In the basement of my apartment block is a little used gymnasium that the developers had installed as a selling point, hoping to attract a certain clientele, thirty something professionals who had a desire to keep up a fitness regime that their busy work schedules would not allow. As far as I could work out I was the only person that, worked out. I can't believe that I just wrote that, sorry.
Back to my story. Last night I came down here to burn off some of my tensions following a particularly shitty day. I was giving the punching bag a pounding when she came in. I was immediately attracted by her feline grace. She didn't so much as walk, as glide across to a piece of equipment. She was wearing tight fitting gym shorts and a Lycra crop top that was not much more than a thin strip of stretch material over her breasts, her nipples thrust the material out in two points.
She placed a towel and water bottle on the floor and sat at this machine, grabbed the handles and began to move her arms back and forth in a movement, designed to improve her upper body strength, that thrust her chest out, and each time her breasts tilted up in a way that halted my pounding of the bag. I just stood and stared, an unashamedly open mouthed stare.
She caught a glimpse of me in the mirrored wall and a smile of pure provocation crossed her face. She reached down for her water bottle and took a sip before lifting the front of her top away and pouring some water between her breasts. I didn't know how much more of this I could stand but my uncooperative legs wouldn't let me leave.
"Hi, I haven't seen you here before. In fact I haven't seen anyone here before."
"Zere nevaire seems to be anyone who use zis place." (I will attempt to write her speech phonetically to give you some idea of her accent.) "I am Amalie, and your name is."
"Peter. I haven't seen you around this building before, have you lived here long?"
"I have been 'ere trez, three months."
"You are French, yes?" Oh God, I was beginning to phrase my questions as a Frenchman would.
"Yes I am. I am from Paree, but soon I sink I must go back."
"That's too bad. Do you work out often? You don't look as if you need the exercise."
"Zere are many ways, Peter, of keeping fit, so zere is little need for this."
Nothing ventured, nothing gained I always say. Actually I don't always say that but it seemed appropriate for the occasion. I walked across and straddled the bench that she also straddled. We faced each other and my eyes were drawn to the seam on her shorts that cut a path between her pussy lips. She saw me glance down and tilted her hips forward in an act of extreme provocation. She looked at me and saw the centre-pole of my tented shorts being raised. That provocative smile again crossed her face. If I didn't know better I would think that I was getting the come-on from her.
She raised her water bottle to her lips and took a sip and then she offered it to me. I tasted her lipstick on it as I sipped some water before handing it back to her. "May I ask, what are you doing this evening?"
"Nussing, I am 'ow you say, as free as a bird."
"Would you like to have to dinner with me?"
"As you wish."
"Come, we'll go up to my apartment so I can have a shower and change, then we can go to your apartment so that you can change and then we eat."
"Very well."
Very well? Very well? I can't believe this is happening to me, I can't believe that this incredibly sexy young woman is agreeing to come to my apartment.
I was in the shower lathering my chest when I heard the bathroom door open, then the shower screen slid back to reveal Amalie, naked, her small compact body stood there for a second and then she joined me, taking the soap from me and slowly running it through the mat of hair on my chest. Even this act had a sensuality that I couldn't believe.
