A note: This story isn't intended to "pay off" right away. It takes a little time and will unfold over several chapters. If you're looking for speed, this isn't for you.
*****
"Sure, I like tits as much as the next guy." I'm fairly certain that was the first time I'd ever said such a thing in public.
"Of course, you do," she turned to face me at the juice bar. "I'm just saying you don't like tits as much as I do."
"Well, how do you figure that Michelle?"
This was not my average conversation at the gym. I mean, sometimes a guy would grunt at me and point out that one of the ladies was particularly attractive.
Okay, let's be honest... usually he'd just say "nice ass" and point. But I tried to discourage that. I mean, yeah, I notice beautiful women working out, too. Who wouldn't? I'm just saying that I have better training than to point, grunt and cat call. That's crude and pretty stupid, if you ask me. No woman has ever stopped and said to a cat caller, "Oh, wow. That makes me hot. Here's my phone number." It just doesn't happen. So, in addition to rude it's ineffective and unwelcome.
But, naturally, I notice attractive people. Everyone does. I still didn't expect to be having this conversation with Michelle. We'd only been dating for a month or so. Okay, maybe six weeks. We'd been out a several times, gone to dinner, gone to concerts, and spent a few nights at her place, but we were still figuring each other out. I knew she was beautiful. She worked hard. She was adventurous. And apparently she also had a membership at my gym. The part about her being into girls was an interesting surprise, but that was early on. Maybe on our second date. She was transparent about all things libido. I was certainly in favor of that.
"Seems pretty obvious to me," she continued. "I mean, I actually HAVE tits... and I'm pretty enamored of them as is. I mean, there are days when I catch myself in the mirror and give it a good 'Dayum.' So, we can start with... that girl likes her own tits at least as much as the average guy, right?"
"Fair."
"Okay. So, then you have to add in that I like them on other people at least as much as the average horndog guy."
"Now, that's a point I'd have to contend with. I mean, c'mon. Average guy sees a nipple and he can't think beyond the Neanderthal level. I think that's a pretty established fact, no?" I felt like I was on solid ground here. I have some experience with my own cognitive downshift, and I'm one of the more... enlightened... dudes in my circle.
"Well, not exactly," she clarified. "Sure, the first nipple a guy sees... probably right back to the Stone Age. But after that, there are varying levels of ogle, right? I mean, you got your nonchalant nudist acknowledgment that nipples are great but everybody has them so let's not freak out. And then you've got your every nipple is cause for walking into doors and walls and drooling and such. So, there's a range."
"True."
"Okay, well, if there's a range then you have to measure an average and let's just say the average is probably 'nipples are freakin' awesome, but I can act cool if I have to in that situation.' Genital reaction is at least sometimes controllable and there's no serious danger of committing assault, right?"
"Seems like a decent standard, but I'm still not sure how you imagine that you are more into tits than even the average dude," I offered. "I mean, even given the self-love I spotted you there, you'd have to rate the average guy a bit more obsessed since he doesn't even get the free peek that you get for yourself, so we'd have to assume he's a bit more motivated, no?"
"Nope. See that chick over there?" I followed her gaze to a squat machine at the edge of the main floor. A woman in her late-40s, dark red hair pulled back in a ponytail and into what must have been a double-digit rep given the level of effort, caught my attention. It took a second to realize that I knew her.
"Yeah, of course, I mean that's-"
"Doesn't matter who she is, but where we are is a little relevant," Michelle said with a bit of a twinkle in her eye.
"What do you mean? It's a gym. So what? Not exactly King Solomon's mines or anything."
"Yeah, I know. But we're at a gym. I really hate going to the gym. I know exercise is important and all, but I'd rather go for a run outside. It's just more fun, smells better, and I don't have to pay for it or talk to one of these meathead front desk people."
"Yeah. And."
"Well, that chick right there comes to this gym... so I come to."
"You mean, you work out here because you like to hang out with the woman doing squats? So, you know her? Like do you work with her or something, or did you just strike up one of those gym friendships?"
"Sort of. I mean, yeah, she's pretty hot in workout wear. I'll give you that. But I started coming regularly for another reason."
"Okay, I'll bite."
"See Gil, I came here on a trial membership and ran into her on my first visit. She's friendly. And, gyms have locker rooms. Turns out she's not at all shy about changing in the locker rooms and then heading to the showers. She wanders the room basically holding court. She'll talk to everyone. And the whole time... naked as the day she was born."
