tagRomanceNew Workout, New Partner

New Workout, New Partner


The instant he saw her photo in the newspaper, he knew it was time to call.

The ordinary Monday lunchtime found him sitting at a small table with soup and a sandwich. Opening the local sports feature section, he noticed an advertisement for a new karate studio. The ad featured the photo of a very fit young woman in a fighting stance, with a captivating expression that somehow conveyed both satisfaction and determination. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a green halter and shorts that showed off toned and shapely arms and legs and well-defined abs.

The ad had a very clear objective: to use the hope of getting into a class with such an attractive woman to entice people to call that business. Instead, Paul simply pulled out his cell phone to call her home number.

That simple act triggered a familiar torrent of conflicting emotions. His lunch sat neglected as three chapters of his memories unfolded in the usual sequence.

The first set was sharply vivid, with heightened colors and contrast created by the reverence placed upon them: the joy of marrying his beloved, the hopeful determination to overcome their fertility difficulties, and then the crushing shock at the diagnosis of the medical problem that was uncovered.

The second set was dark and almost suppressed, as if under a thick blanket: the prolonged struggle of his wife's illness, the pain of that final night in the hospital, and the numbing despair of living without her. Then came an abrupt punctuation -- the crisis upon realizing that after two years of being consumed by these tasks on a daily basis, he had finally finished settling the medical bills, the family obligations, the donations of her clothing to charity, and the distribution of mementos to her friends -- leaving his life with absolutely no perceivable purpose.

In that moment of desperate need for emotional and physical comfort, he had called an escort service seeking nothing more than an anonymous woman. What arrived instead, however, was Donna. She became Paul's lifeline back to the land of the living and the foundation of the third set of memories, which he finally had begun to accept as a new and enjoyable reality.

It was probably for the best that he had only one vague impression of his first meeting with Donna, since it was of crying on her shoulder after sex. The encounter, however, broke through the wall he had built to insulate his heart, and two weeks later, he called her again.

In contrast, his memories of the second meeting with Donna were electric. After the point when his wife was too frail to enjoy sex, there were so many years of celibacy that this was an experience comparable to the very first time he was with a woman.

The sensations were permanently emblazoned in his soul: the scent of her hair as he kissed her neck, the amazing soft/firmness of her breasts under his fingers, the tight peaks of her nipples as they stiffened between his lips, the silky smoothness of her skin as his kisses traveled past her bellybutton, the tight curls around her pussy that tickled the skin of his groin, and the overwhelmingly warm moistness of her sex as she engulfed him, pulling him inexorably to a climax that seemed to finally reawaken him like a lightning bolt into his veins.

After that, waiting even one week seemed like forever, so two days later he invited her for a three hour session, for what would turn out to be the beginning of a new phase of his life. Their first climax was an explosive roller-coaster thrill and left them in a languorous state of sensuality. Laying on the bed with his arms around her, their bodies touching softly, caressing the curve from her shoulders past her waist to her tush, he finally realized that in addition to being dangerously sexy, she was also deliciously firm and fit.

He asked her what she did for exercise. That led to an hour-long, eyes-locked conversation about their mutual interest in fitness and exercise, ending in another round of even more physical sex with her riding him. This time during her climax, she didn't restrain herself, and Paul could see how the sheer power in her legs and hips as she bucked on top of him might be intimidating to some guys.

After that, they developed a steady relationship as workout partners and sexual partners. The combination was mutually beneficial as they used the full power of sex to motivate and encourage each other's exercise goals, and used working out together as foreplay to get physically aroused and erotically charged before sex.

Their status changed from client-and-provider to lovers, but without formally discussing it, he continued to leave money for her and she continued to take it. It allowed him to revel in the physical celebration without worrying about emotional baggage, it allowed her to take fewer clients and concentrate on her modeling, and together they used it as a framework for a continuing role-play that had power in its illicit nature.

Most of their dates would start as workouts in the home gym in his basement, challenging each other to lift a heavier weight than last week, or persuading one last repetition with the promise of a striptease reward. Their progress in strength and physical appearance was impressive.

At the beginning, Paul had started with decent weights for an average guy. A year later, however, it was Donna who was easily using those weights, while Paul had tripled his strength. Donna's newly toned body had moved her into high demand as a swimsuit, figure, and fitness model, while Paul was now more muscled than when he had played varsity sports.

For spice, though, they often returned to sex-for-hire fantasies, playing the roles of a new escort or a new client with "special interests," or reversing characters so that Paul played a gigolo or a powerful seducer.

Overall, there was no question that after his wife's death, it was Donna who had absolutely saved him. She helped Paul heal his depression, got him healthy, and sparked long-dormant interests to create a new and different life. It would never replace the old one, but could coexist on an equal footing with the precious memories of the past.

Rousing himself from his reminiscences with a smile, he returned his attention to his cell phone and pressed the speed-dial button for Donna's home number.

She clearly had looked at the caller ID, since she answered the phone with a cheery, "Hello, Paul. I've been expecting to hear from you."

"Hi, Donna. I saw the karate ad."

"Did you like it?"

"Absolutely! I'll bet there are hundreds of guys lined up for karate lessons already."

"Flattery will get you nowhere!"

"You can't blame me for trying. I was actually calling to see if you're still free for this Friday night."

"I would really love to, but I just got a call to fly out to Los Angeles for three weeks."

"That's a long trip," he replied with disappointment.

"They hired me to feature in a whole series of exercise videos."

"Very cool! I am so thrilled for you! I will miss you, though. Can we schedule something for when you get back in town?"

"Now, honey, you know you're the first person I want to see when I get back, but I wouldn't want you to have to wait that long. Besides, there's a very special favor I need to ask from you."

"Sure. What's up?"

"I have a friend who wants to get into the escort business. I was hoping you'd be willing to meet with her this weekend."

"I don't know. You know I've never been into one-night stands. I think I should just wait..."

"No, really," she insisted. "I know you're a one-woman guy, and I love you for it, but that's the reason I need you for this favor. I'd like her to have her first job with someone safe and kind. You're the only guy I can completely trust to behave like a gentleman and to treat her like a lady. She is very pretty and sexy, but I'm not sure she's really cut out for all the tough aspects of this business. If you don't like her, of course, I promise to make it up to you next time."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, and I'm honored that you would entrust her to me."

"There's no one sweeter than you, Paul. You have to pretend to be a real, impartial client though. Don't let on that you know it's her first time. You've got to make sure she thinks that she's being a great escort, even if she's not. She's very vulnerable at the moment and she needs this both as a source of income and as a shot of confidence."

"Well, in that case, I'll expect her on Friday night. You can trust me to take good care of her. Have a safe trip, Donna. Knock 'em dead!"

"Have fun with Jessica!"


Friday night found him watching TV in his den, trying to concentrate on a basketball game. During the week the distractions of work were barely enough to overcome the anticipation of meeting Jessica, but now he couldn't even keep track of which team was winning. Waiting for Donna was always a delicious period of anticipation, but now his mind raced to predict just what kind of date she had arranged for him tonight.

When Paul finally heard the doorbell, he sprang to his feet and forced himself not to sprint through the house to the front door. He opened it to find a beautiful woman with a captivating smile and a briefcase. She was a few years older and a few inches shorter than Donna, and was outfitted nicely in a light blue sweater and dark blue skirt. Her medium blond hair framed her face in a way that made her hazel eyes sparkle.

"I'm looking for Paul," she greeted him brightly.

"You must be Jessica," he replied, with a smile finally replacing his worry lines. "Come in, please. I'm feeling a bit underdressed," he added, gesturing to his gym shorts and tee-shirt and then to her business attire.

"Hey, that's no problem. In fact, I'd say you look very nice. This is just my 'dressed for work' outfit to convey the impression of a realtor or saleswoman. I have my workout clothes in my briefcase."

Jessica's words had betrayed the inexperience behind her veneer of confidence. Paul tried to think of something reassuring to say, but merely stammered, "Would you like to... I mean, can I offer you ... Maybe... Um..."

She visibly relaxed, smiled, and replied, "Yeah, Donna said you'd be cute and bashful."

"Oh really," he laughed. "What else did she tell you about me?"

"Not that much. She did suggest that a warm-up run on the treadmill would give us a chance to get acquainted."

"Well, then, you can change in the guest room, first door on the right."

As her skirt swirled around her, she called over her shoulder, "Back in a flash."

Paul walked to the kitchen and stared out the window. Jessica was very cute, just the kind of woman that would have caught his eye and that he would have been too reserved to approach.

"You have got to start dating," he told himself with a renewed insistence.

"Paul?" a voice called out.

"Here in the kitchen," he replied. A moment later, he added, "Wow. That is an extremely nice workout outfit."

She wore a cropped tee-shirt that hung a few inches away from her tanned midsection, tastefully announcing the presence of pert breasts. Her shorts were high-cut at the leg and quite formfitting, accentuating her slim waist and flaring hips.

"Let's get this party started," she suggested invitingly.

He handed her a bottle of water and led the way down the stairs to the basement that he had turned into his home gym. "I have both a treadmill and a stepper, so you can choose whichever you like."

"I'm a treadmill-kind of girl, thanks," she answered as she stood on the rails, started the motor, walked a few steps, and then started jogging as the belt picked up speed. Suddenly Paul wished that the stepper, instead of being next to her, had been positioned somewhere that would have allowed a better view of the delightful bouncing of her petite frame. Sighing slightly, he moved onto the stepper and started climbing.

"Your house is beautiful," she commented as she hit her stride.

"Thanks. It feels empty, though, since my wife passed away."

"Oh. Sorry about that. I didn't know."

"No problem. It was a lot of painful years before and a couple of painful years since, but I guess I'm finally doing okay. I probably shouldn't even have mentioned it."

"No, I'm glad you let me know. I'm truly sorry for your loss."

They spent a few minutes on safer topics of the weather and local politics as Paul became increasingly impressed by Jessica's stamina, since she was conversing easily at a fairly brisk pace. Eventually, Paul got around to one of the questions he'd really wanted to ask.

"So how did you and Donna get to know each other?"

"It turns out that we belong to the same gym," Jessica replied. "I attend a lot of group classes, and every once in a while Donna would come for a class or two, and then go back to the weights and machines. We started talking more and became friends. Ever since we realized that we were in the same line of work, we've been best buddies."

She paused for a moment, feeling a bit guilty for telling Paul this slightly rearranged version of the truth. Another minute on the treadmill, however, relaxed her again, and she concluded with satisfaction, "That was a good warm-up. Want to show me the rest?"

They both stopped and climbed off their machines, glowing from the exertion. Jessica tried to set the stage by explaining, "Donna said that you usually play some kind of game of 'strip weightlifting' to push each other to break your own records. I'm sorry that I won't be able to help you with that, but perhaps you can give me a beginner's introduction instead."

"Sure," he agreed as they walked. "I've got my weights around this way."

"Wow! This looks as professional as the gym I belong to."

"Thanks. I built a lot of the equipment myself."

"It's all a bit overwhelming. Where to start?" she asked.

"Let me show you lat pull-downs," he suggested before walking over to a hanging bar, kneeling on the floor and demonstrating while describing the exercise. "You pull down from your elbows to work the back muscles. Pretty basic." He replaced the bar, reduced the weight, and invited her, saying, "Now you try."

"That's good," he encouraged her as she pulled the bar smoothly down. "A little lower at the bottom. Hold for a second and really squeeze your shoulder blades together." He placed his hands on her back so she could feel where to emphasize. "That's it!" he declared as she got it right on the second try.

He stepped back to observe her technique, but the only thing he noticed was how much her cropped tee-shirt lifted up every time she extended her arms. The tantalizingly exposed lower half of her bra curved out significantly more than he had imagined. Despite his efforts to be a gentleman, some deep part of his brain immediately revised his impression from "pert" to "nicely packed," and he had to turn away for a moment to adjust the expanding heat in his briefs.

Perhaps she did detect his reaction, however, since as she stood up she said with a wink, "I think it's getting too hot in here for so much clothing, don't you?"

Reaching down, she slowly lifted the tee-shirt over her head, revealing what had probably once been a black sports bra, but now had half of the material cut away to reveal a vast expanse of creamy skin from her collarbones, down the delightfully rounded slopes of her breasts, to the sharp cavern in between. The fabric seemed to cover her nipples only by sheer luck. In reply, he pulled his own shirt over his head.

"Hey, that's nice!" she exclaimed.

Paul turned to look over his shoulder to see what thing behind him might have been so riveting.

"No. You, silly!" Jessica laughed. "Donna didn't tell me you looked that good. Are you a professional athlete?" In response to Paul's laugh, she added, "No, seriously, I haven't ever seen a guy look that good in person. You're as buff as an action movie hero or music video star."

"Well, thank you very much, my dear," Paul acknowledged. "I take that as a particular compliment, since most of those guys are probably half my age."

"You're kidding," she retorted incredulously.

"Nope. I just turned forty last month."

"You must have had women coming on to you your whole life."

"I guess there's more to attractiveness than that," he said soberly. "And actually, this is a new look for me. In the past year or so, your friend Donna has been a relentless workout partner and I finally got serious about a low-fat diet."

"You should really think about modeling or something," she stated. "Well, what exercise is next?"

"Bench press for the chest," Paul explained, sitting on the bench before leaning back squarely onto it. "You lift the weight off the rack, lower it to your chest, and press it back up. Focus the effort across your chest like this..."

"Wait, wait!" Jessica cried out. "You're not supposed to use heavy weights today! Donna said you shouldn't try to break any records since I wouldn't be able to spot you."

"No worries," Paul reassured her, "This is my warm-up weight." He pumped the weight smoothly up and down a dozen times before returning it to the rack. "You're still staring," he observed.

Jessica shook her head in disbelief. "It makes sense, I guess, now that I think of it, but I just never realized that chest muscles could flex and bulge out like that."

"I'm hoping that was a compliment, and if so, thanks. Your turn."

She sat on the bench and lay back while Paul handed her a bar with no weight plates. He continued his instruction, "Lower this slowly. Now push it forcefully upwards, thinking about using your chest to bring your arms together."

He kept his hands on the bar to guide it up and down, but his gaze was riveted to her chest. At the top of the motion her breasts were squeezed into a sharp cleavage. At the bottom of the motion, the fabric of her sports bra stretched low enough to expose the rosy edges around her nipples and stretched tight enough to accentuate their clearly noticeable tips. The warmth in his groin intensified into a gentle ache.

"Um, are you planning to take this bar, or just stand there all day?" she teased.

"Sorry," he replied with a slight flush as he replaced the weight on the rack so she could sit up.

"Whew," she breathed. "I think it really is getting hot in here. Too hot for shorts."

She winked again and stood up. Jessica slowly peeled the snug fabric down, wiggling her hips slightly as she worked the fabric over their curves. Only two black strings interrupted the smooth surface of her skin.

His gaze flowed from her waist down the creamy roundness of her rear to the delightful little tuck where it met the firm contours of her thighs. In the front, she gradually revealed that the mere strings continued beyond the point of reason until they finally attached to a tiny piece of almost-sheer fabric.

"You're stunning!" he managed to say, entranced by her figure.

"Why, thank you. I'm glad you like me," she said quietly. After a moment, submerged in her thoughts, she continued, "Your turn."

Dragging himself back from his own reverie, he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts and pulled downward.

"Ooh, Australian-style briefs. You've got good taste in under-fashions." With a smile she added, "And may I say, you fill them out very nicely."

"Thank you," he said sheepishly. "I guess we should move on to legs."

Walking over to a rack, he ducked under a bar and lifted it across the back of his shoulders. He repeatedly squatted down into a deep knee bend and stood back up. She was so busy watching his legs that she didn't look at the bar until it clanked back into the rack.

"Moving heavy things all the time? Don't you need some kind of permit for that?" she quipped.

"Very funny," he commented as he removed all the weights from each side. "The bar by itself is forty-five pounds. Your turn."

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