Gym Rat

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I’m Mark, hardly a gym rat, but I’m sure that some folks would think I’d acted like a rat at the gym. At least until they knew the whole story, that is.

I’m a typical not in as good shape as I used to be, as I wish I were, guy. Pushing 50 (how’d I get this far anyway?), divorced, self-employed from home with enough clients not to be sweating things and enough money to have put the kids through college and into the world on their own, as well as to have supported the ex until she found someone new, thankfully – hope he’s just right for her, as we became not quite right for each other after a couple of decades together. Due to the shape thing, I belong to a local gym – not a very big or fancy one, but one that has sufficient machines and weights that I feel I get a decent workout. I’ve taken enough classes across the years to pretty well know what I need in that regard, so I make myself bike over there about 3 times a week, and once there launch into the routine, varying it just enough to stave off boredom and shifting focus on alternate days between cardio, upper body, all around, etc. While it hasn’t turned me back into the man I once fancied myself to be, it has enabled me to be wearing the same size clothes I bought in my 30s.

The gym is also small enough that I see the same regulars there, and we say hey and sometimes chat, although I don’t even recall most of their names, nor they mine, I suspect. One of the semi-regulars I am more aware of is June. She’s maybe a few years older than I am (and no, I’d never admit I even have considered that possibility outside of this forum), has kept herself in good shape, and has these amazing hazel eyes that I find irresistible.

Also to her credit, she has a lot tighter set of buns than any woman that age deserves. To round out the package, I figured her for a 36B, maybe C, due to the crimes that sports bras do to women’s figures. She’s blonde (don’t know if it’s bottled) and comes to the gym in a ponytail, about 5′ 4″, and I’d inexpertly guess about 130 pounds, so she’s not skinny, but it all works very well together, and there’s a good set of muscle under all those curves, or so I calculated after watching her on the various machines over the months.

We’d gone through the usual progression of see, be seen, nod, nod and smile, nod smile and say hello, and finally strike up a conversation to exchange names and scant bits of background. I knew she had grandchildren (I don’t, yet), was from Indiana originally and had moved south to Atlanta some years before. She wore a wedding ring, liked to travel internationally on vacation, and if I’d had to guess would have supported world peace as well. She knew I was divorced with adult kids, worked from home, that sort of thing – nothing really more personal.

All this was absolutely innocent, I swear. Or it was outwardly innocent. Inwardly, I looked forward to seeing her, was glad when she’d walk in, would go out of my way to greet her, and definitely checked out her bod in the various workout clothes she wore, all of which were basic and utilitarian, but still, basic spandex, especially now that it was summer, so ok and revealing. Her lack of more than scant makeup was attractive to me, in that it said she wasn’t there to impress, but to work out, which I found admirable. And she looked damned good without makeup. I enjoyed the fantasy of getting in bed with her, but as just that – fantasy.

After maybe a year of having initially seen her, and several months of chats between reps and Stairmaster circuits, I finally broached the topic of her family.

“June,” I started, “it’s always good to see you, and I’m glad you had a great vacation – I knew you hadn’t been around for a month or so, and was relieved that you hadn’t quit the gym or moved or something.” OK, that sounded lame, but never one to let mere stupidity stand in my way, I kept on. “I’ve got to admit, I see you here, but I’ve never met or even seen your husband. Does he have his own exercise, or is he a couch potato or what?”

“Ah, my husband,” she mused, a bit far off there for a moment. “He was hit by a drunk driver in an accident a couple of years back and isn’t able to exercise. Fortunately, it happened after the kids had moved on to their own lives, and it sealed our financial health. Unfortunately, it’s tough on him, not being able to, since he was an athlete back in college and he really misses the whole thing of getting out and working up a sweat. He’s stuck with a cane, I’m afraid, so he’s ambulatory and we can travel and all, but he does tire easily, and there’s no way he could do any of this stuff. I’m lucky he doesn’t resent my keeping it up myself.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I was a little ashamed to have even brought it up and felt awkward, but June didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s ok – spinal injuries are a bitch, and we’re lucky it wasn’t worse, I suppose. He could have been killed, or left completely disabled or had brain damage or something. We occasionally have to remind ourselves of that, but we’re basically reconciled to life as it’s dealt with us. casino siteleri We have plenty of money for our needs – at least it was a rich drunk who hit him – and we can get out to travel. We just have to be careful and adjust.” She spoke quietly, and a bit wistfully, then paused and added, “Still, there are times when I really, really wish he were still as, um, fit, I guess, as he used to be.”

I immediately registered that and wondered if it meant he were sexually impaired. How in the hell could I find that out, as if it were any of my business anyway. I discarded the intent – take the high road, right?

“Well, if there’s anything I can ever do – it sounds like the occasional lightbulb change or roof gutter cleaning might be tough for him to manage – please do let me know.”

“Thanks, I will,” she said, and smiled with those eyes, and looked like she was thinking of something she wasn’t saying. After another second or so, we moved on to other machines, and I thought that was that.

A couple of weeks went by – sometimes I’d see her, sometimes not, since neither of us had a really regular workout time. Then one day she was there and we smiled and said hey as usual, and she made a point of asking me about a computer issue they were having on their home PC. Since I’ve been the entire IT department for my home office for some time, it sounded like a pretty simple fix – find some drivers to download and get it done – but it was more complicated than just explaining in the gym would solve. I told her that and offered to write out instructions and bring them in the next day, but she countered that it sounded like it would be easier and less trouble for me if I just dropped by, say that evening? If I could, she’d toss in a light supper as well, and she claimed a worthwhile homemade bread and chicken salad. She lived in about a mile away from the gym in a neighborhood I was vaguely familiar with, a couple miles from my place. I agreed, she gave me her home address, and we set 6 p.m. as a good time.

I passed the day working as usual, got some stuff done, got cleaned up, shaved for the second time that day, and drove over to her place.

I was right on time, which is a major faux pas in some circles down here, but something I’m used to being. I found the place easily, and noted that it was upper middle – not a McMansion, but hardly a cottage. She was ready, answering the door promptly. She greeted me with a friendly hug, something that was appropriate but that we’d never done at the gym (sweaty people just don’t do that), and offered me a glass of wine. She was dressed in a simple yellow silk blouse, khaki skirt and sandals. Her hair was simple but looked more cared for than I was used to, and looked nice that way. She had on a bit, but just a bit, of makeup and smelled faintly of a perfume I couldn’t name but knew I’d encountered at some time.

“Mark, this is my husband, John,” she said as we walked down a hallway to a big den or family area of the home. The man I saw was seated in an upholstered chair, his cane beside him. He looked up, seemed to take a beat measuring me up, or so I sensed, and started to push up on the arm rests to rise.

“Oh, don’t get up,” I said, reaching down to shake his hand as he settled back down. “Nice to meet you, John.”

“And here’s the errant computer,” June continued, showing me a desk with keyboard and screen, the computer actually a “desktop” sitting on the floor nearby, next to a router.

Over the next half hour, she proceeded to show me the problem, and I managed to run some diagnostics, download a new version of one program, and had the thing running smoothly – nothing that was hard, but I realized it was also something most folks might not know how to resolve. June and John sat attentively and we chatted while I puttered my way to a solution.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” June effused when I demo’d the recovered machine’s capabilities. “Now, you must be starved – let’s have that supper! And something to toast to your success – wine? beer? something else?”

“Wine would be fine,” I said, seeing she’d moved to the fridge and was pulling out a bottle of something in a white for herself, I supposed.

She poured three generous glasses, and we toasted the wonders of binary, chatting further and all getting along famously, while she set up the light supper. The bread was indeed homemade and delicious, as was the chicken salad with grapes and nuts and other things I wasn’t used to finding in that dish but that worked very well together. Meanwhile, she refilled my glass and hers, while John nursed his first glass, and watched quietly, and let her drive the conversation.

“So,” she said, over her shoulder as she went back to the fridge and brought out a fresh bottle, “can we entice you to stay for a bit more? Or, do you have a date or something this evening?”

“Date? Hardly,” I answered.

“Really? That’s a surprise. Single guy, not exactly living in a desert of females, in good shape.”

“Yeah, busy working, plus few opportunities outside canlı casino of bars, and I’m not the bar type. Been too long for me to get back into the meat market thing, I guess.”

“Well, I’d say there are lots of ladies missing out these days. You ought to take the plunge back in!”

“Thanks, June. You’re very kind. Maybe I will.”

“Hey,” John interjected, “if I were in your place, I’d certainly be out there!”

“Oh, thanks a lot!” June shot back, not really mad, but not letting him get away with anything.

“Assuming you were out of the picture, of course, my dear!” he recovered.

“Yeah – men!” she harrumphed, but she was laughing.

“Do you really mean you’ve been a monk since getting divorced?” John pursued.

“Maybe not quite a monk – I did have a bit of fun at a high school reunion a bit back. But basically, yeah, I’m all monastaried up.” I chuckled back.

A lot of silence followed, which sort of surprised me – the two of them were obviously deep in thought, and I suspected they were sharing whatever it was they were thinking about.

“Fine, then, it’s settled – one more glass, and we’ll let you go.” And with that, she swept away to the kitchen, bringing back wine and a tray of cheese just in case, I suppose. While she was gone, John and I were left in the den, far enough away from the kitchen that we were essentially alone.

“Mark, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you, confidentially,” John said, quietly.

“Sure, John, what is it?” I said, clueless.

“You may or may not have guessed that I’m not as, um, active as I used to be.”

“Yeah, June mentioned the car accident. Tough. You seem to be doing ok, though.”

“Uh-huh, well, the active part I’m talking about isn’t apparent. While I can still, um, perform, as a guy . . . I’m not able to really take the lead, and any real physical activity is out of the question.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, awkwardly, not knowing just where this was leading, from a guy I’d met not an hour or so beforehand.

“June’s a beautiful woman.”

“You’re right there.”

“And I’d like for her not to have to have only this sort of passive, low key kind of sex that we’ve been stuck with since my accident. And so, I know she fancies you as a friend and finds you attractive. So, without further ado, would you be amenable to making love to her? I’d like for her to have that full male-female coupling again. I’d need your assurance that you’re clean, and your understanding that if you weren’t truthful, I’d find a way to even things up.”

I was again silent, processing this. It was sudden and unexpected, and yet I knew she was beautiful and had wondered what she’d look like without the gym attire. Here I was getting the husband’s permission, even – this was the kind of thing you sort of think about at times but it was never something I expected to become real.

“Uh, that’s a surprise, John. I’ve gotta admit, a real surprise. First off, no worries on clean – haven’t had unprotected in years, and my doc checks for that whether or not I admit the possibility, regularly. We agree she’s beautiful, and you’ve learned I haven’t been exactly worn out with sex recently. All things considered, that’s a very attractive prospect. But are you sure, and how do you envision such a thing happening?”

“Ah, well, as you might imagine, I have plenty of time to think a thousand details through on about anything these days. I do have a couple of limits to impose: I am present throughout, and present at any subsequent meetings that go farther than casual public, like your seeing each other in passing at the gym. I think that’s necessary both to quell my jealousy and to keep things on the up and up between June and me – and, I think it will reassure June that I’m really ok with the idea. Also: no pain stuff, no humiliation of anyone, and no toys – this would be purely you and her, with me there. Oh, and total confidentiality. I’m sense you’re not interested in going public, but I can assure you, if anything about this ever got out from you, I’d make sure you regretted it – and I can promise you I’d expect no less an attitude from you concerning our protecting your privacy as well. And, I guess that’s about it.”

“All that sounds pretty unromantic, but very reasonable. Does June know, and is she agreeable?”

“Ah, well, I’ve teased her about such a thing, and she’s teased back, so I don’t think it’s out of the question, but no, she doesn’t know I’m proposing this now.”

“And how do you propose to get her to agree?”

“I thought I might ask her after you’ve gone this evening. It would be another evening when we’d think about going further.”

“That’s sort of a relief. I guess you’d call me and let me know when things might be settled, if they ever do get settled?”

“Yes, that’s the plan.”

“What’s the plan?” June asked, surprising us with her entrance back into the den.

“Mark and I were discussing finances, and I was telling him about how we had diversified between metals kaçak casino and blue chips with the accident proceeds, and how we expect they’ll see us through indefinitely,” he said, as naturally as I could imagine. I’d have stuttered all over the place, but he was calm and in control – I guess he really had thought out those thousands of details.

After that, we shared that last glass of wine, chatted about all sorts of stuff, got to know each other better, and all in all got along famously. I finally left at about 9, my head spinning with thoughts of getting to seduce June, of whether I was being a cad, taking advantage of a disabled guy, or just a lucky guy myself. I was far from settled on that, but I sure as hell wasn’t saying no.

It was two days later when I got a call from John at home in the evening. I’d avoided the gym in the meantime, figuring if I saw June I wouldn’t know if he’d asked, and if so if she’d been insulted, and so forth through the various permutations.

“Mark, John here.”

“Hey, John, hope all is well.”

“All is very well, Mark. June has finally understood my feelings about all this, and she’s ok with it. In fact, she’s definitely getting to like the idea. How about you?”

“Lots of thinking going on here, John. And my biggest concern is the well-being of your marriage. I don’t want to be any part of breaking up something good. But that said, if she’s ok, and you’re ok, I’m definitely ok. What next?”

“Well, how about dinner over here Friday, and we’ll go from there?”

“You’re on. About 7?”

“Yup.”

“See you then.” I almost danced around the place after hanging up. I was going to get a sure thing if I didn’t mess it up with someone I liked and was attracted to, and was doing someone a favor as a bonus!

Come Friday, I arrived on time again, with a much more expensive wine than I usually drank, a well-chilled Chardonnay, since that’s what June was having before. I wore a summer button-down, meant to be worn untucked, over linen slacks, with sockless top siders. John answered the door, cane in hand, and got me a bourbon on the rocks while we waited for June.

We didn’t have to wait long, and she was a vision when she came in. Her hair was shining and flowing freely, just short of shoulder length. She wore a soft material sundress – I think they call it jersey? – appropriate to the warm August evening, that was knee-length with spaghetti straps and a back (I found out moments later) that had crisscross lacing such that either she wasn’t wearing a bra or had some really unusual one. The lacing went from mid-back to way low on her waist, showing where the hips flared backwards, and tying at the mid-back so that if it were undone, the whole thing could be quickly dispatched. The soft material flowed with her, and as I watched, I could see the outline of nipples protrude and recede in turn throughout the evening, keeping my focus on her. Simple sandals were just right to complete the look, and we adjourned to the back deck for dinner. We each avoided any suggestion of what was the real issue at hand, and I thought ok, so maybe this is just a warm-up to a warm-up, and they don’t expect anything more than developing friendship at this stage, so I went with that, and we were soon all three relaxed and sharing stories.

June came and went with supper dishes – again, light fare but adequate and tasty. Each time she left, I watched her, as well as each time she returned, and when our eyes met, I definitely elicited a blush at one point, a stammered verbal deflection at another. Along with the occasional mesmerizing sway of her breasts beneath the dress, those nipples came and went. It was fun, but fun and sexy. Expecting nothing, I knew I wouldn’t be unduly disappointed.

We moved back in, to the den, after supper. Refreshed drinks in hand, we moved awkwardly, but ended up with John in an upholstered chair, June and me on a leather couch, about two feet of space between us.

John, evidently the leader of this adventure, took the lead. “June, I think Mark has been watching you in that dress all evening. I’d wager he’d like to have a dance with you, and that’s something I can’t manage well these days. Maybe something slow?” he said, and picked up a remote, clicking it to produce quiet and slow music – as I recall, “Misty” was the first. Rising, I held out my hand, and June let me pull her up gently from the couch, and in a moment we were touching bodies, not obscenely but not apart. She followed my very simple lead, and I could feel the warmth of her back through the laces, smell the freshness of her hair as well as a faint whiff of scent – Opium maybe?

Without a real plan to do it, after a few moments I let my leg press between hers, and she didn’t back off, but gave a faint sigh. I looked over, and John was watching intently, a slight smile on his face. When he saw me looking at him, he nodded and smiled more, saying nothing.

As “Misty” ended, something or other else came on, same kind of tempo, and we continued, wrapping a bit more tightly in each other as the music played. By the end of the second song, I had most of an erection, and knew that she knew it from our hips pressing into each other. On the other hand, I had no idea just where her head was and didn’t want to overstep.

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