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I don’t like it, but my body always responds to her and the other women. My dick twitches a little, and I adjust my stance to try and disguise it.
I’ve learned to tolerate her touches. She’s never done more than that, and I’ve seen her fire other trainers for not smiling at her widely enough. I need this job, now more than ever. I’m never less than friendly when I see her.
“Uh, no, I came to talk to George about picking up some more sessions or clients. I’ve just had to withdraw from school for this semester, so I have more time on my hands and …” I trail off, too embarrassed to finish my sentence.
“What?” she prods, but she’s smiling like the cat who’s got her canary just where she wants him.
“Well, I could really use the extra money,” I finish, shame forcing my blood to rise, and I know my entire face and body are bright red.
I have the most annoying inability to control my blushes.
Her lemon-scented sigh of regret doesn’t feel sincere. I feel foolish and pathetic, and her casual dismissal of my shameless request makes me feel two feet tall.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Graham. Unfortunately, I don’t think our membership has the need for more personal training hours.”
My hope withers and sits like a ball of lead in my gut. I close my eyes to try to tamp down my panic. What the fuck am I going to do?
“Okay, thanks, I should go.” I turn to walk back out.
“Wait, tell me what’s wrong, darling?” Her lips are pursed, her eyes are wide with concern.
“Well, my mother’s sick.” I breathe out a sigh and just plow forward. “She needs this treatment, but her insurance won’t pay. So, I used my tuition money for the first month, but I need more, and I want to go back to school so I can finish … I need …” My voice breaks and I stop to collect myself.
“Oh, Graham. I wish I could help,” Nanette says breathlessly, putting her hand on my shoulder and patting it sympathetically.
“It’s okay. I’m not sure the extra hours would have been enough anyway. I’ll find another job,” I say, trying to inject my voice with optimism I don’t feel.
“You know, Graham …” Her eyes dart around the room and then come back to mine, and she waggles her eyebrows. “With your face, that body …” She trails her eyes up and down me. “You could be making real money. Not the chump change you make just working out with clients.”
A few months ago, a client told me her best friend was an agent who she thought I should talk to. I did. But he wanted me to drop out of school to start modeling full time. The money sounded great, but I couldn’t drop out of school. I only had one year left. I had plans for Apollo … but now, I’ve had to drop out. I wonder if I called the agent, if he’d be willing to talk to me.
“I’ve helped a couple of young people I’ve met here get set up in a business that’s given them the kind of financial freedom they could only dream about. But I can tell you’re … a little shy?” She drifts off and looks at me thoughtfully.
“I’m not shy,” I protest, but she only laughs.
“Oh, Graham, don’t worry. It’s wonderfully charming how oblivious you are to your own appeal.” She pats my hand with her heavily jeweled fingers. It takes a huge effort not to pull my hand out from underneath her touch. If she’s got a solution for me, the last thing I want is to piss her off.
I want to correct her, to tell her I’m very aware of it. And of how it’s the only thing anyone ever mentions when they talk to or about me. And how much I fucking hate it.
But, I need this job. So, I just smile like I’m flattered by her words.
“Anyway, if you’re interested in hearing more, you just give me a call, darling.” She winks, smiles, and then turns on the ball of her foot and starts to walk away.
It feels like watching hope disappear, and my pride takes a back seat to my panic. I rush after her, and I put a hand on her shoulder, and she stops, and this time when she turns around, she’s wearing a nearly blinding smile. I drop my hand and cough awkwardly.
“Uh, can we talk now? I mean, if you’re free. We could wait until you come back in tomorrow.”
“Graham, for you, I’m always free.” She comes to stand beside me and wraps an arm around my waist. I look around to see if anyone’
s watching. I already get so much shit from my colleagues about how I train all of the MILFs in the gym.
Nanette has two kids. Her son is the same age as Apollo, and her daughter is only ten. I’ve never met them, but she talks about them a lot. Her ex-husband is some big luxury brand tycoon, and all I know is that she doesn’t need to work and can afford the two hundred-thousand-dollar initiation fee and twenty thousand dollar a year fee that it took to be a member here. I hated the ribbing and was careful to make sure no one got the wrong idea about what I was doing.
I don’t plan on being a personal trainer forever, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything to jeopardize my chances of teaching. I just needed a way to take care of my mother and go to school.
“Why don’t we go down to the cafe? I’m famished.” She starts to walk in the direction of the cafe without waiting to see if I’m following.
I fairly reek of desperation I couldn’t disguise, and I’m not trying to. I have everything to lose—my mother, the existence I’d scraped to carve out for myself here. The future I pictured having with Apollo as soon as she was old enough.
