Sign up

“Yeah… I’m in,” you replied, though you sounded uncertain and almost wondered if that last weird bit of the interaction even happened with how much of a non-event it was treated as.

“Great!” the trainer chimed, smiling prettily, and you were back to trying not to stare at her while also getting new images in your mind due to that joke clause in the contract. She swiped the credit card you had handed her earlier on a device attached to her computer, made it beep, fiddled around with some doohickey then slid over a lanyard with a small plastic purple fob key attached to it. “Use that to scan in on every visit, and you’re all set! Welcome to Day-N-Night Fitness!”

Now she stood, stretching a little as if even sitting down for the five minutes it took to sign you up was too much staying still for her.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the lanyard and stuffing it into your pocket rather than wearing it. You followed Susanna who seemed pumped to give you this tour. So apparently that entire joke clause was being overlooked now, you thought. Bad joke anyway.

Following behind her you could take another good look at this personal trainer, the sight of which wouldn’t let that joke clause escape your mind so easily. She wore a purple, gym branded polo shirt that seemed just one size too small, which meant it exposed just a little of her toned abs and now the small of her back. That ass of hers, currently held firm by these tight grey yogapants, was obviously the work of many hours of squatting.

“I’m sure you know how treadmills work, there are stair machines here too, ellipticals,” she said as the pair of you walked through the cardio area of the gym. There was one old dude jogging on one of the treadmills, red singlet and short shorts, going along at a slow but steady pace, and you had the feeling he had been doing this for 100 years before you even sat down in that office.

There were a row of bikes too, and here there was one female gym member cycling at an easy pace, obviously cooling down after whatever strenuous, sweaty routine she had just finished. She looked to be in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, a petite woman but with a bust that would make running a pain. And a bigger, rounder butt than Susanna, which seemed even more pronounced on her shorter frame and the position the bike put her in. You ‘glanced’ for a little too long, but the petite brunette didn’t notice you, the music you could faintly hear filtering through her big headphones keeping her concentrated.

But Susanna did notice, and you felt your shoulders stiffen up. She had stopped her walk and since you were just mindlessly following her you had stopped as well. It seemed like she paused her tour because she knew you were perving on one of her clients.

“Er… sorry I thought I recognized… like I thought she was a friend of mine,” you tried lamely, to which the personal trainer just smiled.

“You’re more than welcome to try if you want to,” Susanna said, a little non-sequitur. “And if you’d like my help in anyway I’ll be happy to.”

“Try?” You frowned, then looked over to the busily peddling woman. “You mean the bikes? Nah I’m alright for now.” She must have been talking about that, you reasoned, and that just made her shrug and she walked on.

Now you were lead to the squat racks and here there two people, one rather buff bald black dude in a white tank top doing deadlifts probably weighing twice as much as you, the other a dirty blonde woman in her mid forties probably, an older soccer mom type, doing a pretty impressive amount of weighted squats. Again the racks were pretty self explanatory so your tour guide didn’t say much beyond the number of racks there were.

“Hi Jacques,” Susanna greeted the black guy as she passed, who just replied with a “Yo!” before going back to his lifts. Every gym wall was lined with mirrors as usual, and you could see the thick short chick on that bike in the reflection of one wall, her unquitting butt unable to get that previous conversation you had with Susanne out of your mind.