Lolita

Hair lolita now pulled up into a funky ponytail banded by a Guatemalan scrunchy, bangs sticking up, sleepy eyes, long red tee over black thong leotard and tights, Walkman hidden, earphones around her neck, red socks, white tennies. She patted her bangs down and swallowed a yawn. The only operable treadmill was occupied so she wrote her name and the time on the blackboard and headed for the bike. Five minutes to warm up, she figured. She started pedaling, then realized every time she raised her right leg, it bumped the Walkman and jiggled Santana. No big deal. Just move it. Right? Somehow, it was a bigger task than it should have

Been. Blame the hour. For some reason, she didn't stop moving her legs but tried to maintain 80 rpms through the hills and valleys of the program, unclip the Walkman, reclip it at the center of her waistband and keep lolita her balance throughout. Good thing she wasn't chewing gum. She would have fallen off and further embarrassed herself. She looked around. No one seemed to have noticed her flailing. That is, except for a man in the free weight area. She caught his glance just as he was turning away. His silly grin was aimed directly at her. She decided to stay on the bike for awhile longer just so she could keep an eye on him. Fifteen minutes later, after she had watched him out of the corner of lolita her eye bench press what looked like three times her body weight, she had had enough. He was an incredible

Distraction. Several times, his casual sweeps across the room had lingered on her for just a fraction of a second longer than it did anywhere else. She couldn't tell if the sweat between her breasts was from the exercise or lolita his intent looks. He was gorgeous. No two ways about it. Dark hair and eyes. Hispanic probably, with caramel-colored skin. Tall. Looked over six two. Small feet for his size. Very nice butt. Big but certainly not fat. Long body. Marvelous body. Body that took care of itself. Body that could take care of her, too, no doubt. She shook her head and hopped off the bike. She would feel this tomorrow. Too many hills and valleys. Where were her glasses? The faint pencil markings on her workout card were tough to read this early in the morning. She hadn't been here for a couple of weeks so figured that

It was best to recreate the past rather than move ahead anyway. She squinted at the numbers. Looked like sixty pounds on the leg extension machine to her. Or was it eighty? Better try sixty, she thought as she bent lolita down to stick the pin in the weights. Oh, yes, it was certainly sixty. Her thighs told her that. Breathing normally, she counted to two on the exhale as she lifted the weight, then to four as she lowered it on the inhale. Her mind started to relax. Leg curl, forty, squat press, one ten, abductor and adductor, her favorites, seventy. She opened the adductor to its fullest extension, closed lolita her eyes and before she squeezed her thighs shut, thought of the bench press guy again. Oh, boy. Super pullover, fifty, torso arm and then chest fly, forty, decline press, lateral raise, shoulder press, bicep curl and tricep extension, her

Weakest, thirty pounds. Damn girlness, anyway. She made a note on the card. She'd do forty pounds on each next time. Home stretch now. Abdominal, piece of cake at fifty. Another note on the card. Rotary torso and lower...


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