Page 34 of Only for the Week
Me: You’re a lot of things J but a fool isn’t one of em
Me: Come see me
J: Still waiting on my please
Me: I’m not above begging when it comes to you so PLEASE bring your fine ass to the gym I need a workout partner
J: What makes you think I even have workout clothes with me?
Me: Play with ya mama not me
J: How I’m playing?
Me: Bc you know if you didn’t have any I’d have some to you within the next thirty minutes so again I say stop playing
J: I see so this was just a chance to flaunt your wealth
Me: No it’s me telling you plainly I’ll get you whatever you want and need whenever you want and need it
A few minutes go by without a response, so I send a follow-up.
Me: Don’t take too long processing what I said, J. It’s not complicated. I’ll see you soon.
J: I didn’t agree
Me: Didn’t you?
With a smile tugging at my lips, I put my phone down and get back to the goblet squats I was doing. I don’t think I can make demands of Janelle, but I know that I’m not alone in this craving. She can chalk it up to wanting to make the most of our limited time together whereas I err more on the side of not being able to get enough of her, but the result is the same: when one of us calls, the other answers.
After my last set, I sit down on the weight bench beside me for a quick rest. The door to the gym opens and I know without looking that it’s her. The air in the room shifts, making room for the sheer magnitude of emotions that flow when the two of us are together.
I turn around to take her in and find her watching me with a loosely veiled desire. She looked like a walking fantasy with her ample ass barely covered in some short black biker shorts, paired with a yellow sports bra and black training gloves. The woman had her own training gloves with her but was playing on my phone about not having any workout clothes.
She walks toward me with the confidence of a queen, knowing she has me wrapped around her finger and salivating at the sight of her.
“Couldn’t get through a couple hours without me?” she teases, stepping between my legs and bracing her hands on my shoulders. I reach up to grab her chin and pull her face down to mine, losing myself in the pillowy clouds of her lips. She pulls away from me looking breathless and a little dazed but gathers herself to throw another taunt at me. “I thought I came here to work out, but I didn’t need to throw on these clothes or drag myself out of bed for this kind of workout.”
I grip her hips and stand to my full height. With a slap on her ass, I move past her. “Bring your ass on.”
She chuckles but follows me without question.
I let her warm up while I do some leg extensions. I’m obvious in my ogling of her but I don’t care. Janelle is a work of art, and she deserves to be appreciated, studied for hours on end. She has the face of an angel and the body of a vixen. I appreciate every curve, dip, and dimple on her.
The way her ass claps on its own with every squat has me about to brick up right here in this gym. She moves through each rep with a grace that showcases the true strength her body possesses.
After her warmups, we talk as we run through different exercises. I like to have fun at the gym. I never take myself too seriously so I tease her during our entire workout, and she gives it right back to me. I make a show out of spotting her during certain exercises so that I can have excuses to touch her. She gives me shit for the Bulgarian split squats I put her through, telling me if I wanted to kill her there are more humane ways to do it.
We’ve now been working out for a solid two hours and I’m ready to go back to one of our rooms to work something else out. I’m sitting on the mat against one of the plyo boxes with one of the free weights straddling my hips, about to do a few sets of hip thrusts before calling it a day when Janelle calls for my attention.
“You tired, old man?”
“Why you say that?”
“Them weights looking a little light. I’m just surprised is all.”
Oh, she has jokes. I have two hundred pounds of weights on this bar and she’s looking like I’m lifting a sandwich. “Word? Okay. How much you think I should add?”
She shrugs noncommittally. “You could do three. Three fifty.”
