This is the fifth story.
This is the story of Hayley.
Hayley was a yoga instructor. I'd taken up classes in my late twenties to hone my physical fitness and, let's be honest, meet beautiful women. I didn't even have to meet them, just exercising around them was enough, watching the magic of leggings and yoga pants at work, leaving little to my imagination. If I got laid out of it, well that was just the cherry on the cake.
I signed up for beginner yoga at a small studio in West Hollywood, and ended up in Hayley's class. I was early my first day, the first one in the studio. Part of me wanted to set up my mat in a back corner, hoping my inevitable failures would be less conspicuous, but I laid it out right in the center. Confidence, Cohen.
I was doing some preliminary stretching, looking between the mirrored walls, gazing out the skylight, when the door opened and Hayley entered. I clocked a tan body and blonde hair before she looked at me and smiled...
Well holy shit, I'd hit the yoga teacher jackpot.
Her body was long and lithe, toned without looking muscular, curvy in all the right places: b-cup breasts that sat high on her chest, noticeable hips and a small perky butt. Her hair was beach blonde, her eyes bright and emerald green, her face small and round. Her smile was wide and disarming; it crinkled her eyes and nose and made her look like she was laughing. I'd find out later she was 29, but the joyousness of that expression, the tightness of her body, the lift of her tits and ass, made her look almost a decade younger.
"Hey!" she said, coming over to me. She had a bouncing, long-strided walk that reminded me of a baby deer.
I stood up and shook her hand. Her eyes were just below mine.
"Jack," I said.
"Hayley. First time?"
"Yeah."
"Well try to keep up, and I'll try not to put you on your ass."
"I'm not opposed," I said.
She looked at me with mild surprise. I hadn't meant to push it that fast, it just came out. But I smiled and to my immense relief she laughed, throwing her head back, her hair cascading behind her head.
"You're gonna be trouble," she said.
"I'll try not to be," I said.
"Don't try too hard," she said, and winked. "Welcome."
She went to set up and I resumed stretching. Other women started to filter in, and I found I couldn't care less how attractive they were. I only had eyes for Hayley.
My first class went generally terribly, my body not ready to stretch in the ways it was being asked to, but there was a silver lining: Hayley was very hands-on, and was often there to move me into the right shape. Her hands ended up touching most parts of my body - my biceps, my abs, my thighs - as she corrected my form. Her hands were strong, her touch firm. She adjusted me confidently, and it turned me on immensely.
I didn't push our relationship that day. When it was time to go, I thanked her for her instruction and left. I was going to win her with dedication.
So I kept coming back. Always the first one in, always the first one to greet her, impressing her with my commitment and quick improvement. We started chatting before each class, always a slyly flirtatious conversation, and got to know each other. She learned about my goals in film, I learned that she'd come to Los Angeles to be a model, but gave that up after six months; yoga had been her life's passion ever since. She was generally a very cheery person, but I found myself especially good at making her laugh, and we soon became good friends.
A month in, we talked relationships. Hayley was committed to being her own woman, staying free and unattached for the time being. I echoed her sentiments, saying that if someone special came along, great, but in the meantime I was just looking to have fun. I didn't know when I'd make my move, but figured it best to seed in that I was always down for a casual fuck, and hope that seed germinated in her brain.
Another month later, I decided it was time to check if the seed had become a flower. We were chatting before class and I dropped that I'd love to grab coffee sometime. She nodded immediately and agreed exuberantly. We exchanged numbers, and before next week's class, I texted her.
Hey! Jack here. How about coffee tomorrow after class? On me.
I watched her immediately start typing back.
Ya! Not on you. Don't be ridick. I make good stuff at home. That sound ok?
Inviting me into her home...that sounded more than okay.
Of course. Can't wait to try it.
The next day, when she walked into the studio, we grinned at each other, but didn't chat. It made me feel like our coffee date was more "date" than "coffee." Then I watched her stretch, her tan body lit by the golden sun coming through the skylight. She put her hair in a ponytail, spread her long legs on her mat, and bent down over her left leg. I looked at her ass, then down her thigh, to where her forehead touched her knee, and felt like her eyes glanced toward me briefly. My cock stirred against my spandex.
After class, I packed up my stuff, made eye contact with her and winked, and went to wait outside the building. It was a cool spring day and I leaned on my yoga mat, enjoying the breeze. After a couple minutes she came out alone, her smile bright.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Ready," I said.
I followed her car into the hills between East Hollywood and Silver Lake, to a small two-story building surrounded by trees. She had the ground floor unit, a crooked space with low ceilings and bumpy wood floors, maybe built during Kennedy, more likely during Eisenhower. The windows looked out on the surrounding greenery, and she'd filled the inside with trailing plants. Natural light was wanting, but the dimness felt cozy, not suffocating.
"What a space," I said, walking from the kitchen to the living room, ducking my head in the doorway.
"The landlords live above me," Hayley said, hanging her keys on a hook. "They haven't raised my rent in years."
I looked at her old tattered couch, her glass coffee table topped with fashion monographs. She stowed her yoga mat in a closet, then turned to look at me. For a moment we just looked at each other, no one talking, aware we were still in sweaty, tight, workout clothes.
"Right!" she said. "Coffee!"
