Worked pt.1

Worked, pt.1

Tim stood just outside the entrance nervously, his clothes bag on his shoulder. "It's cool, new year, new me," he muttered to himself.

He stood at a magnificent 5 foot on the dot, and his large green eyes, pert butt and slight build all contributed to making him look younger than his 21 years. It also made him extremely self-conscious around other people.

He shuffled from foot to foot before taking a deep breath; puffing his chest out as far as it could reach, and marched into the gym for the first time in his life. The air conditioning in the entrance blew his wispy dark hair into his eyes, and he shook his head, brushing it back.

Inside his chest deflated a little when he took in the sights and smells of the jungle in front of him. Huge muscled men heaved dumbbells bigger than Tim's torso up and down, faces grimacing in pain. Lycra-clad women with tight, revealing curves squatted low with long shouldered weights whilst making it look effortless. Rap music boomed through the gym speakers.

Tim suddenly felt even more nervous than he had before and speed-walked over to a smaller side room with some running machines; Better that than people seeing him frozen in the entrance with no idea where to begin, (At least he knew how to put one leg in front of the other, he reckoned).

He walked through the open door and noticed a lady on the nearest machine. Being a gentleman, he declined to stare and continued towards the furthest machine and was confronted with what looked a miniature air traffic control terminal. He peered back at the short dark-haired woman wearing skin-tight sports bra and yoga pants, who was puffing and jogging away at a steady pace.

What settings was she using? Could he ask her? She looked kind of busy.... At this point the woman noticed his attention and shot him an irritated glance, before pressing a big red button in the centre of the machine which slowed her jog to a fast walk and eventually a standstill. She didn't acknowledge him as she gathered her stuff and marched away haughtily. Tim felt embarrassed that he had pissed her off, but had no idea what else to do. Maybe he could leave... Start at home, get some home weights.

He peered back through the open doors and watched the polished figures with muscles so defined they could have been carved in marble. They moved with purpose, always pumping large volumes of metal or moving to a different weights section, all covered head to toe in branded figure-hugging sportswear. Nike ticks and adidas logos were everywhere. A few super hot girls taking selfies. He watched one girl bend over and pose whilst her friend took a photo of her ass in tight lycra. The tight shorts left little to the imagination.

He was so busy watching the girls flicking their hair and pushing their butts out for pictures that it took a few seconds to realise someone was watching him.

He felt eyes on him and his gaze snapped to a tall Eastern-European looking woman leaning under the squat rack. The woman was wearing all black; tight leggings and a loose-fitting tank top with a slight sweat stain down the centre.  It looked as if she had just finished lifting the massive barbell, now suspended on the rack. Her body screamed one word: powerful. Here arms and legs had large sculpted muscles. Her blond hair was tied in a bun and her pronounced bust didn't stop her from being an intimidating figure. Her face had a slightly pronounced jawline, but her large kiss-me lips and long eyelashes were enticing. Her hazel eyes were locked onto him; her gaze predatory.

Tim's could almost feel his balls shrivel with embarrassment. Oh God, had he pissed her off? He squeaked (which in itself was a source of self-loathing) and managed to tear himself away from the gaze of this gorgeous powerhouse to scuttle back to the running machine.

Oh God just make it work he thought as he hopped on, throwing his bag to the side and began to push random buttons. Quick start. Nothing. Big red button. Incline. Pre-set. Nothing. He began thinking he should never have come at all when he heard someone step onto the running machine. He didn't have time to think as this person came and pressed themselves against the back of his body, reaching one strong arm with long, bright pink fingernails around his waist to anchor him to their body. The other arm looped round his other side to a small disc hanging from a chain onto the machine, and placed it onto an open panel.

The machine lit up, and the second hand came back and wrapped itself around the top of his chest. He looked behind him to see a huge burly shoulder and turned his gaze to what he already knew must be the tall woman and her discerning stare.

Up close she was gorgeous, her freckled white skin and ravenous expression terrifyingly close to his. He could feel his heartbeat going haywire as she began to cradle his head like a lover, eyes boring into his. Tim felt like he might explode, his legs felt weak and his mouth unconsciously opened, ready to accept her forceful advances.

She didn't hesitate, and pressed her lips to his, sliding her tongue slowly into his mouth and wrestling with his. Tim moaned sucking eagerly on her tongue, his body melting into her arms, his previous worries melting away in the pressure of her strong, loving embrace.

The woman’s tongue was large and slithery. It invaded his mouth, exploring, going deep, sucking him in. Tim let himself be deeply, passionately kissed, completely oblivious to everything else in the room.

The woman broke the kiss, with a wet line of spittle still connecting them, which she licked across his face with her tongue. Tim leaned into her, letting her spread the saliva across his cheek, and he cooed when she crushed him to her again with her powerful embrace.

After a few seconds she stepped back off the machine, leaving Tim rooted and dazed.

She stood to the side and her demeanour went from warm to unreadable in seconds.

“Mila,” she said, her expression dispassionate, like they had just been making polite conversation.

“T…Tim….Tim,” he said, feeling extremely self conscious and awkward again, as he slowly wiped his face with his forearm.

She cracked the tiniest smile and he thought he might fall in love right there and then. Suddenly she pressed a button on the handle of the machine which sprang to life, making Tim nearly fall head over heels. He caught himself and managed to turn his near-fall into an awkward Jog.

She said nothing, arms folded.

Tim began to jog slowly.

He looked at her questioningly and her eyes simply bore into his. His heart beat erratically and he wilted under her gaze, eyes moving back to looking firmly in front of him. He had never felt so nervous and horny in the same moment as right now.

Whilst he was jogging his mind could only think about one thing; The stunning woman stood next to him, just inside his peripheral vision. His cock began to rise, and he felt awkward trying to run properly, whilst his cock started to cause a gentle swell in his shorts. Maybe she’s seeing how fit he is because she only dates fit guys? Maybe this was a test. But why would she go for the weediest guy there?….

Tim could feel himself rising to his full 4 inches and tried to subtly adjust whilst running, which proved difficult with Mila being so close.

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.

Hell, if this was a test, he was going to try his damn hardest to please her. It seemed a lot more palatable then trying to woo her with his words, because talking to girls always failed spectacularly in his experience. He cringed trying not to envision girls’ faces as they smirked at him, walking away after his awkward attempts at small talk.

Left foot, right foot.

His un-athletic body was coping better than he had expected and he had a small positive thought that maybe the gym wasn’t so bad.

“Faster,” said Mila, giving him a rough slap on the ass, her expression remaining neutral.

He jumped slightly at the casual but meaty spank, feeling quite emasculated, but also trying to hide his erection which had just throbbed, as he looked down at the myriad of controls for a way to increase the speed. Was it the plus button? Or the up sign? Or maybe he typed in the numbers… He tried to process it but he wasn’t good under pressure, especially not after a gorgeous, muscled gym girl had just slapped his butt-cheek.

Mila rolled her eyes and smacked the plus button a couple of times and the treadmill increased speed, and Tim suddenly found himself running at a moderate pace, which for him was like death itself.

He huffed and felt the sweat trickling down his brow as he glanced over at Mila. She stood with her arms folded, like a soldier observing an irritating ant beneath her boot.

He tried for a couple of minutes to keep up the pace, but his will power immediately deserted him, his legs flagging, and he jumped off the treadmill, bent over, heaving as a tiny drop of sweat dripped from his brow.

Mila didn’t say anything simply standing with her arms crossed.

Tim tried to apologise.

“I…. I’m sorry… I…”

She cut him off with a short response.

“Are you man or bitch?” Her accent was definitely Eastern Europe, possibly Russian. One eyebrow was raised high. Tim had a passing thought that she could pass as a Bond Girl and villain at the same time, a unique combination of intimidation and beauty.

“I’m… a man… I’m a man,” he said, sounding more like a whiny teenager.

She snorted.

“If you are willing to push yourself, I will help you train.”

That sounded amazing. He definitely wanted to work with her… just to be close to her would be incredible. Maybe they would kiss again?

“Erm… yeah, sure, yeah,” he said, trying to remain cool, even though inside his heart was thumping faster than it had in years, and only partly because of the exercise.

“Good…. Now, run,” she said. Her tone brooked no argument.

Tim’s face fell and he looked back at the machine of pure evil, then to Mila’s steely, gorgeous eyes.

He could do this.

Placing one foot on the side, just outside the track, he took a few breaths and placed one onto the belt. And then another. His legs seemed to work by themselves, and he avoided thinking about how much his chest burned.

He shifted his focus onto the rap music coming from the speakers as his ankles wobbled. His lungs gulped down air, and his muscles felt like they were made of lead. He glanced at Mila. Her expression was thoughtful. Evaluating.

From somewhere inside a desperate drive emerged, and he redoubled his efforts, focusing on the booming rhythm of the drums even as he pounded the ground with feet that felt heavier with every step. Sweat was beginning to come down his sides and it was starting to get into his eyes as well, making them sting. Everything from the waste down was hurting.

He managed to do another minute. And another.

Everything above and below the waste was on fire.

Another minute.

Finally his legs couldn’t go on, and he mistimed a step, tripping over an ankle. He came down on the treadmill, spinning over himself as he was launched unceremoniously into a heap past the back of the machine, and onto the cold gym floor.

He groaned as he got up, wiping his eyes with sweaty hands which only succeeded in making them sting more. His cheeks burned with exhaustion and shame. He was 100% a bitch. He whimpered and began to walk slowly in the rough direction of the changing rooms, unable to even look at Mila after his pathetic display. Why had he come here. What was he expecting? God having a beautiful girl emasculate him was his absolute worst nightmare.

He quietly hated himself for being such an idiot as he shuffled towards the changing rooms. He managed to get a few steps forward when a hand snaked round his belly. He turned his head, and felt a towel gently rub his face down. When he opened his eyes, free of sweat, Mila was towering over him, a small smile on her face.

“Good,” she said softly, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Tim looked up at her in amazement as she placed the towel in his hands.

“We will start tomorrow… I have to work, take my number,” she said.

She stepped back and handed him his bag, which he had left by the running machine. He couldn’t believe it, as he fumbled for his phone inside his bag, Mila waiting patiently for him to find it.

His brain was going haywire. Holy shit he was going to get her number. He patted through the side pockets. Where the fuck was his phone? He checked each compartment thoroughly. It felt like everything he did was twice as complicated when Mila was watching him. She waited patiently as he searched each part again and again. Had he left it somewhere? Had it been in his pocket?

Mila raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe I take yours?” She said, a little uncertainty in her voice.

Tim grinned an apologetic expression.

“Actually I ah… got a new number recently, so….haven’t really memorised…”

Mila nodded and sighed. “It’s fine, I’m sorry… don’t worry about it,” she said, her expression staying impassive, but she couldn’t quite contain the disappointment in her body language as she turned away.

Tim panicked, fuck this could NOT be happening. The one time he could actually have some contact with a gorgeous woman and he was blowing it!

“No, no I swear it was right here! Look… forget the phone, name a time, and a place. I SWEAR I will be there!” He said.

“Sure, fine,” said Mila, but she sounded disinterested.

Tim could feel the fragile connection between them crumbling, and he then did the bravest thing he had ever done in his life up to that point.

He stepped forward, went on his tip toes, and kissed Mila.

Mila’s lips at first didn’t move, surprised at Tim’s advance, before she opened her mouth and crouched slightly so that they could kiss a little more passionately. They both moaned into each other’s mouths.

She broke the kiss, and looked at him. “Midday,” she said. Her face was serious apart from a tiny smirk at the corner of her mouth.

“Hell yeah,” he said, smiling softly.

She backed away from him and with a last enigmatic glance, strode through the door to the weights room.

Tim was on cloud 9 and could barely contain himself as he jogged his sore but re-invigorated legs into the men’s changing rooms. He felt pumped and excited to be coming back to the gym tomorrow, which was something he had never felt in his life. True it wasn’t necessarily anything to do with exercising but hey, if Mila wasn’t going to make him enjoy the gym, nothing would.

He turned the corner and saw a few huge dudes walking around with no towels on.

His legs felt heavier again as he tried not to look anywhere specific.

Maybe he would just shower at home.

MEANWHILE

Mila walked through the door and over to her client who was waiting patiently in the corner of the weights room, with a knowing smile.

“So…. Got a new client?” said Sandy, a 5 ft 5, brown haired all-American woman with a slim tummy and wide smile. She grinned at Mila, pleased that her long-time PT might have finally found a guy. She had seen Mila embracing someone when she poked her head into the running room, but gym trainers often got a bit up close and personal with their client’s bodies. Part and parcel of the job; and besides, Mila blocking your view with her back was like trying to see past a wall.

Mila didn’t reply and simply looked at her. Mila’s poker-face usually fooled most people, but as soon as Sandy looked her in the eyes she fist pumped the air.

“FUCK YEAH! What’s his name?!?”

Mila broke into a small smile and then caught herself. A kiss was just a kiss. Nothing more.

“Today I think beep test.”

A notoriously brutal workout.

Sandy’s face dropped.

“Oh, come on.”