Leg day

{if SYNOPSIS = true}

//Look like a fool in front of Amy. Get sore legs.

{elseif FINAL = true}

I don’t find open spots on the floor mat so I skip the warm-up and take the first open machine I find, which happens to be a leg extension. Since machines are scarce, I decide to make this one count. I push myself until the burning in my thighs is nearly unbearable, then take my time getting up, unsure if I can even walk.

Someone leaves a row machine to my left, so I head to it, despite not being the best follow-up to the extensions I just did. I grunt through the pain, making small adjustments to reduce the focus on my quads.

The dude on the row machine next to me leaves, soon replaced by a busty female figure. She has a skeletal snake tattoo visible around her ribcage below her sports bra. I remember seeing her here before.

She picks up the handles on the row machine next to me and starts gliding back with it. A dozen toned little rib muscles suddenly emerge. She has a no-nonsense confidence about her.

“Have you ever seen it this busy before?” I ask, not sure yet if I am hitting on her or not. As I rule, I don't flirt at the gym, although I seem to be doing a lot of things I normally wouldn't as of late. I ignore the burning in my legs in order to match her rowing. The whirs of our flywheels rev in unison.

“Not like this. I might have to change gyms if this becomes the norm.”

A trickle of sweat runs down my temple as the exertion builds. The woman begins to perspire as well. She leans forward, then pulls smoothly with a back lean, her shoulders square and her round implants jutting out into the air. She acts like she doesn't notice that I am peeking at her regularly.

My legs are about to give out so I slow to a stop and gulp down some water. In the mirror I see Amy walking past some machines behind me. She gets her shoulders under the calf machine and starts lifting. Her calves are muscular enough that you could call them unladylike, but I am drawn to how impressive they are. Her thighs are just as impressive. Her black leggings stretch pleasantly as she moves. Her bare ankles seem delicate by contrast.

"Amy’s got legs, doesn’t she?" The purple dress lady asks. I snap my head to her, embarrassed that I was caught staring for so long.

I nod slowly. “No kidding.”

She just winks at me, then focuses on her rowing.

I row on until I see an upper body machine open up. I make a move for it, aching legs forcing me to walk slowly. Someone else gets there first. I veer off and wander until I find another leg machine.

Eventually I see Amy is on a stair machine and there is an open one next to her. I consider using it for a moment. Ah, what the hell. I climb on and set my bottle in the holder, she glances at me as I do. I give her a friendly nod and she gives me a very brief polite smile, too brief to be mistaken as an invitation to engage. This close I can finally see her sleeve tattoo in detail. It is a swirling network of wild elongated animals, twisted around each other like Celtic knotwork, some thrusting into the foreground and background. They all appear to be fighting with each other. Searing its way through the melee is a wolf made of glowing green flame. The flame and her hair color match perfectly. The sleeve is mesmerizing. It takes me a moment to notice how slender her arms are in contrast to her legs.

“That is the coolest tattoo I’ve ever seen,” I say honestly.

She nods an acknowledgement in my direction, perhaps tired of getting complements from strangers. I activate the program and start stepping. I stumble almost immediately. There is something about stair machines where the second you think about it, you instantly forget how to stairs work. In my case, my already fatigued legs resist the signal to lift just as the stair under my foot starts to retract. I overcorrect by trying to skip a stair, but am too slow. My first foot drops to the floor, banging my raised shin into the intended stair. Loudly. I yelp.

I take a second to rethink my life decisions. In the corner of my eye I see Amy bite her lip to not rudely laugh at my misfortune. I feel an urge to explain to her precisely how this happened, and that I am not the idiot that I appear to be, but have just enough wherewithal to stop myself. So I get back on the horse, and to my dismay, it plays out similarly. My legs are on strike.

Amy snorts.

“You make it look so easy,” I say in her direction without looking at her. “Got any tips?”

“Pretend they are stairs,” she says sarcastically.

“Stairs, huh?” I halt the program and the stairs come to a stop. “Ahh...now I see it.” I take a couple cautious steps. Then I take two more. I stand at the top and look at her. She looks back with bemused concern. “Nailed it.”

“Good job.”

I carefully step down, one at a time until I am on the floor.

“Thanks. Same time next week, coach?”

“Suuure,” she says with more sarcasm.

I made an impression at least... I decide it is a fine time to end the workout for the day and go to the lockers.

{else}Play in game mode.{endif}