"Private Di Bristol reporting for Boot Camp, Sarge. All shipshape and Bristol fashion", said a bright and bubbly Bridget as Stefan opened his front door.
"What are you like? You're kinda mixing your metaphors, I think but I'll let it go. And what's this with "Di"?"
"It was my radio name, my brand. Just using my middle name, instead of my first and my maiden rather than married surname. The bosses didn't think that Bridget Offerton would have the same draw as "Di Bristol" even though it was the same little old me."
"Interesting, good to see you keen for your workout, though."
Stefan eyed the vision before him up and down. Hair tied back in a scrunchy, beautiful beaming face looking up at him and that curvy body hidden away in a leisure suit with the open zippered top and slightly low cut t-shirt offering just a hint of what he knew lay beneath.
"Yes, thanks for walking me home last night. I was quite squiffy after those mojitos. Sorry I couldn't persuade you to stay over.."
"Well, we're in a formal relationship to better the physical and mental wellbeing of one another during this health crisis. It was my duty as your bubble partner. Besides, we'll spend the night together tonight, for sure, your place or mine?"
"Ooh, come to mine for tea and you can have me for breakfast.. I mean, breakfast with me!"
"Both, I hope, anyway follow me", said Stefan in fake stern manner.
Stefan led Bridget past the stairs on which he had impatiently fucked her doggystyle within minutes of her crossing his threshold and down the stairs that led to his business premises. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, glimpsing left, they both must have been conscious of the fact that they had shared a shower cubicle there for a second saucy session. But it was Stefan who had to get a hold of himself. He had said it himself "exercise not sexercise". Yes, it ticked the physical and mental wellbeing boxes but his older lover had a genuine desire to get a bit fitter and he was the professional that could assist her toward that goal. "Down, boy!" he thought.
Stefan led Bridget past the sauna area and dip pools through to the back of the basement where the gym could be used either air-conditioned with the doors closed or as was more appropriate on this warm spring day with the doors open and the sunken courtyard available for outdoor exercising.
"Now, I told you, I'm no PT but I've devised a program for you which will gently introduce you back into a regular exercise regime." said Stefan.
"You know I'm no PT either. Have I ever left you unsatisfied? With a full ball sack?"
"Oh, give us a chance. It's hard enough restraining myself as it is without you and your innuendo. Now take this sheet, follow the instructions moving around the gym to each exercise station in numerical order and if you need any assistance or have any questions, I'll be right beside you."
Bridget sulkily complied. A slow walk on the treadmill with shake-outs and stretches, various floor exercises, some of which needed Stefan's guidance, Bridget fighting the urge not to be naughty as he leant over her showing her which limb was supposed to be in which position. The gym session lasted just 50 minutes but Stefan thought it had been a good start.
"Do you think you could follow that program independently next time?". She nodded. "You've done really well. Massage before shower!"
"M-m massage?" asked Bridget suddenly nervous at the thought of a professional physiotherapist on a busman's holiday on her body.
"Yes, I'd like to and it will do you good. I'm told my hands work wonders but I don't have a good benchside manner."
Through an inconspicuous door between the isolation tank rooms and the steam room, Bridget was led into the massage chamber.
"Go and get undressed and then lay on that bench, face down with your head through the hole."
Behind the screen, Bridget unzipped her leisure suit top, removed it and let it fall to the floor. She unlaced her trainers, removed the ankle socks and pulled her tracksuit bottoms down. Now in only her bra and knickers she felt strangely vulnerable. She had got to know this man physically in every way conceivable. They had both declared love for each other but this had all been in the last 4 days. Did she really know him?
"You, OK there luv?" came the gruff voice of her much younger lover.
"Am I just having jitters because I'm in his cellar almost naked? It didn't bother me yesterday as I pumped his cock with my tits and watched his semen spurt over my neck and cleavage."
Bridget shuddered, centred herself and remembering the magical passion of the last 4 days - the passion that she had sought to spark with her bodacious "bubbling up" plan - shouted "just struggling with this damn bra! I'll be right there."
She released the magnificent knockers from their splendidly engineered housings and pulled the knickers down her legs. No wet patch in the crotch, no flush in her cheeks, no dry mouth. "Perhaps I'm just not feeling it today! Oh well, a skilled masseur wants to rub me down, I could just try relaxing into it, I suppose."
As Bridget rounded the screen, holding her towel in front of her midriff, she saw Stefan now in white scrubs with his back to her as he prepared some oils on the worktop in front of the mirror.
"Hop on the bench and just try to relax. I can tell that you're nervous for some reason. And lose the towel, please. No need for modesty around me."
The lady obeyed her master and lay face down on the massage bench.