At home, she swaps the v-cut and the mechanical contraption holding her glory aloft for a simple sports bra, her flat-front khakis for wind pants. They always felt like pajama bottoms to her, but that's what people wore at the gym. There was just enough time to hit up the juice bar for a strawberry banana smoothie before her jazzercise class. Sweatin' to the oldies wasn't really her thing, but that was the class Anne taught. You make sacrifices for love, or whatever it was she felt for her physical trainer.
They met when her work started offering contributions to her health savings account for good behavior. Since she didn't smoke, Lilly had to settle for a gym membership. At first it was a purely financial decision, with the savings on her birth control prescription easily recouping the monthly fees. Sure, she could lose a few pounds, all women do, but she never expected to go more than once or twice a month. That is, until she met Anne.
A few weeks before, sitting in the membership office idly playing with the zippers on the free tote bag for all new, well-endowed female members, she was informed by the friendly customer service representative that along with the bag, the towel, the free pass for the day spa, and dinner on him at Chez Coulettes next Saturday night (Lilly passed on that offer), she would be assigned a personal trainer for the first week to help her establish a workout regimen.
Great, she thought, another walking testosterone factory to make terribly witty double entendres as she flexed, stretched, groaned, and sweated underneath some machine designed to spread her legs apart with sixty pounds of dead weight. "No, tha-" she began as the trainer entered the room.
Lilly's mouth remained open as the last syllables failed to materialize. Before her stood an Athenian figure: strong, lithe, and dark-haired. Anne's warm eyes met hers with professional restraint. "Hello. My name's Anne and I'll be your trainer," she introduced herself with a solid handshake.
No ring Lilly found herself thinking as her fingers casually slid across Anne's palm. Sure, she had experimented in college, all women do, but she never thought of herself as the type of girl who'd find herself at an Ani DiFranco concert.
The week flew by far too quickly. Anne was gentle and patient as Lilly struggled to master the various pulleys and levers that made up most of her weight training. As the afternoons dragged on at work, she would daydream about buying a home in Vermont where Anne and she would milk cows and make their own cheese. When the free trial expired, she immediately signed up for the jazzercise class. Anne seemed pleased to have her as one of her students.
Lilly slurped down the last of her smoothie. Class began in five minutes and she was always punctual. A few women and the one gay guy were already inside the mirrored room doing warm-up stretches. She dropped her bag and took her place near the front and off to the side where she could get an excellent view of Anne's reflected rear end. Anne always wore these orange running shorts that tended to bunch up during a routine, nicely outlining the contours of her "glutes" as she always referred to them.
The door swung open as Anne jogged into the room. She always bounced into class like that, shouting "are you ready to rock, people?" Lilly enjoyed her enthusiasm, her lust for life. She looked at her and smiled in a way she imagined to be coy, but really came off as kind of goofy, not that it much mattered to most of her suitors, whose eyes were usually directed elsewhere. Anne was different though. She smiled back and stuck her tongue out at her, "c'mon, lazybones! Get up off that floor and move your feet!"
By the time the class ended and the tired remix of Britney's Toxic wound down, Lilly was drenched in sweat. After two weeks of this, she figured she'd be used to it, but Anne kept driving the class harder and harder. "See you Tuesday," she said, slapping Lilly's shoulder as she jogged out of the room.
The tingling in her flesh reminded Lilly why she came here despite her exhaustion. She squeezed the last drops from her water bottle and stumbled towards the showers with the gait of the ravenous dead. By the time she finally made it through the locker room, the showers were empty save one.
Anne stood beneath the stream of water, her head tilted back and body facing outward. Full frontal were the first words that came to mind as Lilly tried hard not to blush. Water steamed off of Anne's taut body, her skin shimmering in the heat. The small rivers winding their way through the clefts and canyons of her abdominals made Lilly unconsciously finger her own emerging six-pack. Say what you will about jazzercise, but it works.
Her gaze followed the path of the myriad rivulets until they gathered together in that furry delta between Anne's legs. So focused was her attention that she accidentally turned the cold water on first. A frigid blast pulsed through her body as a small scream escaped her lips. Her nipples stood rock hard upon the pinnacle of her breasts when she noticed Anne looking at her. The fire in her eyes was such that Lilly forgot about the chill goose-pimpling her skin.
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, uh," Lilly had waited for this moment and now found herself completely befuddled, "the water over here is freezing. Let me try yours."
Filled with some fey confidence, Lilly walked straight towards Anne. She could see confusion in her eyes, but it would all become clear soon enough, she thought. Anne stared as a deer in the headlights as Lilly reached behind her to increase the water pressue, letting her pointed mammaries rake across Anne's.
"WHAT THE HELL?" yelled Anne as she shoved Lilly's shivering form away from her.
"Get away from me, you harlot! May the good Lord have mercy on your soul!" she said, covering herself with her arms.
The bathroom tile seemed to tear at Lilly's "glutes" while she watched Anne storm out. Her joints ached from the cold. She listened to the nothing sound of the two showerheads trying to figure out what went wrong. She was certain Anne liked her. She saw it in her eyes!
No, no, Anne didn't swing that way. Lilly didn't either. It was all a lie. Her thighs pressed into her chest, which felt saggier now without support, as she hugged herself on the floor, nothing but a soggy bag of bones.