Page 10 of Christmas Candy

“It was mutual. Trust me.”

She nods. “I don’t think it violates friend code to tell you these things, mainly because I think it’s long past time for her to move outside her comfort zone.” She whips her hair up into a ponytail. “And it helps that I think you’re just the guy for her.”

“You do?” I respect her frank tone. She certainly doesn’t mince words.

“Yes. I saw it yesterday morning at the senior center. You two had more chemistry than one of Mrs. Black’s classes.” She winks at me. “And I wouldn’t mind having you around, either. Easy on the eyes and all that.”

I laugh, the sound gaining stares from a couple of the other students. “Got any tips for me?”

“Perseverance. She’s a tough nut to crack but worth it.”

I’d flirted with Olive during bingo, but I wanted to get closer, to bring down her walls so I could see the real her. She’d practically run from me after the event. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, to the point I was desperate enough to come over for a class.

“I’m going to hit her with everything I’ve got.”

“Let’s hope it’s enough. Also—” She gives my brand new mat a critical look “—how flexible would you say you are?”

“Huh?”

Her mouth pulls down into a frown. “And I didn’t even think about the planking she’ll enforce because of this.”

“What makes you think—”

The studio’s rear door opens, and Olive strolls in. She pauses when her eyes seize on me. A mix of emotions run across her face. Surprise, a hint of excitement, and a dash of irritation.

“Shit,” Candace whispers. “That’s a planking face.”

Olive recovers and springs up onto the platform in front of the mirrored wall at the back of the room. Her yoga pants hug the delicious curve of her ass, and her tank top highlights her round breasts. I wonder what they’d look like bare and bouncing as she straddles me. My cock tries to harden in my shorts. Not cool. I look away and find the white-haired Mrs. Reed staring at me from two rows up. Boner killer. Thank god.

The calming music rises—the sound of running water and a harp playing—as everyone climbs to their feet.

“Arms out to the side, breathe in, then bring them together overhead and pull them down to your heart with a steady breath out.” Olive looks at every student but me as we follow her instructions. “Cleanse yourself of whatever you came here with today. Release your burdens and just be.”

I can do this. Moving my arms up and down and breathing? Easy. We do the stretch a few more times.

“Half moon pose to the left.” Olive stretches her arms above her head, and I notice her nipples have tightened beneath her tank top. She leans from the waist over to her side.

The class follows. I can’t take my eyes off her body, the smooth curves, and the fair skin. We lean to the other side, and I haven’t even come close to breaking a sweat, though Ihavecome far too close to getting hard in my gym shorts.

“Flow into eagle pose.”

“Shit,” Candace mutters.

I stare as Olive twists her arms in front of her and tucks one leg around the other until she resembles an upright pretzel.

“Follow along.” She gives me a cutting look. “If you can.”

Shiiiiittt. I’ve never backed down from a challenge. I cross my arms, stand on one leg, then wrap one foot around the rear of my calf. Should be simple. It’s not. I lose my balance. Olive stands completely still, her body twisted yet somehow comfortable.

I try the pose again and hold it for about five seconds before losing my balance yet again. A small smile plays across Olive’s lips. And this is just the beginning. Over the next hour, we move from standing poses that I find nearly impossible to hold, to work on our knees, to finally getting down on our stomachs. I’m sweating, Candace is breathing hard, and someone along the front row has let out a squeaky fart, so now I can’t breathe.

“Let’s push ourselves for the final pose, especially since most of us are taking Christmas week off.” Olive gets to her knees, lifts, and holds a planking position.

“Goddamn bullshit.” Candace assumes the position, though her back is nowhere near the straight line of Olive’s.

I can do a plank. Pushups are a gym mainstay for me. I’ve got this. But first, I get to my knees and strip my shirt off. Olive’s eyes rove my torso and lower. She swallows hard, and I get onto my hands and knees before my cock starts planking ahead of me.

Straightening my legs, I hold myself up and stare at Olive. Her eyes don’t leave mine, the challenge rippling across the air between us. She may be a yoga instructor with killer curves, bright eyes, and flexibility that will occupy my mind for days, months, probablyyears, but I can hold this pose for just as long as she can.

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