Feisty
JONNY CAMERON DIDN’T LIKE BEING inside Swole during the day. Yet there he was, loitering near the line of treadmills positioned at the front of the gym. He was waiting on Trent Cassidy, who was finishing some paperwork for a new client who had just signed on.
“A six-month term!” he’d beamed while departing with her for his office. His smile was filled with sincere happiness.
The woman happened to be a buxom blonde wearing an over-tight top that strained against her fake tits and shorts that were sucked deep into her ass crack. The outfit screamed, ‘Attention all men! Attention all men! Make sure to stare lustfully at me but don’t let me catch you, because I’ll be sure to call you out for being a pervert!’
Trent would sign up someone like her right away, Jonny thought bitterly. Must maintain that reputation after all…
Although Jonny had a hard time with it, he couldn’t fault Trent for signing up his brand of clientele. They were helping the man out, the large amounts of business his gym was pulling in each month was a testament to that. But logical things like revenue were inconvenient facts, so Jonny ignored them. Opting to be a tad jealous instead, it was rather silly of him to be resentful. By the same time tomorrow, he’d be on a bus, pulling into the town of Marshall. Back home and wallowing in sober reality.
Woo fucking hoo, thank you very much!
Speaking of reality, perhaps that’s why Jonny didn’t like being in the gym at that time of day. Up until now, he’d been there near closing time or after dark with Trent. There were no other people there to spoil the fun; they could do what they wanted away from prying, judgmental eyes. During the night hours, the heat of their bodies, sweating flesh, and tangled bodies made for an intimate, magical experience. However, under the scornful sun, the whole place took on a different vibe. Hot sweat collecting on the equipment became arrestingly gross, the smells of dirty people wrenching, and their bodies hairy, acne-ridden, and wrinkled in the unflattering light. The sun made the fantasy distant if not broken, Jonny was longing to experience it again. But that wasn’t to be, at least for some time. They were not going to be at the gym tonight.
Impatient and hungry, Jonny glanced toward a clock made from an old weight plate. It was hanging on a maroon wall, perched precariously on two hefty nails. Eleven-twenty was the time and Jonny assumed (more hoping) that Trent would be done within the next ten minutes so they could grab a bite to eat.
There were a few small cafés next door and any one of those would suit Jonny and his complaining stomach just fine. Anywhere but Sir Mixalot, which was situated down at the far end of the strip mall. That place became very special after last night, when the two of them were ordering smoothies along with Jared Hughes. Everything in their odd, little triangle came together from that moment, so it wouldn’t feel right if they were to go without him.
There was no sign of Trent when Jonny’s stomach rumbled at eleven-thirty. No Trent still when it growled again at a quarter to twelve.
Where the fuck are you, T-bag? Jonny thought, Jared’s nickname the only thing preventing him from getting completely livid.
Just as Jonny’s stomach began to gurgle one more time, sounding like a freight train filled with a cargo of roaring bears, Trent was bounding toward him in his training attire.
“I am so sorry, Jonny,” Trent said, genuinely apologetic.
It caught Jonny off guard just like Trent’s incoming arm, which grabbed hold of him at the shirt collar.
Trent yanked him close, giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead.
As Jonny pulled slightly away, Trent’s hand was messing up his hair.
“What’s gotten into you?” Jonny asked suspiciously.
“I’m just in a fan-fucking-tastic mood, my man,” Trent answered, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Get this: she just signed up for a full year! She also paid for the entire thing up front and has five other friends that are going to come by after the first few weeks of training!” His emerald eyes grew a few karats. “Jackpot!”
Jonny’s gaze scurried away, his brown eyes like a couple of rats escaping trouble.
“Sounds like you’re going to be really busy making some good first impressions.” His voice was cheery yet dry. An undercurrent of resentment flowed with the words. He was still looking away when Trent replied.
“Yeah, it’s going to be busy.” Trent placed a hand on Jonny’s shoulder. “But not too busy to overlook my Jonny-boy. You must be starving, by the way.”
“How can you tell?” Jonny asked, turning around.
“You and your stomach are being quite feisty.”
Feisty? Jonny thought. More like famished!
“It’s all good man,” Trent said. “We’ll head next door to Bruno’s. Their wraps are to die for.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that point.”
“What, you dying?” Trent chuckled, saying, “Well, it won’t from being gluttonous that’s for sure. Their portions aren’t massive so it won’t be too heavy. Which is a good thing considering we have an arm session to knock out afterward.”
Smiling, Jonny took a few steps toward the door, then stopped dead in his tracks. His face became one big grimace.
“Um, what?”
“You really need to get your hearing checked out,” Trent said, pushing Jonny toward the door. “I said we had an arm workout; it’s the only routine we have left to do this week.”
Jonny looked at the all the cars in the parking lot, their dirty chassis and windows glistening user the sun. There were so many of them, which meant there were a lot of people. He gulped.
“W-we’re g-going to w-workout n-now?” Jonny stuttered. “A r-regular one or one of y-your s-special ones?”
Trent shrugged indifferently.
“I dunno. That depends on you and your fight or flight instincts.”
“Holy shit,” Jonny muttered, leaning toward flight. He can’t be serious, can he?
Jonny must have forgotten who he was thinking about. Since when had Trent not been serious, and since when did he care about who saw?
Jesus Christ… Jesus Christ… Jesus…
“Hey, don’t worry,” Trent said as the door shut behind him, cutting off the busy noise of the gym. The sounds were replaced by those of spring, along with a warm breeze and the smell of fresh cut grass from the median. “The gym will be relatively dead by the time we finish eating.”
Jonny looked back inside. It looked packed to him.
“You sure about that?”
“I better be,” Trent laughed. “I do own the place. With this being more of a younger, college gym we have a schedule you could set a watch to.”
Jonny and Trent headed toward Bruno’s café while Trent explained, trying to ease Jonny’s frazzled nerves.
“Mondays are easily the busiest day of the week, packed beyond belief with those that have to get their swole on. More than likely they’re doing chest, too, since people subconsciously judge a man’s strength by the size of his chest and arms. Over the weekend nobody even gave the gym a second thought, focused more on beer and good times. Not that there’s anything wrong with that… it keeps them coming and my pockets full.”
Jonny nodded, turning back when he heard the beat from the energetic gym music. A couple of ladies were leaving, followed by an attractive Mexican guy.
“Tuesdays,” Trent continued, “aren’t as busy but those that stick around are doing some other kind of routine. Be it push and pull, or back versus chest, or whatever. Wednesdays, the attendance is cut roughly in half. You won’t see that many Logan University students as they’re catching up on coursework that’s due or some other campus-related thing. They always pick Wednesday for some reason. Those that are in are the career crowd, coming before and after work or, like the woman that signed up today, those with time on their hands and money to burn.”
“You mean the cougar? Lucky you,” Jonny said, smirking.
“You bet,” Trent said, twitching his eyebrows to and fro. “That brings us to the downward spiral. Thursdays are nearly dead with only a quarter of the regular members coming in. Most won’t be there because they don’t want to be too sore for any fun on Friday night. Gotta be ready to swing a mean right hook when your girlfriend gets hit on, right? Which brings us to today, where you normally see the hardcore members like Will Marsh – the big son of a bitch you saw the other night – coming in.” Trent paused when Jonny’s face broke out in a weird mix of intrigue and fear. He couldn’t tell which was more prominent. “That’s why I close earlier on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday,” he continued. “No point in staying open late when everyone’s out enjoying themselves and showing off their gains over the weekend. But it makes sure the loop starts right over again on international chest day.”
They reached Bruno’s and Jonny peeked in. It was a casual eatery with a 1950s vibe. Trent stepped ahead and held the door open.
“So, you’re telling me hardly anyone will be in there when we get back?” Jonny asked.
“Yes. Most leave around lunch time. Just the hardcore dudes will be there, but most will come later in the day. Trent had a flash of reverent awe on his face. “Those freaks of nature get made fun of a lot for having small dicks and gross appearances. The former is a myth, by the way. Those guys may run enough juice to make a bull horny, but their dicks stay the same size. It’s because most of their legs get to over thirty inches around so their third legs look small in comparison. It’s an illusion… trust me, I know. That said, I’m not speaking about their balls. Those suckers definitely go the way of the dinosaurs injecting that much test.”
“Why do they want to get so huge?” Jonny asked, unable to imagine why anyone would want their nuts to shrivel up like dried beans. As he stepped inside the café, the smell of food was heavenly.
“Simple: because they can,” Trent said plainly. “Goals for me, right?”
Jonny laughed because he thought Trent was perfect the way he was. Trent, like most bodybuilders, did not.
“Those guys dwarf me,” he continued, “and as far as their gross appearances go, many take that as a complement and wear that shit like a badge of honor. It takes a lot of work no matter if you’re on steroids or not so I can at least respect that. It’s not like they give a fuck about what anyone thinks anyway.”
“That’s just like you,” Jonny said.
“Exactly! Just like your boy Trent. As much as I respect it that kind of muscle has fringe benefits, too.”
Jonny was almost afraid to ask, reaching the counter.
“Next please,” said the friendly server.
Trent leaned in and whispered, “It’s hot as fuck to rub on with your hands… or your tongue.”
AS ALLUDED TO, THE MEAL was great and once the two of them returned to Swole, it resembled a ghost town. All that was missing were tumbleweeds bouncing through the cardio section.
Trent looked Jonny over briefly to make sure his workout attire was appropriate. Once he was satisfied that his red sneakers, dark gray shorts, and loose white tee were sufficient, he made way for a smaller room adjacent to the tanning booths. Part of Jonny was hoping to catch a glimpse of Will in the leg room as they walked by, but sadly he wasn’t in there.
“Later on, over the weekend,” Trent said.
“Huh?”
“Will,” he clarified. “I see you looking for the big guy. He does legs twice a week so it’ll be Saturday when he’s in here next for those. He’s got shoulders tonight I think and my lightweight ass plans to be far away. Bastard does at least seventies for front raises. Freak.”
Jonny was amazed; that was more than double the weight of the dumbbells Trent had been using.
Opening the door, Trent welcomed Jonny into one of the smaller personal training parlors. They were set up so trainers could get more undivided attention from their clients, who would feel less intimidated within the walls. Moving the single seated bench over to the center of the room, he bid Jonny to sit in it.
“Okay, we’ll start with seated curls,” Trent said, grabbing two twenty pound dumbbells. He set them on the floor in front of Jonny before returning for a couple of fifties for himself. “So, what you’re going to do is take one in each hand then slowly curl it up and slightly out, like this. Pause for a second or two at the top where you’re going to squeeze and then lower it to the floor.”
Jonny and Trent performed four amazing sets, their arms starting to swell with blood, teasing other body parts to follow suit. From seated curls, they performed supersets of hammer curls with skull crushers, used a set of cables set up in the corner for twenty-ones and rope press-downs, then returned to the seated bench to start on overhead triceps extensions.
Trent was a sweaty mess, large veins protruding up the length of his forearms, over his biceps, and into his shoulders.
“Okay so for these,” he said between pants, “you’re going to…”
“Uh. Excuse me,” a terse voice cut in. “I was on that.”
Trent set his weights down and turned. He was staring at a man dressed in baggy shorts covered with dark patches of sweat. He had an irritated look on his face, towel draped around his neck while curly black hairs nearly touched it in the back. His looks reminded Trent of a dirty armpit, the arrogance wafting off him like BO.
“What was that?” Trent responded, not taking his eyes off the man.
The panting was also gone, causing Jonny to gulp loudly.
“I said I was using that bench.” The man’s tone had escalated too, trying to out-man Trent.
After glancing at the time, Trent patted Jonny on the shoulder and stood upright. He strode over to the man, back spread wide like a cobra, stopping just before their chests touched. He was close enough to kiss him, but didn’t because the BO he imagined earlier was real. Nauseatingly real. Instead Trent leaned forward, trying not to gag as he spoke.
“Let me make something clear. If you leave a piece of equipment at a gym, especially my gym, to go chat up a girl, to take a massive shit, or to play how many strokes does it take to get my dick to pop off, you are no longer “on” that piece of equipment. So, if you come up to me after half an hour doing any one or all those things – smell of pussy on your lips, cum on your fingers, or toilet paper stuck to your goddamn shoes – just to say, ‘I was on that,’ I’ll be more than happy to tell you to go fuck yourself and have a nice day.”
Was Trent really speaking to a member like that? Jonny asked himself. Regardless, he found it hot, just like the back of Trent’s ears, now blazing red.
The man started to say something back (his upper lip quivering) but backed down a second later. Snatching the towel off his neck, it made a whipping noise and he patted his forehead gently with it. Turning, the man left without so much as saying another word.
“Be sure to have a nice day,” Trent called as the door slammed closed.
“Damn!” Jonny said, unable to suppress the gray tent erecting itself in his crotch. “Who was that?”
“That douche? He’s a pain in my ass, and not the good kind,” Trent answered, returning to Jonny’s side. He glanced down, now with a smirk on this face. “Now, where were we? Oh yeah, triceps…”
Trent didn’t get to say anything else. Jonny had sprung to his feet, their lips colliding. His dick was hard, pressing painfully against Trent’s.
“God damn I’m gonna miss you,” Jonny said briskly, resuming the fervent kiss.
“There’s still plenty of time,” Trent said, latching onto Jonny’s wrist. “Arm day isn’t over yet.”