KICK IT | JENLISA

50

Lisa

Three days since the fixed truck fiasco. On Friday, I walked into some guy with a man bun and enough incense sticks to burn the studio down set up in her spot. Texting her with hopes that she was okay was a black hole. Jackson explained that she wasn't feeling well. My employer side was pissed off. The other side of me was pissed off.

Jennie or no Jennie, ironically nineteen... correction: eighteen, excluding Yuh-jung... women in her classes practically dropping their panties on their mats had no effect. My polite indulgence in their attention was to avoid being rude, but I liked the effects on Jennie. Even when she wasn't looking, I captured her awareness with her short huffs. Except she wasn't there.

The closer I got to her, physically because her emotional prison was impenetrable, the more her unknown familiarity grated on my nerves. My body was a lit-up carnival ride when she sat in my lap. I wanted more of that presence. Touching her was worse than watching her bend and twist with the grace of a swan and ease of breathing.

Not going into how I have to jerk myself clear-headed before class.

The first time I yanked off to Jennie, I dreamed she sat on my lap under different circumstances. Nothing sexual was exchanged in Abe's lot, but the feel of her body weight on me, her strong muscles under her soft skin, and her curves tucked between my arms left an imprint.

My hand wrapped a makeshift ponytail on her hair, tugging on her roots to angle her gaze up to mine. "Why are you so difficult?"

"Because..." she moaned, fingernails sinking into my shoulders as I pounded up into her. Her back arched, her wet cunt clenching and slicking me down to the base. "You like it."

"Oh fuck..." I gasped at the ceiling, my chest heaving and my arms and legs starfish-spread on my bed. My heart pounded throbs into my groin, wet and sticky with equal parts sweat and humiliation. Tugging out the insane boner was a necessity, not a luxury.

Once I stopped resisting, my frustrations flowed out faster than the cum I milked out. Relieving myself became part of my pre-yoga routine to avoid any further 'Lisa Manoban nuts and bolt show' incidents, as she called them. Her crazy descriptions were something else. Never thought I would miss those too.

Before class, passion wasn't a word I associated with yoga teachers. Chill nappers, yes. Through her focus and attention to detail, Jennie opened my eyes to her passion. Man Bun had half her attentiveness and spirit. My shoulder responded to her suggestions, and the ease I moved through Bambam's workouts evaporated my resistance concerning her inexperience into blind trust.

"Fucking unbelievable." Unable to draw in enough oxygen, I gasped so hard that my breath whistled.

Sweat beaded up around my hairline, dribbling down my forehead as if Bambam had poured a cup of water over me. The sweat tickled my upper lip. My lungs burned with each laboured breath. Taking a page from Jennie's yoga book, I expanded my belly for a deeper breath. It rushed lightness in my head. "Impossible."

"Impossible. Ridiculous. Unbelievable." Bambam said in the worst impression of me, sounding like a brooding ex-lover. "I'd ask you to change the pity party music, but you've never worked harder."

The team's workout facilities couldn't have been more different from the yoga studio. Harsh white spotlights beamed down and reflected off the silver and black machines. Loud music blasted off the walls, intermixing with grunts, curses, and pulsing beats through my skin. Sweat, body odour, and metal permeated the air.

Since I wasn't half upside-down, my clothes were their usual baggy shorts and sleeveless performance shirt. Wiping the drips off my forehead was futile; only more sprung up. I drew up my shirt and groaned with the salty, soaked material that clung to the top of my nose. Bambam's smugness had no place in my mind this afternoon. It was crammed full of Jennie's zip code-sized equivalent.

Cold seared the skin on my shoulder where Bambam pushed a water bottle. "It's okay to admit that you like her. I like her. That girl under your skin has been your best motivation this whole off-season."

My brain was in no position to untangle his spaghetti plate of bullshit. I chugged half the water and wiped the corners of my mouth. "I don't fucking know her. Besides, you saw her at the meeting."

"I saw you two eyeing each other like you were one insult away from throwing me and Jackson out and sharing a soft porn moment on his desk."