Page 44 of All Twerk, No Play

Victoria

“Excellentwindsprints,everyone,”Eric said with an enthusiastic clap. “Let’s finish with Good as Hell squats.”

Alexander scrawled in his notebook: ‘WTF are Good as Hell squats?’

The group answered with a collective groan; no surprise, they bitched at every transition, but nobody quit. As soon as he played the music and led by example, they were all smiles behind his back … and he knew it.

It was fascinating how each client flourished under his perfect balance of teasing and pushing. His joyful singing and abundant laughter made the hard exercises seem easier.

When he showered me with attention in my apartment, I reveled in it like a flower turning towards the sun. Seeing other people react the same to his disarming smile made me resentful, wishing I could hoard his smiles.

During self-defense lessons in the elevator when he beamed that proud grin, I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him. His shitty no-man’s-land excuse overrode all my internal protests. All my inhibitions dropped, the way my panties would have if the fire department hadn’t arrived.

When our lips had unfused, I’d immediately feared that he’d make things awkward—like bragging during an incubator meeting that I couldn’t keep my hands off him. But at those meetings and in our building, he treated me with nothing but professional courtesy. Which I appreciated … even if, when I slipped into the sheets at night and reached for my vibrator, I imagined him knocking on my door with that flirtatious smile.Thought you might need a drill.Or pictured knocking on his door clad only in my thin pajamas, and he would open the door in nothing but his sweatpants …

But none of that happened. Instead I threw myself into the incubator clients. At night I re-read all my business school textbooks, considering how they’d apply to these smaller businesses instead of enterprise corporation.

As part of the incubator, Alexander and I conducted visits to every business. We took copious notes and created detailed business growth plans, and I enjoyed the challenge of stretching smaller budgets and managing a handful of employees instead of thousands.

Conversations went smoothly with Alexander when we were brainstorming about growing other people’s businesses instead of fighting about ours. Hoping that their success would fuel his competitive nature, I secretly planned to incorporate his best ideas into our Manhattan expansion plans.

And we’d saved Eric’s visit for last.

For the first 45 minutes of our hour-long observation, our brainstorming had been nonstop about his liability waivers and class format and hiring strategy, agreeing on two non-negotiables.

After pages of scrawled notes—and Alexander’s complaints that he still couldn’t read the shorthand that my mother’s secretary taught me when I was seven—we stopped writing to watch the magic unfold. My heels sunk into the grass, a light wind sweeping over my legs beneath my navy sheath dress.

After we finished, I had dinner plans with Lawrence. It had taken forever to finally nail down a time, with several last minute cancellations on his part, so I’d planned to leave early … but I was captivated. The date could wait.

“You know the drill,” Eric said. “It’s only three minutes and seventeen seconds. You can do anything for that long.”

Alexander’s wool coat flapped against my thigh. “I can’t believe his charisma.”

“You joining the next class?”

“I said he was charismatic, not that I would be caught dead participating."

Eric’s classes weren’t what I expected. When he introduced himself as a personal trainer, I expected him spotting chest presses and helping Navy bros ‘get swole.’ I’d arrived early to interview clients, and while there were definitely brawny guys, the clientele was more diverse than I expected.

Barry, a single dad in his fifties brought his teenager to connect with his daughter through music. The playful coaching and accountability helped Kate finally quit smoking. Nancy, a 67-year old whose doctor recommended strength training to fend off osteoporosis, said classes made her feel younger. And shy Navy student Andrew gained confidence advice to approach girls, which helped him ask out his now-girlfriend.

They flocked to Eric. Through his warm encouragement—and ok, light trash talking—he could convince them to do anything. Alexander and I were world-class negotiators, yet as we stood in that field watching Eric charm and cheerlead and coach, I wondered if there was anything he couldn’t talk me into.

Which is why I’d been avoiding him since the elevator, where his calm instruction and soft touch and clean smell and bare chest had been impossible to resist. And I’d asked him to stop and he respected every single boundary—none of that “but now I’m hard and it’s your fault” shit that Spencer used to pull.

I don’t know how far we would have gone if the fire department hadn’t arrived. When those doors opened, I immediately went upstairs for a cold shower and change of clothes, berating myself for being too weak to resist him.

I was his business consultant, for Christ’s sake. He deserved better from me.

At the beginning of class, he’d explained to the students why we were observing, then respectfully ignored our presence. He was so tuned into every student’s needs that it appeared he’d forgotten us.

But as they circled up, Eric winked at me. “This song’s for you,Cobrita.”

As he demonstrated the squats, Alexander muttered, “Still weird you let him call you that, you usually hate nicknames.”

“I usually do, but he earned it,” I said, watching the round curve of his clenched butt. For research, of course.

“How do I earn a nickname?”

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