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Turning to accept my new beer from Mo, I see a strawberry blonde, my cock twitching. She turns around, but it isn’t Thelma. Of course it isn’t Thelma. What the hell would Thelma Rampwood be doing in a sports bar like this?
A hand claps on my shoulder, my beer disappearing from in front of my face.
“Uh, that was mine,” I tell Alfie, who takes a long drink, shrugging at me.
“You weren’t drinking it.”
“Yeah,” Trey laughs. “Plus, you’re rich. You can buy another one.”
“Fuck off, cunt.” Flipping the three of them off, I slide off my barstool and cross back to the bar. I have barely walked three steps when Alfie takes my seat. Fucking typical.
Chapter 5
THELMA
The grinning blonde with perfect, white teeth at the Dynamo Fitness counter beams at me as I step up to her.
“Hi, there! What can I help you with today?”
She’s so peppy. I flash her a smile, feeling exhausted and keyed up all at once.
“Uh, I have a private boxing session with Jimmy.”
She taps around on her computer, frowning. Shit. Maybe I should have found out his last name. He texted to confirm today at 6 PM. Perhaps I should show her the text message?
“Found it!” she chirps happily, her eyes widening at whatever is on the screen. Lifting them to meet my gaze, her smile widens. “Floor two, Ms. Rampwood. Would you like me to show you where to go?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Perfect!” Rounding the counter, she leads me to the elevator. I’m happy to take the stairs, but I let her show me into the elevator car and up to the second floor.
We walk along the wide hallway, past the open doors looking into large classrooms with polished wooden floors – like the one for Holly’s Bootcamp. Finally, we come to a series of closed doors set closer together.
“These are our private rooms,” the girl chirps, stopping at one and opening it for me. “You’re in here.”
She disappears as I step through the doorway, letting the door swing shut behind me. I’m a little early, but I didn’t want to get caught up at the office and miss my session entirely. I need to start as I mean to go on, which entails showing up.
Unlike the airy, brightly lit Bootcamp classroom, this studio is a little darker, dimmer, and cozier. There is a boxing bag in the middle of the room, some free weights along one wall, and a series of boxing gloves and training bags to be held and hit.
On the other side of the room is a wall of mirrors with a yoga mat in front of it. Dropping my bag on the floor near the yoga mat, I sit down and stretch. I don’t know any stretches, so I run through the ones we did in the Bootcamp class.
I am about five minutes into my stretching when the door opens. Glancing over, I offer a small smile as Jimmy steps through, looking as yummy as I remember. He grins at me, closing the door behind him, crossing to me, and extending a hand to help me up.
He drops my hand quickly after I am standing, moving to the other side of the room to select some gloves. I pretend I don’t notice that he dropped my hand like it was hot. Maybe I won’t be getting a private rubdown after the session after all.
Putting on the small white cotton gloves he hands me, I try not to ogle his amazing arm muscles as he helps me put on my gloves.
“Okay. First things first. Stance.” Jimmy waves me over to the bag, helping me stand correctly, with one foot anchoring and one foot leading. His hands land on my waist as he positions them so I’m standing correctly, facing the bag.
“Now we’ll run through the types of punches.”
“I don’t get to hit the bag?”
“Not yet,” he chuckles. “We’ll teach you all the different hits and jabs, and then you can go to town on the bag.”
I wouldn’t mind him going to town on me. Ugh, Thelma! Where the hell did that thought come from? I need to get my mind out of the gutter!
Shaking my head slightly to clear it, I give him my full attention, carefully memorizing all the different names. Straight jab, cross, hook, uppercut. I’ve got this.
