As a yoga teacher, I was used to having a studio full of mostly female students, with one or two men. I taught a hot, athletic power yoga, and by the end of the class, everyone was dripping with sweat, including me.
I guided the class from the front of the studio, but walked around and gave the students adjustments, holding a leg or foot, pressing down on their sacrum when in child's pose, or using a strap to pull their thighs back in downward dog. When they were in the final pose, savasana, resting on their backs with legs and arms loosely on the ground, I would walk around and gently press their shoulders down, or give a quick massage to the back of their necks, or pull on their feet.
I always asked in advance if they didn't want me to touch them, but no one ever said no. I think the women liked the idea of a muscular, lean, flexible and good-looking 30-something man touching them like that. (Me, that is!). They liked it that there were the boundaries of the teacher/student relationship -- if any one of them and became attracted to each other, we could enjoy feeling that feeling, but not act on it. They liked it that they could get hot and sweaty in their tight, colorful yoga pants and tank-tops, and not be self-conscious before their teacher.
I wore a tank-top too, and loose, long shorts, and usually no underwear, since it got so hot in there, and the length of the shorts kept my privates hidden, though I must admit sometimes I felt myself getting aroused with the friction against me, and the sight of so many women in such skimpy clothes. I had to move my mind away from these things and deliberately try not to get hard in front of them. After class, after everyone had left, I went to the studio's co-ed sauna or steam room and sat there dripping sweat with a small towel draped over me. In the steam room, where you could barely see a foot in front of you, I often wondered if someone would quietly enter and sit beside me, and we would be invisible to each other, until one of us reached a hand to the other.
There was one student who began to come to class regularly, towards whom I felt a gradual attraction, and in her own energy, I could feel the attraction might be mutual. I kept the studio dimly lit, so there was a certain intimacy created, and when I walked around giving instructions and adjustments, I often gravitated towards her. She was hard to resist. She was tall, leggy, with short cropped blonde hair, strong hands, blue eyes, and buttocks that curved like ... well, you can imagine. You can tell I noticed everything about her -- especially how she closed her eyes and gently smiled when I pressed her shoulders down in the resting pose. Anna -- that was her name.
I particularly liked giving some assistance to her when the class went into triangle pose. I would stand close to her from behind, strongly press my thigh against hers to prop her straight, and hold her upper wrist -- the one that reached for the sky in the pose -- in order to help her extend and lengthen. Then, later, in downward dog, I would stand in front of her and with both hands push against her sacrum to stretch her back and thighs, and often I could hear a small sigh escape her lips. I could almost feel her prepare herself energetically for my assistance, readying herself for my hands.
One day she stayed after class and asked for more help in headstand. We were alone in the dimly lit studio. She placed her hands on the ground, and the top of her head, and I stood firmly before her and asked her to slowly raise one leg and then the other into the air, where I held them. She straightened her back and tucked her tail, and I placed a fist between her knees and asked her to squeeze. Then she lowered one leg and then the other, and came to her knees, flushed, and smiled at me. "Thank you," she said. "I really want to master that." I was kneeling just a couple of feet away from her and for a second, I thought she was going to kiss me. "You're a good teacher," she said. "Very skilled and kind." Then she turned away, as if she had said too much, and gathered her things and left. I watched her walk away and it seemed like she was deliberately swinging her hips and swaying for me, and then she shook droplets of sweat from her short, shaggy hair and walked out. I went immediately to the sauna, which was empty, and played with myself until I came into my towel. Then I hit the cold showers. I was in love.
It was a time when I wanted love. My marriage had fallen apart; I was single and trying to make a living teaching, working part-time at the organic food store, and writing late at night. Anna embodied the kind of shy but radiant confidence and beauty, and brevity of words, that I so liked.
The flirtation with her -- if that's the right word -- continued, both of us (I think she was on board with this) enjoying the mutual attraction that was limited by the ethics of a teacher/student relationship. There were a few times I wondered if she was starting to push the boundaries though. In one class, as I pressed down on her upper spine and her sacrum in child's pose, I could feel her move her buttocks up against my hand. Another time, after rubbing the back of her neck briefly in resting pose, as I stood up and began to move to the next student, she opened her eyes and smiled at me, and rested her hand on my bare foot for a second.
She stayed more and more after class, asking questions, asking for help in doing certain poses. I had my hands on her body often, lifting, pressing, pulling -- sometimes standing behind her with a thigh against her butt, my hands on her shoulders, rolling them back. I had the beginnings of an erection, and I felt it graze against her, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she nestled back against me for a microsecond and arched her back. We both pretended that nothing had happened. "Thanks," she said. "I'm going to take a shower, maybe a steam bath first or sauna, I love the heat." It was winter. I wondered if she was extending an invitation, or just wanting the extra heat on a cold day. She went off, and I hurried out to my car and drove through blinding snow to my other job at the store.
The next class I tried not to think of her. I had been feeling increasingly aroused at touching her and thrilled by her smiles and new "good-bye" squeeze on my upper arm. Once she had tousled the hair on the back of my head on her way out. That class, I almost ignored her. At the end of class, as everyone was filing out, she approached me. "You seem a little off today," she said. "Are you OK?" I mumbled something. "If there's anything I can do ..." she said, touching my arm and smiling gently, her pretty brows furrowed, as if concerned, her blue eyes sparkling with warmth. "It's nothing," I said. "I just need to warm up, I was freezing this morning. I'm going to the sauna, I think," blurting out that thought at the very end.
She nodded. "I'm going to practice headstand a little then," she said. "Get the blood up into my head for a while."
