Page 22 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
“Not when you have the right man coaching you,” I say.
A few titters come from the crowd.
Penny’s cheeks turn pink.
Is it hot in here? It’s hot in here.
My hand hovers over her lower back. “May I touch you?”
“You may,” she says.
“Alright, everyone. Miss Whitaker is going to keep a nice, neutral spine...” I run my hand gently up Penny’s back until I reach her neck, then trace down again.
She shivers under my touch.
“Right now, while she’s resting forward, she wants her hamstrings and glutes to stay relaxed.”
Penny responds to my words and relaxes her lower half.
“Good girl,” I rumble.
Shit, I wasn’t supposed to say “Good girl.”
Another round of titters comes from the crowd.
“Then, with her chin slightly tucked…”
I touch her chin. She tucks it down.
“Her shoulders back…”
I brush her shoulders. She pulls them back.
“Her abs engaged…”
I tap her belly. Her abdominals tighten. God, she’s responsive.
“She’s going to press her feet firmly onto the base, squeeeeeeeze those glutes, fire up her legs and… explode upward.”
Penny does everything I ask her to do and lifts her chest powerfully into the air, her hair tossing back like she’s freaking Ariel in The Little Mermaid.
“Beautiful!” I praise. “Again!”
She executes the movement again perfectly.
“Again!”
She continues like she’s been doing this exercise her entire life. I’m right beside her, completely in sync with her rhythms and her breath as she folds and extends over and over and over. With every move she makes, I coach her.
“Relax… explode! Relax… explode! Relax… explode!”
“Alright, alright, alright!” Penny shouts. She dismounts the equipment and slips on her heels, her breath labored. She speaks softly this time. “I think they get the idea.”
Our audience reenters my awareness.
People are whispering and giggling. More than a few ladies are fanning themselves. Keira is grinning and giving me a thumbs-up.
But when I turn back to thank her—and possibly apologize too— Penny is nowhere to be seen.
