Page 71 of Spinning Out Of Control

When James and I broke through the drywall and found the journal yesterday morning, I sat on the messy floor of my office and flipped through the entire thing. Kira’s name and signature are on the inside cover, dated October of her sophomore year in college. And within the pages lie all her plans. Ideas, scribbled floor plans, even a handwritten business proposal that proves what we already know. Spin Sync is hers, and Jonathan stole it from her.

“The fucker had it hidden in a hollow spot in thewall in his office like some kind of poor man’s Bond villain. I found it Saturday morning, and I called my lawyers while you were sleeping. They’re sure that if you took him to court, you could use this journal as proof of intellectual property. If you wanted to, love, you could take him down.”

She flips through the pages, running her fingers over each one like the journal is a precious album full of memories. Though, I suppose it is. It’s the birth of her brainchild. The lemon-covered journal is essentially Spin Sync’s baby book.

“Ren,” she says, her voice cracking slightly. “Am I allowed to cry?”

“Oh, darling,” I reach for her, lifting her chin to bring her watery eyes to meet mine. “You can cry all you want. I will always be here to wipe away your tears.” I swipe at one as it falls, and when Kira climbs into my lap, I kiss the rest away.

28

KIRA

“Alright, love. The ribbon is in place outside, and I tested the giant scissors. They work perfectly, no embarrassing and awkward fumbling with oversized scissors for my little pest.”

Ren presses a kiss to the top of my head as I peel the back of the temporary glitter freckles off my cheeks and nose, leaving a sparkle of silver in its wake. The shiny freckles match perfectly with my pink and silver iridescent sports bra and bike shorts and my hot pink rhinestone cycling shoes.

Today is the grand re-opening of Spin Sync under my ownership, and I want to look as bright on the outside as I feel on the inside. Right now, in this moment, I have never been happier. I have my best friends, my Ren, my family. I have my business and my fish son.

And just yesterday, a judge ruled that JonathanGraham had to pay both me and Ren a significant chunk of change for all the shit he pulled.

With the discovery of my stolen journal, our lawyers were able to prove that Spin Sync and most of its elements had in fact been my intellectual property. Everything Jonathan did to start the company was a violation of that stolen IP, and by selling the company to Ren under false pretenses, he was committing fraud. We technically could have asked for criminal charges, but the pathetic, dejected look on Jonathan’s snotty and tear-stained face when the judge swung his gavel and ruled in my favor was all I needed to quench my thirst for revenge.

Well, the look on his face and the multi-million dollar check he was ordered to write out to me. That certainly helps too.

Smiling at the memory, I check myself out in the mirror, popping a hip and posing next to the instructor bike on the stage of Studio B.

Technically, not much has changed around here. So much of the building and studio were already the product of my vision, but I took time over the last few weeks to revamp the strength and yoga studios to fit more students and give them the same customizable lighting options that we have in the bike and tread studios.

Every studio got an equipment upgrade, replacing the worn-in bikes and treadmills that have seen their fair share of miles with brand new ones. I alsoexpanded the lobby cafe, doubling the number of menu items and building extra space for local restaurants and wellness brands to host pop-ups for our members. And here in my favorite studio, gold-plated plaques sit in front of the first three bikes on my right, each one reading “Property of The Pussy Posse”, a permanent shout out to my platonic soulmates.

And even though we stayed open throughout the renovations, I insisted on a re-opening ceremony now that it’s all done. I’ve always wanted to cut a ribbon with those giant scissors.

“Thanks, babe. I couldn’t have done all of this without you,” I say, reaching up to give him a peck on his bearded cheek.

“Yes, you could have, darling.”

“I know. I totally could have, but “I couldn’t have done this without you” is the polite thing to say when your boyfriend tapes a giant ribbon to the front door of your business.”

He swats my ass, and I squeal, shivering at the contact of his palm against my backside.

“There is one thing you can’t do without me,” he says, stepping in close to press his growing erection into my hip. I moan, licking my lips.

“And what is that, Ren?”

“You can’t christen your favorite studio all by yourself. And look at you, all shiny and sparkly in your outfit. I think my precious little pest needs a jeweled cock to match her bejeweled ensemble.”

He reaches behind me, finding the knob that adjusts the height of the bike seat and twisting it until the seat drops low.

“Clip in,” he commands, nodding to the bike. A shiver runs through me as I turn, sliding my cleats into the pedals until they click, securing me to the bike. The seat is too low for me to sit, which I realize now was Ren’s intention. With no other choice, I hold on to the handlebars and lean forward, pushing my hips back. Ren steps in behind me, smoothing his hands over my ass in slow, hypnotizing circles.

“Once upon a time, you tortured me in this room. Do you remember Kira? Did you enjoy having me at your mercy, your toy in my ass, playing with me while you taught, the rest of the class none the wiser to my agony?” He dips his fingers into the waistband of my leggings, and he peels them down. The cool air hits my burning flesh, and a whimper escapes my lips.

“Answer me, love.”

“I remember. I loved it. I loved watching you ache for me. It was so hot, babe.”

He settles my leggings on my thighs and slides a hand between them, his hand making contact with my bare pussy, since I skipped the panties this morning.

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