The heavy door closed smoothly behind him. At the click of the latch, Mateo felt trapped, even though he'd shut the door himself. There was a lump in his throat. He had a gut feeling he'd leave this place a little different from how he'd entered.
A little more firmly under the control of his instructor.
Their encounter by the lockers had become a regular thing. It was what Kalista wanted and he couldn't seem to deny her: after every class, he'd follow her to the showers. She didn't need to hold his hand like she had the first time. She just walked confidently down the hall, her perfect ass swaying like a hypnotist's pendulum, and Mateo followed helplessly. He plunged even deeper into mindless need for her when they reached the change room and her clothes came off. Then everything was a hot wet haze of soaked flesh and her commanding voice and his unthinking compliance.
After a few weeks of that, Kalista must have judged him well-trained enough to see her outside the gym. His ongoing loss of control should have terrified him. But Mateo felt only deep, giddy excitement at her approval.
She met him in the front hall, wearing a pair of low-heeled slippers and a shimmering floral-patterned robe cinched tight around her waist, the hem at her knees. The sight of even her half-bare legs, powerful calf muscles flexed by the arch of her heels, gave Mateo a pang of arousal. He craved the sight of her thighs, and more.
He would soon get it. Kalista held out two bottles of sparkling water, their sides dripping with condensation.
"Take these," she said. He stepped towards her without thinking about it, and her eyes twinkled. "Eager. Take your shoes off first."
Mateo blinked and felt his face get hot as his predicament grew clearer. She'd invited him to her home, had dressed to entice him, knew exactly how successful she was. He felt a flush of embarrassment and wished he'd worn jeans instead of his usual sweats, if only because they might better conceal his erection. Did that matter anymore? He couldn't keep his cool around Kalista for even a minute, and she wanted it that way.
He stepped out of his shoes, leaving them where they were, and took the bottled water. Mateo tried to approach Kalista confidently for once; like a lover, an equal. But once he was close enough to inhale her scent, and she looked up at him with her dazzling eyes, his heart started racing. He couldn't think of anything clever to say. He couldn't think of anything to say at all.
Kalista stepped backwards slowly, heels clicking on the tile floor. Never breaking eye contact, she pulled the silk tie from around her waist and, with a sinuous motion of her shoulders, the robe slid to the floor. Mateo forgot about how flustered he felt. He forgot everything but the sight of her perfect body.
His eyes came to rest automatically on the dark triangle of hair between her thighs. He remembered the incredible, all-consuming feeling of being held there, the world outside nonexistent, his life reduced to pleasuring Kalista with his mouth. Even his powerful hands had been useless--she'd told him to keep them behind his back. She didn't want his hands just then, so they didn't matter. Nothing mattered but following her instructions, doing exactly what she said because it would please her so deeply. And, oh, the way her whole body quivered when he pleased her, the way she bucked her pussy against his mouth, her hands tangled in his hair as she pulled him in like she couldn't get enough of him, the sounds she made...
The sound of her voice. Mateo realized she'd been speaking and he'd just been standing there in a daydream, staring through her bush into his memories of going down on her in the gym. He should have felt a fresh surge of embarrassment at his distraction, but her body blanked his every attempt to think.
"Get on your knees," Kalista told him. Mateo obeyed.
