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Her mouth drops open, her hand not holding her cell letting go of the treadmill’s grip rail to cover her parted lips with her fingers, her eyes widening then going half-mast. She must read it over and over, because she stares at her screen for a full minute or two and the message was only two short sentences.
She stumbles, righting her stride before my foot can complete its first instinctive step toward her, and it snaps her out of her fog as her lips form a very clearly mouthed “fuck!” She replaces her hand on the railing, using her thumb to message me back.
WillDive4Plants:
I swear to God, if you could’ve just seen my face when I opened that—
Oh, I could, little one. I could and did, I think but don’t type to her. I have the feeling that if she knew I’m watching her, it would make her self-conscious. It would make her feel uncomfortable and not relaxed enough to be herself. And I so want to see her be herself. While she’s mentioned before how awkward and what a nerd she is, calling herself the typical clumsy heroine of any early 2000s rom-com, she’s actually a breath of fresh air. So many subs have this aura about them, sexy seductresses with perfect and graceful movements, almost like a Geisha. And although that is beautiful and can be absolutely delightful at times, it’s so formal and… uptight; it can be exhausting, something I’d never want to be twenty-four seven.
What I truly desire is someone who can make me smile even when her mouth isn’t on my cock.
A feat for sure, but not entirely impossible. Especially since this woman makes me smile often from her messages alone.
I’ve completed my short workout for the day—shoulders are my easy day—and am back in the locker room when I receive her next messages.
WillDive4Plants:
I'm seeing pretty lights in front of my eyes at 1.09 miles.
Good enough.
Impressive for not working out for several months and being stagnant for just as long. I want to reward her, even though she’s not my sub. I want to praise her, give her incentive to continue on and not give up—not today, but to come back tomorrow and do it again. I try to think of something to say or do. Maybe a video so she can hear me tell her I’m proud of her?
I decide to send her a picture, which is something I haven’t done this whole time we’ve been talking, even though she’s sent me several. I don’t take many, since I don’t really have anyone to send photos to.
I’m in nothing but a thin white towel wrapped around my hips, because I’m about to hop in the shower, and it’s not until I flip my phone’s camera around to take a selfie that I realize this will be the first time she’s ever seen my body, at least shirtless. I’m not worried about her recognizing me from the club or from the dumpster incident, since at the club I’m always disguised from head to toe, and I was pretty much fully covered at work, with a mask and hat too. It’s just something that occurs to me.
What will she think when she sees me? I know I’m fit, and not just for my age—by any standard. Not being conceited, it’s just fact. I’m of Polish descent, so I’m hairier than a lot of men, but I keep it neatly trimmed, long enough to be soft and doesn’t poke uncomfortably through the fabric of my shirts, but short enough it doesn’t get bushy and make the material stand out from my skin. I have several tattoos on my arms and my back, but none on my front. I recently buzzed my beard all the way down to my usual scruff. It had gotten too long and looked silly when I wore masks at work, so I decided to start over. It won’t take long before it’s at a more manageable length.
I’m bald, cleanly shaved. My hair started thinning in my early thirties, and when my barber told me I had a nicely shaped head and would look much better with it completely smooth instead of with my “ring of knowledge” as I jokingly call it, I allowed him to shave it off and have never gone back. I mean, I’ve gone back to my barber, but not back to my unshaven head. I still visit him to treat myself to a professional shave once a month, taking care of the upkeep myself the rest of the time.
So what will she think of me? What is her opinion on body hair, the color of it, her opinion on tattoos? She has many of her own tats, and she’s clearly seen the ones on my forearms while I work out in short-sleeved shirts.
