Recently, I'd found a gym buddy, Hannah; one of the girls at work. Most days around five, Hannah and I would meet up at our generally deserted company gym, and chat about all things non-work related, while we worked up a sweat.
I really enjoyed our sessions together. In all honesty, they were the only perk the job had to offer.
So as usual, there we were, sat facing each other, stretching as we traded innuendo spiked conversation. As our conversation flowed, I inadvertently spied Hannah, trying to take a peek up the leg of my shorts.
This was something of an event, as Hannah had never displayed any interest in my wares.
As the minutes passed, again and again I'd catch Hannah casually leaning in, or out, in an attempt to gain a better vantage.
Now, I've never considered myself an exhibitionist. In fact, I generally exercise modesty, out of consideration for the comfort of others. So I was more than a little surprised, when I found myself not only aroused by Hannah's curiosity, but consciously adjusting my posture to better her efforts.
Meanwhile, our conversation never broke stride. As our exchange continued, I'd turn away now and again, giving Hannah opportune moments to subtly take advantage of.
As six o'clock arrived, I began considering just how interesting an underwear clad crotch could be.
As we both rose and said our good-byes, I had a devilish idea.
On the way home, I visited the local sports store, and grabbed a pair of running shorts that were a particularly baggy fit, mid length cut. Arriving home, I pulled out a pair of scissors, and neatly cut out the elasticized inner liner, that would normally provide much needed athletic support.
Ready for prime time, I slipped my newly customized gear into my gym bag and smiled.
Next day felt like Christmas eve. As five o'clock drew nearer, I felt butterflies begin to churn my insides. As I closed the door to the change-room, a moment of indecision struck. Taking a deep breath, I marshaled my nervousness and deliberately pulled on my t-shirt, socks, designer shorts and shoes; sans underwear.
Walking through the door, I felt more than a little self-conscious. But my nervousness quickly subsided, as Hannah greeted me with a less than cheerful "hello". Taking my place at her side, it soon became obvious that Hannah was having a bad one.
As I listened to the horrors of her day, I couldn't stop my anticipation from growing. My heart leapt as Hannah's machine bleeped and slowly wound itself down. For no discernible reason, nerves perhaps, I waited a few minutes before deliberately killing my own machine.
It took all my will power, to keep from letting my excitement well up, as I joined Hannah on the floor.
