“Oh, please,” he said with a wink, “I was assuming you were stronger than I am; I think you can handle it.”
“No way,” I said, “let’s start with one plate on each side.”
“Okay,” he said with a dramatic sigh, removing one of the plates before gesturing for me to take my position in the squat rack.
The truth was, I had spent three hours in the gym the previous day, trying desperately to get one last pump in before meeting with Clint. I wanted him to see that I was capable of just as much as he was.
“Are you ready?” he asked, taking position behind me.
I had never had anyone offer to spot me at the squat rack before. It was a different kind of position than someone spotting me at the bench, because this position would mean that he’d need to be directly behind me, extending his arms under my armpits and squatting with me.
“Are you going to spot me?” I asked. “I’ve never had someone spot me with squats.”
“Of course I am,” he replied with a smile, which I could see in the reflection of the mirror before us. “Then, after a couple of sets, we’re going to increase the weight a bit so you can really squat.”
“I’m not sure if –” I began, but he quickly interrupted me.
“Did you come here to train?” he asked sarcastically. “Or did you come here to do the same thing you always do?”
“Hey!” I replied defensively. “You have no idea what I normally do.”
“From the looks of it,” he said, looking up and down at my physique, “whatever you’re doing is working.”
Clint probably assumed that I couldn’t see him checking me out, but he conveniently forgot about the full-length mirror in front of the squat rack which allowed me to see everything he was doing behind me.
“So, are you ready?” he asked again, positioning himself behind me so that he was almost touching me.
“I’m ready,” I said confidently, knowing that I could easily handle the weight he had put on. “Let’s do it.”
I slipped under the bar and popped up to place it on my shoulders, pushing up with my knees so that I was carrying the full weight on my shoulders. My squatting form was perfect, I had no doubts about that.
“Good form,” he said, just a few inches behind my ear, his warm breath on my neck making me shiver. “I can tell you’ve been practicing.”
“I’ve been doing this for years,” I said. “I’m in the type of business that requires physical fitness.”
“Same here,” he said with a chuckle, “although in a much different way. Now let’s see you squat with that weight.”
I began to bend my knees, feeling the weight as it pressed against my lower back, peaking and pulling my body as I squatted. Clint moved in perfect rhythm with me, inching his body lower as I went down, and showing his firm support with his arms placed directly under my armpits.”
“Bring it up,” he said, as if I had no idea what to do with the weight.
I pushed myself up with all my strength, noting that I could easily handle more weight than that. We continued for a few minutes in perfect rhythm with each other. Taking a step forward, I placed the bar back on the rack and smiled confidently.
Turning around to face Clint, I said, “Your turn.”
“Hey,” he replied with a smile, “we’re here to train you.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” I replied, grabbing him by the arm and forcing him to trade positions with me. “Get in there and squat.”
As I grabbed his arm, I felt the firm resistance of the type of muscle that only a professional trainer knew how to build. The contact with his skin set my own skin on fire, and I felt the first bead of sweat as it dripped down my back.
“Alright,” he said in a cocky tone of voice, “but first, we need to put some more weight on there.”
“Showoff,” I replied, walking around to the other side of the squat rack to add another forty-five-pound plate.
“I’m just being honest,” he said. “I know what I’m capable of.”
After we added the extra weight, he took his position in the squat rack, gesturing for me to get behind him and spot him. I happily – and eagerly – took my position behind him, noticing and admiring his perfectly-sculpted ass as I did so.
“Think you can handle the weight?” he asked.
“You mean if you drop it?” I asked in return, teasing him in the same way that he was teasing me.
“There’s absolutely no way I’ll drop it,” he replied, focusing on his reflection in the mirror. “Take a lesson from my form.”
“I already have,” I replied, quickly hoping that it wasn’t too much, but knowing that it probably wasn’t.
He lifted the bar from the rack before taking a step back. Inching toward the floor, he performed a perfectly-formed squat that required no assistance from me, before sliding the bar back into the rack.
“What did you think of that?” he asked, turning around and showing off his cocky smile.
“That was a perfect squat,” I said, knowing that I was only boosting his ego. “You’ll have to help me work on my form.”
“That’s the idea,” he replied. “I just –”
Before he could finish, we heard a door slamming loudly behind us.
A woman in her forties – her body as perfectly-sculpted as the rest of the staff at the gym – began to walk toward us with a frown on her face.
“What are you two doing in here?” she asked, addressing Clint but also looking at me.
“Hi Claire,” Clint said, “I’m just wrapping up with a client here.”
“Oh?” she asked, looking me up and down as she probably realized that she had never seen me in the gym before. “Is this a regular client of yours?”
“Yes,” Clint replied, and I could hear the nervous tone in his voice. “Well, this is our first session.”
She frowned and asked, “Can I speak with you for a second?”
“Sure,” Clint replied obediently, quickly following her to another corner of the gym.
It was obvious that Claire was his boss, and it was even more obvious that we were not supposed to be in the gym after-hours. I wondered if Marissa or John had called her to report us, and I immediately began to hate them.
I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but after a couple of minutes Claire walked away with an angry expression on her face before disappearing into an office in the back.
“We have to clear out,” Clint said in a disappointed tone. “I’m sorry, Nic.”
Normally I didn’t like when people called me Nic, but it sounded good coming from Clint’s lips.
“I hope I didn’t get you into any trouble,” I said, gesturing over toward Claire’s office.
“No, not at all,” he replied with a smile. “Believe me, I’m one of the best trainers she has here; I bring in about half of her business. She just likes to show off her authority sometimes, and I guess she chose tonight as the night.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong.
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” Clint said with an encouraging smile, patting me on the back to quell my concerns. “I still want to train you. As a matter of fact, I have a membership to another gym nearby; why don’t we meet there sometime and I’ll train you?”
“Would I need a membership there also?” I asked, thinking about the expensive fees.
“Not at all,” he replied. “I’m friendly with the staff there. I’ve actually been thinking about breaking away from Rock Fitness and becoming a freelance trainer.”
“You should absolutely do that,” I said, “especially if it means that you won’t have to deal with these weird, nosy coworkers.”
“You can say that again,” he replied. “So, how about tomorrow? You can stop by the other gym and we can get a real workout in without having to worry about my boss or my nosy coworkers.”
“I wish I could,” I replied, “but I have to work tomorrow. As a matter of fact,
I think I might stop by The Warehouse right now, just to have a drink and be social.”
“Oh,” Clint replied with a frown, “well, how about –”
Before he could finish, we both heard Claire shouting Clint’s name from her office.
“Wow,” he said, “she’s definitely on a power trip tonight. I’m sorry, Nic.”
There it was again, Clint calling me by the name that I generally didn’t like, but for some reason, when he said it, it made my insides melt.
“I’ll text you later tonight,” he added before turning to walk toward her office.
I gathered my things and quickly walked out of the gym. I was starting to feel annoyed by the fact that – every time we tried to get together – someone else came along and screwed it up. Looking through my bag for my phone, I thought about texting Greg to tell him that I could work for him that night, but I changed my mind as I realized that I didn’t want to.
Pushing the front door open, I walked out into the chilly evening air as I sighed, wishing that time would pass by quicker so I could get a text from Clint. Walking casually down the sidewalk, I decided to stop by The Warehouse after all, just to see if there was any exciting action.
I hope Greg doesn’t ask me to stay and work for him, I thought, but I decided to risk it anyway.
A few minutes later, I arrived at The Warehouse, much to the delight and surprise of Greg. He noticed me walking through the doors and he quickly climbed down from the bar to rush over and greet me.
“Thank you!” he said, throwing his arms around my neck. “I did not want to be here tonight.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I replied, pulling his arms off me, “I didn’t come to work, I just came to have a drink…and, well, maybe to vent.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked curiously.
Greg knew that I wasn’t usually the type to get upset about anything, and I generally carried myself with a positive attitude, so I could see that his concern was genuine. Still, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to divulge every detail of my personal life to him.
“It’s a long story,” I replied with a sigh, turning to indicate that I wanted to walk over to the bar and have a drink.
“I know what would make you feel better,” Greg said with a smile, patting me on the back. “Dancing on the bar!”
“Greg,” I sighed, exasperated.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he said, pushing me forward so we could grab a drink.
To my surprise, Allen was behind the bar serving drinks. I had assumed he would have the night off, since he had worked the past two nights in a row. His face lit up as he saw me, and I could tell that he was happy I was there.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Greg said as we both took a seat at the end of the bar.
It was still early in the evening, and there weren’t very many customers inside yet. I could tell that Greg was eager to find any excuse to climb down and stop dancing, and I was probably the perfect reason for him to take a break.
“It’s been a long day,” I replied, choosing to keep it vague instead of revealing everything.
“Well, I’m glad you stopped by anyway,” Greg replied, waving for Allen to come over and make us drinks. “That weird guy is here, and he’s been asking about you all night.”
Looking over to my right, I noticed Kenneth seated at the end of the bar.
Feeling annoyed, I said, “Him again. I think he’s starting to get a little too attached; I might have to have a talk with him.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Greg replied. “You know the owner doesn’t want us trying to dissuade anyone from coming here. Plus, he’s a generous tipper; isn’t he?”
“Yes,” I replied honestly, “but I get a creepy vibe from him.”
Before Greg could reply, Allen appeared before us, grinning from ear to ear.
“Hi there,” he said to me, obviously happy that I had shown up. “Did you stop by to work?”
“Nope,” I replied cheerfully, trying to change my mood. “I stopped by to drink.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Allen said. “What’ll it be?”
“I’ll have a whiskey and Coke,” I said, turning to take another look at Kenneth sitting at the other end of the bar. “I should probably go and talk to him.”
As Allen turned away to make my drink, I began to walk toward Kenneth. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it was at that point that I realized that I was definitely picking up on strange vibes from him. My entire body screamed for me to turn and walk away, but I decided to speak with him anyway.
Unlike Greg, I wasn’t concerned with how much he tipped or how generous he was; I was making enough money as it was, and I didn’t want the added stress of having a conversation with someone that I didn’t trust. Still, I didn’t want the owner to find out if I had been rude.
“Hi Kenneth,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral again, but realizing that I had just made the mistake of being too familiar with him by calling him by his first name again.
“Hi,” he said with a smile.
His smile was crooked, but it fit his average face perfectly. He wasn’t a bad-looking man, but his personality took him down a few notches.
“How are you?” he asked, looking down over my body as if he was disappointed that I was fully clothed.
I considered myself to be an open, sexual person, but I had never been happier to have my clothes on.
“I’m fine,” I said, “but I’m not working tonight.”
His smile quickly changed into a frown and he replied simply, “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to steer the conversation in a direction where it would be acceptable for me to tell him goodbye. “Sorry you came all this way.”
“I don’t mind,” he said, nodding at the bartender. “I don’t live far from here, and Allen makes the best drinks.
Ugh, I thought, I bet he knows all our names.
“Will you be here tomorrow?” he asked. “I have the day off.”
“I’m not sure,” I lied, not wanting to tell him what my schedule was.
“Well,” he said, “maybe I could meet you outside of The Warehouse sometime.”
I frowned and tried to think of the best way to tell him that I had absolutely no intention of meeting him anywhere.
“Kenneth,” I said, cursing myself for calling him by his first name again, “I like to keep things pretty focused on dancing here at The Warehouse.”
“You don’t want to meet me?” he asked, making a facial expression like a saddened child.
“I just don’t get really close with customers here,” I replied, trying to frame it in the most positive light so that he wouldn’t take it personally.
“Customers?” he asked, as if he was disgusted with the way I referred to him.
“You know what I mean,” I said with a forced smile, desperately trying to not hurt his feelings.
“I see,” he replied. “I didn’t know I was just a customer to you.”
You didn’t? I wondered. What did you think you were to me?
I didn’t want to say anything cruel, but I couldn’t understand how someone who comes into The Warehouse to spend money wouldn’t realize that they were a customer.
“It’s not something you should take personally,” I said with another forced smile, turning to see if Allen was going to bring my drink over.
Unfortunately, he had placed it on the other end of the bar where I had been sitting. I tried to wave him over so he could walk by and help me end my conversation with Kenneth, but he was busy preparing a drink for someone else.
I turned back to face Kenneth and added, “I’m going to head back down to the other end of the bar to have my drink. I’m not sure if I’ll be back here tomorrow or not, but you know…there are plenty of other places where you can go and watch guys dance.”
He nodded his head as if he understood that I was rejecting him, but I wondered if he truly got it.
“Fine,” he s
aid.
Before I could reply, I looked past him to see a familiar, handsome face walk through the door. Clint strutted into the bar like he owned the place, commanding the same kind of confidence I had seen in him at the gym earlier. I smiled and felt happy to see him and grateful that he would rescue me from my conversation with Kenneth.
“Hi,” I said, beaming a smile in his direction.
As he grew near, he walked directly up to me and pulled me into a hug, which was far more intimate than our handshake earlier at the gym. My whole body tingled with excitement at feeling his strong muscles envelope me, my cock giving a little jump.
Pulling back from me, he said, “I just wanted to stop by and talk with you for a bit. I felt bad that we couldn’t finish our session earlier at the gym.”
“Yes, I’m happy you stopped by,” I said, grateful for the chance to get away from Kenneth. “I wasn’t even supposed to work tonight. Let’s go talk.”
I gestured toward the private seating area in the back, before turning back to see Kenneth standing up to leave.
“Have a good night,” I said.
He looked up into my eyes with one of the saddest expressions I’ve ever seen in my life. Part of me felt guilty for being so direct with him, but the other part of me was happy that he understood that I was not interested in him. As I turned to walk away from him, I began to worry that he might complain to the owner, but I pushed the thought out of my mind as I was happy to be around Clint.
We walked back toward the sitting area and Clint sat directly next to me. Before we could begin talking, I noticed Allen out of the corner of my eye; he was walking over to hand me my drink. With a sigh, I thought about the possibility that Allen might be slightly jealous of me sitting to talk with Clint. He could tell from our conversation a few nights before that I was interested in him, and I guessed that it might have hurt Allen’s feelings since I had told him previously that I wasn’t interested in dating.
Allen arrived before us, handing me my drink and awkwardly asking Clint, “Can I get you anything man?”
Clint shook his head, waving Allen away and turning to focus on me.
“Do you still want to meet up soon for another work out?”
“At your other gym?” I asked, knowing that I would say yes no matter what.
The Warehouse Page 8