No Pain, No Gain

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

Lydia could tell Cathy was transfixed by her story. She drew out the details and added a few embellishments, enjoying the widening of her friend’s eyes and the sight of her fork still poised in mid-air. They were at their favorite soup and salad restaurant, and their lunches were still untouched in front of them.

“Then, get this!” Lydia said. “He tells me to take off my pants!”

Lydia waited for her friend to react in total shock. “Can you even believe that?” Lydia asked, laughing.

“Okay,” Cathy said. “Then what?”

Lydia’s smile faded slightly. “What do you mean, ‘then what’? Have you ever had to strip in front of a trainer?”

“Well, come on. . .it’s not like he was asking you to strip, right? I mean, you were kind of at an interview with him, and he did tell you he’d need to see your body.”

“Oh, you can’t be serious, Cath! How would you feel, standing there in nothing but a tank top and a thong while a man you’ve never even met before looks your body over up and down and sideways?”

“Okay, look, I’m not trying to be argumentative or anything, but didn’t you say this Blake guy told you before you even arrived that he was going to need to see your body?”

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side with this! I was standing there in a tank top. No bra, and —”

Cathy put down her fork and sighed. Lydia recognized the expression. An opinion was about to be voiced, Lydia wasn’t going to like it, and her friend was trying to form her words very carefully. Lydia had always wondered if Cathy was like that with everyone, or if the real reason was because she secretly thought Lydia was just too damned sensitive. She didn’t really want to know the answer. Lydia readjusted the napkin in her lap, stirred her iced tea again, and waited.

“He’s a trainer, right? He deals with bodies—physiques, or whatever you want to call them. You were there for an interview. The guy even told you what to expect.”

“No way did I expect —” Lydia said.

“Of course he needs to see your body! Are you going to wear a potato sack during your workouts with him?”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t feel the same way if a guy told you to—”

“Or maybe a burqa. Yeah! How about that?”

Lydia saw in her friend’s expression that this was an argument Lydia was about to lose.

“I’ll tell you what,” Cathy said. “If a trainer tells me he’s going to need to see my body, I dress accordingly. If I don’t like his request, I don’t agree to the interview and I find someone else to train with. And I sure as hell don’t go braless and wear some Fredericks of Hollywood underwear, for chrissakes! What the damned hell were you thinking?”

“It wasn’t Fredericks . . .”

Lydia felt the fight go right out of her. When she saw two women at the adjacent table looking over to see what the noise was all about, she picked up her fork and began playing with her food.

Cathy was right, Lydia admitted to herself. What the damned hell was she thinking? She’d wasted her own time, she’d wasted Blake’s time, and to top it all off had probably made herself look like a complete and total fool to him. She pictured herself in Blake’s office, standing before him in a tank top and thong. The memory caused a very real contraction in her crotch, and she shifted in her chair, trying to get comfortable again. And what must he have thought of her damned n*****s standing up at attention like that? Damned n*****s.

“Well, you’re probably right, Cath. And then he told me I was a good girl for doing what he said. Don’t you think that’s really weird? You may not agree with me on the other, but you have to admit that’s weird.”

“Well, you’re going to have to do what he says if you want results.”

“I won’t be training with him, believe me. He probably thinks I’m a complete and total i***t now.”

Cathy winked at her and said, “A good girl. I think that’s kind of cute. I bet he thinks you’re hot.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Believe me, I’m not his type. You should see this guy.”

***

“This is Blake.”

Lydia saw him in her mind as clearly as if she were in his office. She pictured him sitting at his desk, the shelves of supplements were to his right, and he had that particular intense, rushed look about him as he held the phone.

“Blake. Yes,” Lydia said.

Even knowing what little she did about him, she was sure he was going to make this difficult for her, regardless. He struck her as the kind of man who didn’t mind a little female groveling when it served his purposes.

“This is Lydia McConnell.” When there was no response, she added, “Do you remember me?”

“Yes, I remember you, Ms. McConnell. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Well, there is, actually. You can accept my apology.”

“There’s no need to apologize. Perhaps I can recommend a trainer more suitable for you. She’s a personal friend of mine, and women seem to like —”

“No. I don’t want another trainer. I want to train with you.”

“If you’re not willing to do things my way, then I really think you —”

“I will. I’ll do anything you say. Just give me a chance to prove myself. Just one chance. Just once, I swear. If I don’t live up to your expectations, tell me to get lost and I’ll try someone else. It’s just that I think you’re probably what I need. I don’t know why, but…I obviously need someone to kick my ass a bit. I mean, I’ve thought about it the last few weeks, and I can see, like you said, my way isn’t working. And so I figured if you’ll just agree to train me even for an hour, then maybe I can prove to you that—”

“You have an hour.”

“What did you say?” she said.

“I’ll give you an hour.”

“You’ll do it? You’ll really do it?”

“Well, I sure won’t do it for free. But, yes, I’ll give you an hour to prove that you have the willingness and the discipline to do what I say.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much! I promise you won’t be sorry!”

“Can you be here tomorrow morning at 9:00?”

“I have an appointment with my ... never mind ... nine it is.”

“And I suppose we don’t have to talk about the proper clothing this time, do we, Ms. McConnell?”

“No, no. I get it, I really do.”

“See you tomorrow.”

***

Lydia’s closet looked like the dressing room of a department store after a Midnight Madness Sale. Every item of clothing that could pass as a possible work-out option was scattered around her on the floor.

She pulled her padded cycling pants out of a drawer and considered them.

“Yeah, right,” she said. “Go in there wearing padded crotch pants.”

She considered wearing them under some jogging shorts.

“For god’s sake!” she yelled, throwing the pants at the wall.

But she’d at least gotten the idea to wear some skin-tight-but-stretchy black, spandex-type shorts with jogging shorts over them. Her sports bras were now too small, so she put on a too-tight tank for a little support, and then a larger jogging shirt over it.

Not that she’d ever jogged even once in her life. But the motivation to start was there long enough one afternoon to go to the local sporting goods store and buy what she thought were some adorable work-out clothes. And so they’d stayed in the drawer, with the tags still on, while she outgrew them.

“Damn it, Lydia!” she said, running to the bathroom for scissors. “Why don’t you make yourself later than you already are?”

She turned a few times in front of the mirror to make sure she’d removed all tags and labels. She picked up her hand mirror and viewed herself from behind. What the hell was there to be so damned worried about, she wondered. The man had already seen her half-naked, hadn’t he?

“Good enough. It’s gonna have to be.”

She found her purse on the bed, shoved her phone in, and checked to make sure she had her car keys tucked in the side pocket. She groaned when she saw the time on the clock by the bed.

***

“I’m sure we agreed on nine o’clock this morning.”

“Am I late? Am I really? Oh god, please tell me I’m not late.”

Blake stood in front of her, his arms folded on his chest. He’d let her in the front door of the studio, locked the door, and then stepped in front of her to address her. She was once again taken back by the sheer bulk of him. He seemed to look even more muscular than he did the first time she met him.

“Nine o’clock means nine. Do we understand one another?”

Lydia couldn’t meet his eye. She looked down at his shoes and said, “I’ll be here on time from now on. I’ll really try, I really will.”

“Let’s get one thing straight before we start. I’m not real big on the word try.”

“I’m sorry, I meant —”

“Sorry doesn’t do it for me either. If you’re going to be late, extend me the courtesy of calling.”

“But I was only going to be a few minutes late, and—”

“So you knew you were going to be late.”

Lydia’s eyes met his and she was surprised to be able to hold his gaze after being berated by him. She noticed for the first time that there was a hue of gold mixed in with the brown of his irises. What made this man so unforgiving? Or was he just strict? Was he this strict with every client? But he’d just caught her in a lie. She looked back down at his feet.

“I need you on the treadmill for ten minutes. I’ll show you how to step on and how to set the speed.”

Lydia held onto the bars by the display and straddled the belt as instructed. Blake removed a wire with a clip on it and attempted to fasten it to the bottom of her shirt. It was unsettling to have him touch her.

“Just how many shirts are you wearing today?” he asked, trying to attach the clip.

She wondered if he noticed she was wearing two pairs of shorts.

“This is a safety clip. It will shut off the machine should you lose your balance.”

“Oh, sure. My treadmill at home has one.”

“Are you using your home treadmill?”

“Occasionally.”

“How often might that be?” he asked.

“Not nearly enough,” she said as the belt slowly started to move.

Blake reached in front of her and set the timer for ten minutes. His elbow brushed against her and she pulled her arm back in response.

“The machine will notify you when you’re finished. Press this button to stop. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

She watched his reflection in the window in front of her as he walked away. Why don’t I just keep my mouth shut for once? she wondered. This guy isn’t going to be fooled by anything I say about exercise. The voice inside her head started mocking her in the sing-song way it employed when she was particularly disgusted with herself. What exercise would that be, Lydia? Treadmill? Oh, yeah…you mean that thing with dust on it that’s been sitting in the back bedroom since last Christmas? That? Is that what you mean, Lydia?

She noticed he could see her from his desk, so she tried to act as if being on a treadmill was an everyday occurrence.

“You doing okay?” Blake called out.

“Just fine,” she answered. She sneaked in a deep, extended breath through her mouth.

Damned smoking. After only a few minutes, her lungs were already rebelling. The speed registered 3.5 m.p.h. She knew that wasn’t a terribly fast pace to maintain. Was there an incline? She scanned the display to see if he’d set it to have her walking uphill at all. The reflection in the window showed Blake looking up at her for a moment from his desk, then going back to whatever he was working on. She tried to control her breathing to get more oxygen while not sounding like she was already out of breath.

Clients like her probably bored him to hell, she figured. The likes of her were probably just tolerated to pay his rent. She wondered what kind of women he dated. She studied his reflection and pictured him naked. She laughed and shook off the mental picture.

“Did you say something?” Blake called out.

“No, sorry!”

A huge, chilled salad for lunch. Glasses and glasses of icy tea. A few cigarettes afterward. A cold beer or two or three by the pool while sunbathing this afternoon. A half bottle of the cabernet she loved so much with dinner tonight. It would be so easy.

Ah, the pool. His body naked and hard, oiled and tan, dozing on one of her chaise lounges. She walks toward him. When her nearness blocks the sun from his eyes, he opens them and smiles slightly, pleased with her and what she has brought for him. She extends a large drink to him, its glass wet with condensation in the summer heat. Blake smiles slightly and takes the drink from her. He sets it on the table between their chairs. He sits up and pulls her close. The gauze-like material draped around her waist falls away as he undoes the tie. She stands before him, admiring the c**k now twitching and growing huge before her. Never taking his eyes from hers, he pulls her closer and slowly moves her bikini bottoms down to her ankles. He leans back, stretching out his body once again. She gracefully extends a tanned, muscular leg over him, positioning her hips, straddling him. She balances herself by leaning into him and holding his massive, muscular shoulders. Her breasts swing slightly, full and heavy. Blake reaches up and pinches her n*****s hard, knowing how much she loves it. As she lowers herself onto the tip of his…