The Girl At The Gym - Pt. 09

The Girl at the Gym Part 9

We went back to bed after the door closed. Just us. No lens. No flight. Anya's sheets still smelled of the night with Tia's thong somewhere in the mess. I didn't look for it.

She lay on her back, and I put my head on her shoulder. My body was sticky, tingling and a little sore. Salt and lime still on my tongue. Him still resting inside me. I could feel her chest rising and falling as she breathed. Her hand found my hip over the sheet.

'Tell me Esme,' she said. 'Not the polite version.'

I stared at the ceiling. 'I liked the night. I liked you watching. I liked him in me at four in the morning when you were asleep,' which I have not said out loud until now.

Anya's firm smooth thigh was against mine under the sheet and I could feel the heat of her.

'I haven't done that with him before,' she said. 'That is the true version. He has looked. I have let him look. I have not let him film me. Last night I wanted you there so I would not disappear into being his daughter in this flat.'

My face was red and hot. My nipples tightened against nothing. I pressed my thighs together and felt how wet I still was.

'Did you use me,' I said.

'A little,' she said. 'And you used him, we both came.'

I laughed gently, the shy girl who asked if a cable machine was free was lying in Anya's bed with no underwear and the taste of her still under the lime. I could still feel the stretch of him and the way she had held my hand while he pushed in.

'I don't want him in the next thing, I said. 'I don't want Stu either. I don't want any man in the room with us. I want the hotel, the one on your polo. Just me and you. You at work with me in a room.'

She looked at me for a long time. Then that slow smile, smaller than usual.

'Saturday night I am on late. I will book you a room under the staff rate. Check in at nine and wear the kind of lace no one gets to keep.'

I worked Friday in a dreamy haze. Stu was normal enough at the kettle that I almost asked him if he knew. I looked at him and felt nothing except the old habit of looking. His mouth. His hands. The way he had been careful with me as he came. None of it pulled. I thought about Anya's mouth on my clit in the shower and the way she had said good girl and the way she had looked at me while Marcus was inside her, and the pull was all hers. I didn't want any man in the room with her.

The thought landed and stayed. I wanted her. Only her. The rest of it could stay in the past with the Cotswolds and the camera roll I had not opened. Never say never but for now my focus was on me and Anya.

Claire sent a photo at lunch she was on the bike in the gym, tiny thin sports bra covering her small perky breasts, sweat on her collarbone, that smile she does when she knows the camera is on. The caption was just a question mark and an x. I looked at it longer than I should have. Imagining her naked body. The way she had been on the shower floor that Sunday with her hand inside herself. The way she had kissed me in the changing room. I typed:

You look good.

She replied straight away.

You free later?

I stared at the message as my pussy warmed. I thought about her mouth. I thought about Anya's. I thought about Tia in the cubicle, auburn hair, light pink nipples through mesh, the flash of landing strip I was not meant to see. Tia was young and sexy. Claire was something else. Neither of them was Anya. I typed:

Not tonight. Hotel tomorrow with Anya. Just us.

Claire:

Lucky her, tell her I said hi and wish I was there. XXX

I put my phone down. I was so wet. I went to the toilets and sat with my hand between my legs inside my knickers and didn't cum. I thought about Anya's polo, the hotel logo. The room pass and the room she was booking.

I thought about the dusky pink set and how Tia had worn the thong for a minute and how I was going to wear it for Anya. I thought about Claire's photo and the way her nipples had been tight in the sports bra. I thought about not wanting any man in the bed with us for now. The want for Anya was bigger than the rest of it. It sat in my chest and in my pussy and it did not move.

Saturday, I packed a small bag with a sexy little lace babydoll and my toothbrush I might not use if she sent me home. I put the dusky pink set on under the dress before I left the house and stood in front of the mirror for a minute, my breasts sitting high in the sheer dusky pink balconette, thong already a problem because I had been thinking about her all afternoon. And, for a second, about Tia and, for another second about Claire's tight nipples. Then only Anya.

The boutique hotel was exactly as I had imagined it from the logo on her chest. Polish and lilies and an expensive scent. Soft, low lobby light perfect for intimate liaisons. I wrote my own name at the desk on check-in and my hand did not shake until the lift.

My room was on the second floor. Heavy curtains were already pulled a large white bed and a sofa at the end of the bed. The adjoining wall thin enough that when the couple next door laughed, I felt it in my stomach. I stripped the sundress off and looked at myself in the large mirror in the bedroom. The beautiful dusky pink delicate cups holding my breasts high, nipples dark against the sheer. Thong already dark at the front. I sat on the edge of the mattress with my phone face down and her rule in my head.

Don't cum. You know the rule.

She didn't come up straight away. That was the cruel part. I had thought the wait would be ten minutes. It was not. I lay on the bed looking down my body waiting, nipples pushing against the sheer bra. Pussy warm and wet crying out to be touched.

Every set of footsteps in the corridor went through me. A trolley. A man's laugh. A key card in the door next to mine and then the couple talking about dinner, close enough that I stopped breathing. I pictured Anya two floors down in her polo, smiling at a guest, nipples maybe tight against the cotton because she knew I was up here with my thighs pressed together. I pictured her staff pass bouncing against her chest when she walked. I got wetter. Of course I did.

As I lay back, I didn't put my hand where it wanted to go. The rule was clear. My clit throbbed against the pink lace. The thong already damp. I could feel the cool of the room on my thighs and the heat between them. My breasts were firm and heavy in the sheer cups. My nipples tight enough to ache.

I thought about the first shower instead, her neat smooth pussy under the rain head, the first lick, her leg on the wall, the way she had said suck it hard. I thought about the way her nipples had brushed mine under the water, how soft her mouth had been on mine the first time, the taste of her when she came.

I thought about Claire on the shower floor, the way she had looked at me while she touched herself, the text this afternoon, the photo of her on the bike. I thought about Stu in my bed and the dinner I had run and how little I wanted him at this point in time. I thought about Marcus and the four in the morning when Anya had been asleep and I had reached behind me and put him in, slow, still slick, and came into the pillow so she would not wake.

I thought about Tia her auburn hair, light pink nipples through mesh, the flash of landing strip, the thong she wore that was now mine resting on my pussy and then I put her away.

This room was for Anya, the want for her was both a deep emotional and physical thing. It sat low in my stomach. It made my pussy clench. I wanted her mouth. I wanted her fingers. I wanted her wearing a strap on. I wanted her voice saying my name. I wanted no one else in the bed.

None of that was enough for the wait. The wait wanted something worse.

I stared at the ceiling and let my mind go where the shy part of me never let it go at the gym.

I wanted her to take me somewhere I could not laugh it off. Not at her flat. Not in my bed. Nor a room that was booked under a staff rate.

I wanted a club, dark, sensual, erotic and liberating. The kind of place you need someone like Anya to walk into without looking lost. I wanted a collar I would feel when I swallowed. I wanted a lead she would hold. I wanted her to pick who got to touch me so that I did not have to do the asking. Women. More than one. Mouths on me while she used the strap. People watching who had not earned us at a gym. Me not being allowed to decide if I was pretty enough or brave enough. Her deciding. Me wearing it.

The thought made my face burn so hard I put my palms on my cheeks. It also made my clit throb against the pink lace until I had to roll onto my side and squeeze my thighs together and still not cum. Outrageous, for the girl who used to glance across the weights and look away. More outrageous than Anya's stepdad. More outrageous than Claire and my Dad. Because this one I would have to ask for with my actual mouth, in the morning, when there was no tequila to blame.

I pictured it, the collar snug. Her hand on the lead. Me on my knees in a room I did not know. Someone else's mouth on my nipples. Someone else's fingers in me. Anya's strap. The wet sound. The way I would not be allowed to cover my face. My pussy clenched around nothing. I bit the inside of my cheek. Next door a tap ran as I whispered her name into the pillow like an horny idiot.

I thought about what the women would look like. Not just their faces but their bodies, their hands, their mouths. One with small breasts and a landing strip. One older, heavier, the way Claire had been heavier in her own way. I thought about Anya standing behind me with the lead, her voice low, telling them where to put their mouths and their fingers. I thought about not being allowed to look away. My clit was so hard against the lace it hurt. I rolled onto my stomach and pressed down and still did not cum. The rule. The rule. The rule.

I thought about the first time she had said good girl in the changing room. The way it had gone through me. I thought about saying it back. I thought about her still in the polo while she fucked me. The hotel logo. The pass on the bedside table. The fact that she would go back downstairs and smile at guests with my wet on her mouth. The thought made me shake. I put my hand on the sheet and left it there.

A knock at next door. I stayed on the bed and soaked through the thong and hated how much I liked being left. I must have been forty-five minutes, maybe more. I stopped checking. Every time I almost put my hand between my legs I heard her voice. Don't cum. You know the rule. I kept my hands on the sheets and felt the lace stick to me and thought about the collar until my legs shook.

The knock that was hers was quieter than the trolley. Anya was in the middle of a shift: the black polo, tight black skirt, hair in the ponytail, staff pass on a lanyard, that faint sweet smell mixed with hotel soap. She closed the door with her heel, took the pass off, and put it on the bedside table next to me without looking at it.

'Hi, Esme.'

'Hi Anya.' Quieter than I meant. I was sure she could see it on me. The waiting and the longing. The thing I had decided, my nipples hard under the pink lace. The dark patch on Tia's thong.

She walked a slow circle around the bed. One finger on the strap of the thong, the curve of my bum, the dark patch she did not comment on except with that smile.

She didn't mention Marcus. She didn't mention money. She kissed me like the room was the first room, and I made a sound into her mouth that was forty-five minutes long. Her tongue and mine caressing deeply. The taste of hotel coffee and her. I reached for her waist and she caught my wrist.

'You waited,' she said.

'You made me.'

'Good. Wrists.'

Soft ties from somewhere she shouldn't have borrowed. Looped through the slats on the white bed. Tight enough that I felt it when I pulled. Her pass on the bedside table the whole time, logo catching the lamp, so I could not pretend this was just a room. I tested the ties. I couldn't free my hands. My heart was going stupidly fast. My pussy was soaked.

She didn't undress. That was the point, her skirt hitched, mouth on me over the lace and then gently pulling it to one side, under it, slow, mean, every time I got close, she stopped and kissed the inside of my thigh and said wait.

Next door a tap ran and woman's voice. I bit my bottom lip. She watched my face for the sounds I could not swallow. I thought about the collar while she did it. I thought about strangers' mouths. I almost told her then and didn't, because if I said it while her tongue was on me it would come out like dirty talk, and I needed it to come out like the truth.

Her tongue was precise. She licked me through the lace first, the fabric sticking, then hooked it aside once again and put her mouth around my clit the way she had in the shower, unhurried, filthy. Two fingers, curling into the place she knows. I lifted my hips and she held me down with one hand on my stomach.

'Don't cum yet.'

I made a soft moaning noise. She stopped and kissed the inside of my thigh repeatedly watching me shake. My pussy was open, wet and shining. She devoured it with her beautiful eyes. She looked at me in the eyes and started again. Slow and mean. Every time I got close, she pulled back.

I was dripping onto the sheet. My breasts pushed to the ceiling sheer lace. My nipples ached and poked hard at the mesh. I wanted her to fuck me, and I wanted the wait to never end. I thought about the collar. I thought about how quiet I was being. I thought about next door hearing nothing and what that meant.

When she stood her strap on was already on under the skirt, hidden while she had walked the corridor to the room like any other member of staff. She rubbed the head through me until I was lifting my hips with my wrists tied. The head of it was thick and cool at first then not. She watched my face.

'Look at me while I go in. If you get loud, I stop.'

The first push took the air out of me. Full. Held as I was tied to a bed she had no business being in, her still in the polo, her nipples hard against the cotton, me half naked and shaking. The stretch was much more than her fingers, more than Stu and Marcus. It was different it was Anya above me, the girl from the gym.

She fucked me slow because of the wall, long slow strokes, then deeper when I proved I could be quiet, one hand over my mouth when I couldn't, the other on my left breast. The strap of my bra pulled down so she could put my nipple between her fingers. Rolling. Pinching. The strap on thick inside me. Every stroke I felt in my stomach, and we could hear how wet I was.

Next door a glass set down. I bit her palm. She smiled. She didn't stop. She told me to keep my eyes open. I did and I watched her face. The ponytail gently swinging from side to side as on the treadmill. The polo. The fact that she was still dressed. I came closer again and she slowed. She made me wait. She made me say please without making a sound as I mouthed it, she nodded and then she went deeper.

'This is my shift,' she said against my ear. 'You are what I am doing on my break. Take it Esme.'

I took it omg I took it. I came around the strap on with her palm sealed over my lips and she kept moving through it until I was even more wet down my thighs and the sheets. My pussy was throbbing and shaking. Saying her name into her hand. My pussy gripped the strap on. My clit was under her thumb. I could feel how soaked I was, the sheet under me, the way my breasts were moving with every thrust. She did not stop when I came. She fucked me through it, slow, deep, until I was making small broken sounds into her palm and my legs were shaking.

Then she pulled out, knelt over my mouth still wearing it, and made me lick her around the straps she pulled it away from her pussy and she came with that soft fuck, fuck, fuck she always tried to keep down, and failed, and then she kissed me so she could taste herself. Sweet and warm, I licked my own wet off the strap on too. She watched. She liked it a lot.

She didn't go straight back to work. She untied one wrist and put my own fingers inside me and told me to keep them touching myself there while she tidied the skirt and put her pass back on. 'Look at you Esme,' she said. 'No camera. No man. Just my girl in my hotel.'

My girl sat in my chest and stayed there. The other thing sat next to it and waited for morning. I kept my fingers where she had put them. Two, curling in that special place not cumming just holding and slowly rubbing.

She kissed my forehead and left and the door closed. I lay there with one wrist still tied and my own fingers inside me and the strap on still on my tongue and I did not cum. I thought about the collar. I thought about her hand on the lead. I thought about how quiet I had been able to be. I stayed like that until my wrist ached and then I untied the other one with my free hand and lay on my side and waited for eleven.

Anya came back at eleven when her shift ended, untied nothing because I had already freed myself, she undid my bra, put her mouth on my nipples, and had me again slower, no wall to worry about, guests thinning out, her polo on the chair. The strap on again. No rush a she took the lace off completely.

She made me look at her. She made me say I was hers. I said it. She fucked me on my side with my knee up, her hand on my clit, the strap on deep, the head of it thick inside me, and I came the second time with my face in the pillow, my pussy gripping, my clit under her fingers. She didn't stop.

She turned me onto my back and put my legs over her shoulders and went deeper, watching my breasts move, and I came the third time with my eyes open and her name in my mouth, wet down the sheets again. She pulled out and I went down on her, her neat smooth pussy, the taste I knew, my tongue on her throbbing clit the way she likes, her hand in my hair not steering, and she came with that soft fuck, fuck, fuck against my tongue, her thighs shaking around my head. We stayed like that until she stopped shaking.

Then we slept in a heap with her arm over me. The pass still on the desk. I thought, before I slept, that I wanted just her, I was 'her girl.'

I woke before her with the idea still there, worse in daylight, and I almost swallowed it.

We kissed gently and softly, nakedly cuddling, her firm breasts against mine, her warm wet pussy on my thigh leaving a sign for later. Our hands slowly touching the soft curves of each other.

She ordered coffee to the room because she could. Checkout was at eleven. The pass on the desk again. I sat up against the headboard with the sheet around my waist and my mouth dry. My body was sore in the good way. The pink lace was on the floor, my nipples hard and sensitive.

'I thought about something. While I waited. I need to say it before we leave, or I will never say it.'

Anya looked at me over the cup. That slow attention. 'Oh go on tell me.'

'I have done more in a month than I did in years with men. What with Claire, Stu and your stepdad. This room. I kept waiting for the thing that would be too much and it has not arrived, which is its own problem. Last night I decided what the too much is for me. I have never done it. I have never asked and I feel nervous saying it.'

Anya looked up looking beautiful and smiled.

'Say it anyway, my girl.'

'I want you to take me to a sex club. A proper one, exclusive, dark and sensual. Not a bar with a maybe. I want a collar I can feel when I swallow. I want you to hold the lead. I want you to choose who touches me, so I do not get to be shy about it. Women. More than one. I want mouths on me while you use the strap on, and I want people I don't know to see that I am yours. I don't want to pick them. If I pick them, I will pick no one and go home. That is the outrageous thing.'

I said it and my face burned, and my pussy got wet under the sheet and I could not look at her for a second. I thought about the first shower. How shy I had been. How I had asked her to join me and then almost died when she said okay. This was worse. This was asking her to put me on a lead and let strangers put their mouths on me while she watched and fucked me. I thought about Claire. About Stu. About Marcus. About Tia. None of them had been this. This one I would have to live with saying it out loud.

My face was on fire. I could hear the couple next door packing a suitcase. Anya did not laugh. She set her cup down and put two fingers under my chin so I had to keep looking at her.

'That's not a joke,' she said.

'No.'

'You understand I would actually do it. Not as a story. I know a door. I know the night of the week they don't let tourists or men in. You would be on a lead. You would not get to talk to them unless I said. If you use the word we pick this morning, I stop everything and we leave. No performance about being brave after.'

I nodded. My clit throbbed.

'The word is enough, I said. If I say enough, we go.'

She kissed me, softer than the strap on, and tasted of hotel coffee.

Not this week, she said. You sit with it for a while and if you still want the collar on Friday you send me in a message me the word 'club' and I will book the door. If you do not message, I will never bring it up to punish you. It can die in this room.'

I almost said 'club' there and then. I didn't. I put my lips on her shoulder instead and we showered together in a bathroom that was nicer than either of our flats. She washed my hair. I washed her back. My hands on her breasts under the water. Her mouth on mine. No rush. No strap on. Just the two of us.

I was still thinking about the collar and she knew it. She didn't ask. We made each other cum under the shower head with our fingers taking our time, we licked each other's fingers clean, kissed deeply and dried each other in large white fluffy towels.

She signed me out of the room with staff calm I didn't have.

On the pavement she kissed me and went back through the staff door. My phone buzzed in the taxi an unknown number. A photo thumbnail I didn't open.

I put my hand in my bag and felt the edge of the damp dusky pink thong I had bought with Tia's help and stared at the river and didn't know yet if I was going to send it. My thighs were still sticky. My mouth still tasted of her. The collar was only a word away and I wanted it anyway more than I ever imagined.

I picked up my phone, found the message thread with Anya and typed...