by Zoey Long
I sure as hell couldn’t relax into my final resting pose with all this music and grunting and slamming going on right outside. Stephanie is crazy. There’s no way anyone can relax in here. It’ll be sexy, she said. So much testosterone, she said. I’ve never had a more miserable yoga class in my life. I tried to release into my forward bends and lunges, but I feel more wound up now than I did before I left the house. I don’t care if I have a free pass. How am I supposed to let go of all the stress and tension in my body if it sounds like the Serengeti out here?
I look back at the fight. This dude’s forearm is the size of my thigh. Sweat is dripping down his torso and he has some serious ink on his upper arms and back. He’s just sitting there like a rock, waiting for the other guy to tap out. Did he just wink? No, he’s not even listening to me. The guy on the bottom’s face is turning purple. He taps out of the fight. The victor turns to look at me and stands tall. He smiles. A few giggly girls behind me start clapping. Seriously?
“What’s wrong, honey?” he asks, walking over and flashing a smile so big it could blind me.
Hazel eyes, dark hair. Chiseled jaw. I watch a bead of sweat roll down his chest to his shorts. I can’t look away. My anger turns to something else, and for a moment I imagine him grabbing me, throwing his huge arms around my waist and lifting me off the floor. I’m sure he could do that one-handed.
“This…” I collect myself. “No one can practice yoga in here. It’s totally unrealistic that they’re trying to hold yoga classes in this place at all. This is insane.”
“I’m not doing yoga.” He smiles. “That was me kicking that guy’s ass in MMA.”
What a smartass. What a hot smartass. Damn it.
“I realize that. Good for you. But it’s fucking loud. Have you ever tried to relax with something like this going on right above your head? Don’t answer that.”
The rest of the yoga class has let out. They all returned their mats, got their shoes and left on a cloud of Zen. No one else seems to care that we’re in the middle of a fighting pit. This guy is still smiling at me. He’s tickled by me.
“What did you say this type of fighting is?” I ask him. I still can’t stop looking at him. It’s like my eyes are glued to this perfect specimen of manhood. I go to put my hair behind my ear by reflex. It’s in a ponytail.
“MMA. Mixed martial arts. Look, honey, it’s pretty rude to just come out here and start yelling in the middle of the fight. Good thing you’re cute.” Now he does wink at me.
Ugh, there he goes again. Okay, I’m annoyed. I roll my eyes and cross my arms.
“What’s your name anyway?” I ask him, not leaving.
“Derrick. What’s your name, honey? It’s not usual that I have a woman scream at me before we exchange names. It’s happened, just not often.”
“Madison.”
Why did I tell him my name? I hate that he’s calling me honey.
“Well, have a good day. Congratulations. Whatever. I still think doing yoga in here is impossible. You guys ruined my class. Not just you. All of you. I gotta get to the shower.”
“Want some company?” he asks, raising his eyebrow in that cocky, brash manner.
My face pricks hot. Who the hell does he think he is? This guy is so rude. I’ve never had someone be this forward with me in my life. What am I saying? Of course I have. Just not a guy who looked like Derrick. I want to be more pissed than I am. Normally I would have told this guy to go fuck himself already. Why aren’t I?
He picks up a clean towel and starts wiping off his chest. He pounds a bottle of water. His chest is as solid as polished wood. The other guy left already. We’re just standing there together alone on the mat, sweating. Maybe he should try and pin me to the floor.
“No, I do not want company! My God,” I yell back at him as I make my way to the showers. I look back and he’s still smiling at me with that devilish grin. He has dimples. Fuck.
In the shower I can see that my consistent classes are starting to pay off. My arms are taut, my stomach is firming up more, and I can see definition in my obliques that I didn’t have two months ago. I take my long, thick brown hair out of the ponytail and it falls to the middle of my back. At least the shower stalls in this place are new—modern glass doors, white tiles. The water is warm and the door starts to steam up. I wet my hair and close my eyes. I imagine Derrick is in the shower on the other side of this very wall. He’s probably smirking to himself, wondering who the heck this yoga chick was who yelled at him. I want to know if he has other tattoos. Something more than the huge writhing snake on his upper arm, the black-and-grey work on his back. Does he have something snaking down his hip flexors, under the shorts? Or maybe something from his upper thigh, all the way down to his…
No, this guy’s an insolent jerk. First he screwed up my yoga class, then he had the audacity to hit on me relentlessly and invite himself into my shower. I’m not coming back here again, I think to myself as I soap up my hair.
I close my eyes and see those dimples. That smile. I start to wonder how big his cock is. What would he do if he were in the shower with me? Would he wash my breasts, lingering over my nipples until they hardened, pinching them slightly until I gasped? Would he squeeze soap suds down my back and then reach for my pussy with those big hands of his? In my mind he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’d begin by teasing my opening with his fingers until I got wetter, kissing my neck, exploring it gently with his teeth. He would slide his fingers up to my clit and start rubbing in circles, then back down to tease me and make me drip on him. I realize I’m doing all of this to myself when I open my eyes. My breath catches in my chest as I rub my clit faster, stopping to slip my finger into my pussy slightly. I feel myself clench around my fingers and I rub my clit again. I brace my feet slightly apart and lean my hip into the cool tile wall with the water running over me.
I close my eyes again and throw my head back. I imagine reaching for Derrick’s hard cock, stiff and warm in my hand. I jerk it a bit, wetting the length of my palm with my spit. I grip it and tease his shaft with my fingers before starting to pump it back and forth. He’s moaning slightly. I turn and we kiss deeply, my lips open, and he invades my mouth with his tongue. Now in my head I’ve dropped down on my knees in front of him with the water turned off. We’re both still wet and he’s leaning against the tile and I am taking the length of him in my mouth. I tease the underside of his cock with my tongue, licking the head of it before he guides my mouth onto it again. He’s saying things to me like:
“That’s it, honey. Just like that. Take all of it.”
I start to deep-throat him hard. I have no idea if I can do that in real life, but in my head I’ve taken it all. He grabs my wet hair and bobs my head up and down against him. He pushes his cock so deep into my mouth that my lips touch his torso. I’m still rubbing my clit in fast circles. I breathe louder and I’m trying so hard not to moan. I hope my hips don’t buckle when I come, but I won’t stop.
“That’s it, baby,” he says. “Don’t you stop.”
I imagine him shooting his come in my mouth as I orgasm and brace myself against the wall. I bite my lip hard, open my eyes and blink wide.
Holy hell, what was that? Jesus, I’ve fantasized about guys before but never to that level. I’ve certainly never imagined someone I don’t know coming in my mouth. Especially not someone who just made me so angry. I shake my head and realize the water has gone tepid. My fingers are pruny. I touch my pussy and see how wet I am. I flush some water between my legs and turn off the water, reaching for a towel.
I really hope Derrick isn’t still here. I also hope no one at the gym knew what I was doing or that I came in the stall. I throw on a yellow sundress with my sneakers and head out of the gym.
“Thanks for giving us a shot!” the guy at the front desk says as I head for the door.
He has no idea.
Chapter 3: Derrick
You’ve got to be kidding me. I strain to
listen through the tile shower wall and swear I can hear little gasping sounds. Then a big moan. I laugh. No fucking way. Some chick is getting off in there. These may be new shower stalls, but the walls are ridiculously thin. I really hope it’s that little spitfire tightass who was yelling at me before. She needed to let go of some tension. Jesus. Isn’t yoga supposed to relax you?
She was gorgeous, though. Not like she was trying to be gorgeous, just naturally banging. Like she doesn’t even realize what she has going on. No makeup, curvy like a glass Coca-Cola bottle. I hate it when girls wear makeup to the gym. If you’re doing it right, that shit is just going to melt right off your face. What’s the point?
Madison. Big brown eyes, epic mouth. Nice natural tits. A good handful, nothing crazy. That ass, man. Round and tight like a drum. I like that she didn’t get all flustered by the fight like some girls. Giggling and shit like Ginger did. She got right up in my face.
I can tell what a woman is like in bed within a few minutes of meeting her, whether I want to or not. It’s a gift, honestly. It doesn’t work on family, though, thank fuck. That little spinner Ginger is a screamer. An easy O, too. Don’t get me wrong, that’s a lot of fun. I love when I can make a chick pop off like it’s nothing. Keep making them come until they can’t come anymore. Then you hit that spot when you’re ramming them from behind and they never stop calling. That’s the problem.
Madison’s signals were loud and clear. She’s easily flustered, but not afraid of some grit. She wants someone to take charge and leave her in a melted puddle of orgasm. She’s probably never been fucked the way she deserves. She’s more wild than she knows.
“Mmmmm. Ohhh…mmmm.” It’s high-pitched. Someone just came.
I hear some splashing and then the water turns off.
I look past the shower door and see that pair of unforgettable legs walking to the locker room. She’s wrapped in a towel but I’d know that ass anywhere. Fucking A.
Chapter 4: Madison
The next morning I am up at 4:30 in the morning, checking the studio website to see what time they open. Not because I want to see Derrick, but because I want to avoid him. My pass is good for a whole month and I am in no position to turn that down. It’s the end of my junior year at NYU, my painting thesis project is done, and my teaching job at Madison Ave Preschool is coming to an end. The kids call me Miss Madison since I am an assistant, and they always ask if I work there because of my name. Right. That’s how jobs work. Kids are sweet.
Stephanie teaches at Madison too, and she loves going to NY JiuJitsu.
“It’s so hot, Mad,” she told me. “You have no idea how sexy it is to see a man rolling around on the floor like that. They go at each other like animals. It’s raw and primal.”
“Ew,” I said. “I just want to dedicate myself to my yoga practice. I can’t afford a membership.”
“You need to get laid.”
Maybe she’s right. I’ve been so focused on school that I haven’t had much time for dating this semester. I’ve been dedicating myself to an abstract expressionism intensive and painting nonstop. Think Jackson Pollock. My mom thinks “abstract expressionism” means throwing paint at the canvas wherever and however you want. She’s more into the old masters. It’s certainly cathartic, but there’s more to it than that. The closest I get to sex is locking myself in my studio and letting those colors fly. Oh, good, the studio opens at five.
“Good morning!” It’s the same attendant from yesterday afternoon at the gym front desk. He’s a sprightly dude with eyes that look like azure-colored marbles. He reminds me of a fawn. I don’t look at him out of embarrassment and quickly get to the lockers. Do they ever go home?
The locker room is completely empty, I think Fawn Boy is the only person in the gym besides me. I choose a locker and take off my shoes, then turn to hang up my hoodie and get to the yoga studio.
“Hey, there.”
I turn around to see Derrick leaning in the doorway, shirtless in just his shorts. You’ve got to be kidding me.
“You can’t be in here!” I yell, covering myself even though I’m dressed.
He doesn’t move. He’s smiling like he’s just delighted to see me standing there. He’s taunting me with his smirk.
“Why not? There’s no one else in here besides you, and you’re not naked. You’re the last person I expected to see first thing in the morning. What are you doing here so early?”
“I…I didn’t think you’d be here,” I admit.
He laughs and shakes his head.
“I told you already, honey, I’m here every day. I’m here when the gym opens, always. Why do you want to avoid me, anyhow? Seems like you had a good time in here yesterday.”
“What?” I blush like a beet.
“I mean, if you’re back here already, you must have had a good yoga class after all. Couldn’t wait to come back?”
“Oh.” I exhale. “Yeah, the yoga is good. The classes are good. Did you fight yet today? Yesterday your fight looked like it was—”
“Good?” he finishes my sentence as he walks over to me and smiles.
Why does this guy get me so worked up? I look up at him, look into his eyes. They’re hazel. Brown, a little green. A little grey. I can’t decide. He’s standing close to me, but I don’t mind. I’m drawn to him; there’s a magnetism between us no matter how much he annoys me. There’s a softness there behind the cocky attitude. I’m not even sure if he knows it’s there. I can feel the heat from his chest. Suddenly my clothes feel like an impediment. My logic melts away and I feel like there’s no reason why we shouldn’t both be naked and kissing hard right now, pressing our hot bodies as close together as possible, with me letting his hands rove all over my body, squeezing out moments of wet ecstasy. He touches my face and smiles. I don’t resist. God, he’s gorgeous. Then he winks.
Oh my God, how obnoxious.
Then his lips are moving in for mine, and I should slap him across the face. I should tell him to get away from me, go home and work on my painting, my curriculum, anything to stop this smirking hotshot from kissing me. I don’t even know him.
Then our lips press together and there’s that heat again. That magnetism that makes me not care how annoying he is, how much he smirks, or how angry he makes me. The heat covers my whole body. My anger turns to wanting and I let him pull me into him, hard. My hands find his firm shoulders and slide to his neck. He’s so warm and I can feel his collarbones and his broad muscles. He kisses me deeply, pulling me into him further.
His chest is hard against me. I can feel his pecs and the warmth of his torso. My body fits itself to his. I can feel his cock pressing big and hard against my pelvic bone and I press my clit into him. We’re making out hard against the metal locker now and it’s too crazy good to stop. I don’t stop to think as I open my legs and wrap them around his waist. He kisses my neck and bites down a bit. I gasp. Then his fingers find my pussy and he’s rubbing me over my pants. Right on my clit. He definitely knows what he’s doing.
“There’s… aren’t you afraid someone will come in?” I say to him breathlessly.
“It’s five a.m., I doubt it.” He kisses me harder.
He puts his hand down my pants and I don’t stop him. He slips his hand under my panties, and I am so wet his fingers fall into me.
“Mmmm, you’re fucking dripping,” he moans, teasing my clit.
I start moaning with him as he begins to tease my opening with his fingers. He doesn’t enter me yet; he’s trying to drive me wild and it’s working.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispers.
He keeps kissing my neck; his mouth is roving all me. From my neck to my chest, kissing me. I feel his tongue and his lips. He takes my breasts out of my bra and starts licking and sucking my nipples. He comes back up to my ear and whispers.
“I heard you yesterday. In the shower,” he says gently.
I moan loudly in disbelief. I can’t believe he heard m
e. He really was on the other side of the wall. I wonder how much he heard. My mind races. I should push him off of me, but we just fit together so well. Knowing he was listening doesn’t embarrass me as much as it turns me on.
“I heard you…when you came hard against the wall,” he says.
“Yes,” I admit. I reach down into his shorts and find his big cock that’s warm and hard in my hand. I start jerking it just like I did in my fantasy. I know I shouldn’t do this right here and now. We just met. We’re technically in public. But he’s just so delicious.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks.
His words go straight to my pussy and I’m tingling all over. I realize that’s exactly what I want. I want this gorgeous man to fuck me right here in this locker room. I want him to slam his big cock deep into me and make my ass slap against the cool metal door.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I want you to fuck me.” He’s pumping inside me with his fingers now, giving me a preview of what’s to come.
“Say ‘I want you to fuck me, Derrick.’”
He’s such an arrogant bastard. He’s loving every minute of this and drawing it out to torture me. I realize I want him inside me more than I want to slap him clear across the face.
“I want you to fuck me, Derrick. Please fuck me. Please.”
He pulls my pants off, slides my panties down. Then he hoists my hips up, spreads my legs wide and guides his himself inside me.
“Holy shit…” His cock is so thick and it starts to open me up. He begins thrusting and I pull him into me tightly.
I wrap my legs around his waist and my ass starts slapping against the doors as he pushes into me. I throw my arms around his shoulders and look around us at the empty locker room. No one here yet. His shorts are pulled down. His large hands grab my ass as I keep slamming into the doors. I run my hands through his wavy hair and kiss him.