starts to feel a bit of a tingle and wonders if he has something in mind--? Shaking her head slightly, she settles herself on the seat again.

"Wait.'

"What now?'

"Is this the weight you usually use?"

She says it is.

"I'm going to put it up five pounds. I want you to work a little harder tonight."

"Why?"

"Just because."

Okay, now she really does feel a tingle. Although she knows full well that neither of them could ever sustain it, there is the slightest undercurrent in their relationship of Matt being dominant and her being submissive, and it feels as though they've suddenly veered off into that territory. Okay. Five more pounds. She can do it. In her underwear. If that's what he wants. More than a tingle, now, and she repeats that phrase in her mind. "If that's what he wants."

She pulls down, as he watches. She can feel the muscles in her back work, and she can feel Matt's eyes on her. "Remember to breathe right," he tells her, and she obediently synchs her breath with the effort. The first few reps are easy enough. As she hits the middle of the set, they definitely get harder. Her breathing is getting more pronounced, too. At the end, she's glad to rest. "How did I do?" she asks him.

"You did great, and you looked great. But I bet you could do five more."

"Pounds? Didn't you hear me at the end? I'm not sure I can."

"There is no can't," he tells her, and sets the weights. "For me."

She sighs, and pulls down again. If that's what he wants.

At the end of this set her arms are shaking. He moves close to her and rubs her shoulders and down her back. Oh, that feels good...."You did good," he tells her. "Good girl. Strong chicks get me hot, you know that."

The slight shortage of oxygen has her a bit addled, and all she can manage is to feel grateful for the rubbing and that she got to stop. "Not another set, please?" she asks.

"No, we'll try a different machine."

She's hoping for something with her legs, but he tells her that next up is the incline press. "I HATE the incline press," she tells him.

"It works your pecs," he tells her calmly. "I want to watch that."

Liz can only manage an annoyed exhalation, and then Matt says, "Right now this is what I want," so implacably that she simply walks to the hated incline press. She sets the seat and looks to him for guidance on the weights. "Five pounds more than normal," he tells her. She's truly not sure she can do this, this machine is her nemesis, but she is far too proud to fail in front of Matt. Half-dressed. So, she gamely begins. If that's what he wants.

His eyes, as he stands in front of her, have a definite gleam in them. She tends to be muscular anyway, and she knows that between her own natural attributes and the effort she's expending, she has to look alluring. In a sweaty, gym way.

The set nearly exhausts her. Her arms are shaking again. "Do I have to do another?" she asks him. He looks at her for a moment, then says, "No, I don't want to wear you out quite yet," and gives her his hand to stand. Once she's in front of him, he starts rubbing her chest. Not her breasts, but her chest. She was already breathing hard from the weights, and now her breath becomes ragged for another reason.

He kisses her, hard and deep, then whispers, "Take off your bra."

She can't just keep saying, "What?", she sounds like a parrot, so she just looks into his eyes, questioning. "For me....this is something I want," he tells her.

The exertion still has her feeling a bit cloudy, but she manages to whisper back, "Say please."

A very long pause, as they stand, so close each can feel the other's breath, the only two people in the big, empty gym. Their eyes are locked on each other. Finally, after an eternity has gone by, Matt whispers, "Please."

Liz whispers back, "Okay," and reaches behind herself to undo it. She doesn't know how often she's undressed in front of Matt, or how many times he's undressed her, but this feels like the first time ever. She frees each breast from its cup and then stands there, resisting the urge to cover herself. It's so warm that even half-naked she doesn't feel cold, but then she realizes that it might be more than just the thermostat controlling that.

"Nice," says Matt. "Nice. Now, see what you've done?" and he takes her hand and puts it on his quite impressive erection. Her hand closes around it, and begins to stroke, and as she does so, more excited now, she leans in to kiss him.

Without seeming hurried at all, suddenly each of her wrists are held in his hands, and he's holding her away from him. "Not yet," he tells her. "I want us to wait a little bit."

She's still digesting this, when she hears her own voice saying, "Then you at least have to do something for me."

"What is it?" he asks her.

"Well....take your shirt off, too. It's not the same, but it'll be a little more fair."

He tilts his head for a moment, still holding her wrists, and looks her up and down. She sees his eyes linger on her breasts, and to her great embarrassment, begins to blush. He's seen her breasts so many times, and yet--

"Once you're in the next machine, I will," he tells her.

Liz wonders what he has in store for her now, and suddenly she knows. There's really only one it can be. She looks to him to tell her, and seeing the question in her eyes, he says, "The triceps press."

Of course. It has to be the triceps press. Once arranged in the triceps press, which holds the user snug in its grip, her breasts will rest on the same pad as her elbows. They will essentially be on a silver platter for him.

Okay, then, the triceps press. If that's what he wants. She adjusts the settings as she always does, but this time is burningly conscious of being half-naked as she does so. She feels very vulnerable. Not that Matt would, or for that matter, could hurt her, but this isn't happily shedding clothing on the way to bed, this is very different, a little darker. ....And, she must confess, quite a bit more exciting.

She slides in, and, as she knew they would, her breasts are on display.

"What weight do you normally use?" he asks her. She tells him, and he sets it there for her. Then, "Wait, don't start. Is this back support as close as it can go?"

"It's as close as it can go and I can still get in."

"I'm going to move it closer."

"Then I can't get out by myself.'

"Right," he agrees, laconically.

Oh. Oh!

With the back slid in, she has no choice but to sit up very straight, aligning everything. Matt walks around to the front, smiles, and slowly slides his shirt over his head. Liz smiles back, in spite of the odd situation, because, well, his smile is infectious, and she likes seeing him without a shirt. That's all. He lifts his chin and motions for her to begin.

This set is easy. She looks down to see how it looks to him, and he tells her to look forward, not to look down. "And isolate your triceps," he tells her. "Only use them." She does her best, and makes it easily to twelve.

Matt, standing, looking at her, is in a haze of his own. Her breasts are slightly flattened on the bottom, resting on the pad, and this has the effect of making her look even more voluptuous than she is. Her nipples are stiff, and very pink, and it's all he can do not to make a lunge for her. But he wants to drive up the tension between them as far as he can get it. He's fantasized about this for months, sitting at the desk, smiling at the members, making small talk and answering the same foolish questions over and over. His escape has been to imagine him and Liz, here, alone, with--

His mind runs up against a wall, because putting the next thing in words is not quite as easy as he thought. With her under his control, is what he means. He doesn't want that most of the time, he loves her just as she is, which is strong-willed, implacable and very much her own person. But this is different. This is a one-off, this is--

A dream come true.

"I'm going to put the weight up five pounds," he tells her, and does so.

The next set is harder and she begins to have to breathe harder, too. The flesh of her breasts trembles with each breath, and a fine sheen of sweat is beginning to show. Rep number twelve is very welcome.

After a rest, when nothing is said, but her eyes are locked into his, another five pounds is added. The whole set is a struggle, he can see, but she's determined, and even though the last three reps are slow and shaky, she makes it. She can't slump, held as she is, but she lets her arms dangle. She understands now that there's no point to asking him if he'll let her out, he's running this particular show, and--oh, hell. That's fine with her. This is the most excited she's been in months, even with their very active sex life. She's actually happy to sit her for a minute, waiting to see what will happen next.

What happens next is that he moves toward her, and slides his hands under her breasts so that each one is cupped in one of his big hands. Their eyes still locked, he rubs his thumbs over her nipples, hard, for what seems endless time, but is probably no longer than a full minute. Then he releases them, and says, "Okay, time to let you get up." The seat back is moved back, and she cantilevers herself out, slightly short of breath, more than just the exercise would have warranted.

He starts off across the gym, waving for her to follow. She does, now feeling slightly more comfortable with her semi-nakedness. She doesn't want to simply follow, of course, she wants to pounce on him, and push him down onto one of the many seats available, and climb up on his lap, steadying herself if she has to with the hand-grips, and grind up and down on that iron bar of his erection. That's what she wants. She has no doubt that she's going to end up on the receiving end, but how she's going to get there is what's open for question.

He stops, and turns toward her. "You're sweaty," he observes. Liz nods. "Now you get to sit and relax," Matt tells her.

"That's nice," she says cautiously.

"There's only one catch."

"What's that?" she asks, though she has a feeling she knows.

She could have counted to five in the pause, and then Matt says, his voice slightly thick, "Take of the rest of your clothes."

She knew it was coming, of course, because what else was there, but she's still slightly shocked. "Really?"

"Really. But the next thing is for you."

She toes her sneakers off, not waiting to unlace them, then pulls off her socks. Her black pants follow, and she stands there for a moment in the cotton undies she wears to work out.

"Come on," Matt tells her. "The rest. The last. Come on."

Not even knowing where to look, they come off too, and she stands there, naked in the biggest space she's ever been naked in. This is really not like being in your bedroom, this makes you feel little and very vulnerable. No clothes, and not even the sheet to pull up in an insecure moment. Even though this is just Matt.

"Nice," he says again, and then shows her the next machine.

This time, too, she knows a split second before it happens. It has to be the hip adductor, and it is. The squeeze-your-legs-in machine, tastefully placed so it faces the wall, so that armies of women are not opening and closing their legs in full view of every member.

"You're going to sit on it, but I'm going to do the work," he says. "Sit down.'

This one tilts you back at an angle, as you hold hand-grips low down on either side. Your knees are separated by two pads, and the distance is adjustable. The weights are adjustable, too, of course.

After she's sitting, Matt takes the lever and begins to move the knee pads apart, opening her legs. She's never felt so exposed in her life. He stops before she becomes physically uncomfortable, but she's not exactly comfortable with this, either. And she's not quite sure what's going to happen now, though there aren't that many choices. She looks almost beseechingly at him, to see what the next step is.

Matt can't quite believe he's gotten her to this point. He knows that if he had shared this fantasy, she would have joined in, because she's nothing if not adventurous, but if he had warned her ahead of time, there would not be that look of slight fear, and of...submission, in her eyes. And for tonight, just for tonight, he is most emphatically getting off on that look.

He looks her over, knowing, of course, what he will see. Last night, as cold as tonight, and with snow and wind, had not been a night to go out. Rather, Matt and Liz had stayed home, and indulged in what they called "shaving fun", which essentially meant that he had carefully, and painstakingly shaved her nether parts, describing what he saw as he went. Shaving fun can be counted on to be a crowd pleaser.

So there she is, naked, open and bare for him.

"Now. I want you to maintain your form for me. I want you to keep your back against the pad, and keep holding on to the grips. And try not to move your head. I'll be able to feel if you do." Then he turns and sets the weights absurdly high.

"I can't move those," she protests.

"That's exactly the point," he tells her.

Oh. OH!

He goes down on her knees in front of her, and runs his hands along the insides of her thighs. She's been so desperate to be touched, because that's been dislocating too, this putting her on display, with minimal touching, that she trembles. He runs his fingers over her bared labia, knowing that she's particularly sensitive right after shaving fun. She trembles again.

She can scarcely hear him when he says, "Pretty little pussy," and then his tongue is on her clit. She feels the shudder through her whole body, a discharge of the high sexual tension and a resetting at a slightly lower level. He's doing a very thorough job, and even the slight scratch of his beard excites her. She risks looking down, and the sight of his head between her thighs (and her thighs so resolutely held apart) almost sends her over the edge. After everything, she knows it won't, can't be long, but she does her best to make this moment last. He's being more noisy than normal at his job, also exciting, and when his tongue returns to her clit after a sojourn elsewhere, she can't stop herself. Her orgasm feels like a silvery cascade of pleasure, but--

She can't do what she normally does, clench her thighs around his head, she can't adjust herself to moderate the intensity, more than at any other point in this strange evening, she is entirely at his mercy. Normally silent, she begins to moan with every fresh wave--she feels like this orgasm may never end, that she will be here forever, in the pleasure loop. But then, the continued stimulation trips some switch in her and she no longer feels the unutterable pleasure but, rather--ticklish. She tries not to, but she can't help laughing.

Matt knows there's no point in going on after that, in fact his goal was to push her so far that this happened. Now he moves to kiss her, but before he does, whispers, "This is what you taste like." Sweaty and sweet and earthy and like the ocean, all at once.

She puts her whole soul into the kiss, she's desperate now for a connection with him, she wants to cling to him, but she's not sure she can let go of the grips. The kiss goes on and on, until finally he pulls away and says, "One more thing."

He releases the knee pads and helps her up. She's only got one thought in her head now, she wants badly to finish this, and hopes that he doesn't want her to reciprocate orally, she wants to feel him inside of her, filling her up. He seems to want the same thing, he guides her hand once more to his erection. "Are you ready?" he asks.

An absurd question, of course she's ready. But where? On one of the floor mats? On the knee-level exercise table? Her on one of the sit-up benches, him at the end? He leads her over to a machine she's only noticed in passing, and can't even remember seeing someone use. She manages to read it: Glutes. Really?

"I don't know how to adjust this," Liz says earnestly, as though that's the only thing that matters here.

"I set it up so it would be right for you," he tells her and she is stunned at the idea that's he's thought this whole thing through this carefully, knowing that they were going to end up here.

He explains it to her. "Bend over and put your abs on that pad, and grab the handles in front." She does so, and her breasts are in the space above the pad; presumably he's chosen this for easy access. It has not escaped her, either, that her ass is more or less in the air.

He goes on. "There's a pad back here for your shin...." and guides her left leg onto it. "Now," he tells her, "reach back with your right leg, and there's a pedal back there. Push up--the weights are off--and there's room for me behind you."