THE GYM

I melt into his touch, savoring every sensation as his fingertips trace delicate patterns across my skin. The pressure is perfect, each stroke sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. With every gentle press and soothing motion, I find myself surrendering to the blissful embrace of relaxation. It's as if his hands possess a magical touch, each caress imbued with an otherworldly warmth that seeps into my very soul.


I arch my body towards him, craving more of his comforting touch, lost in the intoxicating sensation of his hands against my skin. It has been too long since I have experienced such luxurious indulgence, and I revel in every moment, cherishing the sweet, tender, and utterly refreshing sensation that washes over me. No massage has ever felt this exquisite, this transcendent. It is as if he has unlocked a hidden wellspring of pleasure within me, each touch leaving me yearning for more and lost in a world of pure bliss.

"Tell me what you fear about the gym." His voice comes barely as a whisper, and I take a moment to concoct my answer, afraid that my voice will come out as a moan.

I lick my lips first to curb the moan. "I don't really know. The equipment, I suppose. I feel like I would end up with a broken bone," I state in a whisper.


"They are harmless, though, if you handle them with care," he affirms in a whisper.

"I just can't stick that in my mind," I mumble once more.


At this point, he presses his hands on me harder, repeating the same three times, and I whisper. "Nothing will hurt. I Promise. Can you trust me?"

I open my eyes, and he aligns his with mine. I swallow hard at the look in his eyes. Unfortunately, I swallowed even my voice, leaving me with no option but to nod my head slightly to his question.

He gives me a really good squeeze on the shoulder, making me almost jump from my seat. "Get up before this gets out of control," he mumbles, and I drag myself up, albeit unwillingly. My body seems to have some wildly weird cravings.

"Are you ready, now?" He asks, reaching for my hand, and I hand it to him, locking it in his.

I breathe out really heavily. "What is the first exercise?"

"It's so easy. You good?" He repeats his question.

"Yes," I mumble.

I won't deny that the massage was really helpful, but men, I'm still not completely over that stupid phobia. But I guess I can trust him.

"Let's go," he says after grabbing a bottle of water on the table. We walk out, my hand still in his, and again, I see how people stare at us as he leads us out.

Huh? Where to?

"Where are we heading to?" I implore.

"The ground floor. That's where beginners train," he explains.

How arganized, huh? "Okay," I mumble and follow quietly as we descend the annoying staircases.

We stroll into the room on the ground floor. This one is really for beginners. I am glad that I don't see those big, scary types of equipment, but the kind of exercises I am seeing people do here, huh? What's with the rolling on the floor and these other groups lying on the floor and lifting their legs to the ceiling? Oh, no, forget those. These ones lying on their backs and knees bend, arching their backs up and down as if...!

I never liked the idea of jumping with ropes, but when I see Damian reaching for one, I sigh with relief. I can even hear my heart rejoicing.

"Give me fifty," he says, handing me the rope.

I mentally smile. That is damn easy. I do that in a flash. I went up to seventy-five. I needed to show him that I am not that useless, duh!

"Next time, I will punish you for disobeying my instructions," he states, taking the rope away from me.

I get it. That was rather childish of me, but the thrill got the best of me.

The next couple of hours, about an hour or so, are spent with him showing me how to do the squats, which I didn't like at all, and some other easy exercises like the lifting of legs alternately above the knee, some mountain climbing, donkey kicks, and the rest, whose names have already evaporated from my brain.

The exercises were as easy as he promised, but for someone who has never exercised even once in her twenty-five years, I am already experiencing some muscle pulls. I could not even go with him upstairs to get my clothes, but I could see him matching toward me in the car with them. At least I didn't leave my pants and bra. He throws them at the boot and gets the door for me.

"How was the first-time experience?" He asks as he settles in the car, buckling up.

"Not as horrible as I anticipated, but still, I can feel the muscle pulls building up," I reply with honesty.

"A warm bath will help. I am sorry, but you will have to bear with that for the first couple of days," he explains.

"Okay," I say. As long as it does not worsen, I can bear it. If it does, even though I would love to have him train me again, I don't think I would give in, no matter what he says.

"What do you say if we go to the house, freshen up, and then take this baby for a ride?" He asks.

He still has not dropped that idea. "Sounds great. So, where exactly today? The fort Jesus?" I query. I am itching to see the site.

"The tour guy gets to decide," he states.

Killer joy! I roll my eyes, snapping at him in defiance. "I don't think so. Ain't I the boss since you are the tour guide? I should be the one to decide where we should go." I challenge.

"Well, you are still in uniform, meaning you are still my student. So, if the tour guide has no say, the teacher sure does."

What a... well, what a nice way to use opportunities, huh? Really?

He winks—that magical wink—and pulls off savagely from the parking lot. I fear for my poor baby and myself too.