I drag my feet into work; I wonder if I’m going to work here at this gym for the rest of my life? Yes, working alongside a group of women who absolutely hate me is just what I need –and doing it for the rest of my hopeless life. I wish that meeting with the manager had gone better; he had basically dangled a carrot in front of me. “Yo, Jonathan!” I hear Britany’s stupid voice call out as soon as I enter the gym for my afternoon shift. Honestly –do these stupid women live here?

I turn on my heels. “Yeah?” I question.

She comes prancing right up to me. “Hey, I’ve been working on what I’m going to teach in that self-defense course at your little fundraiser,” she says, “sometime today do you mind having a look at me, I don’t know what you’d call it, I guess lesson plan?”

Did she just make it through a whole sentence without insulting me? And she is asking for my help on something? “Um… yeah, sure Britany. I appreciate you signing up for the event.”

“Of course,” she says, and she has this goofy grin on her face.

“What?” I ask slowly.

“Nothing,” she says, looks me up and down, and then trots off towards the boxing ring where the other women are all looking my way with the same silly smiles.

I catch Laurel’s eyes, and she blushes and looks away. My face turns bloodshot when I hear the women laughing; she told her friends. She seriously told her friends all about it. Women are fucking weird. I mean, guys will tell their friends when they have sex, sure, but not the way women do it. They give detail. They talk about private things –what the hell did she tell them about me?

Quickly, I put as much distance between myself and the boxing ring as possible. Besides, I have a class to teach. The soccer moms are all gathered around on the second floor inside one of the large training rooms that overlooks the main area of the gym. The large glass windows allow us to look out, and it allows others to take a peek inside –it’s good because I’ve gotten a lot of women to sign up for one of my classes that way; they’ll be running around the second floor track of the building and pass by, pause a moment to take a peek inside, and then the next thing I know I have five more people signed up for my classes.

The class goes over well; these women here love me. They laugh and joke around, but they get serious when I am teaching them something new. I swear, there are always new faces. By the time the training session is done, I am sweating a bit. I forgot to bring a towel. I frown as the women are exiting the room.

One of them comes hurrying up to me, towel in hand. I smile to thank her, but before the words come out of my mouth she drapes the towel over my shoulders, still holding onto both ends so it forces us to stand really close. “Uh… thanks, Carrie,” I say to her.

She smiles, “I really enjoyed your class today, Jonathan.”

“Well, I try,” I say, attempting to take a step back, but she’s got a serious grip on the towel she’s now got draped around my neck.

I see the fighters, Laurel included, all running the track on the second floor –all looking my way. “So, listen,” Carrie says, this excited look on her face, “this weekend I’m throwing a little barbeque by the pool-”

“So like a party?” I say, doing my best to look away from her as she brings her face closer and closer to mine. What do I do? Push her?

“Well, not exactly, I was honestly just thinking it would be me and you,” she says.

“Hey Jonathan,” Laurel’s voice calls from the doorway, and Carrie lets go of my towel; I step back immediately.

“Yeah?” I say enthusiastically.

“I had fun the other night,” she says, “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

Thank God. “Me too,” I say, “You free Saturday night?”

“You know it,” she says with a wink before rejoining her friends on the track. It was like she was marking her territory.

Carrie looks embarrassed, but honestly she deserves it. I’m pretty sure she’s married. I give her a friendly wave goodbye and get the hell out of the training room.

I spend the next hour cleaning up some equipment before heading to the stock room; Alex had asked me to get the room organized today. It’s enormous –rows and rows of merchandize, back up equipment, and unmarked boxes. In one corner there is a pile of beanbag chairs Alex apparently brings out every year for an annual movie night at the gym to celebrate the gyms anniversary. I roll my eyes; women’s gyms are really different from what I’m used to. I get started pulling boxes from one shelf when suddenly I feel my ass getting pinched. I swear if I turn around and it’s Carrie, I’m punching her. I spin around, and I am thankful to see Laurel. She’s finished her run.

“Hey,” I say with a smile.

“So what’s going on with you and the soccer mom?” she asks.

I grin. “Don’t tell me that you’re jealous, Laurel?”

She pierces her lips and rolls her eyes, “Of course not.”

“Well, so you know, nothing’s going on except for a little one-sided flirting,” I say, “trust me, Carrie is not my type.”

“Why not?” Laurel asks.

“Well, she’s married, for one,” I say, “And she’s not you.”

Laurel laughs. “Oh, that’s cute –you must think that cheesy line is going to work on me.”

I step forward and bring our lips close together, “I was hoping it would.”

She leans in the rest of the way and wraps her arms around my neck; her tongue traces the roof of my mouth for a moment, and the forwardness of it takes me by surprise for a moment. She runs her hands from my neck down to my chest and then pushes me back into the rack I had been organizing. I sort of like this version of Laurel; she slips her fingers into the front of my gym shorts and gives them a slight tug as she gently bites my bottom lip. I feel a bit light headed, and I let out a winded exhale as though her touch had pulled all of the air out of my lungs.

“Are you all right?” she asks, her lips tracing my collar bone while one hand pulls back my shirt collar to reveal a bit more skin for her to work with.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, shaking my head slightly to snap myself back to Earth.

Laurel grabs me by my shirt and pulls me away from the rack and towards the beanbag chairs in the corner. She pushes me back, and I fall onto one of the larger beanbags. She removes her tennis shoes and sports bra and drops her shorts and underwear before bending down to yank my gym shorts, underwear, and shoes off. I throw my t-shirt off just as she is sitting herself down on top of my erection. I reach out to touch her breasts, but she grabs both my wrists and pins them above my head before leaning down to lock our lips together. My legs tense up as she slides her hips up and down on me; I groan, but she muffles the sound with her mouth and tongue. Slowly, she runs her hands down my arms until she is touching my chest, freeing my hands from her tight grasp.

A shaky, pleasurable cry erupts from Laurel’s throat; I press my pelvis upward, lifting her up off the beanbag for a moment. “Oh God!” she cries when I do this, and the two of us fall back down. She repeats the cry four more times as I repeat the motion, and she finally lets out this loud scream; my hand goes up and covers her mouth.

“Easy,” I say, “Alex will kill me if she catches us in here.”

She is having a serious orgasm, so she ignores me my plea to stay quiet. She falls on top of me, gasping slightly just as I am having my own sexual high and cum into her. We kiss for a few minutes, blatant smiles plastered on both of our faces. Before anyone can catch us, we get dressed, and Laurel returns to her combatants in the gym.