Chapter 8: Gym girl Sharon.
There's this cute girl at the gym where I work out named Sharon that has been very friendly in a flirtatious manner for months now. She's a tiny 5' 4" brunette with a pixie haircut, cute face and a sense of humor similar to mine. She can't weigh more than ninety pounds, if that. Her boobs are small, almost certainly A-cups, but I like little boobs, so that's not a downside for me.
I think she noticed me from the first time she worked out when I was there and introduced herself on that first day. "Hi, I'm Sharon. What's your name?"
At first, I thought she was running for office or something, but soon discovered she was just being friendly. Over the next week or so, I picked up on her growing flirtatiousness, subtle at first but more pronounced as time wore on.
I observed her wedding ring right out of the gate when we first introduced ourselves, so I didn't chase her, but I still flirted back a bit. Flirting is fun, especially when you're flirting back at someone. I certainly wasn't lusting after a married woman who has the body of a young, pubescent teenager.
Now, this isn't a Gold's Gym kind of place where the hard-core body builders spend hours toiling over their physique - and the body-builder groupie girls participate in Peyton Place drama throwing themselves at the muscle-heads. This place I'm at is actually owned by the village and is tame as far as public participation and users. The average age of members is probably forty-something and 98% of them aren't body builders by a long shot.
It's good to reliably see at least one younger, non-overweight female who is nice enough to look at when I go in there to workout. And while most folks there are casual about fitness, Sharon is very serious about her workouts, maintaining her hardbody, just as I am.
I really do wish there were more attractive ladies there, of course, but there aren't. The upside to fewer people is no wait for the machines. The bad news? It is certainly not a place you go prospecting for a date or to watch attractive people.
Anyway, Sharon is often there in the early evening after I get off work along with usually about a dozen other folks, mostly in their late-thirties to seventies usually working out like lemmings - or like zombies in some cases. Every time I walk in and see their defibrillator there on the wall I think that was the best purchase they made before they opened the place, given how old and feeble some of the clientele is.
Early on, before I knew her well, I would follow her when running, idly doing more stretches than I need until she comes around to where I'm at on the track and then I'll start running. If she's on the elliptical machines first, I'll pick one behind her and watch her ass while I'm doing my workout. It's a good deal more entertaining than television and makes my time spent go much more quickly. I've also noticed that if I'm in the cardio room first, she'll pick a machine behind me.
One day, as we were both cooling off after a run where I was following her, watching her ass to pass the time, we got to talking.
"I noticed that you like to run behind me a lot," Sharon commented, giving me a sideways glance and looking me up and down. "Is that because you forgot to wear deodorant those days or because you like mine?"
I laughed while she held her grin. She shared my sense of humor apparently.
"Honestly, my workouts go more quickly that way."
"And how's that?" I think she knew the answer to that question and was just testing me.
"Time goes faster when you have a pretty girl to look at."
"And I thought you were staring at my ass."
"What's wrong with your ass?" I looked back at her butt. "Is there something on it?" That got her to laugh.
"Thank you. I like yours too."
"I've got something on my ass?"
We both laughed again.
Our friendship continued to grow.
I enjoyed her most when she was lifting live weights. She'll always ask me to spot for her, even though she's only got a couple of five pounders on either side of the bar. Being the gentleman, I'll help her out, admiring her form while she's lying on the bench doing her reps. She wears these tight little running shorts and her mound and cameltoe are both readily visible as she's laying on the weight bench with her knees spread apart. I have to struggle to keep from getting an erection at times while my crotch is right behind her head.
Over time, we talked about our personal lives with one another in addition to current events or culture. She told me that she was married and has a four-year-old daughter at home. Her interest in me seemed to surge when I told her I was single and recently went through an amicable divorce.
Last week, when we were cooling down after running together, I asked her why she's so flirtatious with me.
"I like you and think you're funny," she said, smiling at me.
"Aren't you married, though?"
"We have an open marriage."
"Huh?" I was surprised at her answer, to say the least.
"No, we aren't promiscuous. Every once in a blue moon, my husband will indulge me and I'll do the same for him."
"I see." I was still a little surprised. "Thanks for your candor. I like that."
The very next night, Sharon was running with me. While we were cooling down after two miles, she asks me out to dinner. It wasn't so much that she asked, but how she asked which caught me off guard.
"Joe, I like you and want to take you out to dinner. Which night next week would be good for you?" she asked.
I was a little stunned. She must be in sales with a close like that!
I looked at her again while formulating a response. "As long as your husband knows, I'd be honored and delighted to take you out to dinner, Sharon. How about Monday? It'll have to be a little later than conventional dinner hour though. Maybe 8pm." That would give me over an hour to get home after the gym, shower and get cleaned up.
"Eight on Monday sounds great! And yes, he knows," she said with a smile. Then she gave me hug and a peck on the cheek.
"Hell," I thought, "we haven't even gone out yet and I've already gotten a kiss. How cool is that?"
