legs

This story is for a reader who took me up on my offer to write something just for her. It all came about when she told me how she'd got a little, ahem, flustered by my work. Well, that kicked me off too. The fact is, the idea that anyone likes my stories hits me on lots of lovely levels. I hope you enjoy the story... and let your imagination fly. I'd love to hear all about it...

'Ježíš! Ona je tady!'

The voice started as a surprised shout, but dropped instantly to a whisper. Even though Georgia was on the last rep of a brutal last set, she couldn't help her eyes darting to find the source of the sound.

The distraction was just enough for her legs to lose the iota of momentum that would have kept the weight moving. Georgia swore and grunted with exertion, but now the weight was inexorably descending. The smith machine clanged noisily as she twisted the hooks into place to halt it.

Her annoyance was short-lived. She ducked out from under the bar and peered eagerly among the gym equipment that crowded close to the free weights section. She recognised the voice, but the language sealed it: Irina. She was Czech, gorgeous, and Georgia had been dating her for two weeks.

'Schov se!'

And there she was, her eyes darting to meet Georgia's, smiling nervously. Georgia could not help raising her eyebrows: she had never seen Irina less than a hundred percent confident, sassy, sure of herself. The unexpected vulnerability on those classically perfect features (made up just so, as always) was like a flaming brand to Georgia's heart.

'Hi Irina,' said Georgia through a smile that was as unstoppable as the barbell that had just tried to crush her. Suddenly remembering to be cool, she reached aside to pull her towel from the weights rack, taking the opportunity to scan the room for the other Czech speaker Irina had whispered to.

'Darlink,' drawled Irina through a lopsided grin, cocking her hip, the transformation back to sex kitten instant and overwhelming. She was dark haired, dark eyed and tiny: shorter than Georgia, but her body had the proportions of an eight-tenths scale swimsuit model. Her long legs were hidden in loose black sweat pants; her impossibly narrow waist and high, round breasts deliciously on show under a tight black workout vest.

The effect was only slightly marred by the bright yellow bucket she was carrying.

Georgia wiped the sweat from her face and stepped forward, a little wobbly from her exertion. Their relationship was only just progressing to the physical, and so their greetings always had a forced awkwardness. This was all down to Georgia: Irina had wanted and demanded outright sex every time they had met. There was some fun to be had standing up to her pouting, and certainly in watching her pose suggestively. But in a way that had made Georgia even more insistent on a drawn-out romance. Irina was just too beautiful to rush into.

Irina did not come forward. She still seemed to harbour a nervousness about something: Georgia wondered if it was something to do with the bucket; but she had also glanced to one side tensely after speaking.

'I'm just finishing up,' Georgia said casually, trying to hide her curiosity.

Irina lifted the bucket slightly as Georgia stepped closer. 'I cleaning here,' she said in explanation. 'You are not usually coming here at night.'

'No,' confirmed Georgia. Now that they were close Irina put the bucket down, stepped lightly forward, and rested her arms on Georgia's shoulders. Their lips brushed together, Georgia unsure what to do with her hands and the towel in them.

'Irina?' It was the voice of the girl from the front desk, Fran. 'Yirina?' She came into sight, saw their embrace, and hesitated. Fran was a tanned and freckled blonde, her face always giving the impression that it had too many details to take in, even if the overall effect was rather pretty. Irina rolled her eyes and ignored her; although the exaggeration was odd. Was she covering something up?

Georgia, unimpressed, pulled away from her and smiled. 'Hi Fran,' she said. She wondered if she had misheard that curious extra consonant the second time Fran had said Irina's name. It had sounded almost like an endearment. Did Fran speak Czech?

'Um,' began Fran. 'Hi, Georgia.' She stumbled on, obviously embarrassed. 'Irina, could you lock up when you're done? I've got to go.' She held out a set of keys in explanation.

Georgia could not help frowning as Irina sloped towards Fran sulkily and took the keys without a word. She could be so transparently puerile sometimes. Was this the wreckage of a relationship? What was it Irina had said, in Czech?

'Thanks,' said Fran distractedly. 'See you, Georgia.' She turned to go, and Georgia's eyes lingered on her back. Fran was a gentle soul in a physical trainer's body: she walked slightly stooped, as if to apologise for her imposing fitness. Georgia had admired her discretely many times but had stopped short of actively trying to flirt. Now she felt a little defensive of her in the face of Irina's obvious disdain; and strangely, she noticed, not at all jealous at the thought they had once been an item.

'I have to stretch off,' she said, trying to gain some space; but Irina was now gazing at her disconcertingly.

'Your muscles, very nice,' she said bluntly. 'I want touch you.' She was smiling, and again she glanced aside as though sharing a joke.

Beautiful or not, thought Georgia, Irina had the delicacy of a perfectly-formed wrecking ball. Sometimes it was endearing; right now it was just irritating. The idea of intimacy almost made her laugh.

'I'm sweaty,' she said dismissively, casting her eyes around to locate her water bottle.

'Good,' shot back Irina. She had one finger on her chin, the other hand on her hip. 'Maybe you make me sweaty too? No-one is here,' she added emphatically, encompassing the room with a wave. 'Gym is closed.'

'I've just worked out,' said Georgia, trying to stay composed. In the distance the lights at the front desk blinked off, though Fran left the main workout area lit. Georgia's heart was beating a little faster than even her recent efforts could justify. Wasn't it a fantasy of hers, to have sex in the gym? And with Irina, the sexiest nymph she had ever seen up close, let alone dated? But she felt confused and averse at Irina and Fran's strange behaviour.

She turned her back, adrenalin making her feel a little nauseous, and moved towards the stretching area. Behind her, Irina clicked her tongue crossly. Then, startling, came the accusation: 'When you going to fuck me?'

Georgia deliberately settled onto a mat, trying to breathe calmly. Well, it had to happen eventually. She would have to decide, right here and now, whether Irina was worth the maintenance. She frowned at the word, which had come to her unbidden, a product of her tiredness and irritability. If only the decision could have been made in a happier, stronger moment.

'Just let me stretch,' she said to the ceiling, stalling for time. She sighed as she pulled one knee towards her chest. If only Irina wasn't so physically perfect. It was crushing to think that she might miss out on touching that beautiful body; bringing it to ecstasy, time and again. The thought tugged at her, quickly becoming a physical throb.

She glanced towards Irina: she was not there. Georgia lifted her head from the mat as she swapped legs, to try and see where she had gone. There: sitting on a pec deck machine, almost on the other side of the gym. She looked sulky, but still determined, striking a pose with her legs spread wide and her back arched to show off her torso.

Well, thought Georgia as she lowered her head back to the mat, closing her eyes, at least she's transparent. It had never been a problem knowing what Irina was thinking; although the matter of how she reached those thoughts was often a mystery. She was smart, no doubt about it. But sometimes so ditsy it beggared belief. She often forgot things Georgia had told her the day before. Or appeared in places that totally contradicted what she had said she was going to do that day.

Georgia let go of her leg and huffed out her breath. Well, she was going to have to do it. She felt her exhausted abs protest as she tensed to get to her feet, and opened her eyes.

Irina was standing over her. Georgia started in surprise, collapsing back onto the mat. How had she moved so fast?

'You stay,' said Irina. 'I want show you something.' With a cocked smile, she tugged at the hem of her top and began to peel it up over her head. Georgia was frozen in a heady combination of confused fright and lust. Irina's revealed body was as exquisite as Georgia had ever imagined, in quiet moments late at night when her imagination flew and her fingers strayed. Irina had no bra, and her breasts fell back into place in perfect formation as the gym top freed them.

She was fabulous, unearthly, ethereal. Was she even human?

Now she was pulling her trainers off her feet, her torso twisting in a way that transfixed Georgia, silencing any possible objection, crushing any motivation to end this moment. Oh! now she was pulling down her sweat pants, her thumbs also hooked into her knickers, which dragged suggestively between the softness of her upper thighs. She was fully, starkly shaven; and Georgia felt her own loins throb with desire.

The next moment, all the lights went out.

Georgia's heart thumped in fear. A part of her guessed that Irina was playing her, somehow. But another part was remembering every horror movie she had ever seen.

She gritted her teeth; lifted her knees to shuffle away. But then one light came back on, directly over her. Irina was still there, standing to one side now, toes almost tucked under Georgia's side. Her legs: smooth, strong, slightly apart, revealing the intoxicating slit in the ripe mound between. The curves of her abdomen bracketed her navel, leading like elegant tracery to her delicately tiny chest and its ecstatic contours. She was looking away, towards the front desk.

Someone was coming. Georgia saw the movement, glanced down; squinted; and cried out in recognition, shock and desperate erotic excitement. Was this a dream?

The newcomer strode up resolutely to stand at Georgia's other side; naked, perfect. Like an explosion in reverse, all of the evening's confusions, and all of Irina's conundrums, resolved themselves into a simple, staggering reality.

And when the twins reached out to each other and leaned close, their lips revealing a glimpse of intertwining tongues, their nipples just touching in perfect symmetry, Georgia knew that whatever maintenance the future held, tonight would be worth any and all of it.