Time to Gym

It’s getting to the point in the night where you figure the gym can’t be too busy, and this seems like as good a chance as any to work out. You jog over to the gym, working in your cardio early, and step into the massive athletics facility.

You decide to explore the place a little, and head down to the basement level, where you’re greeted by two full sized basketball courts. There are a bunch of guys playing pick-up, and you’re half tempted to join them, but you decide to carry on and see what else there is. Next to the basketball courts are a couple of squash courts, and you see that most of them are filled up, the soft thwack of the balls audible through the glass.

Past those are a group of rooms labelled “Mixed Use”. A group of mostly Asian students occupy the space, dressed up and carrying wooden swords. They strike at each other with deliberate precision, harsh clacks sounding out each time the blades meet, and you take a look at the schedule, wondering what this is. Kendo practice, it is revealed to you.

Carrying on, you see through open blinds a yoga room, containing a number of free weights on the side and a set of bars built into the other end. There’s a single occupant, dark-haired and engaged in a yoga pose with her arms parallel to the ground, knees bent in some sort of lunge. Looking in the mirror, you realise you know this girl. It’s Daphne!

She seems to spot you in the mirror too. As she gradually shifts to another pose, she raises an eyebrow, never breaking form, and you wonder if that’s an invitation of sorts.

You push open the glass door and step into the room.

“I didn’t know you were into yoga,” you say.

“I’m not,” Daphne says, maintaining her perfect poise as a hand goes down to touch her toe, the other arm pointing skywards. “Just warming up before I switch to the free weights. What are you here for?”

There’s the slightest hint of a Japanese accent to her voice, and you wonder if she grew up in Japan, or if she picked it up from her parents.

“I was just checking out the place before going up to the machine room,” you say, but looking around this clean, well-lit space, with your sexy soccer captain doing yoga in yoga pants in front of you… well, you have to reconsider. “But if you were going to do weights in here, I guess I’ll join you. Learn how to properly condition, the way my captain wants me to.”

She nods, carrying a serious look on her face. “Yes, working out isn’t nearly as easy as people think it is. It’s not just about pushing and pulling heavy things around—the technique, the way you do it, all needs to be precise. And machines don’t let you have the same degree of precision.”

Whoa, you were not expecting that kind of a response. “Yeah, that sounds cool to me,” you say, knowing that you might regret it later.

“Great. Then stretch and warm-up with me, so that your body is limber and ready for the weights,” she says. “You can grab a yoga mat there.”

You do as she says, pulling up a mat, and you try to imitate her form, your legs matching hers, but when you bend down and try to reach your toes, you find that you’re still short by a few inches. Not good. You strain a little harder, your muscles bulging, and after the exerted effort, you’re a tiny bit closer, but still nowhere close to matching Daphne.

“Rotate your hips, tuck in your butt,” she says, watching you with serious eyes. You do as she says, or at least you think you do, and it seems to get you a tiny bit closer once more, but she shakes her head.

“Let me show you,” she says, and she walks behind you. Placing a firm hand on your lower shoulder and another on your hip, she adjusts your posture, and you keenly feel her touch like pinpricks of coolness against your warm skin. A burning sensation crosses you as muscles that haven’t been engaged in forever start to protest. Whatever she does works, though, and despite the pain, you find yourself reaching further.

“But then there is the issue with everything else,” she frowns, and you feel the hand on your shoulder moving to your chest. She pushes you further upright, straightening your back, and you feel her fingers linger on your chest before she pulls away.

You feel her hesitate for a moment, and then a hand moves down, one cupping your ass. She gently adjusts it, moving it in line with the rest of your body, while the other hand shifts the angle of your front knee, and you hold your breath, her palm still resting against your ass.

“Breathe,” she commands, and you do, exhaling, your body shifting slightly, and she shakes her head, moving things back into place. Her touch is light, but commanding, small nudges indicating to you where things ought be.

“Remember how this feels,” she says, her hands now correcting your arms, and you nod, wanting to memorise the feel of her hands on you. “You will need to practice this on your own if I am to help you any more.”

“Got it, coach,” you say, unsure of what you should actually be calling her. Captain? Coach? Daphne? She seems to take the title in stride, however, and she moves back to her own mat, shifting to a new position.

You do your crude imitation of it, and after a couple of seconds holding the pose, your body protesting at the contortion, she comes over again, a slight frown on her face, ready with a thousand corrections.

After nearly an hour of it, you don’t even get to the weights, and yet your body—and hers, to a lesser extent—is dripping with sweat, your muscles burning from exhaustion. You’ve definitely gotten a workout of sorts, even if you’re not really sure how. Your breathing comes heavily, body clearly not used to this.

Daphne, for her part, is still serene. Her toned body holds the final child’s pose with ease. While her head is down, you take the opportunity to greedily eye her up. She’s wearing a black sports bra that barely holds back her tempting tits, though with her body bent over, you don’t have a great view of those assets. Her ass, on the other hand, sticks out for you to admire. With those yoga pants on, little of the smooth curves of her buttocks is left to the imagination. You imagine yourself behind her then, pounding away, and the thought does nothing to dispel your growing erection.

Hurriedly, as she begins to get up from the pose, you duck your head back down, forming the pose, and you think you see her shaking her head out of the corner of her eye.

“We’re done for the day,” Daphne says. “I had wanted to get to weights today, but there was much you didn’t know about the warm-up. No matter. We will get it right, or not at all.”

“I’ll practice on my own,” you swear, although to be honest, you’re not sure how much you like this method of ‘working out.’ But then again, it must deliver results, as you look at the muscles that she packs. And, if Daphne’s going to be helping you, well it’s a different story altogether.

Daphne nods at your words, and she silently packs away her yoga mat. She stops as she’s about to head out the door. “See you on Saturday. Be on top form.”

Right, the first game of the season. A response comes to your lips, but she’s already gone.

Daphne +10