Authors Note: This is a short erotic story, which is a standalone read in itself. I later decided to write another story for Jenna which became more of a romance.
Passionate Encounters
It was Tuesday morning at 6 a.m. I was sitting in a small office, next to reception, waiting for Todd. The office had a desk, two chairs and a shelf filled with fitness books. As the minutes ticked by, my legs started jiggling up and down in nervousness. Where the bloody hell was Todd?
I blame my current situation on the movie, "Bridget Jones's Diary."
On Saturday night, I was alone in my apartment and watching the film, with a bottle of wine and I became all too aware that my life scarily mirrored that of Bridgets. The irony is that my surname is also Jones: Jenna Jones.
Like Bridget, I am a slightly overweight, thirty-something single girl and I have a tendency to fall for the wrong men. My last six-month relationship was with a dickhead who slept with not just one of my friends, but two of them and at the same time. No, they are not my friends anymore and he is now officially known as the ex-dickhead.
When Bridget Jones wrote some New Year's resolutions, determined to change her life around, it inspired me to do the same and the top three on my list were:
1) To lose weight
2) To not have casual sex with dickheads
If I'm honest with myself, number two was work in progress, but number one was a resolution I could do something about immediately and so I joined a gym.
The funny thing about weight gain is that it happens so subtly. My clothes had started to feel tight, uncomfortably tight, to the point where I was keeping the top button of my jeans undone, or unzipping my skirts a few inches lower for comfort. Long sweaters became my staple attire as they helped cover the gaping waistbands.
When I stepped on my bathroom scales and saw I had gained nearly seventeen pounds, I shrieked in horror.
The problem is that I love food too much to diet and yes I know that 80% of weight loss is all about what you eat, but fuck it, I was not going to stop having ice cream.
Unfortunately, I have never been a sporty or athletic girl. I love going for hikes or swimming, but running or high impact sports was just not my thing.
For a start, I have fairly large breasts. I mean they are a D cup, not massive, but big enough to cause discomfort. Running with these girls has never been fun and I have yet to find a decent sports bra that will contain them, without my boobs hitting my chin as I run.
I figured that in the gym, I could cycle, go on the stepping machine or do weights. My local gym also has a large indoor pool, which is a bonus.
********
A knock on the office door snapped me out of my thoughts and a young, twenty-something guy with fair hair, entered the room. He introduced himself as Todd, one of the personal trainers who was going to take me through my gym induction.
After reviewing my health form and making sure there were no concerns, Todd asked me to step on the weighing scales. I tried not to peek at the large number that appeared brightly in front of my toes, but Todd looked at it with indifference and jotted this down on the form.
He measured my height (5'6"), BMI (apparently obese, although I was an average size 14, by UK standards, then my blood pressure (thankfully normal).
We were in the office for about thirty minutes in total and then Todd showed me around the gym and helped me a devise a routine for weight loss and toning.
At the same time, he explained how to use all the gleaming equipment and I got to test it all out, under his guidance. It felt like a mini workout and I even sweated a little from exertion.
I felt confident that I could master it on my own and Todd said I could ask him or another personal trainer for help, at any time.
He also pointed at the dance studio with glass windows facing out towards the gym and said my membership included all the classes for free. They had things like Circuit training, Step, Zumba and Dance Fit, but I am so uncoordinated that there was no way I was going to attend any classes.
As we came to the end of the induction, I noticed that the gym was quite busy with people already dripping with sweat, red faced with exertion. They showed no signs of finishing their workouts.
I was always amazed at how many people were awake before sunrise and seemed to enjoy it. I was definitely a nocturnal creature, but I knew that if I left my exercise until after work, I wouldn't make it at all.
Once my induction was over, I changed back to my work clothes and went to work.
*********
The next day, I was back at 6 a.m.
As I passed the dance studio, I looked inside and saw at least twenty energetic ladies moving in unison and following the gyrations of the male instructor at the front of the class. Zumba had just started and I could faintly hear the beat of latin music.
Why were these ladies always dressed top to toe in Lululemon? They all seemed to be in coordinated outfits, with their tight little lycra leggings, even tighter crop tops and their hair slicked back in jaunty ponytails.
I peered down at my own outfit. I was wearing my oldest, navy tracksuit pants, the ones that were baggy and over stretched. I had also thrown on a black t-shirt, one that I secretly wore to bed.
I hadn't made much effort because I wasn't there to attract anyone's attention. I hoped that I could slink in, do my routine and leave again.
I walked over to the exercise bikes for a warm up. There were eight of them, all lined up and facing the running machines. I perched my generous butt delicately on one of the bikes and set it to manual so that I could control the speed and time. Thirty minutes would be enough to get my heart rate going and build up a bit of sweat.
I started gently peddling and watched the overhead television screen. Some ubiquitous morning chat show was on. Damn, I'd forgotten my headphones and I had no idea what they were talking about. It was a shame, as listening to them might have helped pass the time.
Feeling a little bored already, my eyes started to dart around the gym, eyeing up the other people training.
Over in the corner by the weights, was a man and woman, dressed in matching red t-shirts and black shorts. The man was faced down on an exercise mat, doing push ups and the women was standing next to him, holding two dumbbells and doing bicep curls. Every now and again, the woman paused in mid curl and said something to the man, who didn't stop doing his push ups.
To my left, I saw a slim man in his fifties with a personal trainer. The trainer had the man skipping with a jump rope and the sight was awkward. The poor man was so uncoordinated that he was hopping side to side, while trying simultaneously to swing the rope, but it kept hitting his body, instead of passing underneath his feet.
I began to wonder what people thought of me; a slightly plump, mousy girl, perched uncomfortably on a bike saddle and already out of breath after just fifteen minutes. The image was sobering and the smile left my lips.
I continued to look around the room and on one of the running machines, I spotted a pair of strong, tanned legs striding at a very fast pace. Well hello, this was a much more pleasant view.
A tight butt was encased in a pair of loose black shorts. A fitted white t-shirt hugged broad shoulders and a toned back. My eyes carried on moving up his body to the top of his head. He had tousled, dirty blond hair that was now slightly damp from sweat.
Interesting, very interesting. I looked at the mirror and saw his reflection and stopped peddling. Good God, he was hot, with a capital H.
He had deep-set eyes (color indeterminable from this distance), a strong jaw, straight nose and very kissable lips that were slightly parted as he ran. He had on headphones and the look on his face was pure concentration, which I found extremely sexy.
My gaze moved from his ass to the rippling muscles on his legs and back to his face and I was completely mesmerized. My legs were now peddling on automatic pilot as lustful urges overcame my body.
God, how I would love to lick the sweat off his face and rip off his t-shirt, I thought to myself. I wanted to cup my hands around his firm ass and squeeze them. I had no idea where these sinful thoughts had come from.
My current dilemma was my dowdy gym gear and my hair. It was a dull brown colour as I had not had it highlighted in weeks. I had also pulled it up in a messy bun. There was no way on earth he would give me a second glance.
I couldn't stop staring at him though and the nerve endings on my clit started firing up and every movement on the bike, stimulated me deliciously.
It was the best workout of my life.
The thirty-minute timer on the bike suddenly buzzed and gave me a rude awakening.
The man was still on the running machine. He hadn't let up his pace and did not seem remotely out of breath.
With his stamina, I bet he could have sex all night. I started to fan myself a little with my hand, as the dirty image that projected in my mind, made my face flush.
