Page 12 of Work Me

Damn, this attraction may be more dangerous than I thought! That true conviction I felt last night at our incompatibility, not to mention that we’re rivals, burst into flames the moment I stepped within ten feet of him. Well, really it’s been since I woke up in the middle of the night and thought of him. I thought taking care of that business myself would be enough, but apparently, my body wants more than my right hand.

Now, as I see it, there are only two solutions to my predicament:

A) Scratch that itch and get him out of my system.

B) Stay as far away from him as possible.

He’s made it clear casual sex isn’t an option. Damn it! And I’m not interested in any kind of relationship. So, (A) is out of the question. That means I’ll need to stay away from him. There are plenty of fleas on a dog, as they say. I can definitively find someone else to ease the tension.

Finding a spot in the middle of the soft floor made for our hard workouts, I wait and watch as people trickle in. Lots of people. Mostly women. Gee, I wonder what they are here to see.

Well, I’m not going to watch him. Nope.

I shake my head to reinforce the thought, even as my eyes betray me and strain to keep him in their sights. My brain registers just how fine he looks, how his lean muscles flex under his fitted t-shirt as he shows a woman proper pushup form. I squeeze my thighs together, desperate for him to do a few pushups on top of me.

“She knows exactly how to do a push up,” I hear behind me.

“Yeah, I’ve seen her at the five thirty class. That’s all an act to get him to talk to her,” someone else says.

“You’re just jealous because you didn’t think of it,” the first woman says.

“Wouldn’t you be? Look at those arms, Fran. I want him to do push-ups on me while I hold my legs all the way to my ears!” The two women cackle and I roll my eyes at their indecent conversation.

The class fills to the point where we have to turn people away. Julie races around the room, completely frazzled because of the unexpected attendance.

“Do you think it has anything to do with Dean leading the class?” she asks me, but walks away before I can answer.

Dean tries to pry himself from the woman he’d been helping, but she’s doing her best to keep him occupied. Julie says something to her and she finally walks away looking disappointed and dejected.

An all too giddy Meg Lassiter, who’s just as enthralled by Dean’s pretty looks as the rest of them, is assigned as his assistant. She stands beside him with a proud smile on her face. He beams at her, and I feel this little thing in my stomach. It’s not jealousy, of that I’m sure.

I look at Meg more closely now. She’s pretty, I suppose. And younger than me, about thirty-one or so. Long honey blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, very toned, yet curvy. Sparkling hazel eyes and full lips.

Jose sets up next to me as class is about to start, ending my search for some imperfection in Meg.

Dean looks at the wall clock, then heads behind the desk to grab his ear mic and control pad. “Play Hard” with Ne-Yo blares to life, as Dean hoots into the mic and hops onto the floor.

“Yo, yo! Everyone up!” he commands and we all stand, immediately going into motion. “For those who I haven’t had the chance to meet, my name is Dean Cooper.”

“Deano!” someone yells from the back and the crowd roars his name.

“Even though I come from our Orlando location, I feel at home here. What an amazing group of people you all are! Today, we are here to do awesome things together. Are you ready for this?” he yells at us

“Yeah!” we all yell back.

“Make me believe it!”

“Yeah!” we yell louder.

“Woohoo!” he flexes, and starts high fiving everyone within reach. “Let’s do this!”

There is so much energy rolling off him, that for a short time, as in a minute, I forget not to look at him.

Today is leg day. It’s not a partner class, but Jose and I stick together. I like him. He rivals Dean in good looks, with dark skin from his Mexican heritage, dark brown eyes, super tight body, and the deepest dimples I’ve ever seen. Even with all that he doesn’t move my insides the way Dean does.

We work our way around the room, doing several reps of body weight squats, pistol squats, surrender squats, curtsy squats.

“Who came up with this crap?” I ask Jose when he’s within hearing range.

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