She was a goddess. I thought so every time I saw her. Something of a "I'm not good enough to even think about her" level of beauty. What's worse is, she didn't even seem to know. She wore baggy clothes. She talked to anyone, everyone, at the gym. Friendly, smiling laughter with men three times her age. Her little fingers waves to everyone as he moved from machine to free-weights. Free-weights to machines.
Her skin was like cocoa. Just a rich, beautiful chocolate. Black, thick hair that tangled down to her shoulders. It knotted, sometimes. Sometimes it's ends were split. Sometimes parts of it would swirl in little waves as though she had forgotten to brush it. Maybe she had. Her nose twitched as she laughed. Not that I ever made her laugh. I just noticed as peddled away on the stationary bike trying like hell to watch Tim Russert or whatever else was going on at CNBC. Even with the sound off and subtitles nixed. Even during infomercials. I didn't want to seem like some letch, some pervert. Of course, when she did see me spying her, she just smiled, waved a little finger wave. I'd respond. That's that.
I started fondly referring to her as "Carrot." I didn't know her ethnicity, she could have been Indian or half-black. I was far too shy to ask her name. So I called her Carrot. Why? She made me pedal harder. Just seeing her shot my BPM up a few points. Make me suddenly start sweating. Had all sorts of biological affects on me. None of which were pleasant.
Whenever I passed her by on the floor, as we didn't do the same machines in our respective circuits, I'd just smile and bow my head. Look to the ground and pass her by. She'd flash me a pathetic smile. I don't know if she ever watched me. Never turned around to see her. It's just a simple matter of fact: Nerdy guys who wear glasses do not approach or look at amazing women. It's really rule one of being a nerd. The primary rule.
So on this particular day I did a nice work out, nothing grand, nothing difficult. Just something to keep the insomnia away, make water taste better. I had a light shower, threw my overpriced workout garb into my locker and donned my swimsuit. I then trudged out into the wet area. Stiffness was already beginning to overtake my body. It always did until I loosened it up with heat.
I nodded to the few people who littered the pool, the benches, the Jacuzzi and slipped into the steam room. Two men, probably in their 50's, were discussing the shortcomings of my generation. Something I still look forward to doing when I'm their age. I took off the glasses, folded them neatly, and got comfortable. One of the pair said the lack of morality was to blame. The other declared it was playground equipment that was too safe. They argued about why each other was right before asking me what I thought. "Lack of role models," I said peeling my right eye open to look at them. Neither seem pleased and, with only minimal grunting, they left.
Then there was only the sound of the Jacuzzi running. A soft, rolling noise. White noise. Much like that of a fountain you can buy at any new age store. It caused my feet to sink into the heated tiles. My breath to become deep and slow and my body to become heavy with fatigue.
The temperature dropped from the two men leaving. It receded to the point where two giant jets started up suddenly, pouring superheated water vapor into the room. I was just across from them and so I felt the heat, the wetness, rise up my feet. Up my thighs to the crook of my knees. Then over them to my thighs, my stomach, my neck. Eventually I was enveloped in steam and loving it. I let out a slow sigh and then stretched as the tubes turned off.
I sat like that for...well, I don't really know for how long. I may have even fallen asleep. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of the sealed down opening, someone stepping in and shutting it once more. I lazily turned my head to the door and smiled, not opening my eyes. I received a light and fluttery "hello" in return. Nice tenor tone. I smiled once more and said so in my tenor, wishing it were baritone, voice.
Then there were the wet, sticky sounds one makes, no matter how lithe or graceful, on a steam room floor. Magnified by echoes. She had the entire room to choose from, but seemed to pick a spot about a meter from me. Probably for the heat. As she lowered herself down to the second tier of seating she asked "you don't mind?"
"Not at all. Best seats in the house," I replied blindly. She giggled in a not-so stupid way. I was determined not to make small talk and just let the heat come over me.
A few moments passed and the jets turned on from her entrance. A light blast, but hot and fresh none-the-less. I suppressed a moan. She didn't. I could then hear her slouching against the back wall. She could be quiet, which was the most important thing in the steam room as far as I'm concerned. All was right with the world until I heard her slowly turn towards me and inquire "have I seen you somewhere before?"
I was about to put on my "too cool for school" act when I opened my eyes and saw that Carrot was seated far too close for comport. Instead I hit my head against the wall as I tried to sit up straight. Wincing, sat up and offered her a huge, over the top smile, "oh, yes, we've been working out together for - and I don't make working out together - I mean I was working out - not to say that you don't work out - but that we've been working out - again, not together, just, we - as separate individuals - have both been working out here - this gym - for some time now."
She just stared for awhile after that, nodded and smiled. "Hell of a monologue. Didn't recognize you without your glasses." She snickered a bit and offered her hand, "Rishma."
"John." I took it and shook it gingerly. She then squeezed my hand and leaned forward to look through the fog and into my eyes. My own pair widened and looked left to right, then into her eyes. My lord, they were lovely. Deep and brown and...deep. Very deep. Swallow you whole if you look too long. She squinted and then released my hand before giving me a slap on the thigh.
"You're Bike Guy!" She said it a happy, jaunty tone.
"Am I?" I blinked in confusion.
"Yeah! Totally. Didn't recognize you without your glasses. Oh, hope you don't mind, I call you 'Bike Guy' because you're always on the bike staring really, really hard at the news." She shook her body at this to signify something. I do not know what.
"Sorry for hitting you by the way," she said tilting her haid in a girlish way.
"Oh, it's no problem, I'm used to it," I said with only a mild stutter.
"What? Getting hit on the steam room?" She made a little "ooo" noise and then smiled brightly. "More to you than meets the eye. Speaking of which, you have really nice eyes."
"Thanks," I said breaking eye contact, "most people think I look better without the glasses."
"Not I! You look nice with them on, John the Bike Guy."
"Oh, thank you," I muttered, unable to look her in the eyes still.
And that was that. I turned and looked to the wall unable to think of anything to say. I tried to. A thousand lines beginning with "so" or "are" or "I'm" but nothing came out. Couldn't quite get the courage to say anything. I finally decided on the line of those devoid of skill and personality. "So what do you do?" And I was just about to say it, in fact I got so far as "So wha-" before the jets turned on again and the room was filled with hissing steam.
"What?" She asked as she inched closer.
"So what do you do!"
"Oh, I'm a student! I'm going to be a nurse! You?"
"Student. Going to teach English!"
"That's," she shouted just as the steam shut off "great!" She then giggled and gritted her teeth as the vapor settled. "Little loud there."
"Just a bit," I added.
