Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: I have to give props to Emmy at the ppss for posting some "picsperations" and even though she never got it directly because it took me too long and took on a life of it's own, she was still my awesome inspiration.
Stop smiling, stop smiling, stop smiling.
I looked like a total idiot but I just couldn't make my face look normal. The last time I did this I was in the 7th grade with the most ridiculous out-of-my-league-crush, Riley Biers. So that would make me what? Twelve? Here I am 33, married, with two children and I look like a feckin retarded fangurl. Suck in the gut, shoulders back. Oh God, do I have underwear lines? Like he gives a shit.
I so wished my inner monologue would shut the fuck up. I don't know what I'm stressing about. 1) He would never even look this direction. 2) Even if he did, he wouldn't give two shits about me. Oh God, he's coming out. Oh God, where's his shirt! Don't people have to wear shirts here! I think it's law or something!
And so I kept walking on the treadmill trying to pick up the pace without looking like I was clearly out of shape. But look at that body. Holy Hell. He is so definitely in shape. I don't even like six packs (yeah, keep telling yourself that; it might be the only way you have sex with your husband again.) No, really. I want ogle that body and denigrate it to a piece of man meat, and touch it and lick it, and...
"Ooof!" I. Want. To. Die.
"Ma'am? Are you alright?"
The term "Ma'am" made me cringe internally. As I lay there on the ground at the end of whirring treadmill I wished I was wearing a scarf so it could get caught and strangle the utter humiliation out of me. I swallowed hard and looked up. Psshh. This is stupid. I'm not a kid with a crush. I'm a grown woman. An UNAVAILABLE grown woman!
I took a minute to collect myself, put on a half no-big-deal and half I'm-so-cool-this-isn't-even-awkward smile, and took his out stretched hand. As I worked my way up it wasn't Mr. Shouldn't-he-be-wearing-a-shirt's six pack (that I don't like) that first caught my eyes, it was the V. The one that doesn't really exist on any man especially my very married to husband. His gym shorts were low enough that I could clearly see the V and I bet if I put my fingers in to the waistband of said shorts, there would be a little gap between it and where his hip bones were hiding. The only thing that kept me from presently pulling on those shorts was his buddy standing not two feet away.
"I uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you. I can't believe I seriously just fell off a treadmill. I'm pretty sure that only happens in movies."
"Can't say I've seen it before myself, but it didn't look as though you were going too fast." He gave me a little tug and I finished righting myself.
"Awesome. You saw both." The stupid smile would not leave my face and I was positive I looked even more stupid sucking my lips in to try and make it go away. I took a deep breath and turned to walk away. Hopefully, I could still get off thinking of that V and not cockblock myself with reminders of how incredibly embarrassing my first meeting went with Mr. Porntastic. I wanted to end this before I could further make a fool out of myself. After all, I might not be a gym rat, but I still came here often enough that I would most likely see him again.
"I'm sorry?" Mr. Porn's dark eyebrows shrugged together. "Did you say something? I didn't quite catch that last bit there."
Oh God the voice! He seriously needs to stop talking. If I could just walk away and not pay attention to his crazy, shiny hair, or his sweaty, chest with those fuckawesome tight pecs where the sweat is dripping down in between on a yummy trail bound for those abs that would surely have no problem lifting me up...
"What?" I asked, blinking hard and orienting myself to reality. "Oh, both yeah. I was just mentioning how psyched I was that you not only saw me fall, which was great, but that you saw that I fell while essentially walking." I bobbed my head up and down in acknowledgment and most definitly looked like an idiot.
Still looking confused, Mr. Porn's mouth tugged up at the corners and he bit into his full, fleshy bottom lip as he understood what I was going on about. I couldn't figure out if he was embarrassed for me or for having being caught watching me before I actually hit the floor.
"No, no," he shook his head and gave me a slight smile with his lips pressed together, "I, it's um," he closed his very pretty eyes, "I've just started here as a trainer and thought maybe you would like some help?"
Oh. That would be the only reason he looked. Probably scouting for the mom types with bellies, and fat arms, and red puffy, straining faces. Gah! Is that how I look? Like I need help? He just needs clients. Well, what the hell. I'm not doing so hot on my own and it would give me a reason to see him three times a week.
****** Two Weeks and Six Visits Later******
"Come on Bella you're doing a great job. Give me some more."
I was on my back with the bar overhead. My pushup bra kept my boobs pointing upward despite gravity. With each release of the bar I pushed my chest a little further. I had stopped wearing those horrid sports bras and got a little excited to match the fun colors with all my new work out clothes (I didn't want Hottie McPorn to see me in the same outfit twice!)
"Oh, I'll give it to you alright."
The easy light flirting had started from day one and kept going from there. For the most part it was no big deal as he knew I was married and had even seen my husband a few times at the gym. Sometimes though, I enjoyed really pushing him. When I would get a little more aggressive, he would revert and become shy. Who would have known? This gorgeous man, with an orgasm inducing voice, and a sick body got shy and gentlemanly when embarrassed.
Despite the obvious sexual tension between us, I felt really comfortable with him. He was forceful and pushy and sweet and encouraging all at the same time. We talked about how we had grown up in the same town, but didn't know each other (seeing as how I was 9 years older than him!) We talked about college and work and family, which eventually led to talking about my family. It wasn't too personal. You know? Emotional affair personal, so it was harmless. At least, that's what I kept telling myself every time I'd complain about my husband to him.
When the family found out that Rosalie had had an affair, no one blamed her. In fact, we were all surprised she hadn't done it sooner. Royce was an ass. He barely provided for his family, had a drug problem, was a total jerk to her and their children, the list went on. And she had stayed with him for nearly 18 years. So when Rose finally decided to leave Royce and began bringing Emmett around no one really minded. Even though we're all crazy, he actually wanted to be around the family. Even Alice, my sister in law, who is very anti divorce, welcomed Emmett and was glad to be rid of the tension surrounding Royce.
But Jake, well, Jake wasn't Royce. Sure we had our problems. He drove me crazy with his bike obsession and we struggled financially, a lot. And he drank, way more than I wished he did, but all in all, he was a good man. He helped out with our children and put up with my crazy, he said he was sorry even when the fight was probably my fault. He spent time with my family and helped out my parents and he supported me in pretty much whatever I wanted to do, like writing and going to the gym.
As my workouts went on I felt more confident in my body and in myself. I always thought I was pretty and definitely didn't look like other women my age. I sure as hell didn't look 21, but for the most part I always thought I could pass for under 30. My dark hair came just to my nipples and my long bangs swept off to the side. Sometimes I'd wear my hair up showing off my tattoos from my college days but often I'd start with it down. The muscles in my back and shoulders were strong and tight. Pulling my locks into a ponytail really emphasized it. My waist was narrow and my breasts were full with great cleavage (not without a Very Sexy VS bra, but who's counting?) At 5 foot 2 I supposed I was pretty average in every way. I think I used to be a lot prettier. Like traffic stopping, jaw dropping, random guys coming on to me gorgeous. I was also twenty pounds lighter then and probably drunk a lot. I also wore a lot less clothes. Maybe that was the difference. Either way, after two cesareans and breast feeding, lets just say I looked a lot better with my clothes on.
So I flirted with very pretty porn trainer, eh, personal trainer, but knew that he wouldn't reciprocate and probably saw me as a less hot version of whatever cougar is currently popular in tinsel town. I assumed he had a girlfriend although he never spoke of one. To say I was surprised one day while doing leg presses would be an understatement. Mr. PT had me upping my weight and stood near my shoulders as I pushed the now painfully heavy plate.
My moan was loud and breathy and totally necessary to get my legs extended. I wouldn't have even thought a thing about it as we were in the lower and less populated portion of the gym if it weren't for Mr. PT's reaction. Having just finished my set I let my head loll to the right with my eyes closed. I panted with my lips parted and worked on lowering my erratic heartbeat. When I opened my eyes I saw the tented red basketball shorts right at eye level. Or, mouth level as it was. I involuntarily licked my lips pushing the strained breaths out. My heavy breathing was the only sound. I trailed my way up his body, not sure of what I would find when I got to the top. I was nervous and could feel that things had suddenly changed. He made no attempt to hide his erection or move it out of my face.
As my face worked it's way up, he was working his gaze down. He leaned his left arm across my body and reached for something behind me. Suddenly, the back portion of the machine slid down further and my legs were pushed towards my body and my feet rested near my bottom as if I were practically squatting in an exam chair while on my back. He stayed leaning over me with just the slightest bit of weight touching my chest. I think that's when my brain shut off. At least part of it did. The part that hadn't shut off wasn't exactly doing a whole lot though.
Peeking out from behind my conscience it mumbled, "Um, wait. Stop this here. Far enough."
But it was so hard to hear the whispering over the pounding blood in my ears. Surely he would stop without me telling him. We were at the gym, in public, oh, and I'M MARRIED. But he didn't. He leaned into my right ear and just stayed. Letting his warm, soft breath work me up.
"I want you Bella. I want you so fucking bad. I know you can't, but can you just stay here for a minute? Don't move. I want my body to memorize yours. I want to feel you under me and see you with your legs spread open. Your little body is so hot and tight. I can feel you trembling from here."
His words were hot and wet and soft and slippery. If I didn't move, maybe he would keep talking. Then I wouldn't have done anything wrong, right? Oh God, I'm wet. I clenched my inner muscles and released over and over again. I haven't felt this turned on (with another real live person) in sooo long. Please touch me, please touch me. Just brush your hand against my sides, lick my nipples, stroke my kitty! My brain and body were screaming with need.
Still hovering at my ear he whispered, "I can't ask you to do anything now. I'll understand if you don't want to continue our sessions although I think I'll be devastated. But if you still want a harder workout," he emphasized the word harder by pushing his cock into my hip, "take my last appointment tomorrow night. Please. I have to go. I'm a total jerk and an even bigger a-hole but I'll take it that since you haven't slapped me I wasn't completely out of line. I mean, I know, I'm completely out of line, but, but, I can't help it."
And with that he walked away from me. I was in a total daze and wasn't even quite sure if had really happened or not.
I picked up the kids from the daycare and walked to my car. My son was babbling about Thomas the Train and my little girl had fallen asleep. It was easy in Rose's case. We all knew how miserable my sister was. We all knew that the children hated him and that they would all be better off without him. Although I wasn't really happy in my marriage, I wasn't necessarily unhappy either. It was fine. I did my day to day as did Jake. I encouraged him to go to La Push and visit his father and brothers often. I rarely said anything when he spent entire days and evenings out in the woods because then we wouldn't have to fight. Basically, he just annoyed me. Our sex life sucked to say the least. He was a selfish lover with little imagination or skill. There were times I questioned if he had any clue of female anatomy. It was better when we were younger but I think most of that was my nievity and discomfort with sex in general. I mostly just faked it all but I thought that's just what women did. I actually thought my friends were exaggerating when they talked about orgasms. Turns out my sister wasn't really the one to talk to when it came to sex. Even when I did try and talk to him about it though, he just got defensive.
It wasn't that I wanted to divorce Jake. He was a good father and good husband for the most part. I'm sure I could have done worse. We had two cars and a comfortable apartment. We couldn't afford vacations or any extras, but it was fine. I wasn't a material person. He wasn't romantic in the least and even when he tried it seemed forced and lame. But maybe I was just a bitch. And I know I didn't look so hot, but at least I had two small children. He had just let himself go. What used to be the hottest body I had every seen was now doughy and hairy. Most of the time it didn't really matter how my body looked though as he didn't really see it. He would be just as happy to pull my pants down to my knees and get his dick wet. And from what I saw of Mr. PT, Jake's was average but it was lacking in quality and I could only fantasize, quantity.
I had no intention of leaving Jake for Mr. Porntastic but he was offering me a bit of hot, young, and hard fucking. Something I hadn't had in years. And while I was definitely against an affair, I had lately begun to feel that the idea of sexual monogamy was not just old fashion, but ancient. After all, it was a man made concept and not really natural. Even animals that "mate for life" still have other sexual partners. With the exception of some species of vultures, but really, is that who you want to base your fidelity on?
I was turning myself inside out. So he had a big cock. And he was 24. And he was in peak physical condition. And his words alone had me soaking my panties. So what? Could I live with myself after? Would I feel so guilty it would tear me up? Would it be worth knowing that I was an adultering whore? One time doesn't make me an adultering whore, right? It makes me human. And a sexual being. Oh God! Am I really considering this?
I made it home unscathed, surprisingly. I walked in with the kids to a mess of a kitchen, laundry piled up and my husband on the computer- again. Oh, did I forget to mention he up and quit his job two months ago because he "wasn't happy?" Yeah, so he was home all the time and my house was still a disaster and I was still in charge of the children. It took everything I had in me to not start a fight.
"Hey," I said nonchalantly as I put down my gym bag. "Looking for jobs?"
"Really? That's what you start with? You know I'm just waiting to hear back from that place."
"No, I know. Just wondering." Smile, don't be a bitch. Not worth it. "So um, I've got a million things to do. Can you keep an eye on the kids while I jump in the shower?" I asked over my shoulder as I removed my sweaty shirt.
"See?" Oh God, not this again. "You wouldn't be able to do all of this without me here."
"Right, well, I can and did before, but since you are here, it's the least you could do."
I tried. I really did. I meant to keep my voice even and indifferent but I know that edge came out. I quickly shut and locked the bathroom door before our "conversation" could escalate. I put my music on turning it down just enough to ask through the door, "Did you have any plans today?"
As soon as he said no, I began texting my best friend.
We Need To TALK!
Meet me for lunch. You have no choice!
No. I'll pick u up.
Shut up and be ready for 1.
"What the hell is going on?" Jess asked as she slipped into the passenger seat looking around. "Are we doing a drive by or something?"
Jessica had been my best friend since high school. We had always stayed in touch but since she moved back to Seattle we had become close again. And, despite our age and marital status, sometimes we slipped back into 17 year old girls.
She gasped, "Riley?" It had been years, but I still liked to hear from time to time what he had been up to. It was Jess though, so I couldn't even bother to be embarrassed. Fortunately she was the only one who knew of my continued interest/obsession.
"No" I stated bluntly taking turn after turn.
"You're taking me to the friggin' gym for lunch!" she shrieked lighting up her cigarette. "Seriously, what is going on?"
"When was the last time you were here?," I gestured to our gym.
"Ages. I'm fat and lazy and avoid that place like the plague. Speaking of which, if we are staking out the gym can we at least go get me a coffee?"
"We are not staking out the gym. We are checking to see if Edward is still working, and if he is you are going in there to grab a new schedule and maybe you forgot something in the locker room."
"Ooooh, your new trainer? Maybe I can see about getting my own session? That might get me back to the gym."
"Shut up. Do NOT talk to him. Just go in there, take a look around, and tell me if it's worth it." I stared straight ahead trying to avoid her stunned gaze.