Chapter 3 — Whitney
That wasn’t what I was expecting—not at all.
My first impression of the business was that it was something different from your normal yoga studio. More exclusive, expensive and probably not the kind of place I’d normally ever go.
Then I saw him. Sweet Mother of God, what a specimen of the male gender. I had to use those exact words in my mind because I could feel a heat between my legs that had nothing to do with getting a job or going through an interview. In fact, since I was a virgin, the whole feeling was not really subject to intellectual interpretation. I just knew I wanted that body on top of mine.
“I’m Whitney,” I repeated, and realized I sounded like a dullard.
“Yes, so you said. My office is that door on the left,” he told me. My throat went dry at the deep sound of his voice. I could have closed my eyes and listened to it all night… or day, I mean.
The studio was darkish and the doors were closed. I’d expected something more open, with high ceilings, mirrors on the walls and light pouring in through broad windows.
He gestured to an odd-looking chair opposite his desk and I sat down, if you could call it that. It was more of a lying-down kind of chair, like a psychologist’s couch. “Interesting chair,” I commented and the twinkle in his dark brown eyes gave me that curious feeling between my legs again. I couldn’t say it felt bad, but it was close to being an itch that I needed to scratch.
“So, Whitney, do you have a resume?” he asked holding his hand toward me across the desk. I stared, looking at the huge hand with a broad knuckle. The nails were precisely manicured. I wanted to kiss that hand. No, I’m lying. I wanted that hand to cup every cup-able part of me, but at the same time I didn’t think it proper that I think in those terms just yet. I nodded and slid a sheet of paper across the desk toward his hand. At the last second, I picked it up and let my fingers graze his hand. Sweet Jesus! That must be what it feels like for a cordless razor to slide into its charger—all kind of rough and yet smooth with a cradle that fits you perfectly and an electric charge that enters through your bottom!
He studied the resume as I watched his expression. I tried to read every nuance as his eyes remained level and his face expressionless.
“Whitney Travers… I don’t see any yoga experience mentioned here,” he commented in a casual voice, and I felt my heart plummet in disappointment.
“No, I’m afraid not, other than a little experimenting on my own. I’ve never been a teacher, though,” I admitted, scooting to the front of the odd chair as I prepared to hear him tell me I wasn’t what he was looking for.
“That’s good,” he nodded, continuing to look at the resume. “I like to train my own people.” His words made my heart soar.
What was going on with me? I had spent my entire postpubescent life veering away from groping hands and salacious remarks, and now here I was salivating over a perfect stranger like a bitch in heat. This was totally out of character for me, and it was difficult to pay attention to his questions while my eyes were devouring his body.
“Would you consider yourself an open-minded person?” he asked.
I was doing my best to stay in the moment and make a good impression. However, I was fixated on his large Adam’s apple, surrounded by the cords of muscle in his tanned neck. I’d always heard it said that a large Adam’s apple meant large male genitalia. I was trying not to picture that, but this man exuded such masculinity and presence that I had to keep swallowing. He was sucking me in like a vacuum cleaner.
“I’m sorry?” I was totally embarrassed that I had to ask him to repeat his question. Worse yet, I could see the twinkle in his eyes. He knew what was going on. I probably wouldn’t have been the first woman to throw herself at his feet and scream “Take me, take me!”
“I was interested in whether you consider yourself to be an open-minded person. While the job is technically for a yoga instructor, there are a few details which make it unusual.”
I nodded. “I’m very open to new concepts, and I’m a quick learner,” I answered, hoping this would earn some points.
“That’s good. What sort of hours are you looking for?” His dark eyes were melting my reserve, and I was one step short of throwing myself into his lap.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m very open.”
“Open, are you? Open is good. Why don’t you let me show you around the studio and give you some details you should know about in advance?”
“Okay,” I immediately agreed as my head bobbed up and down in excitement. I hadn’t been through many job interviews in my life, but this one had the sound of moving in the right direction.
He stood and motioned with his hand toward the hallway, holding the door open for me as I passed through. He showed me to a door that was marked with a silhouette of a woman in pink yoga clothes. He nodded to me and I opened it, looking inside to find a large room with the floor completely covered with thick, absorbent mats. The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and the only other furnishings were a selection of inflated balls, some exercise bands with handles, and a small table that held neatly folded black towels. Now that was more on the order of what I had expected to find in the studio! I slid off my shoes and entered the room, pausing to turn and listen to what he had to say.
“Just as you noticed, I’m sure, there was a feminine symbol on this door. There is, likewise, another identical room with a male symbol in blue on its door down the hall.”
“Well, that’s convenient. I suppose a lot of women are uncomfortable doing yoga in front of men.”
“Would you be?” Those brown magnets were clinging to my eyes, and something told me they were hoping I wouldn’t say yes. Okay, I will play his game, if only to spend a little more time with him. I wondered briefly whether someone was hypnotizing me from a distance. I was having thoughts that were unlike any I’d ever had before. There was nothing unlikable about this man, and yet I knew no one was perfect. I was choosing not to see the negatives.
“Me? Not really, but then I have age on my side. Maybe in another twenty years…” I let the thought drift. I hoped he might pick it up and send it in an agreeable direction.
He walked closer to me and knelt, motioning me to join him. We sat down on the mat, our faces barely two feet apart. “You may have noticed that we take care to protect our members’ privacy. There is a reason for that.”
“Well, from what I’ve seen, I would say your clientele is probably well-heeled and privacy is in high demand.”
“Good observation, but it’s more than that.” He leaned forward, his brown eyes coming within a foot of mine as a wry grin formed on his lips. “They’re all in the nude.”
I had been half smiling like the mindless teenager I used to be when his words sank in. I jerked back a few inches as the ramifications took root. “Always?”
He nodded slowly in the affirmative. “You see, part of the yoga experience is to learn your body. Not only do you learn self-control and to move in a manner that affords you tremendous balance and sync with your skeletal and muscular framework, but the essence is increased when there is no clothing to limit your senses.”
“I see,” I answered softly, the images processing themselves through my mind’s eye. “Does this mean that you instruct your clients in the nude?”
Gently smiling, he nodded. “Would that be a problem for you?”
“Well, I can’t lie. It’s not something I’ve considered before, but I could see your point about it being healthy. If nothing else, it’s a very new take on a very old art.”
“I was right,” he said, nodding. “I knew at your first words that you were bright, and I’m happy now to hear that you have a business point of view as well.”
I could feel his breath as he spoke. His scent swirled into my nostrils like a hypnotic drug that loosened my muscles and made them compliant. I was trying to sit up straight, when all I wanted to do was lie down and put my head into his cross-legged lap. “Thank you.”
“It occurs to me that I haven’t introduced myself. My name is William, William Braun, although most of the guys called me Dagger.”
“The guys?”
“I’m a former SEAL. It’s common that we give one another nicknames, a form of camaraderie. You can call me Dagger, if you like.”
I nodded and tried to keep from drowning in his scent and the depth of his brown eyes.
“So, you haven’t answered my question. How would you feel about conducting lessons in the nude?”
I swallowed hard. This wasn’t just a random proposition. This was about preserving the morals I’d set for myself since I was very young. Tiffany was always teasing me, telling me I was nothing more than a Girl Scout. It used to hurt my feelings, and then slowly I began to have a sense of pride. Had the time come to separate the woman from the girl? I was slow to answer.
“I can tell you have some reservations. I hope it goes without saying that this isn’t a sleazy operation. It’s a concept with valid roots. You would work with the women in this room, and I would work with the men down the hall. Now, I will warn you, I do expect that after a series of beginner lessons, those who are couples will enjoy sessions together. This is intended to enhance their sexuality with one another.”
I thought for a moment. “Does that mean you would be my partner?”
He nodded.
Whatever I had felt earlier between my legs was now a gushing river. “Who is going to train me initially?”
“I will.”
My heart was threatening to burst from my chest. I could feel my nipples harden at the mere thought of it. But could I let go of my little-girl values? “I’m not sure if I could do everything you’d want me to.” I wasn’t sure if penetration was part of the exercise, but felt it was important to mention that I did have some limits so he understood I didn’t take this lightly.
“We can work around that,” he said quietly, watching my face for a reaction. “Penetration is optional,” he added, reading the look on my face correctly.
The room felt hot and airless as I felt myself nodding my head. “Okay. I’m up for it.”
Did I detect the smallest sigh of relief from him? Was he afraid I had planned to walk away? How many others had he interviewed who had, indeed, walked away? Was I in my right mind if I didn’t? It didn’t matter now. No matter how loudly my mind argued, my body had a better argument.