Chapter 1: Introduction
The gym was packed, pulsating almost, with the sounds of bodies in motion. It was the New Years resolution crowd—the wave of exercised-starved athletes who swam into the gym every year, vowing to shape up and shed five, ten, twenty pounds. But I loved the New Year's flood of sweaty hopefuls.
The gym's owner loved it too. It made his mortgage payment for the next six months.
I wasn't one of those I-need-to-lose-five-pounds people.
I was the head bartender at a high-end club in the city, which meant I was on my feet, hoisting and mixing drinks, wiggling and jiving to the thump-thump of the music, for hours every night. My body was already tight, my abs already rippled, my biceps and triceps already bulging. I went to the gym, not to lose weight, but because it was a necessary part of the job. The muscle-bound men and toned women who surrounded me all day and night were the reason I had a job in the first place.
They wanted to look like me, feel like me. I was their idol, and even though I never asked to be the poster child for physical perfection and physical labor, I took the role seriously.
My days were scheduled to a T. Wake up, hit the gym, eat a quick breakfast, get to work. Lather, rinse, repeat. There wasn't much time for interaction or socializing, but even if I had, I wasn't sure if I would've taken any of them up on it.
The thought of dating another bartender, or yet another ripped gym rat, made me shudder inwardly. I needed something different, which was why I found myself ogling the one thing that had always been off-limits for me: a woman at the gym.
She stood out like a raven in a field of blackbirds. I couldn't help but notice her. She was dressed in all black leather, her long black hair cascading down her back in waves, her red lips curled in a permanent scowl.
She was tall, with a curvy figure, and she wore a silver choker around her neck, the metal reflecting the gleaming lights of the gym. She had piercings on her ears and her nose, and her arms were covered in tattoos. I couldn't help but steal glances at her, my gaze always ending up on her perfect derrière.
I wasn't the only one who noticed her. Heads turned as she walked by, eyes following her every move. I tried to avert my gaze, but I couldn't help myself.
I was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. I told myself I wasn't ogling her, that I was just admiring the way her black leather pants hugged her curves, the way her black boots contrasted with her pale skin, the way her dark hair cascaded down her back in waves.
But then she turned around, and our eyes met.
Her gaze was piercing, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. She had seen me looking, I knew it. I averted my gaze, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
I quickly grabbed my towel and started mopping up the pool of sweat on the floor, trying to ignore the presence of the woman who had just caught me in the act of ogling her.
As I worked, I couldn't help but steal occasional glances at her. She was still standing there, leaning against a weight machine, her legs crossed, her arms folded over her chest. She seemed to be watching me out of the corner of her eye, her gaze unwavering.
I tried my best to focus on my work, to ignore the electric current that seemed to run between us.
But I couldn't help it. Every time I caught her looking at me, I felt a spark of excitement, a thrill of attraction. I wanted to talk to her, to know more about her. But I was also scared. I had never been drawn to a woman before, and I didn't know how to handle it.
Finally, the woman seemed to have had enough of my darting glances. She pushed herself away from the weight machine and stalked towards me. My heart raced as she approached, my hands shaking as I tried to continue mopping the floor.