This is a story attended for adults, not for those that adults feed, watch, and change. If you are over 18, and still your mom makes your bed, you can read this, but you are immature. ANYONE UNDER 18, DO NOT READ THIS. Go outside and play.
Copyright © 2004 by Maldoror11@aol.com . Blanket permission is granted to reproduce this work in any medium for any nonprofit purpose. For other purpose, email me. In fact, Email me and say Hi either way!
Maldoror11
----------
Due to an overzealous boss and an overeager work ethic, I worked 60 hours a week during the Summer to finish a long and tedious project that will result in accolades for my boss - for making sure it got done - and a hefty bonus for me-for getting it done.
As such, I was beginning to see a bulge pushing my collared shirts out further than they were accustomed to in the wrap-around mirror that encircled the elevator’s walls. The bulge seemed to grow daily. Long hours behind a computer screen, Burritos and pizza for lunch, and a not so sensible dinner would eventually bring the fittest of people down. After a month and a half of this situation, I decided to join a gym. So I spent the better part of a Saturday looking at different gyms in my area.
I needed to find a gym open 24 hours, since often I didn’t get home until after 10 or 11pm, and sometimes even later. Many gyms had the necessary amenities (pool, sauna, racquetball courts) but would close too early.
Finally I found a gym only 9 miles from work that fit my needs perfectly, the Olympian Spa, open 24 hours. My tour-guide Jake, a man who had no visible neck, showed me a large cardio room, several racquetball courts and a well stocked weight room. I paid the full year’s membership right there in cash. Jake was happy he didn’t have to strong-arm me into buying a membership, thereby ruining the shirt that hung on his back by sheer force of will.
I noticed after a week of using the gym’s facilities that my energy levels went up and my productivity climbed as well. This pleased my boss and the mirror critic. However, it was getting tough going to the gym three days a week and keep up with the last three weeks of work, but the man in the mirror was relentless in his quiet gaze, even if it was 1am when I ran into him again. The last time is where the man in the mirror was a real bastard, or a saint, depending on your point of view.
Besides the guy at the front desk, whose thick, bald head was buried in the newest muscle magazine, the gym was deserted. I went into the weight room. It was strange to see no one there. No longer competing with grunts of encouragement and the clang of metal hitting metal, the music was almost quiet. I smiled. No waiting for benches; no working my sets in with someone else. I should come here at this time more often I said to myself, setting a bench into a decline position. I punched a set out and then went over to one of the mirrors and grunted through a set of standing curls. The limited time for the gym forced me to exercise no more than 60 minutes, which meant fast sets with little rest, and a quick 10-15 minute session in the cardio room. I didn’t have time to take my time.
I was so busy that I didn’t notice I was not alone anymore. A woman was doing triceps curls with a machine. Her blond hair was pulled back in a pony tail. At first that was all I saw, because I was lost in my need to finish up and get home to some needed sleep. But then I noticed that after I had finished an additional set of decline flies and standing bicep curls, she was still doing her curls. In fact, after ten minutes she was finishing up her first set. She slowly brought the bar down behind her head, paused, then brought the weight back up, locking her arms. It took 30 seconds for her to do one rep. When her hands were all the way behind her back I noticed how her breasts filled her t-shirt, and how her eyes never moved. She stared straight ahead like her eyes were stone. Since I wasn’t in her line of sight, I watched her slowly go through the motion. I could look away before she would even notice. It’s like she isn’t even looking at anything anyway. She’s pulling that weight so slowly, and her arms aren’t trembling. She must be doing this workout for a while.
When she brought her hands to the top again, and held it even longer than the rest, I noticed her eyes were now on me. Quickly I looked down toward the weights in my own hands and turned back toward the mirror.
She got up and moved to a seated machine for shoulders and continued at the same pace. She faced the northern wall directly now, so she stared at herself in a mirror. I brushed aside my interest and tried to finish.
All I needed to do was one more set of bicep curls. I began to set up the bicep bench. One quick glance told me she was still doing her shoulders, and then I went to work. I closed my eyes and forced the first 10 reps out. I was running out of energy, and closing my eyes helped me eek out more reps. I couldn’t help but make the contrast that my eyes needed to be closed to focus myself while she barely blinked at all.
That’s when I smelled Lavender. She was no longer sitting down working her shoulders; she stood right in front of me. Blue eyes. Wow. The movie Dune popped in my head. Were they real? The weights clanged.
She spoke before I could catch my breath.
“I see you straining a lot during your last set. You’re pulling too much weight.”
“No pain, no gain,” was the only thing I could think of. I was beginning to see sand and giant worms and spaceships. Her eyes were exactly like those of the people in that movie. Deep blue eyes that seemed to produce their own light.
She introduced herself. “I’m Serene.”
“My name,” I replied, “is Chris.” Serene’s hand was
soft, but her grip was firm, self – assured, confident. “How do you know I’m pulling too much weight?” I asked, a little put off by her overconfident tone.
“Because I know what I’m talking about.”
“Really?” I said in half mock condesention.
She stepped back.
“I have been working out for a year now, and as I caught you peeking at me earlier, I think you would agree my body is very... (She motioned her hand down her body, inviting my eyes to follow) very attractive. Don’t you think?”
I tried to appear nonchalant. “You’re very toned, yes. But I was more interested in why you were going so slowly.”
Her eyebrow raised. “I can tell you, but it would be better to show you.” Serene said. I started to turn her down.
“Well, I was just finishing up, and…” she cut me off. “Of course, if you are done with your workout, or think going slow is, too feminine, I will understand.”
Damn. I didn’t know what her game was, but she had drawn the line in the sand, and I didn’t want to look like a wuss. I took the offer.
“Ok, I’m up for it. Show me.”
She leaned over and moved the weight-pin up three slots, cutting the total weight in half. I was puzzled. How could that little weight do anything? However, my line of thought was cut off by her cleavage, only an arms-reach away. They looked very inviting. She straightened up, and my eyes jerked away..
“By the look on your face, you must be wondering why I put so little weight.” She said. “To go slow, you will have to cut the weight by half. Otherwise it will be too heavy to do it my way.” She emphasized the last two words. I acquiesced, and put my hands back on the bar.
“When I say go, start lifting the weight. But I don’t want your normal speed; I want you to go super slow. 10 seconds in the positive range, with a 2 second hold at the top, then 10 seconds in the negative range. It should take you 22 seconds to do one rep.”
I was unsure what this would do, but I was willing to give it a go, especially when a woman with breasts like hers was the one doing the training.
“Sounds good. Let’s give it a go.”
“Enthusiasm. I like that in a man.” I tried to hide it, but my cheeks grew warm.
She noticed but quickly started in with the training.
“Ok, ready? Go.”
In order to concentrate better, and to block out unnecessary distractions, Serene had me look at her, specifically those eyes.
She counted up, her voice quieter as each second passed. I had to listen more intently to follow her. She got to 10, and I held it for two seconds, feeling my muscles constrict, and then she counted down. Like before, her voice was strong at first, but lowered as each second past. By the time she came to 1, her voice was barely a whisper.
“How was it?” She asked. It took a second to pull away from her.
“It was good.” I was off with my timing in both the positive and negative range of motion, but I thought it was a good first try.
“Common, give me more than that.” She said. “You had to focus on your muscles and my voice. It's different than you normally do, right?”
My muscles did feel tighter than they normally do, so I had to admit she was right. Yet it felt strange going so slow. And why did she get so quiet?
