### 1.
Dominique checked her watch for what felt like the fifteenth time: she'd been waiting outside her office for five minutes, but she didn't want to seem in a rush. She was the store manager, after all, and the woman she was interviewing was a few years older, and--Dominique had glimpsed her when she came in--she was poised and stunning.
Compared to Kalista, Dominique felt like a college student. That she was, also, still a college student didn't detract from her responsibilities as manager of Sweat Shop, though, and this morning she was here to interview a sales associate. That was all. She didn't need to feel intimidated.
But Kalista was intimidating. She was obviously fit, sat up straight in her trim blazer and easily answered all of 'Nique's questions. Her eyes were piercing and haughty, rather than friendly, but she had a wry sense of humour and knew fitness gear down to the ground. She was working on someday becoming a professional trainer, she said, and the education wasn't cheap. Sweat Shop was conveniently located for her, offered the flexible shifts, pay, and benefits she wanted, and--Kalista said, leaning forward conspiratorially--she was excited to have the store discount.
By the end of the interview, Dominique wasn't sure she quite liked Kalista. She seemed a bit... bossy and overbearing. But maybe not everyone had 'Nique's personality. Kalista was certainly competent and seemed like she'd be reliable, and that was hard enough to find in retail. Except for Jenny, the assistant manager who'd been at the store even longer than 'Nique had, Sweat Shop was a bit of a lonely place. Dominique wanted a good associate. She hired Kalista.
After a couple weeks, Kalista had proven herself an adequate employee. Retail was obviously not her passion, Dominique could see, but she was charming around customers and knew the products. She was obviously an athlete, and that counted in a store where people made a lot of aspirational purchases; "If I buy these shorts, maybe I can be like her," was, after all, the way Sweat Shop's brands marketed themselves.
And Dominique had to admit Kalista could walk that walk. She couldn't stop admiring Kalista's body as she moved around the store. 'Nique tried to keep her attraction under wraps when she found an employee particularly hot; she was a manager, after all. Aside from the inappropriate power dynamics, she preferred to keep work and romantic life separate, so the little thrill she got contemplating how graceful and muscular Kalista was--how it seemed like she was born to wear the tight, sporty Sweat Shop uniform--stressed Dominique out as much as it excited her.
Despite this, or maybe because of it, when 'Nique found Kalista lacing up a new pair of runners at lunchtime one day, she impulsively said, "Can I join you?"
Kalista looked up at her with a searching expression in her dark eyes, but quickly smiled. "Of course, 'Nique. I was just going for a quick lap around the mall."
Dominique quickly changed into workout clothes and joined Kalista on the sidewalk. "You're a runner, aren't you, boss?" Kalista asked. She'd noticed 'Nique's well-worn shoes, and maybe her slim figure told Kalista her manager didn't pump iron the way she did.
Dominique nodded. "Yup, did my third marathon last summer. Training for an ultra next year, believe it or not."
"I believe it!" Kalista smiled. It put butterflies in 'Nique's stomach. "I only really do enough to get my cardio in, you know? Do you mind if I set the pace?"
Dominique agreed. Kalista actually set a pace a little faster than 'Nique usually ran; the lifter wanted her heart rate up in the cardio zone, while Dominique, a distance runner, usually paced herself for the miles. But this was just a casual lunch run and she could easily keep up. And, after a couple blocks, Dominique had to admit she was enjoying the setup. The sight of Kalista's body from behind was a lot of fun to watch: her powerful legs flexing, her sculpted glutes rocking back and forth like a metronome. Much more engaging scenery than on 'Nique's average run around the mall. While she chided herself for her attraction when they were on the clock, running was different somehow, and 'Nique just let herself zone out and follow Kalista's perfect ass while she kept pace. It was easy, and low-key hot, and somehow she knew her employee didn't mind being admired.
Indeed, Kalista first noticed her boss was staring a half-mile into the run. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Dominique floating along in a sort of trance. Not uncommon for a focused runner, of course, but 'Nique was so obviously fixated on Kalista's butt and the backs of her smooth, muscular thighs. Kalista giggled to herself, wondering what she'd discovered here. She slowed her pace a little, letting her hips fall into a slightly more exaggerated sway. She heard 'Nique stumble, just slightly, as she tried to adjust. When Kalista looked back again, Dominique looked a little flushed... but was still totally absorbed in Kalista's body.
As they continued the run, Kalista's heart rate rose--and not just because of the cardio. It seemed like her pretty young manager had more than a mere runner's high. And she wondered what she might do with that.
* * *
Dominique felt... weird.
Not in a bad way. Not exactly. But something had shifted.
After the run, she'd returned to the store with flushed cheeks and a floaty, lightheaded feeling that didn't fade the way it usually did post-workout. She'd barely changed out of her running clothes before realizing Kalista had already slipped back onto the floor and was chatting with a customer, casually leaning against a display of leggings like she owned the place.
Dominique didn't say anything. She just watched for a moment. Kalista's voice was low and confident, her laughter easy. When she caught Dominique's eye, she smiled--not sweetly, but knowingly. As if they shared a secret. As if she'd noticed 'Nique gawking at her.
After that run, Dominique found herself slipping where Kalista was concerned.
She stopped reminding Kalista about clocking in. She let her take her breaks whenever she wanted. When Jenny, the assistant manager, raised an eyebrow about Kalista changing a front-of-store display without asking, Dominique brushed it off. "It looks good," she said. "She has a good eye."
She started inviting Kalista along to small, casual things. Post-work coffees. Sharing an Uber home. A group class at the yoga studio down the street. Kalista didn't always say yes. But when she did, Dominique's heart leaped. She couldn't deny it: she had a crush.
Kalista noticed, of course. She noticed how her manager--her boss--started deferring to her, started seeking her out. She noticed how often Dominique's gaze drifted downward, how often her fingers hesitated in the air near Kalista's arm, her waist, her shoulder. Touches that didn't quite happen--until Kalista made them happen.
A stretch behind the counter. Brushing past her in the stockroom. Kalista touched Dominique's hand lightly when passing a hanger. Tucked a stray hair behind her ear one morning when they were opening the store together. Just soft enough to pass for affection. Just firm enough to teach Dominique something.
"You push yourself too hard, Domi."
Dominique blinked. "What?" She'd been showing Kalista how she balanced the store's books. The remark came out of nowhere. And no one ever called her 'Domi'.
Kalista smiled. "You're always trying to do everything perfectly. I admire it. But you don't have to be in charge all the time, you know. Not with me."
Dominique opened her mouth to respond, but Kalista had already turned her attention back to the laptop screen, asking about shrinkage calculation. Dominique could only stand there, her thoughts tangled and warm.
Later that week, Kalista truly tested her.
They were restocking a new shipment of tennis outfits; folding, tagging, and organizing by size. Dominique was arranging a pile on the table by the fitting rooms when Kalista came up behind her, holding a top in the same brand.
"Try this on," Kalista said.
Dominique hesitated. "What? Now?"
Kalista smiled. "You've been eyeing this set all week. You'll look hot in it."
"I don't even play tennis," Dominique said, with a shy smile. But Kalista cajoled her into the changing room. She slipped behind the curtain and emerged a minute later, looking herself over in the mirror. The fabric hugged her figure, every curve on display.
Kalista stepped up behind her and tilted her head, considering the reflection.
"You look good," she murmured. "Turn a little."
Dominique turned.
"More."
She turned more.
