Marcie's Lesbian Love

“I’m Chloe, have you done yoga before?” she asked.

“No,” I admitted, still wearing that ridiculous smile.

“Well, I’ll try to take it easy on you,” she said.

Carla patted me on the back and then disappeared back into the hallway where we had come from.

“Grab a mat, and get a spot right up front,” she said.

There were a few other women in the room already. They spread their mats on the floor and began stretching.

I followed instructions, grabbed my mat and placed it on the floor in the front row.

“You can do some stretches just to warm up if you want, but we’ll do some before we start too,” she said.

Her body was perfectly toned, and even with those large breasts, she looked as though she could run a mile in under 5 minutes. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to keep up with her.

More women trickled in, and Chloe greeted each one with the same enthusiasm as she had given me.

Once everyone arrived, she started the class, with warmups as promised. The stretching was easy, but I knew my flexibility was limited as I tried to touch my toes.

I felt a hand on my back as I bent over, pressing just above my tailbone. “Take a deep breath,” Chloe whispered in my ear.

I did.

“Now, let your body fall as the breath exits your lungs,” she said.

I exhaled, let my body relax and was shocked to see my hands flat on the ground in front of me.

I wish I could say the rest of the class was that easy, but it wasn’t. Chloe spent most of her time with me, trying to help me achieve the proper form of the poses she displayed.

Her hands on my hips felt strong and safe, surprisingly since they were so small and petite.

I couldn’t help but laugh as she tried to hold me in place as I stood like a tree, my balance was horrible and it was obvious I was new to this.

It was a relief when class was over, and I was thinking I would sneak out and never return, but she stopped me.

“Marcie,” she called out, motioning for me to come over to her as I turned.

“Don’t get discouraged, you really did great for your first time,” she said.

I knew that was her job, to pump people up and make them feel good. She wanted to keep her class filled, so of course she was going to encourage me to stick with it.

“Really?” I asked.

“I just don’t think yoga is for me,” I said.

“Well, how about lunch?” she asked.

I was starving, and I wondered if she heard my stomach growl as she positioned me like a downward facing dog.

“Sure,” I said.

“Great,” she said.

She grabbed her towel, wiped down her face and then threw a bright blue backpack over her shoulder. She was so colorful, energetic and sweet, nothing like me who stood there in black yoga pants, black tank top and black Nike shoes.

“I know a great place,” she said.