6. A Very Flexible Yoga Teacher
Kimberley awoke slowly and reluctantly, the world gradually encroaching on her inner consciousness. Outside, the hum of the traffic and distant rumble of trains bringing early morning commuters into the city was growing steadily louder, the light invading the sanctuary of her bedroom despite the thick curtains. She groaned and rolled over in bed, tugging the duvet up to her chin, unwilling to surrender to consciousness just yet. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recall the dream she'd been having.
It had been quite vivid; she'd been in a temple somewhere hot and exotic like Thailand or Bali. A number of young monks with shaved heads and bright saffron robes had been teaching her advanced yoga poses, their hands patiently guiding and prodding her body into ever more intricate shapes. Strangely, some of them were female, although with their shaved heads, large dark eyes and baggy robes it was hard to tell the difference between male and female.
The last thing she remembered was finding herself in the "plow pose", a position where you start lying on your back on the floor and roll your legs up over your head so that your toes touch the floor behind your head. She could feel her weight on her shoulders, her bottom in the air, her legs stretching back over her body, her arms flat on the straw matting covering the floor. Held in this pose by strong male hands, she imagined the feel of female fingers sliding smoothly over the back of her thighs through her yoga pants, as they spoke in a language she didn't understand.
The dream had left her feeling distinctly horny and instinctively she stretched out a hand, expecting to find the warm body of her boyfriend Kevin, but only finding a broad expanse of empty bed, the sheets and duvet cool against her outstretched fingers. That's when she remembered the argument from last week; the bitter words, the hot tears, the shocking finale of the door slamming shut.
To be honest he hadn't been that great in bed anyway, she thought bitterly and she couldn't remember the last time she'd experienced a satisfying climax to their lovemaking. Although he'd had many good qualities, he had been very conventional in bed, insisting on making love in the missionary position and reluctant to 'go down south', as he put it. Still, he was a good-looking man and she wouldn't have minded being able to wrap her arms around the solid heft of his body now, and feel his lean, hardness pressing against her soft curves.
It had been a warm night, and she was only wearing a baggy old t-shirt and a pair of pink knickers. Well, without him here, she'd have to take care of it herself. She lazily ran a hand over her body, stroking her legs, her stomach, gently cupping one of her small boobs through the faded green cotton, leisurely caressing herself, feeling her body responding, her skin tingling. She closed her eyes and was soon back in her dream, feeling their hands gently but firmly coaxing her body into a tighter form, making her stretch further, spread her legs wider.
She could hear them talking excitedly in their strange language, gruff male voices tense with anticipation, as she felt them tightly grasping her wrists, their hands pressing her feet down against the rough straw matting. The higher-pitched female voices giggling as their hands slid over her helpless body exploring the unfamiliar curves of her western body and pale skin, stroking her stomach, cupping her small boobs. She pictured herself squirming helplessly as mischievous fingers began to tug at her yoga pants over her hips, ignoring her protests as they explored the exposed flesh beneath.
She was just starting to feel a lovely warm glow between her legs, her breathing quickening, her body wriggling excitedly, when the alarm on her mobile went off. She groaned in frustration as she slid a slender arm from under the duvet in the semi-darkness, fumbling around on her bedside table.
"Damn!" she exclaimed as she clumsily knocked it onto the floor, where it continued to bleep loudly, like a noisy child demanding her attention.
Kimberley leaned over the edge of the bed, eventually locating it and angrily stabbing at the screen to switch it off. She briefly considered burying herself beneath the warm folds of her duvet, but the moment had passed and she knew she had a busy day ahead, working a full day at the office before teaching an evening yoga class. She groaned and rolled out of bed.
--
She had been obsessed with yoga and meditation since she was a student. Something about the minimalism and the repetition seemed to resonate with her. Perhaps she appreciated the simplicity because of her complicated upbringing, moving between several foster families or the confusion over her sexuality in her teenage years. Whatever the reason, something about it worked for her, and teaching three evening sessions, a week was enough to keep her fit in both mind and body. When she'd moved to the big city she'd taken the plunge and had taken a course on teaching yoga, and shortly after had started teaching these small, all-female classes at the local gym.
The space they used doubled as a dance studio, with blonde wood flooring, plain white walls on three sides with large mirrors lining the fourth wall. She watched herself in the large, bright mirrors as she warmed up. She was a slight young woman, with slim hips and sleek A-cup breasts. Her tousled, russet brown hair framed a heart-shaped face with large, blue-grey eyes and small yet plump lips. People often described her as 'boyish' or 'cute'.
She was quite proud of her figure, she hadn't always been this slim; she'd struggled with her weight in her teenage years and she credited yoga with helping her keep so trim.
Standing up, she smiled and said
Namaste
as her students filed past in two's and three's, chatting as they unrolled their mats and did some preliminary stretching, some of them rolling their necks or stretching out their hamstrings. It was quite a small intermediate class, maybe a dozen women with ages ranging from around twenty to fifty.
Once everyone had settled, Kimberley lead them through some warm-up stretches, then moved onto some basic positions: the cow pose, Bikram triangle, child pose, easy boat pose. The plow pose brought back memories of her dream, and she hoped nobody noticed her flushed face as she quickly demonstrated it.
As they moved onto more demanding poses, she demonstrated each position carefully herself before moving around her class, offering words of encouragement and advice, helping them replicate her body shape. This was quite an experienced group so she was able to quickly move through them.
Once she was happy with their demonstration of the left triangle pose, she moved onto a new position for the class.
"If you can all watch me for a moment, I'm going to show you the 'Fish Pose with Straight Legs'", she said, sitting on her thin purple mat. "Now you start by sitting upright with your legs straight out in front of you, like this. Remember to always point your toes."
She looked around the room to make sure everyone was paying attention.
"Now you slowly lean backwards, feeling the strain on your abdominal muscles as you place your hands then your forearms flat on the floor behind you," she continued, as she demonstrated. "Then arch your back, feeling your weight on your arms as you let your head roll back till you're looking at the ceiling. Then, if it's comfortable, slowly let it roll back further, till your chin's pointing straight upwards."
"Alright?" she said, as she smoothly got to her feet and flashed her students an encouraging smile. "Now you try."
"That's good, Annie," she said, approaching a slight red-headed young woman. "Make sure you keep your feet pointed."
"That's very good, Veronica, remember to keep your legs straight," she said.
"That's excellent, Stacy, " she said.
Stacy was her star pupil, someone who always turned up on time and listened attentively. As always, she looked immaculate, her blonde hair scraped back into a neat ponytail, her tight white yoga pants clinging to her long, shapely legs and her powder blue Lycra top stretched over her lithe torso.
"Head just a little further back, and arch your back a little more," she said, crouching next to her, watching Stacy follow her instructions, her chin pointing upwards now, revealing her long, slender neck, her ponytail dangling between her shoulders. As Stacy arched her back more, Kimberley noted the way her full boobs bulged against her tight top, and felt a tiny pang of envy. She couldn't help noticing that her top had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of bare stomach and she had to resist a sudden, irrational impulse to run her finger along the taut, toned skin.
There was something inherently graceful and elegant about Stacy. She was sure someone had said that she was a lesbian, which wasn't uncommon in this part of the city. Heidi and Annie were obviously lesbians too, and sometimes turned up to the class holding hands.
Although she wasn't a lesbian herself, Kimberley sometimes found herself wondering what it would be like. Of course, that didn't mean she was attracted to women herself, she was just curious, just wondered what it would be like. She told herself that it was only natural to think about other women when she was surrounded by so much firm, springy flesh barely concealed under pastel-coloured Lycra.
The rest of the class passed quickly. Kimberley's mind kept wandering as she took the class through a number of basic positions, her body automatically adopting the familiar shapes. This was her last class of the week, and as she demonstrated the final pose, she suddenly felt a little dejected at the thought of returning home to her empty flat.
