Gym Junkie

“Jesus, right?” I murmur under my breath as I lie back down onto the bench. I do my set and stand again, my attention falling back to the mystery woman.

She’s riding an exercise bike to warm up. She’s definitely athletic. Her body is toned and muscular… but not too muscular. It’s just right. She has large, luscious breasts, and I feel my intrigue rise at the perfect specimen before me.

Ben lies down to do his set, but my eyes stay glued on the woman. “You should probably go ride a bike or something,” he mutters as he begins to lift the heavy weights above his head.

My eyes stay fixed on her ass. “The bike isn’t the only thing I should probably ride,” I reply dryly.

Ben nods in agreement.

I take a drink from my water bottle, unable to peel my eyes from her ass.

Seriously, fucking hot…

Ben’s phone rings and he answers. “Hey, babe.” He listens for a moment and frowns. “Yeah, okay, I’m coming now.” He sighs.

I smile as I watch him listen to his wife Bridget, and I can tell she’s ranting on the other end of the phone.

He listens for a moment and looks to the ceiling, and I chuckle to myself.

“Yeah, okay, babe. We’ll pick some up on the way home.” He frowns harder. “You’ll be all right?” Bridget says something else before he replies. “I’ll see you soon. I’m leaving now.” He hangs up and gives a subtle shake of his head as he blows out a breath.

“She’s going to bust your fucking balls before she has these twins.”

“Without a doubt.” He sighs as he retrieves his towel.

“What now?” I ask.

“Indigestion,” he replies dryly.

I break into a broad grin. “You have to listen to her complaining about indigestion?”

“You’d be surprised what I have to listen to, Marx. Indigestion is the least of my fucking worries. Try picking out a baby name with her.” He shakes his head, exasperated. “One name would be bad enough but picking two is near damn impossible.”

I laugh. Bridget hates everything about being pregnant. She’s making Ben’s life a living hell. “Can’t wait for these kids to arrive.” I smile. My reasons are totally selfish, of course. I want my playful sister back. This hormonal, cranky version is micromanaging me to my death.

Ben winces. “Same here. Four more months to go.”

“Ha, that’s if she lets you live that long.”

Ben drags his hand down his face. “Right?” He picks up is phone and other belongings. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah ok.” I think for a moment. “What did you say we had on tomorrow night?”

“Tash’s birthday dinner.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. See you in the morning.”

I watch as Ben walks out the door, and then my attention returns to the beauty on the bike.

I’ve never seen her here before. I wonder who she is. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, tall—about 5ft 8—and she’s naturally pretty. She’s probably a model.

I continue with my workout, and every now and then my eyes flicker over to her. A few times I catch her looking back at me in the mirror before she snaps her eyes away, as if annoyed that I’ve caught her ogling.

I should go over and say something. No. What do I say? Oh, hi, you look fucking edible.

Creepy guys try to pick up women in the gym all the time, and I am not that creepy guy. I walk over to the pull-up bar and strap the weight to my belt. I slowly pull myself up and begin my set of chin-ups. My knees are bent up behind me and I can see her in the mirror in front of me.

Stop it.

I drop my eyes to the floor and concentrate on the task at hand. Up, down, up, down. I glance up and notice she has completely stopped peddling on the bike as she watches me. I have to drop my head to hide my smirk.

So, you like watching chin-ups, baby, do you? I decide to do an extra twenty for good measure. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her now, would I? I do my chin-ups and she begins to peddle slowly as she watches, and then, as if remembering where she is, she looks away in a rush.

Fuck it, I’m going to go and talk to her. I may never see her here again. I’ll kick myself if I don’t say something.

She gets off the bike and moves over to the sit-up section. It’s then that I notice she has left her keys on the tray of the bike.

Bingo! My opening.

I wipe my face with my towel, and with my heart still pumping hard from all that physical exertion, I walk over and pick up her keys. Then I walk over to where she is lying on her back on a mat.

She has her eyes closed and her earphones in, so I stand and wait for her to notice me. My heart is still beating fast as I watch her come up into a sitting position and lie back down. I can see the muscles in her stomach contract as she sits up.