tagFetishReunion, Workout (Female Version)

Reunion, Workout (Female Version)


Reunion, Workout, First Date (Female-primary version)

Despite the miserable weather outside, Cindy walked through the terminal of Logan airport with a spring in her step for two reasons; her plane had landed safely, and since she had only carry-on luggage she could head straight home. Both of those were unusually significant since the ice storm made flying treacherous and had caused chaos in flight schedules and on the ground. Judging by the announcements on the public address system, hers must have been one of the last flights permitted to land, and no more were departing. As she walked past the sorry collection of stranded travelers her gaze was attracted to one tall, handsome guy. He was obviously tired, but seemed less angry and frazzled than most of his companions. Something about him made her smile unconsciously. The features of his face were reminiscent of...

"Mark! Mark Morse!" she cried out. "It's me, Cindy Wheeler... from high school."

"Cindy?" Recognition slowly dawned and he added, "Sorry I didn't recognize you sooner, but I'm so wiped out." With significant effort he roused herself up to the obligatory pleasantries and asked, "It's nice to see you. How are you these days?"

"Fine, but the more important question is 'How are you?' You look like you got stranded by the storm."

"Yeah. They re-booked my ticket for tomorrow night and gave me a voucher for some hotel in Burlington. I've been waiting for the shuttle bus they promised."

"With this storm," she replied, "traffic will be a total mess. I can put you up for the night. It's only half as far as Burlington, and since I live right next to the Malden T stop, we won't need to drive at all. We can be there in twenty minutes, long before your bus even gets around the airport access road."

"I couldn't impose..."

"It wouldn't be any trouble. You can have my room to yourself; I'll sleep on the couch."

"Absolutely not! I won't come unless I get the couch."

"In truth, I won't feel very guilty about that," she smiled, "since it actually pulls out into a very comfortable sleeper. No more arguing. Grab your bag."

The ride was as easy as she had promised and gave them a chance to exchange stories of the intervening years, up to the point of Mark's trip to check out the Boston area options for law school. The streets he did see were completely blocked with lines of cars, and the one block walk from the subway station to Cindy's building was slippery enough to convince him of the wisdom of her plan.

She had a third floor condo in a refurbished industrial building, combining high ceilings and exposed vintage brick with modern amenities. His immediate impression was that her place was pleasantly uncluttered, tastefully designed, and very comfortable. Three of the spacious rooms were straightforward: an eat-in kitchen, a living room with the promised sleeper sofa, and a master bedroom. The fourth looked like the dojo where he went for karate classes. It had a resilient floor and the walls seemed to be a continuous set of natural wood louvered doors. The room was entirely empty except for a weightlifting bench, but Cindy didn't seem to have any weights. This made it look like a useless piece of modern sculpture, but at least it hadn't been turned into a clothes rack like most neglected exercise equipment.

The dinner Cindy whipped up was impeccably seasoned grilled chicken and vegetables over rice. Mark was sure it was the healthiest and most delicious meal of his entire trip. Despite the pleasantness of the company, Mark ran out of energy after the dessert course of fresh berries. Cindy made up the sofa's sleeper mattress, gave Mark a hug, and went back to clean the kitchen. Since the rest of his luggage was trapped at the airport, Mark switched into the tee shirt and gym shorts from his carry-on and fifteen minutes later, he was fast asleep.

* * * * *

Slowly, the morning intruded on his dream a bit at a time, while his groggy brain attempted to sort out the pieces. The freshly-laundered scent of the sheets and the aroma of just-brewed coffee must mean that he was in his old bedroom in his parents' house and it must be the summer before leaving for college. If he were to open his eyes, he would see a poster of the college campus he was anticipating attending in fall and a bigger poster of the Baywatch beauties from his earlier infatuations. A quiet, repeating, clinking sound must be his father's keys and pocket coins as he walked down the hallway.

Not wanting to leave the delicious world of sleep quite yet, his thoughts drifted to his usual fantasy of his secret crush. She was a fellow "geek freak," one of the few smart and shy students in his high school who still thought that academics were cool. She had a kind sense of humor and was a wonderfully dependable lab partner. "Oh," he thought, "if you only knew how much I want you, Cindy!" His hand strayed toward his morning erection to play out his usual fantasy, but when he felt gym shorts in the way, he realized something was wrong. Sleeping without pajamas in those days would have been unthinkable. Jarred out of its reveries, his brain scrambled to catch up to the present.

He pried open his eyes to see warm sunlight filtering through decidedly coordinated drapes, illuminating his suitcase on a living room chair. As the context of the airport and the ice storm came back into focus, he smiled over the good fortune of meeting Cindy. In this unfamiliar city, it had given him a sense of calm very much like that of being in his parents' house. He didn't remember all the details of their conversations yesterday, but he did remember that she was single, employed, a great cook, and even more beautiful than he remembered from high school.

Mark wished he had time to shave and make himself presentable. Instead, he simply combed his hair, put on his sneakers, straightened out the sheets on the sofa bed, and headed into the kitchen.

The sunlight warming the floor and the smell of the coffee were delightful, but Cindy wasn't here. As it turned out, the clinking sound was not just in his dream, so he wandered down the connecting hall. Peeking around the corner into the Zen-like workout room, he saw that both the room and Cindy had been transformed and he had a flood of new impressions to process.

The serene, louvered doors were opened to reveal an extensive collection of long bars and neat racks filled with large weight plates and dumbbells. It looked better equipped than the entire gym at his apartment complex, but without the scattered clutter produced by his careless and lazy neighbors. Even more amazing, however, was the transformation of Cindy. She was wearing tight workout shorts and he had a view down her low-cut top that revealed an extremely delicious set of curves. She had clearly filled out in all the right places since high school.

He had evidently arrived in the middle of a warm-up set, since she finished at least a dozen more bench presses before returning the bar to the rack. It was only then that his eyes moved from her mesmerizing chest to the bar, and he noticed that instead of the small weights he expected, there were two 25 pound plates on each side of the bar. As she sat up on the bench, it was a bit of a shock to see the skinny gal he thought was so cute in high school now with the superbly well-toned arms and legs of a professional athlete or fitness competitor.

"Good morning, Cindy."

"Hey, good morning, Mark," she replied as she took a drink from her water bottle. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Not at all. I'm surprised I slept this late, so thank you for the very comfortable sofa bed." Smiling, he added, "I see quite a change in this room."

"I'm glad you like it," she replied. "I realized that storing the equipment behind doors to make the room presentable made a lot more sense than closing up the archway and adding a door."

"I really like both aspects of it, compared to the fitness center at my apartment where I have to go to separate rooms for weights and mat work," he elaborated. "You've got a very professional setup here."

"Hard to imagine for the most gawky girl in high school, eh? It actually started when my ex-boyfriend wanted to set up a home gym, but since the jerk was still living at home his mom wouldn't let him, so he convinced me to let him set it up here. Then he started having his bunch of even jerkier friends hang around and try to show how macho they were."

"Sounds bad," Mark replied.

"Things went downhill from there," she explained. "He started getting extremely possessive. He wouldn't let me touch his precious weights when I wanted to start to work out, or even to clear a path to clean up the trash from his friends. I didn't understand why his personality had changed so much until he got busted for selling drugs. Before I could get him into rehab, he went back out on the streets again and was killed by another dealer."

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed.

"It took me a long time to accept the fact that he was the one who screwed up his life all on his own, and that I had done my best to help him. So, on the bright side, I figured I could keep the weights. At first, every time I walked past this room I got mad about how he stole the room from me. Then I got so mad that I decided to use his damn weights just for spite and I found it helped with the anger. Eventually, I realized how much I actually enjoyed exercising, so I just kept going."

"You know," he added, "when I said I saw quite a change in the room, I didn't mean just the room itself. You look absolutely incredible."

"Oh, hey," she blushed. "It's just the occasional workout."

"You're way too modest," he argued. "Very few guys in my apartment complex could do that many reps at 125 pounds."

"I know that I should be doing fewer repetitions in each set, but because I work out alone, I have to keep to weights I'm sure I can handle," she explained.

"One spotter, at your service," Mark said with a smile and a gallant bow. "Would milady consider another 25 pound plate on each side?"

"That sounds like a big jump."

"Trust me, I know you can handle it," he reassured as he started to move the additional plates to the bar.

Cindy lay back and positioned herself on the bench. Mark could tell she felt a bit of trepidation as she took the bar off the rack and felt its unaccustomed weight. Lowering it to her chest, she then pushed it off smoothly, eyes widening with surprise and pleasure.

"Dumb shit bastard!" she screamed after dropping the bar back in the rack.

"What?" Mark stammered, taken aback by her outburst.

"Not you," Cindy softened. "My ex. He would strut around with his shirt off, pound his chest, kiss his biceps and brag about how he could bench press two hundred pounds. That doesn't seem like so much anymore."

"You could lift more than that," Mark said softly.

"You really think so?"

"Easily," he replied, and began adding a ten and a five pound plate to each side of the bar to make 205. "You ready?"

"I am SO ready," she declared, as she readied herself under the bar.

"You should use really good form on this one," he advised. "Feet and hips firmly planted. Tuck your shoulder blades tight underneath. Chest out."

She took the bar and lowered it. Her firm arms flared and her chest tensed as she pushed the weight slowly but steadily upwards to the top of the lift. A huge smile of success spread across her face. Rather than racking the bar, however, she lowered the bar to her chest, where it indented her breasts. Concerned, Mark reached for the bar, only to be stopped by a small shake of Cindy's head. She forced the bar upwards again for a second repetition, slowly muscling it back to arms' length before placing it onto the rack.

Cindy jumped off the bench, threw her arms around Mark and squeezed him with an excited hug. "That was amazing!" she proclaimed. Without breaking their hug, she whispered into his ear, "And... were you flirting with me? 'Good form. ' 'Chest out.' ..."

"Cindy Wheeler," he answered, "I've had a crush on you since the first time I saw you back in high school and I have no intention of passing up this chance."

"I can't believe you're serious," she replied, leaning back to look him in the eyes. "I always thought you were the most amazing guy in high school, but I was way too shy to let you know back then. In college, when I realized that I was comparing the men I dated to you, I actually backed off on relationships for a while, until I could let my memories of you fade enough to give my current dates a fair chance."

"It's exactly the same for me," Mark declared. "No one I dated was nearly as smart and funny and kindhearted as you were. And no one was nearly as sexy and strong and beautiful as you are."

"After my latest ex, I have an incredible appreciation for a man of your character. And," she added, "appreciation for a man who isn't threatened by me working out." Kissing him softly on the lips, she continued, "One benefit of not getting together until now is that we can make our 'first date' infinitely more memorable than it would have been in high school. But first... I expect you to make good on your offer and spot me for squats."

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