The Girl At The Gym - Pt. 10

The Girl at the Gym Part 10

I typed the word and then I deleted it, I'm not sure why everything in my body wanted it.

The taxi was still moving, the river was still there, and my thighs were still sticky. My mouth tasted of her which took me back to the first time in the gym shower. The unknown number sat under the thread with its thumbnail. I stared at the empty message box and my thumb hovered and I didn't type it. Not yet I will do it later. The hotel was still on my skin. The collar was still only a word and a deep fantasy. I put the phone in my bag and watched the traffic and didn't know if Friday would still want the same thing.

I opened the photo on Sunday afternoon, I felt ready.

It wasn't cruel, that made it worse it was me naked on Anya's white sheets, wrists not tied, mouth open, her hair across my stomach, his hand at the edge of the frame so you knew. No face of his. Just us clearly recognisable and underneath, one line.

You both looked happy. M.

I sat on my own bed in last night's hotel smell and felt my pussy clench and my throat go tight at the same time. Tia's dusky pink thong was on the floor. My body still ached in the good way. My nipples were sensitive. My clit was still sensitive. I could feel him and her and the strap on and the night all at once when I looked at the photo. My stomach went tight. My pussy got wet just from the image. I didn't reply. I didn't delete it. I put the phone face down and lay there for a minute with my hand between my legs, not moving, just feeling how wet I was, how the ache sat low and heavy, how much I wanted Anya's mouth and not the camera. Then I got up and went to the gym.

Claire was on the bike at four, as promised. She lifted her hand smiling. I lifted mine smiling back. I didn't go over. The sweat on her shapely back, how I wanted to lick her sweat hit my thoughts in that moment.

The same smile from the photo. I thought about the text on Friday. Lucky her. I thought about the shower floor and her hand inside herself and I felt the old pull, my nipples tightening, a slow warmth between my legs and then I thought about Anya's mouth on me in the hotel, the strap on, the way she had said my girl, and the pull moved. It settled lower and stayed on Anya. Anya wasn't here. I trained badly, tired and my body still sensitive from the hotel. Every squat reminded me of the stretch. Every time I bent, I felt how wet I was under my gym shorts.

In the changing rooms the squeak of the door still did something to me inside. I was already half undressed when it opened and Claire walked in. She looked at me. That lovely smile. She didn't go to the far end she said 'Hi, Esme' as she stopped at the bench opposite me and started taking her gym gear off slowly, she did it for me, she knew I would watch and wanted me to keep watching.

'Hi Claire,' quieter than I meant, eyes on her tight sweaty body.

Her sports bra first lifting over her head. Those small perky breasts. Nipples tight. She made sure I was looking. Then the shorts. Peeled down. No knickers. The teasing curve of her mound smooth. She turned a little so I could see the curve of her bum and then faced me again, naked, one hand on the bench, the other trailing down her stomach until her fingers found her neat pussy.

'You looked at the photo I sent,' she said.

'I did.'

'You got wet.'

'Yes.'

Claire stepped closer, not touching. Just close enough that I could smell her sweat and see how hard her nipples were.

'I thought about you on the shower floor,' I said. My voice quieter than I meant. 'I thought about your hand inside yourself and how wet you were. How you looked at me while you did it.'

Claire's breathing increased. 'I thought about your mouth on me. I thought about how you tasted. I thought about Anya's mouth too. But you're here and she's not and I'm naked and you're looking at my tits like you want them in your mouth.'

'I do,' I said. My nipples were hard and my pussy was soaked inside my shorts. I could feel the slick when I shifted.

'Take them off,' she said looking at my shorts, hooking a finger inside the waist band. 'Let me see how wet you are. I want to see if you're dripping for me or for her.'

I hooked my thumbs in my shorts but didn't pull them down yet. She watched. Her hand drifted between her own legs, just touching. She was wet, I could see it.

'I want your fingers,' I said. 'I want your mouth. Tell me what you'd do if we were alone.'

'I'd put you on the bench,' she said. 'I'd spread you and lick you until you came on my tongue and then I'd make you say mine and Anya's name while I did it. I'd like watching you try not to.'

I was in the moment imagining the bench on my naked bum, my legs apart and Clair looking up at me between them. My heart was going stupidly fast. My clit throbbed.

We just stood there, naked and half-naked, nipples almost touching, talking dirty in the empty changing room, the sexual tension thick between us, neither of us touching yet.

The door squeaked again. This time it was a woman I vaguely recognised from the gym. Mid-thirties. Gym bag over her shoulder. She stopped when she saw us. Her eyes went to Claire's naked body, to my hard nipples, to my fingers hooked in my shorts showing the top of my smooth mound. Claire and I stood still in our moment.

She saw we were standing too close. I could tell she wanted to look. I could see it on her face. She was too polite to stay and stare. She glanced once more, lingering, then looked at the floor and went to the far lockers and started changing like she had not seen anything.

Claire took my hand, her small breasts moved when she stepped closer. She was smiling, not the dirty smile from a minute ago, something softer and more certain.

'Come on,' she said, quiet. 'Shower. The one at the end.'

She pulled me and I went. My shorts were still half down. My heart was going stupidly fast. We passed the woman at the far lockers. She didn't look up. Claire's hand was warm. Her thumb moved on the inside of my wrist. I thought about Anya's hand on the same place in the hotel. Then Claire's fingers tightened and the thought went thin.

The shower at the end it was the one with the bigger rain head. Claire closed the door, no lock. Claire stepped under the warm water it first and pulled me with her. She kissed me softly on the lips, long and lingering my body igniting inside like little fireworks.

'I've wanted this since I watched you and Anya,' she said. 'Not just watching it's a need. You looked so open. I sat on the floor and put my fingers in myself, and I kept thinking what it would feel like if it was me making you make those sounds.'

I didn't know what to say. My face was hot. My pussy was wet under the shorts that were still clinging. Claire hooked her thumbs in them and pulled them down. The thong went with them. I stepped out fully naked. Eighteen minutes ago, I had been on a bike thinking about Anya's mouth. Now I was under the water with Claire, and the water was running over both of us and her hands were on my waist.

She kissed me deeper. Her mouth tasted like the gym and like something sweeter. I opened my mouth for her our tongues embracing softly and slowly. My hands found her hips. She was smaller than Anya. Different. Her skin was warmer under the water. Her small breasts pressed against mine. Our nipples dragging across each other. I made a sound into her mouth and she smiled against me.

'You're shaking,' she said.

'A bit.'

'Good. I like that.'

She turned me so my back was against the tiles. The water hitting my chest. She kissed small gentle kisses down my throat, across my collarbone, then lower. Her mouth on my left breast. Soft. Then she sucked the nipple and I felt it in my pussy. Her hand slid between my legs. Two fingers. Not rushing. She stroked through me, found how wet I already was, and made a small, soft sound like a kitten would make.

'Soaked,' she said. 'For me or for her?'

'Both,' I said, because it felt true in that second, 'more for you right now.'

Claire looked up. Her eyes were alive and sparkling. She kissed me again, harder, and her fingers found my clit. Slow circles. The way Anya does it but not the same. Claire's hand was smaller. More careful at first, then surer when I pushed into it. I held her shoulders. The water ran over us. I thought about Anya's fingers in the hotel, the strap on, the collar I had asked for and not yet worn. Then Claire's thumb pressed and the thought dissolved.

She went to her knees on the hard tiled floor. She didn't seem to care. She kissed the inside of my thigh. Then her mouth was on me. Warm and wet from the shower and from me. She licked me the way she had described on the bench a minute ago. Slow. Flat tongue first, then pointed on my clit. Two fingers inside, curling. I put one hand in her wet hair and the other on the wall. My legs were shaking already.

'Claire,' I said.

She didn't answer with words. She sucked my clit and her fingers moved and I came, sudden, much harder than I expected, pulsing on her tongue, one knee almost giving. She stayed with it. She licked me through it until I was pulling her hair and saying her name into the water. When she stood her mouth was wet. She kissed me so I could taste myself. I liked it. I liked that she wanted me to.

'Your turn,' I said. 'I want to.'

She shook her head. 'Not yet Esme. I want you again. I want to feel you cum on my fingers while I'm looking at you.'

She turned me so I was facing the wall. Her body against my back. Her small breasts on my skin. One hand between my legs again, the other on my breast, rolling my nipple. She fucked me with two fingers, slow and deep, her thumb on my clit. Her mouth was on my shoulder. She talked, quiet, close to my ear.

'I have sat on the floor and watched you. I used to think about this when I saw you training in the gym. About having you like this. About just me making you shake. You're so wet, I can feel you gripping me. Cum for me Esme. Cum on my hand. I want to feel it.'

I did. It built slower the second time. My forehead on the tiles. Her fingers inside me. Her other hand on my pulling my nipple. The water. The sound of us. I thought about Anya for a second and her mouth, the way she says good girl, and at that moment Claire's fingers curled and I came again, shaking, saying Claire's name, my pussy pulsing around her hand. She held me up. She kept her fingers in me until the shaking eased. Then she turned me around and kissed me, soft, almost careful.

I went to my knees then. I wanted to. She let me. Her pussy was neat, a small strip of hair, wet from the water and from wanting. I licked her the way I had learned with Anya and then the way that felt like Claire. Slow. Her clit under my tongue. Two fingers. She held my hair. She didn't direct. She just held. When she came it was quiet, intense, a long breath, her thighs trembling, her hand tight in my hair. Her sweetness flooding my mouth. I stayed until she eased me off. She pulled me up. We stood under the water, foreheads together, both breathing hard.

'Thank you,' she said. 'That was... I needed that.'

'Me too,' I said. And I meant it.

My body was tingling; my nipples were still hard. My pussy was still pulsing. I felt open in a way that was not only about Anya. Claire had led and I had let her and it had felt like something I was allowed to want. Anya was still in my head. The hotel. The collar. The way she looks at me. But this had been Claire's spontaneous moment to take and mine to give. I didn't feel like I was betraying anyone. I felt like I was still here.

We washed each other after, lots of soapy bubbles. Slowly. No rush. Her hands in my hair. My hands on her small breasts. We didn't talk much. When we turned the water off, she kissed me once more, lighter.

'Another time,' she said. 'If you want.'

'I want,' I said. Quieter than I meant.

We dried off next to each other some small talk and I could feel Claires eyes on me as mine were on her. The woman from the lockers was gone. The changing room was empty again. Claire dressed. I dressed. We didn't touch in the open.

At the door she looked at me and smiled, smaller than before, and said, 'see you Esme,' and left. I stood there with wet hair and the ache still in me and Anya's name somewhere under it and I didn't feel guilty. I felt awake. I put my bag on my shoulder and went home with both of them in my head and neither of them cancelled each other out.

On Monday Stu was strange at the kettle. Not cold. Careful. He asked if I had a good weekend and looked at my mouth when I said fine. I thought about his face on my sheets and Marcus's camera and the way Anya had looked at me while she fucked me with the strap on and I said I have a meeting, which was a lie. He nodded. He did not push. I looked at his hands and felt the old habit of looking and nothing else. I didn't want him in the room. I didn't want Marcus. I wanted Anya and the key she had promised and the sheets that only had us in them. Thought's of Tia and Claire flicked into my head, moments to be repeated but that wasn't Anya and that was ok.

Anya texted at lunch. Did you open it.

Yes.

Come over tonight, Anya. Just us. Bring a bag that means you stay.

My house smelled of nothing special when she arrived. No garlic, no four glasses, no playlist. She had a tote and that slow smile that was tired at the edges. She looked beautiful, Grey sweater, tight jeans showing off her amazing bum. No polo. She looked like a model who had got off a bus.

'Hi, Esme.'

'Hi.'

We didn't go straight upstairs. We sat on my sofa with tea I forgot to drink. My house was quiet. No music. No one else. I could smell her the hotel soap and the grey sweater and the other night still on both of us.

I told her about the photo. I told her about Stu at the kettle and the way he had looked at my mouth and how I had felt nothing. I told her I saw Claire at the gym but not the shower, the text on Friday and how my pussy had warmed and then how the pull had moved. I told her I had typed club in the taxi and deleted it. I told her about Tia for one sentence and then I stopped because Tia was not in the room.

'I want you, Anya.' That is the part I keep landing on. My face was hot. My nipples were tight under my top, hard enough that I could feel them against the fabric every time I breathed. My pussy was wet. Not the quick wet from a text. The deeper wet that had started when she walked in and had not stopped.

I pressed my thighs together and felt the slick and the ache and the way my clit throbbed just from saying her name in that sentence. I wanted her mouth on me. I wanted my mouth on her. I wanted the strap on. I wanted just us in that moment. The want sat low and heavy and made my stomach tight.

Anya turned the mug.

'What are we,' I said, 'when nobody else is in the room.'

She didn't give a speech. She put the mug down and took my face in her hands and kissed me like the answer was in her mouth. Slow. Careful. The way she had kissed me the first time under the rain head. Then she said, against my lips, 'you are the one I book the room for. You are the one I will give a key fob to. It is in my bag. You can come when I am not even there. That is what we are until we pick a better word.'

I cried, which was stupid, and then I laughed, which was worse, and then I took her upstairs because I wanted her in my bed without an audience.

It was slower than her flat the first time and less of a performance than the dinner. I undressed her and she let me. Grey sweater over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra. Those perky breasts, pale, nipples already tight and dark. I put my mouth on one and then the other.

Soft. Then harder. She made a small sound. Pulling her Jeans down, her tiny thong. I took my time. I kissed her stomach. I kissed the inside of her thigh. I could smell her. Clean and warm and already wet. I pulled the thong aside and looked. Smooth. Neat. The clit I knew. I put my mouth on that smooth neat pussy I could still draw from memory.

Sweet underneath. My tongue flat first, then pointed, then on her clit the way she likes. She didn't tell me when she was going to cum. She lay back and let me. Two fingers. Curling into the place she knows. Slow. Then firmer when her hips moved. She made the soft sounds she makes when it is only us. Her hand in my hair, not steering.

I felt her get wetter on my tongue. I felt her thighs start to shake. When she got close, she said please, which I had not earned from her often, and I stayed there until she shook and that fuck, fuck, fuck was only for me. I licked her through it. I kept my fingers inside while she pulsed. I felt her pussy grip and release. I felt the wet on my chin. I stayed until she pushed at my head, gentle, and then I kissed my way back up, tasting her on my mouth, her nipples under my tongue, sucking, biting soft, her hands on my breasts, thumbs on my nipples until I was arching and my own pussy was clenching around nothing.

The effect of making her cum was physical. My clit was hard and my nipples ached. My stomach was tight. I wanted her mouth on me more than I had wanted anything all week. I said her name. She smiled and pulled me up and kissed me so I could taste myself on her later and her on me now.

I sat on her mouth, and she held my hips like she was not going to lend them out again this week. Her tongue so precise and unhurried. My breasts in my hands, heavy, nipples hard between my fingers. My clit on her mouth. I ground down, slow, and she let me. The wet sound. The heat of her. My pussy open on her face. I could feel her nose against me. I could feel her tongue inside and then on my clit and then inside again.

I came with my hands on the headboard and no one in the chair and her name in my mouth and nothing else. Pulsing. Shaking. Wet on her chin. My legs trembled so hard I almost fell. My nipples were so hard they hurt. My stomach was tight. I stayed there after, her mouth still on me, soft, licking slow, until my legs stopped shaking. She kissed the inside of my thigh.

She looked up at me. 'Still here,' she said, and I nodded because I was.

My body was tingling. My clit was still throbbing. My pussy was open and wet and pulsing. My nipples were hard. I could feel how soaked the sheet was under us. I could feel her breath on my pussy. I wanted more and I did not want to move. The effect of her was everywhere. In my mouth from kissing her after. Between my legs. In the way my heart was still going too fast. In the way my thighs were wet. In the way I didn't want anyone else in the house.

I lay back and let her kiss my stomach and my tits and suck my nipples until I was arching again and I thought, this is what I meant when I said I want you. This, only this. Tia, Claire and the rest of the week could wait.

We drifted off with me spooning Anya on the damp sheet. In the night I woke and she was already awake, watching me the way she had that first morning in her sheets.

We started again because we wanted to, not because someone had knocked. As we kissed her fingers first, slowly. Just two, curling finding that spot with ease. My mouth on her tight nipples. The strap on from her tote, unhurried, my legs around her, forehead to forehead, no pass on any desk. She went slowly as I watched her face. The ponytail a mess. The grey sweater on the floor. I said her name. I felt every inch of the strap on. Thick and deep inside my tight pussy. The stretch different because it was only us. My pussy gripped it as my clit was under her thumb, hard, throbbing, so sensitive I made a sound every time she moved.

My breasts were against hers our nipples rubbing together. The wet sounds only ours. I came with her inside me and her fingers on my clit and no one else in the room. My legs tight around her. My mouth on her shoulder. The strap on thick and deep. My pussy gripping. My clit hard under her thumb. She didn't stop. She fucked me through it until I was shaking harder, my clit under her thumb, my nipples against hers, the strap on deep, the wet sound loud in the quiet house, and then she pulled out and I went down on her.

My tongue on her clit the way she likes, two fingers inside her, her hand in my hair, and she came with that soft fuck, fuck, fuck only for me, her thighs around my head, her wet on my chin, her whole body shaking. I stayed until she pulled me up and kissed me, tasting herself, and we stayed joined until she softened.

Then we slept again with her arm over me. My key fob somewhere in the tote on the floor. I thought, before I slept, that this was the version I wanted. Just her. No camera. No man. No one else with a key. The effect of her was everywhere. In my mouth. Between my legs. In the way my nipples still ached. In the way I did not want to move. Tia and Claire flickered in my head then faded.

I woke once more before morning and she was still asleep, her arm over my waist, her breath on my shoulder. My body was still alive. My clit ached when I shifted and my nipples were sensitive against the sheet. I put my hand between my legs and felt how wet I was, how much of her was still on me, the slick, the heat, the way my fingers slid in easily, and I didn't cum.

I just held myself and thought about her mouth and the strap on and the way she had said still here, and I felt the want settle deeper. It was not the sharp want from the hotel. It was slower. It sat in my pussy and in my chest and it didn't want anyone else in that moment. I lay there feeling my own pulse between my legs until she stirred and then I went back to sleep with her hand on my hip and the ache still there, soft and constant.

The morning was ordinary on purpose. Sourdough Toast. Her sweater. Anya's key fob on the hall table next to Mum's old bowl. My nipples were sensitive against my top. My clit was still feeling sensitive. Every time I moved, I felt the night. I didn't mind.

Claire texted, Sunday? I looked at Anya. Anya shrugged, which meant your choice, not a test.

Not this Sunday, I typed, and put the phone away.

Stu I would deal with at the kettle. Marcus I would not answer. The photo I would keep until I knew why I was keeping it. The word club sat in the deleted messages and did not move. Not yet.

At the door she kissed me and tapped the fob.

'Bring a bag whenever you want,' she said. 'Not because I told you to. Because you want to sleep in my sheets when no one else has a key.'

I stood in the hall after she left and looked at the pegs where Claire's jacket had been and Stu's coat and nobody's but ours now. Until recently very straight. Then Anya. Then everyone else. Then back to Anya, which turned out to be the part I had been trying to get to the whole time.

I stood in the hall after she left and the house was quiet in a way it had not been quiet for weeks. The pegs were empty. The key fob was on my keyring. My body was still carrying the night. My nipples were sensitive against my top. My clit was still swollen. Every time I moved, I felt the stretch of the strap on and the wet of her mouth and the way she had held my hips. I went upstairs and put the dusky pink thong in the wash and stood in the shower and did not come. I just stood under the water and felt how open I still was and thought about her mouth and nothing else.

The rest of the day was ordinary on the surface. I answered emails. I made tea I forgot to drink. I looked at the photo once more and my pussy clenched and I put the phone face down again. I didn't delete it. I didn't reply. I thought about the word I had typed in the taxi and deleted, and I did not type it again. Not yet.

In the evening I used the fob. I didn't text first. I let myself into her flat and the oatmeal sofa was empty and the plant I couldn't name was still there; the sheets were clean because she had changed them. I put my bag down. I took my clothes off. I lay on her bed and waited. My body knew the room. My nipples tightened. My pussy got wet just from being there. I put my hand between my legs and felt how ready I was and I did not cum. I waited.

She came in at half ten. Grey sweater. Tired smile. She looked at me on the bed and the smile got slower.

'You're here?' she said.

'I'm here.'

She undressed and lay down next to me the scent of the hotel faintly in the air and on her body. I put my mouth on her before she asked. The taste I knew. Sweet underneath. My tongue on her clit the way she likes. Finger curling. She made the soft sounds. She came hard soaking the sheets and my face, her thighs shaking, that fuck, fuck, fuck only for me.

Then she put her mouth on me, and I came with my hands on the headboard and her tongue on my clit, pulsing, shaking, soaking her chin, the want finally easing, just for a minute, before it settled again, deeper, quieter, only hers. I stayed there until my legs stopped shaking.

We slept as she spooned me her hand on my breast and me pushing back into her. The photo still on my phone. The word still deleted. I woke once and felt her breathing and the ache between my legs and the way my clit was still swollen and I didn't move. I put my hand on her hip and went back to sleep.

In the morning she made coffee for us, I stood in her kitchen in her sweater and nothing else, the plant I couldn't name was still there and the want was still there, low and steady, and I did not need anyone else in the room.