Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I think the only reason I brought him up is because his behavior at the sandwich shop was so puzzling. And I have to admit, the incongruity of his actions irritates me. Even though I don’t want him to flirt with me, and I definitely don’t want him to ask me out, it’s rude that he’s all charming one day and barely acknowledges me the next.
I get class started by having everyone close their eyes as I guide them through a few rounds of deep breathing. My goal is for them to go inward, but it’s a struggle. I catch several women peeking, covertly checking out Mr. H&C as he sits there looking like he’s being tortured.
He’s handsome, sure, but what’s all the fuss about?
Next, we move through a flow series, starting out slowly and gradually picking up the pace, occasionally lingering in certain poses to fine-tune them and go deeper. For each, I offer a couple of modified versions, so that practitioners with different ranges of flexibility can find what works best for them.
Not surprisingly, the one man in the class, probably the person with the least flexibility, persists in struggling through the advanced variations of each of the poses, as if he’s an expert after one week. The size of men’s egos never ceases to amaze me.
We’re currently in a standing pose, a wide-legged forward bend. Some of the women have taken hold of their big toes as their heads dangle close to their mats. Others who aren’t as flexible place foam blocks on the floor, so they don’t have to stretch as far to make steady contact.
Mr. H&C is clearly unsteady, the occasional contact between his fingertips and his mat tenuous at best. But even though I demonstrated using blocks if needed, he persists without any aids. His knees are locked, even after I remind him to soften them.
The man is stiff. And that’s an unfortunate choice of words, since I don’t need Ana’s dirty mind to prompt me to think about what other stiff parts of him might look like.
It’s harder swearing off men than I thought it would be. Most of the time, my resolve is strong, but moments of weakness keep popping up like a hormonal game of whack-a-mole.
Despite my best efforts, my body craves men, and I don’t even know why, because in my experience, sex isn’t as great as people say it is. My orgasms were few and far, far between when I was with Rick. On three separate occasions, I had to show him where my clit was, and he wasn’t dumb, so I should have realized a lot sooner that he just didn’t care.
I can and do get myself off, but it only serves as mild stress relief. I don’t understand the fireworks and earth shaking and all that colorful jazz that people rhapsodize about. I’m convinced it’s all exaggeration.
Circulating around the room, I help people transition into a revolved pose, with one arm pointing to the ceiling, the other toward the ground.
Mr. H&C is steady in this pose, and the extended arm is … well, it’s something to see. He may be new to yoga, but he’s obviously no stranger to the gym. Without meaning to, I speculate about how far my fingers could stretch around his bicep. I have a strong urge to find out, but luckily, my willpower prevails.
His backside is looking very nice, too. And those thighs. So thick.
Move on, Callie! Move on. Deciding he needs no adjustment, I turn away and focus on other students, even as, in the back of my mind, I’m speculating about using part of my next paycheck to buy a new vibrator.
I make my way over to Marissa, who seems to be enjoying herself in the poses, and Ana, who’s still mostly ogling Mr. H&C. I guess I can’t blame her.
When I get within range, she curls her finger, beckoning me closer. “I’m gonna talk to him after class,” she whispers too loudly.
I lean in right next to her ear, so only she can hear me. “This is not a bar. You’re not supposed to come to class to pick up men.”
This earns me an odd look. “I may not have a health club membership, but I know what goes on while people are working out together. While they’re all hot and sweaty, lifting and flexing, squatting and thrusting—”
It’s bad enough that Ana’s talking in yoga class, which is usually a quiet environment, but it’s worse yet that she acts out these last couple of comments, thrusting her hips forward and back, a lewd grin on her face.
“Ana! Shh!” I whisper a harsh, “Don’t do it!” before I call out another pose for the class and move away from my horny friend.
I’m distracted for the rest of the sequence, certain that my roommate won’t heed my warning, and wondering what kind of response she’ll get when she approaches him. Will he stay in morning grump mode, which she’ll no doubt enjoy, or will he show her some of that evening charm?