Of course, I thought as I cinched my back support belt tight for my last set of squats, when internal and external motivational factors worked together, the results were damn near nuclear. That was what that day felt like. Sure, I knew Sophie's promise for more sex was just a silly tease, but it worked, even though I knew exactly what she was doing. She was pushing me to get my leg back in tip-top shape after I’d been shot. I was almost there, but not quite.
I nodded and positioned myself under the bar. The deep criss-cross pattern of knurling cut into the bar bit into the skin in between my shoulder blades even with the t-shirt I was wearing, a welcome pain. I knew the bar wouldn't slip and screw me up. Taking a final deep breath, I squared my feet and stood, clearing the bar from the hooks. I had worked this pattern over and over, three steps back, the first for distance, then adjusting my feet to exactly where I needed them to be. My back and shoulder muscles trembled with tension of supporting the bar. Sophie watched me with a careful eye. She would call me on my downs and ups. "Down!"
The pressure in my head increased with every inch that I descended. I knew my face was almost bright pink, and would only get worse as the set wore on. I focused on pushing my hips back, keeping the bar moving straight up and down, with as little forward and back motion as possible. Just as I felt like I was about to be crushed, I heard Sophie call. "Up!"
I pushed hard, about halfway between my heels and the balls of my feet, driving my head up as I accelerated. A deep grunt came through my clenched teeth as I pushed, and I knew why some very heavy squatters would wear mouthpieces to prevent dental damage. With a slight rattle, I reached the top of my squat, and I grinned as I took a deep breath. "Down!"
Sophie was relentless, giving me enough of a break in between heavy pushes to get another deep breath before commanding me down again. My leg where I'd been shot screamed in fire, and I knew Sophie would have to help me out of the car when we got home to Mount Zion. "Up!"
I pushed, my deep bellow of effort becoming an epic roar as I put everything into getting that bar two more inches up, and then the next two, and then the next. It felt like the squat took days, and dark spots danced before my eyes when I finally got up and could breathe again. Sophie leaned next to me, speaking quietly. "You can do one more. Don't think about the pain, or the weight, or anything else. Listen to my voice, and think about the fact that I love you."
She stepped back and resumed her studying stance. "Down!"
For me, the entire world became the narrow focus of my eyes in the mirror in front of me, and Sophie's voice in my ear. She kept up her command, repeating down in a calm, quiet voice that cooled the fire in my spine and legs. Even the pressure of the bar seemed to disappear as Sophie's voice switched from "Down," to "UP! PUSH!"
The fire in her command gave me the energy, that's all there was to it. My mind went blank as I pushed, and the next thing I knew, I was standing up, my entire body trembling. Sophie was there along with two other gym members, who helped me take the bar into the hooks. As soon as the bar rattled into the hooks, I pitched forward, stopped only by Sophie's arms around my chest. She guided me down onto my hands and knees, rubbing my back the whole time.
"Beautiful, baby," she whispered into my ear as sound started coming back into the world. “Sorry, I know you’re good, but I need that leg back one-hundred percent, I worry enough as it is.”
Sophie reached around and pulled the lever release on my back support belt, letting my stomach expand and my body to flood with precious oxygen. I stayed there for a good minute, until the black roses stopped blooming in my vision.
"Ready for a massage and about two straight hours of nothing but Netflix and popcorn?” Sophie asked.
“That’s exactly what I need.”
* * *
That night, after a relaxing evening and some gentle lovemaking, Sophie and I lay in bed, too tired or perhaps too satiated to want to get up, but too awake to fall asleep.
“Sorry about today, I just want one less thing to worry about when you go on some of these crazy missions," Sophie said, her head laid in the crook of my shoulder. I swear, I could die a happy man as long as that woman is snuggled against me, her warm body pressed against my side. Hell, maybe if I'm lucky, in sixty or seventy years that might happen. "You know that, right?"
"I know," I said, pulling her close and kissing her purple hair. Once you got used to it, it was really damn sexy. I had to give her credit for the idea, choosing electric purple. “After seeing what I could do today, I think I’m almost there.”
Sophie sighed, rubbing my chest. "I just...there's a part of me that hopes someday this little dual life war we're fighting ends."
"I know, my love. Me too. After all, raising a family in the middle of a war is not in my plans."
Sophie tensed for a second and moved her head to look at me. Her beautiful eyes bore into mine, heavy with meaning. "You really want to have children?"
"Someday," I said, kissing her forehead. "Sophie, there's a very boring, very normal streak running underneath the business peacock and trained killer sides of my personality. So yeah, I want to have you with me, in some quiet house somewhere peaceful and boring, with two or three kids running around the house, maybe a dog or two."
"And of course the obstacle course with salmon ladder in the back yard," Sophie teased me, reaching up and tweaking my nose. "Mark Snow, I know you too well after the amount of time we've been together. Boring and you do not go together. Now, I can be on board with the kids, and the house, and the dog, but let's be honest, our lives are never going to be so boring that you're going to be normal."
"Good point," I said, sliding down and kissing her lips. "But then again, you seem to like me just the way I am."
"Not quite," she said, stroking my arm muscles.
"How so?" I said, kissing her lips again and running my hands down to cup her backside. Sophie moaned and kissed me back, and I knew exactly what changes she wanted me to make.
I was more than happy to make them.
Chapter 36
Tabby
I looked myself up and down in the mirror, wondering for the third time if I was dressing too slutty for my date. I was wearing one of my favorite clubbing dresses, a tight red piece that was just a shade brighter than my hair. It actually covered a lot of skin, there was nothing that was see through, but the sexiness was from just how tight everything was. There was just enough thickness in the cloth over my breasts and my hips that I could wear my thinnest pair of thong panties, but that was it. I could see the dip of my belly button in the outfit, and even the flex of my leg muscles as I turned. It was the sexiest thing I had, but was it too much?
"Scott sees you in this and he's going to have just one thought on his mind," I said to my reflection, pondering. "Then again, that's been about the only thing on your mind since last night too."
It was true. I'd stayed up until almost one in the morning after my date, tossing and turning as I struggled with my inner desires. Part of it is just flat-out physical. I've always had a very high, very voracious sex drive. It started when I was a teenager, and I'll admit that it took me a few years to learn how to keep it under control. There were, of course, benefits. I've been able to do things that most people only read about, but I’m not stupid, I’d always been safe.
At the same time, though, there were drawbacks. First of all, when you have a sexual appetite that never seems satisfied, a lot of partners saw you as just being a casual thing. While I had no problem with having a friend with benefits, everyone wants to have a real relationship. It was perhaps the main thing that I was jealous about with Sophie and Mark.
I looked myself up and down in the mirror once again, and decided to take a risk. Reaching for the zipper, I unzipped and pulled the dress down, exposing my body. True to my Irish blood, I'm about as white as you can get without being a vampire, but with my red hair, it works. Also, thankfully, my skin tone has been described as "pale creamy" and not "ghostly pale." And I don't have a
ny freckles, so I avoided the 'ginger' tag as well. Going into my closet, I pulled my tissue paper thin panties off and chose a more reasonable blue satin number along with it's matching pushup bra. Next was a black skirt and electric blue sleeveless blouse that was almost the same color as my lingerie. It was a few steps too sexy for office wear, but still had that naughty executive vibe that I sometimes liked to play.
I was just finishing the last button on my blouse when my doorbell rang, which I guess is a good thing. I would have fussed with the button until Scott came otherwise, and I had just enough time to grab my "club purse" which held one of my ID's, a pair of tightly folded twenty dollar bills, a disposable cell phone that I could use if I needed a taxi, and nothing else. I didn't even carry an apartment key after having one of these purses stolen in a club, which is why I used an old student ID for the clubs now. No need to risk my driver's license or something.
I opened the door to my apartment and felt my entire body skip a beat. Scott wasn't dressed in the most fashionable of clothes, a simple pair of black slacks and shirt that looked like he was trying to be something between Johnny Cash and Neo. Sure, it was off, but it worked for him. "Good evening."
Scott gaped for just a moment, and I felt better about picking the outfit I had. He probably would have had a coronary if I'd worn the red dress. "Good evening. Wow, you look amazing. Seriously, like, movie star amazing."
I smiled, and looked around. "So are you ready to go?"
Scott started and shook his head, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess I am. Sorry. By the way, you didn't say where we were going."
"Hold on," I said, turning and locking my front door from the inside. The manager and I were on good terms, and kept a copy of my key underneath the second flower pot next to his door, which I used whenever I went out clubbing. It was a nice safety feature, that was for sure. "Okay, ready. As for where we're going, there's a nice club over on Southeast and Monroe that I think we can have some fun at."
Scott nodded. "Okay, although the way you say that, it makes me think you know more clubs than I have ever heard of."
I smiled, not letting Scott know just how right his statement was. I knew a lot about the clubs in town, even Sophie didn't know just how deep down the rabbit hole I'd gone there. "Well, maybe. But tonight I just wanted to have a nice date with a nice guy, if you can believe that. So shall we?"
"We shall, beautiful lady," Scott said, offering me his arm. I could quickly become charmed by his almost old fashioned gentlemanly manners, and the walk to his car was pleasant. He let me mess with his in-dash navigation system for a moment before figuring out how to input the address, and we were off.
"Sorry, I'm just too easily distracted by stuff outside to be a good navigator," I told him as he drove. "Much better for you to just follow R2-D2 on your dash."
Scott chuckled. "I wouldn't have taken you for a Star Wars fan."
I laughed. "Oh, that I totally am. I've even forced myself to like Jar-Jar Binks, or at least tolerate him enough to watch the prequels without going into a homicidal rage. Besides, let's face it, Natalie Portman was hot in a lot of those outfits."
Scott gave me a double take, then turned his attention back to the road.
I knew maybe I’d said a little too much. It was a habit of mine sometimes, I talked just to talk, and sometimes I said a little too much. “Don’t worry, it was a phase I went through. And my constant talking like this is what earned me my nickname in college."
"Oh, what was that?" Scott asked, taking it in stride.
"One of the other girls in my dorm called me Deadpool."
"Ah, the Merc with the Mouth," Scott said gleefully. "Red outfit, hits or tries to hit on just about every other character, and a total wiseass. Just tell me you're not deadly with pistols?"
I laughed, shaking my head. "Negative. Never fired a gun in my life before. So you're into comics too?"
"It helps on slow days around the shop," Scott said. "Normally into DC, but since they re-launched The New 52, I've been dabbling around. Not a problem I take it?"
"I just told you I thought Natalie Portman was hot in Star Wars, and you're worried that I think you liking comic books is weird? Scott, just where do they make you, because you are too good to be true."
"You'd be surprised."
We got to the club, and Scott found a parking spot underneath one of the lights in the parking lot. It was one of the safer clubs in town, but still, young people, alcohol, and semi-sexual activity didn't lead to always peaceful behavior. The line was pretty short for a Friday night, which I had anticipated. There was a big act in town at one of the other local clubs, and I was sure it was going to be packed. That meant that this club was going to be a little more laid back, which is what I thought Scott would be ready for.
The doorman and I were on a nodding acquaintance, and let Scott and me in through the velvet rope without even waiting in line. "Nice to see you, Tabs."
"Thanks, Tank. Enjoy tonight."
Inside, Scott gave me a look after we'd checked my purse and his light jacket with his wallet and stuff in. "You know the doorman?"
"Just a bit. He broke up a fight once between two guys who thought I was a piece of meat to snarl over."
"Really? What did he do?"
"Threw one into the side of a car, and kicked the other in the balls," I said with a grin. "Tank doesn't fight fair. Enough of that, though, let's dance!"
The music was pretty typical club fare, but I wasn't interested in whether the songs were hot or not. Instead, my eyes were caught up with Scott, who moved better than I had feared as the beat moved into his body. He relaxed pretty well, and while he wasn't going to win Dancing with the Stars anytime soon, he knew what to do as our bodies came closer and closer together. The first brush of my hip against his sent a jolt through both of our bodies, and as the music stopped, both of us were breathing a bit faster.
"This is more fun than I thought it would be," Scott said in the slightly less deafening sound of the club as we made our way off the floor. "Thanks!"
We got drinks, nothing alcoholic for me. Sophie has seen me act tipsy with men in clubs all the time, but the reality is unless I was with female platonic friends, I never drink alcohol in nightclubs. First of all, it's too damn easy to get your drink spiked nowadays. Like I said, I’m a little wild and free, but I’m smart. Secondly though for me, it actually takes that delicious sexual edge off of the dance floor, and who wants to mess with that? Scott just had a beer, which totally fit his personality, straightforward with no bull crap. Just as he finished, he set his cup (sadly, the club didn't allow bottles after a fight a few years before) and smiled at me. "You wanna dance again?"
For the next few hours, Scott and I engaged in an erotic, sensual foreplay on the dance floor that left my heart thumping and my body buzzing. He seemed to know exactly where and when to move closer, and his touches, while never naughty, were always in such a way that it lit the nerves of my skin on fire. When the last set came on and the bass picked up while the beat slowed down, we were nearly grinding on each other, and all I could do was stop myself from ripping his shirt off and having sex with him right there on the dance floor.
His hand slid around to my lower back, his eyes locked with mine as we came closer, my legs parting on their own, yearning for him to be between them. Scott obliged with one well-muscled leg, pushing closer to me to the point I could feel the sweat dampened fabric touch against my soaked panties. I gasped, throwing my arms around his neck and wantonly dry humping his leg, rubbing myself against the fabric, hungry for release. "Oh God," I moaned, leaning into him.
"Whenever you need to, you can," he said into my ear before pulling back and looking me in the eye. The music picked up pace, the bass thumping harder and harder, and my hips increased their rubbing back and forth. I was aware on the edges of my consciousness that some of the other couples were looking at us, but I really didn't give a damn, this was something I needed. I needed this man, and I needed to com
e so badly I could taste it.
With a sick drop in beat that ended in a vibrating bass pulse, my orgasm clamped down on me. I leaned my head back and moaned, unheard above the music, and not caring if anyone heard me or not. Scott held me carefully, letting my body ride out the wonderful wave until it released, and he pulled me in close for a final kiss as the song wrapped up. "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said in the momentary silence. "Let's get out of here."
"Anywhere," I replied breathlessly, following him on shaking legs to the coat check area and then back out to his car. We were mostly silent on the road, and I was surprised when he pulled into my apartment.
"What are we doing here?" I asked, confused. "I thought when you wanted to get out of there..."
"I do," Scott said, an intense look in his eyes. "But Tabby, when we do what I want to do so badly, I don't want it to be because some music, a little bit of drink, and an awesome dance scrambles our brain circuits. I want it to be because we both want it, clear-headed, and that it is all we can think about."
"What do you mean? It's all I've been thinking about since last night!" I practically wailed. "For fuck's sake Scott, I'm telling you I want you to take me to bed and fuck me senseless, do you need a more open invitation than that?"
Scott cut off my complaints with a finger on my chin, and a soft kiss on my lips. "Yes," he said once our lips parted and I could listen again. "I don't want to just fuck you, Tabby. I'm sure that will be great, and there may be a time for it. But I want to make love before we just fuck."
The look in his eyes struck me dumb, and I nodded in understanding. Could Scott be the one, the one to accept who I am? "Scott, that's hard for me. I'm a pretty sexual person."
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