Chapter 36: Almost

After so many months, she decided to visit the nearby gym. She was motivated by a bold enlightenment—a dawning sparked by her last FaceTime call with her siblings. It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed the rolls of fat clinging to her sides, or the tugging, labored sway of her buttocks due to her added weight; it was that she needed someone to point it out—to confirm that her hypothetical observations were indeed true.

“Isla, I’m headed to the gym,” she called, grabbing her jug of water, dressed in her gym outfit—tight grey sweatpants and a shirt that outlined her body shape.

Her face, free of the creases and grease of makeup, made her look young, ethereal, and pretty.

Isla didn’t reply. She was snuggled up in the sheets, enjoying her sweet sleep.

Her Acura was fastidiously maintained—a 2016 TL, which she had paid for in installments. She drove off.

At the gym, she met her instructor. Hired via UpWork, he appeared harmless, straight-shooting, all business. But she sensed otherwise. There was an undercurrent, a subtle corrupt air about him. His eyes lingered on her, and she knew he was the kind of man whose thoughts were shrouded in a soup of deceit. He was a well-built hunk with a massive stature, dark-skinned and bald. Zara felt small in his presence.

She shook his offered hand.

“Let’s get down to it,” he said in a whisper. His voice was loud enough to be heard, yet low enough to feel intimate—a bedroom voice, Zara remarked silently.

He took of his tank top which Zara thought unnecessary, revealing six-pack abs. It was glaringly conspicuous and attractive. Zara felt a questionable feeling.

“You’re taken, girl. Concentrate”, she reminded herself as  she began her squats, him crouching down behind her, her squatting down, slighting grazing his shorts.

“More arching,” he said of her back, and she did, obeying him and trying not to feel anything ungodly.

Her lustful ignition came when he told her to squat while he remained standing. She saw him through the large mirror. His eyes lingered on her neck as she did so, as if he wanted to kiss her, to lick off the salty taste of sweat from her skin.

She cringed at his demeanor, his disposition. Shame, she thought. Really, he can’t even pretend.

He had the aura of a man who trusted so well in his own charm—that he was hot, manly and well-to-do, and so any woman could fall for him, flailing into his arms over his heated appeal.

Zara stopped.

“I’m a bit tired,” she said as she reached for her water bottle on the table.

“We haven’t even started yet” he said, slightly frowning, with a half-raise of his eyebrows.

Zara had a look of dissatisfaction. He came up behind her and whispered, “Is this how you get lazy after a few drills”

‘Drills’ triggered certain thoughts in her head.

“There’s no getting tired yet. Not until I say so,” he said. There was, in his speech and tone, a teasing, a claiming, a leering.

He swept her hair to the side and whispered, “let’s go”.

She felt her nipples poking out of her chest, hard like it was gonna burst out. She was afraid he might see and so she put her hands over it.

He held her hand and stood behind her as she did squats again, now with dumbbells. He looked at her desirously. “It’s just us in here,” he said

“What do you mean?”

“I know you want it more than I do. Come on!” We’re not children here. We’re adults,” he said, his eyes full of hunger.

“What?” Zara quipped.

He used two fingers to hush her, pressing them against her lips. Zara felt herself falter, quelled by him, by his doe-eyed stare, his hulking stature, and his overpowering confidence.

Noticing her vulnerability, he laughed. She felt her nipples tighten, once again, followed by the sickening wetness between her thighs.

She thought about Nat. Would it hurt to have a one-time fling? She did not want to—but damn, he was hot. Huge and tall and wide-muscled, with irresistible eyes. They could fuck here in the gym, she could have a new adventure unfold, the fantasy of having sex in a gym.

Finally, she resolved that it was all impulse, this giving into his seduction. He was kissing her neck when she bolted away.

She took a deep breath.

“Okay I guess I’m done here,” she said as she walked toward the door.

“Hey, come on!” he said

She drove back home in silence, in wordless rage. Not that he could ever be Nat. Corrupt-eyed Jack, the gym instructor. No, the sex pervert.

“Our trip is tomorrow. Get your bag ready,” Nat texted her as she sat before the TV, catching up on her TV show, a tray of different pieces of pop corn and a mango-orange juice on the table.

She smiled, full of awed anticipation for London. That city that held history and legacy in its air. The city of amazing vistas and vibrancy.