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"Well, thanks for the free membership. Really." I then sighed. "Let the torture session begin."
Jackson laughed at the dour expression on my face. "Don't worry. We'll take this nice and slow. First, we'll just do some stretches."
Jackson guided my legs apart and I tried not to blush when his hands touched my thighs. He seemed determined to take a hands-on approach with the stretches, instead of just demonstrating them for me.
"Now just lean down to your right side and let gravity do the stretching for you."
He put one hand on my waist and put the other on my arm, gently guiding me down so that I was bending sideways to my right. It felt as though there was electricity running through his fingertips as he touched me, my body tightening with awareness.
"Okay, now the other side."
Jackson continued using his hands to show me how to stretch. It was one of the most excruciating fifteen minutes of my life. He seemed unaffected as his hands glided over me, pulling me into different positions. Some of them were so suggestive that I was starting to feel lightheaded.
"Okay, last stretch."
Jackson had me sit on the mat and spread my legs apart. He kneeled in between my legs, pushing them out with his hands to stretch my inner thigh muscles. I thought I was going to scream in pent up sexual frustration when I noticed that he was breathing heavily, each inhale and exhale sounding more and more strained. I glanced up at his face and saw that his eyes had darkened into a mossy green. Jackson gave me a half-grin as he released my legs.
"Let's try some laps on the treadmill." His voice sounded husky and rough.
I released the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding and nodded my head. "That's a good idea. And I know what to do on a treadmill," I said with a wry smile. "You don't need to show me with your hands how to run. I know how to put one leg in front of the other."
Jackson burst out laughing. "Duly noted."
He grabbed my bag and led me to a treadmill, punching the keypad to start the machine.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-five." I watched Jackson input my age into the control panel of the treadmill.
"How much do you weigh?"
"Nuh uh," I said emphatically, shaking my head. "There is no way I'm telling you my weight."
"Girls and their weight," Jackson said with a quizzical look. "I'll never understand it. It's just a number."
"Yeah, a number that you're not privy to," I replied sardonically.
"You win," Jackson relented with a cocked eyebrow. "Just input your weight and choose interval session for twenty minutes. We'll just have you walk today to loosen up your muscles. I'll be right back. I'm just going to drop your bag in my office for safekeeping."
I nodded and waited for him to walk away before entering my weight. Men just didn't understand.
I looked around as I walked. The gym was pretty full and I couldn't help but notice that almost all of the people were in fantastic shape. I didn't understand it. The few times I had stepped inside a gym, it was inevitable that everyone inside was already fit. Where did the regular people go, before they were able to wear spandex ensembles with pride? Did they keep them in some dark hidden room of the gym until they were presentable enough to be unleashed into the main facility?
My thoughts were interrupted as I watched Jackson striding back towards me. I felt a delicious curl of anticipation tighten inside me. There was no mistaking it. Jackson was attracted to me. I was contemplating my first fling with relish when I saw a woman stop Jackson. She was talking animatedly and laughing. She was also drop dead gorgeous in skintight spandex and rock hard abs. I started thinking about my own soft middle and wanted to cringe, but I stopped myself before I let my thoughts get too wayward. I needed to stop comparing myself to other women. I may not be in the best shape, but I wasn't a sack of potatoes either. Men, including Jackson, would accept me as I was or I would find someone else who appreciated me.
I patted myself on the back, but I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as the woman led Jackson over to a curling machine, putting her hand on his arm while they talked and laughed loudly. Jackson seemed engaged in the conversation, apparently explaining something on the machine and then making some adjustments to it.
He looked over at me and I quickly glanced away, kicking myself for
being caught gawking at him. I concentrated on walking on the treadmill until I felt his presence beside me, but I didn't turn towards him.
"How are you doing?"
"Good." I glanced at him through the corner of my eye. "I guess Claire was right. You're pretty high in demand."
Jackson laughed. "That's one of my clients. One of my married clients."
I shrugged as if I didn't have a care in the world. "Doesn't matter to me." But I realized it did matter. I rationalized that while I wanted a fling, I didn't want a fling with a man who was flinging every other woman.
