Amy stood in front of the mirror wrapped in her old flannel robe and stared at herself. "This is it, girl. If there's going to be a New Amy you have to start right now." It had been a month since her divorce had been finalized and she had kept pretty close to the house, rarely going out except to go to work.
Her marriage had never been a happy one. Not that Paul was mean or abusive, it's just that Amy discovered that she didn't love him. When she asked herself why she'd married, the only thing she could come up with was the fact that she had been twenty-five years old and everyone told her she needed a husband. They were wrong. She never felt comfortable being intimate with Paul, even though he was her husband. She'd tried, but marital sex just made her more unhappy.
And of course she'd let herself go. As the years passed, the pounds came on. Not really fat - flabby would be more accurate. Then, at age thirty-five, Paul left her. To add insult to injury, it wasn't for an attractive young thing. Paul left her for a woman six years older.
As she looked at herself Amy realized that the shapeless robe was a shield she hid behind. Nothing could be more unflattering. Finally she got up the nerve and, with a shudder, she pulled the robe open and let it drop to the floor, exposing herself to the mirror. "Definitely flabby," she thought, staring at the image of a woman overweight and sagging everywhere. "You are going to change - starting today," she told the woman in the mirror. "And you're gonna get rid of this ugly robe." Well, sorta get rid of it. She actually stuffed it in the back of the linen closet and tried to forget it was there.
The next day she did two things: joined a health club and bought new, sexy underwear, which she had no intention of wearing until she felt she had earned them. She had a goal, and that was to be sexy and desirable.
Shortly after Amy started going to the club to work out Laurel joined. Laurel was, like Amy, thirty-five and overweight. Unlike Amy, she'd never been married. "Never got around to it," was her excuse. "Too busy with work and stuff. Actually I never even dated much. Just not interested." Amy wished she'd done the same and avoided the tragedy that had been her marriage.
Over the next six months the two women became workout buddies. Together they lifted hundreds of pounds of weights, climbed a thousand mechanical stairs, and tried out every machine the club had to offer. After each workout they would shower, then both would cover as much as possible with towels before going to their lockers to get dressed. Neither Amy nor Laurel felt confident enough with her body to expose it to the other women, most of whom were just as out of shape as they.
Often after their workouts Amy and Laurel would go to the club lounge where, while drinking oddly colored vegetable drinks, they would discuss their goals and progress and their lives. Soon the two of them became close friends, close enough Amy was able to confide about her failed marriage and her feelings of inadequacy. That's also where Laurel told Amy about her own lack of a love-life. They both vowed to support the other when the loneliness became hard to take and their goals seemed so far away.
Then there was Celeste. Celeste was a little younger than Amy, but without an ounce of flab on her. Long red hair, high firm breasts, slender waist and hips that every woman coveted. Celeste wasn't the least bit shy about showing off, usually leaving the shower to dry off in the open, then discarding her towel before casually walking to her locker, seemingly unconscious of her nudity. Both Amy and Laurel did everything they could to keep from staring at Celeste's beautiful body.
Laurel and Amy talked about how beautiful and sexy Celeste was, each saying how she wished she was anywhere near as attractive as the redhead. "Hell, I'd walk naked through the whole gym if I looked that good," Laurel contended. Amy wasn't sure she'd go that far, but she'd certainly start wearing those undies she had hidden away.
It took a while for Amy to admit to herself (only herself) that she didn't just covet Celeste's beautiful body - she was coming to desire it. She wanted to run her hands down that perfect skin, over the soft, feminine curves of her breasts and hips. She thought about teasing her pointy nipples with the tips of her fingers, and, when alone at night, she let herself imagine what it would be like to kiss and suck on those breasts.
Since she was a teen-ager Amy had had a lover. Nameless. Faceless. Genderless. When Amy touched herself, pleasured herself, it was her lover who was touching her. When she let her fingers find the special places that led to sexual release, in the fantasy of her mind it was the lover who had brought her to climax.
Even in the early years of her marriage, when she still thought she loved Paul, his face never showed up on the phantom lover. And Paul never caused her to orgasm either, unless she closed her eyes and let her lover help him. Yet despite the fact she barely knew Celeste - they'd hardly even spoken - it was Celeste's face that began to appear on her longtime anonymous lover. Finally Amy had to admit it, she was not only envious of the redhead, she actually was aching to give herself to the beautiful woman.
Although they never talked openly about it, Amy was pretty sure Laurel felt the same. She could see that her friend had trouble taking her eyes off Celeste, especially when she was wandering around the locker room so casual in her nudity. Amy wondered, but never asked, if Laurel too got a little wet as they watched the naked Celeste brush her hair or apply make-up. Did that perfect body cry out to Laurel as it did to Amy, asking her to touch it, to kiss it, to make love to it?
Exactly nine months after standing in front of the mirror and ditching the flannel robe, Amy stood there naked again. "Not bad," she told herself. "Not in Celestes's league, but not bad at all." Her breasts were finally pointing up rather than down, a tribute to the underlying muscles which Amy and worked to tighten. Her waist was once more in reasonable proportion to her curves. And her ass was rounder and tighter, looking even more so by the thin musculature of her legs and thighs. As a reward for her achievements, Amy stuck some of the sexiest undies in her gym bag. She wasn't ready to wear them, not yet, but she felt close enough to at least have them at hand.
It was the following week that Amy began her aerobics class. She really didn't like aerobics, but had joined the class because Celeste was taking it. She managed to find a place behind and to one side of the beautiful redhead and, while she didn't care for the exercises, the view was wonderful. Especially when Celeste would turn around and Amy could detect the dampness at the other woman's crotch. In her head she knew this was simply sweat caused by the exertion, but in her imagination the dampness had a sexual source. That night her faithful lover morphed completely into the woman she desired so much and Amy climaxed crying out the name of Celeste.
Laurel's work schedule didn't allow her to take the class, and she usually arrived at the gym some time after it was over. She did tell Amy that she missed working out with her. She also admitted she missed seeing Celeste in the locker room. "That girl is a real knock-out. If it wasn't so kinky, I could get the hots for her. Amy suspected that Laurel already had the hots for Celeste - just has she had. Amy had stopped thinking of it as kinky a long time before.
Meeting in class three times a week, Amy and Celeste became better acquainted. Although she was over-endowed in looks, Amy found that the woman wasn't particularly bright. She mainly seemed to think about her looks and whether others appreciated them. Nevertheless the two women became friendly. When Amy finally got up her nerve and ditched the towel after showering, parading her own nudity between the lockers, Celeste complimented her on how much progress she'd made. Amy glowed all over, knowing the woman she was so infatuated with was admiring her own body. That night Amy brought herself to a series of the most explosive orgasms she'd ever experienced while imagining Celeste making love to her.
It was the following Friday evening after class when Celeste and Amy were doing their hair in front of the locker room mirror that Celeste said, "Say, why don't the two of us go down to the lounge for a drink. Maybe we could go out later and have some fun."
Amy thought she'd died and gone to heaven. With her heart in her mouth she managed so say, "Sounds great to me. Let's get dressed." Reaching into her gym bag Amy finally let herself pull out the sexy lingerie she'd been promising herself. "Finally," she thought. "I'm finally ready."
As she pulled on the tiny thong panty Celeste glanced over and whistled. "Wow, great knickers. Someone may get lucky tonight."
"Shit, I hope so," Amy thought, smiling at the compliment. "And I hope it's me." Amy felt like a high-school girl who had jut been asked by the captain of the football team if she would carry his books home.
Sitting across the table from Celeste in the lounge Amy sipped at her drink which looked like a raspberry shake but tasted suspiciously of beets and carrots. The redhead took a sip of hers and made a small face. "I know this stuff is good for you, especially after a workout, but it sure leaves a lot to be desired in the taste department. Let's finish these and go somewhere we can have a real drink."
"Sounds good to me. Where were you thinking?" Amy herself was thinking of a bar called 'Jeune Filles,' where women were said to feel free expressing their feelings for other women. Instead Celeste said 'Bobbysox,' a well known 'meat market.'
