Chapter 1
Chelsea Cartwright crawled out of bed trying not to wake the young couple she'd spent the night with. Gustavo and Gabriella were a Brazilian couple who, unlike Chelsea, had normal jobs with working normal hours. They both woke up of course. Gustavo made an appreciative noise as he admired Chelsea dressing. Gabriella giggled, her dark skin contrasting against the white sheets.
"Thank you for letting me stay over," Chelsea said when she'd finished dressing. She kissed them each in turn. "I'll call you," she added then left.
Retrieving her trusty ten-speed racer from the hallway, Chelsea wheeled it out into the sunlight and closed the apartment door behind her. She'd had to sell the car a year ago and now she cycled everywhere or used public transport. Some admired her eco-friendly credentials and she let them believe that, but in truth she was broke. Life in San Francisco was just too expensive for a lowly gym instructor.
As she cycled she recounted the events of the previous night. It had been fun. The muscular Gustavo had pumped both girls vigorously while she and Gabriella had made out. If she was honest though, Chelsea had gone for the free food as much as anything. The Brazilians certainly knew how to cook.
It took half an hour to cycle to the upmarket gym where Chelsea worked as an instructor. Located beneath the Four Seasons hotel in the heart of the city it occupied a prime location that was reflected in the price it charged for membership. Only the hotel's more important guests and the wealthiest of the city's individuals got to use its facilities.
Chelsea showered and changed into her skin-tight shorts and sports top, ready to take the six o'clock pre-work HIIT class. One of the few perks of the job was a sportswear allowance. The gym liked their instructors to look good. But, other than that, it was a sweatshop, literally. Competition for jobs was high and wages weren't great. It wasn't much reward for three years at college studying sports science back in Ohio but Chelsea liked her life in California.
She did her hair, put on just a touch of lipstick and mascara then took a final look at herself in the mirror. She was a picture of health, with her blonde hair, trim figure, pert little butt and breasts. Her sports top showed off a set of hard ab's that most women would die for.
Unlike many of the other group classes Chelsea facilitated, the split of men to women in HIIT was always around 50/50. The men tended to be a mix of ages and abilities but it seemed to Chelsea that it was always the aggressive thirty something women who signed up for it. They were usually lawyers or the high flyers from the tech companies that inhabited the city. Chelsea could never be like them. They seemed to have so much anger.
Almost all of the class of twenty were regulars but, as everyone took their positions, Chelsea noticed one guy who wasn't. He was taller than average, sported rather unkempt hair and a shaggy beard and wore shorts and a tee shirt that had been faded by the sun. He looked very out of place amongst the designer clad women and men. But under his shirt you could see he was both tanned and toned, as if he'd spent a long time doing manual labour outdoors. He seemed perfectly pleasant though and a hard worker during the session. The sort of person you wanted in your class.
At the end of the session, after the cool down, Chelsea thanked the group, telling them she hoped to see them again next week. Class attendance was important for her continued employment. When they'd all gone she quickly tidied the studio then went to get a juice from the bar. They were free for her. The gym liked to have its instructors on display.
It was peak time however and there was a queue, so she took her place at the end of it. As she waited, the guy with the shaggy hair joined behind her. The rule was that members had priority and so politely Chelsea stepped aside.
"Please, you go first," she told him.
"No, you were here before me," he replied.
"You're a member. I'm kind of obliged to let you go first."
"Actually, I'm not a member."
"Well you still have to go first."
"Ok. Erm, let me buy you breakfast then."
"Well, since you're paying, I'll have a raspberry smoothie and a ham and cheese panini," Chelsea replied cheekily. The she added, "Thank you."
Although the drinks at the juice bar were free to the instructors, the exorbitantly priced food wasn't. Chelsea couldn't have afforded to eat there herself but often members would treat her. Most days somebody would offer, usually one of her regular, 'one to one' clients. They were the ones who understood the economics of being a lowly gym instructor. They were all women of a certain age and usually terrible gossips, which Chelsea found hilarious.
"Any chance you've got a minute, I'd love some company?" shaggy guy asked.
Chelsea couldn't say no but, in any case, she was slightly curious.
"Of course," she said "but I've only got fifteen minutes. Then I've got my first client."
The two of them walked over to an empty table and sat down.
"So. What do you think of the gym?" she asked.
I've only done one class so far and the instructor was a real ball buster," he joked.
Chelsea laughed. "You seemed to cope just fine. How do you usually keep fit?"
"Sailing mainly. I've been doing a lot lately," he said wistfully. "But I'm relocating here, so I'm trying to sort stuff out, like finding a gym."
"Relocating from where?"
"Well, from my boat really. I've been living on it for the last eighteen months, travelling."
"That sounds very adventurous. And it explains the hair," Chelsea laughed.
"You don't think it suits me?" he said, slightly offended.
"Oh no. I didn't mean anything by it," Chelsea said trying to back-pedal quickly.
"It's alright," he laughed. "I was joking."
Chelsea checked the time on her I-phone 5x with its cracked screen.
"I must be going. I've got a one to one session with a client," she said. Then she added, "I'm Chelsea by the way."
"Connor," he replied. "Listen Chelsea, I could be way out of line here but I don't suppose you fancy going for something to eat tomorrow night?"
Chelsea thought for a moment and weighed up the pros and cons in her head. On the negative side he was a little bit old for her. But on the positive side he had a vulnerability to him and an honest quality which she warmed to. And of course he had a fit bod too.
"What have I got to lose?" she thought to herself.
"I'm free on Friday," she told him. Then, needing to clarify things she added, "How about the Hard Rock Cafe on Pier 39? But I warn you I'm not a cheap date. I want a main course and a dessert. Just so you know."
Connor laughed, "I'll bear that in mind. What time?
'Seven thirty?"
"Sounds good to me."
"You've made me late," she giggled. "What's your number. I'll text you mine."
"Erm, I don't have a phone. It's something I need to sort out. Tell me your number."
Chelsea told him and he thanked her.
"Don't you need to write it down?" she asked.
"Identic memory," he joked
