Kara owned me since day one. Our very first training session at the old Tony's Gym on Peachtree involved a list of demands and ultimatums that never ended. Shaka, the manager, asked me to work with Kara because he knew that no one else on the staff would give her the time of day. Most of the 33 Tony's Gyms were known for having a family atmosphere, but the old gym on Peachtree was a hardcore training spot for serious athletes.
"No staring at my ass when I'm working out," is how she introduced herself. That request had been ignored by her last 2 trainers within their first hours, so I made sure to focus elsewhere. I chose to stare at her eyes. Beautiful brown eyes. "My goal is to have a perfect ass for me. Not you. Got it?"
I nodded and smiled. "Anything you'd like to work on in particular?" I asked as she headed past the train of treadmills to the free weights. Her pace was rigid but her flow was graceful. She must have run track because her posture was perfect. Each step had intent, precision and beauty. And I caught a quick glance at her ass. She was wrapped from head-to-toe in hi-tech performance fabric, but her frame was clearly that of a Marvel drawn heroine. My glance was brief.
Not a stare.
"I like being tone," Kara explained. "I'm going to run through my Wednesday Glutes workout and I'll let you clean up after me. I start with squats."
Before I could acknowledge her she hoisted 85 lbs atop her 5 foot 8 inch frame and proceeded the first minute of her 45 minute workout. Her form on each squat was flawless as I watched her perspiration build beneath the bandana that caged her thick black curls. I wanted to ask if she wanted more weight as she bounded from set to set but her wireless headphones were the only audio she needed.
I figured I'd do my best to stay out of her way, spot her on the larger weights she was tossing around like toddlers and wipe down the sweat her body began to drench the equipment with. The way she flew from bench to bench with barely a pause I figured she had been a professional athlete of some sort. Her movements were precise and calculated like a trainer, but fluid and soulful like an artist. Clearly a princess and a diva, she expected my every second as she moved from station to station. She couldn't have been a day over to 26 but Kara had the intensity of the gym's veteran athletes that were trying to keep up with the rookies. I'd trained her type before but she was extra.
Keeping up with her workout was a workout in itself. "Towel, please," she barked as she pushed through her fifth set of lunges. I simply wiped her forehead and neck while she stepped through the last three minutes of her regime.
As she dropped to the mat to cool off and stretch she released me from my servitude with a hardy handshake and a modest, "Good job." I nodded in kind and returned to the front desk to await my next appointment.
"Thanks for taking her on," Shaka smilingly acknowledged as I checked my phone for messages. "Glad you were here today because everyone else was done with Special K."
I smiled as I imagined every trainer rolling their eyes while this acutely maintained athlete tuned her body with a workout designed for Olympians. I was more than happy to take her orders. I was simply hoping I'd done a good job.
"Tomorrow at 4," Kara bluntly informed me as she headed toward the locker room, intimidating every man and woman in her path.
"Tomorrow at 4," I replied without lifting my head because I would not have been able to control my eyes. She would have felt my stare and there would have been no 'tomorrow at 4' for us.
So our unspoken agreement was 'tomorrow at 4' for seven days a week. I was technically only training 4 days per week at the gym, but I always matched her goodbye word-for-word.
'Tomorrow at 4.'
While her workouts were rigorous, Kara never showed any sign of slowing. She could have gone another 30 minutes each day if she wanted to push herself. Her Tuesday & Saturday core workouts were NFL worthy, but she cruised through them effortlessly. If she hadn't been sweating you wouldn't know that she was in the middle of a workout. I was honored to be a part of her training.
Kara's yoga Sunday was just as intense but incredibly calming. I found myself having trouble with her 'no staring' policy on her first workout because there was less work for me. So before he second Sunday I lied and told her that I usually did yoga on Sunday, too.
"Grab a mat and please don't distract me," she offered. "If you can't keep up at least keep quiet."
I had enough of a yoga background to more than keep up. I found myself in poses that were challenging but not impossible. My goal was not to become a distraction so I simply echoed her routine. I had an ounce of hope that she would acknowledge my ability to work at her pace, but after 45 minutes in the yoga room she simply responded with 'tomorrow at 4'.
I smiled to myself and for the tenth day in a row I returned the salutation, 'Tomorrow at 4."
On the twenty-third day I contemplated a different goodbye but I chickened out. On the sixty-fourth day I debated saying anything. On the eighty-ninth day I wanted to say it first.
But none of those things happened.
I simply enjoyed having her guide me with very little effort. I thought about those 45 minutes for the next 23 hours and hoped it would never end. All I could do was let it be.
So I let it.
Until the one hundred and twelfth day when Mrs. Danville spilled her energy smoothie over the counter and onto my lap at 3:50.
I wish I could have panicked more than the other trainers but I didn't. For understandably human reasons, they all ran to my aid to get me cleaned up for 4:00. Mrs. Danville didn't have time to apologize because Shaka and Leandra had me swept off to the locker room like I was a gunshot victim headed to ER.
At that point I realized that they had watched my 4:00 for the last few months and didn't want the streak to end. My workouts with Kara were either like a romantic television show or an impending car crash. The gym was watching and I hadn't even noticed.
"You've got 8 minutes, playboy," Shaka warned as he and Leandra pulled the stained shirt over my head and shoved me toward the showers.
Without thinking I disrobed, rinsed off and grabbed my swim trunks that I would need for my 6:00 aquatic workout. I threw on a clean Tony's Gym polo and laced my shoes by 3:58. I was at the front desk just in time for Kara to pass by as we headed toward the benches - chest & triceps today. I wanted to give Shaka and Leandra a 'thank you' nod but Kara had eyes in the back of her head. Fortunately for me her headphones covered the clapping sound made by the obnoxious high-five I heard as we disappeared into the equipment.
But halfway through the workout, Kara was not her usual self. Normally a calculator when it came to loading the bar, she was grabbing the wrong size weights before each bench. She was miscounting her tricep curls and losing balance on her push-ups. I wanted desperately to ask her if she was okay, but we had never had so much as a conversation. She was falling apart but wouldn't acknowledge it. So I simply played along even though the workout ended at 4:38.
As she started her warm down stretching I walked back to the desk to find Shaka & Leandra with stunned faces. Like there was a car crash.
As I reached for my phone behind the desk I began to ask them if they'd spotted a ghost when Kara began to walk by me. I readied for our usual 'tomorrow at 4' only to be met by a beautiful but apologetic smile as she headed toward the front entrance.
As I started to panic, Shaka painfully questioned aloud, "Swim trunks?"
Puzzled I looked toward Leandra for an explanation to be met by a second pair of eyes caught in a trance. "Underwear?" Leandra squeaked as she quizzically squashed her face.
Oh My God!!
I'd spent the last 40 minutes hovering above Kara while my dick swung without restraint.
Shit!!
