A slow, deep burn began to incinerate Sydney's legs, the flaming heat traveling through her ass and up to the small of her back. The bar clashed back onto the rack as she finished her last rep, dark pools of sweat worn like badges of honor under her arms and the middle of her chest as the only visual indication of her hard work for the past two hours. Sydney had always been athletic, always playing one sport or another during her formative years. But she hadn't been lean like her most of her teammates, her solid body lending itself to an almost indomitable force to the strength of her movements. After graduating college, she had connected with a friend who loved powerlifting, and since she started 2 years ago she hadn't looked back.
The sturdy, yet streamlined body that was reflected in the mirror had sculpted shoulders, defined biceps and an enviable set of abs that curved into a trim waistline. Figuring that all gym rats indulged in causal vanity every so often, Sydney shamelessly turned to the side, admiring the way her defined back gradually met her heart-shaped ass. Every guy who had touched it in the last couple of years couldn't get over how firm it was; they'd never met a woman who could squat, clean and snatch the way she could, and Sydney was happy to reap the physical benefits in addition to the mental. Her legs might not have been the sticks that seemed to dominate fashion and fitness magazines alike, but her every little movement highlighted a different section of hard-earned muscle that swathed her lower half. She was damn proud.
"Hey Syd. Looked good today. Did you go up another 25 pounds on your heavy lift?"
Darren was one of the many almost unrealistically beautiful personal trainers Sydney's gym employed, his college football years giving him a body enviable enough that people would pay to work out with him.
"Nothing gets past you, Darren. But thanks for noticing. It felt good today. New protein shakes must be kicking in," Sydney playfully joked, throwing him a slap on the back as she made her way toward the stretching room. Picking up a teal yoga mat, she began her slow, end-of-workout routine. The stretching was as much physical as it was mental, allowing Sydney a period of transition between gym-time to the real world. The gym was a sacred place for her; ever since she spent more time there, she became the confident, spontaneous person she always knew she was but had never truly been able to express.
As Sydney turned the corner into a usually vacant back room, she was surprised to find the Shadow Man. A frequent gym goer and avid lifter, the Shadow Man was very quiet, never really engaging the regular banter and camaraderie that characterized their gym. He stayed in the poorly lit side of the gym, the preconstruction side that had only been maintained for those early months after New Years when the place was overrun by people determined to keep up with fitness resolutions but eventually lost interest or motivation. Sydney had never been alone in a room with him. Their most substantial interaction had been a half-wave she wasn't even quite sure had been intended for her, or if he was just readjusting his dri-fit shirt.
As a focused and motivated individual, Sydney had little patience for people who showed up at the gym simply to attract potential sex partners. Sure, that might've been a bonus (had Sydney ever managed to hook up with someone from there, which she hadn't), but it couldn't be the reason one showed up. In silent protest against these people, Sydney made sure she didn't let a wandering eye distract her from her primary lifting goals. It was difficult given what incredibly attractive people paid to be a part of her gym; several men and some women had caught her eye, but she was always able to shake it off. Except the Shadow Man. Sydney believed that intensity of his stare could make a terrorist confess to the most twisted and horrific plan, physical threat completely unnecessary. She had met his gaze a few times, noticing the way he watched her across the platforms, his full lips remaining flat and his face seemingly indifferent to her presence. As a woman in the heavy lifting area, she was used to the scrutiny, but Shadow Man's stare was different. It felt more intense. He wasn't just watching her movements; he seemed to be looking for something else. Waiting. Sydney wasn't quite sure what for, but her instincts told her that entering the stretching room at that very moment might shed new insight on the truth behind the Shadow Man.
Startled as she was, Sydney maintained a cool façade. The Shadow Man was undoubtedly used to being swooned over; his thick abdomen was wrapped with well-defined obliques, his chest was broad and taught, and his ass wore his gym shorts like they had been tailor-made. Somehow, his body wasn't even what struck Sydney the most; that would have been the dark beard and wavy black hair that was wrapped up in the sexiest little ponytail. He was grungy in an athletic way, which was simultaneously confusing and amazing. The poker face Sydney wore was being tested for all its worth, given that the Shadow Man was doing a set of shirtless warrior poses as she entered the back room. She felt her knees weaken, but continued to march forward with purpose, determined to make it through her stretching and make it out of there without doing anything embarrassing or regretful.
