iron

Hi everyone! Request time. This one was a lot of fun to write, and a bit different; I hope you like it. Let me know—I always love to hear from you. Anyway, I'll be back to my normal style next time!

Fay

Not the kind of girl you expect to find in a gym, am I right? Neither one thing nor another. A skinny stick of self-conscious catalyst.

First time. Why now? First job. It's what you do. Onto the treadmill, pay for your education, pay to keep your health, then pay for the next generation too.

Only, there won't be one. That's what Mum and Dad say (mostly Dad. Mum, she just goes quiet). Not biologically possible. And two mums: unmentionable. Besides, "two" means more than one, and dykes don't like girly girls. Or losers.

Jesus! staring at her bum. Nod, smile. Did she notice? Focus. Something about freeways. What? Freckles on her nose, lots. Cute, as well as scary. She's wearing lycra: why? She was just working at the front desk. Hope to god "induction" doesn't mean wrestling or something. Establishing a pecking order. Actually.

Downstairs. Dark. Painted breeze blocks. Another door. Clanking. This time her shoulder, rippling as it pushes. Surely she saw. Was that a smile—or a smirk?

Oh god. Weights. God. Thought desk-girl was ripped. Alice? Alisha? What the heck was her name anyway? But these two: they make her look scrawny. So. Much. Muscle.

Desk-girl-cage-fighter-Elise-something is pointing. Olympic what? Some other words too. The skin on the dark girl, it has a sheen, like silk, stretched taut over power. How can she even lift that? Aha: she can't. Here's help. Jesus—that Celtic-looking woman's arms. They're shredded.

I wish someone would shout at me like that. Sometimes. Tell me to just fucking do it. Not follow the path of least resistance. Not accept the help. Do it for myself. (Maybe hold the bar. So my ambitions don't kill me.)

Go on. She might even do this. Her bum's off the bench: good god, that shape... her trunk is just muscle, like a section of boa, constricting. Sweat stains on her crop-top; her trembling arms; the cruel bar; and her friend's arms: savage, mottled, twitching to balance that crazy lift. There! Now a lurch of power from above, to deposit the defeated steel on the rack. Celtic goddess's whole thorax thumps as she exhales.

No, don't look at me! Pretend to assess the space: high windows, dirty frames, sickly walls, iron upon iron. Oh! she's still watching me, smiling a greeting around her ragged recovering breath. Smile back, turn quickly to Elsa (?).

Her too! Can't a gay girl do some admiring without being caught out around here? Tilting her head back to the stairs. But still that smirk. She knows.

Ushering me out like a butler. I'll chance a glance back as I pass... oh. Aha. Well, that explains the grin. At least I'm not the only one checking folks out. To the mud-pit!

Jesus. I am so delusional.

More clanking behind, amplified by the corridor. Braveheart and Amazon. Can't help but picture them, together. How glorious the gentleness, after the violence. Jesus squared. Am going to make myself wet in a fucking gym induction.

Focus. "Dance Studio," she said. Finger-length on top, shaved back and sides; and so ginger it's almost orange. Wonder if she dyes it. Ushering me past again; loud music; not enough space. Apologise, apologise. Why do I always apologise? Hey! I wasn't that close; no way I was going to brush her chest, she must have moved. Must have.

Heart is crackling away like the fourth of July. Eyes front, soldier!

Uh.

Uh. But. Come on, you gormless goose! Snap out of it. What did you expect to see dancing in a dance studio: cheese on toast? Look around. At the studio. Not the dancers. Not the two perfectly beautiful, perfect dancers. Mesmerising synchrony. Barbie and Teresa, hah. Are they professional or something?

Made me jump. So close to my ear. What champions? oh, right, regional. Jesus, she's still just there, hovering, her chin in the corner of my eye. Nod carefully. But. If I just relaxed a fraction, I'd touch her breast again. God, I want to.

Wait, they've stopped. That looks huffy. No need to attack the CD player, hun. Or your partner! Christ. Relax, bitch. Whoa! this is embarrassing.

Space behind me. Huh, even Scarlet looks flustered. Doesn't want me to hear this shit. Wait, what? That was just bullying. Wish I could do something. But no, I'm going to shuffle away. Like always.

Desk-lycra is desperate to explain. Oh really? Not sure I agree with that. Doesn't matter how long you've been working together, or how good you are. You never ever earn the right to say shit like that to someone. Fuck, I'm mumbling. Say it properly. Don't say "nothing". Fuck.

Changing rooms; at least she's opening the door fully this time. Her eyes. Okay, maybe she doesn't believe what she just said either. She looks... vulnerable. Uh. Holding my eyes. Don't look away. Don't be afraid. 

Fuck!

I'm such a loser. This is how it's going to go, isn't it? Doesn't matter what chances, I'm going to keep turning and running. I'll be coming to this gym, saying hi but not meeting her eyes, and sometime soon, she'll lose interest. Then I'll get bored with dumb skiing machines. I'll stop paying the fees. Then, I'll grow old.

Yeah, great, it's a fucking changing room. Seriously, don't bother. Lockers? I won't be using them for long. Showers, eh. Wonders never cease. Sticky taps? Do I really need to try them? Let this end! Okay, I'll reach past you but

Eyes.

So close. Green. Bright. Dazzling me. Scared. No! Not scared. Not. Fucking. Scared.

Strand of flame hanging over emerald. I can get that. A smile, dragging freckles. Was the tap really sticky? She fucking engineered this. I'm going to kiss her. She manipulated me. Take the initiative: kiss her. No, turn away! Do it.

Soft. So soft. She looks so hard; but her lips are soft. Oh! let this moment last. Heart going like crazy. So is hers. How do I know? Has she ever done this before? Kissed a complete stranger? But, I want her. Too much. Her hand on my hip, pushing a little. Yes, slow down. Slow the fuck down. Her lips: gone?

Yes! That was "nice". Her neck. The floor. Can't meet her eyes. Have to kiss her, again. Not going to let her escape, hah. Standing right the fuck here. I-will-not-be-moved.

Voices. Fuck! Coming into the changing rooms. Escape. Pretend we really were checking sticky taps. Uh... can't move. Jesus, she is strong. Didn't realise she still had her hand there. She's smiling. Ah, the shower curtain. Hah. Neat.

Trapped? But, who started that kiss? Have you ever done this before? Weird emphasis, she must think I'm nuts. Oh. Is that really true? Do I care?

Awkward. At least I can look at her, properly. Bit taller than me. Easier to look at her lips than her eyes. No lipstick. No make-up, at all. Some kind of sports deodorant: not working too well; I can smell her too. She's leaning in. Or is it me?

Warm. Soft. What do you know, my boobs fit right under hers. No, don't fucking giggle. Well, she's smiling. Okay, giggle. Just a bit.

Haha, we missed. I was watching her nose. Even her face has definition. How do you work out your face? Actually, I could just stay here, kissing her chin. For days.

So much sensation. Too much. I want her whole body. But slow. What am I even doing with my hands? On her arms. Oh, god! Don't focus, you'll fucking explode. Stay right here, with her lips. Oh, her lips. A bit firmer this time, like she's plucking at me. So, I guess it must have been all me, last time. Who'd a-thunk it.

That sound, rattle swish. A shower curtain? The fuck?

No, it's still closed. Must have been next door. Uh, sorry. Jesus, apologising again. Yes, I'm okay. I'm so okay. How totally adorable of you to check. Well, I'm not having another awkward delay. C'mere.

Plucking again. Wait. Is she actually inexperienced? Has she ever kissed a woman? But it was her, that set me up. But it was me, that made it happen. Oh, wow. She's nervous. Well, this is pretty crazy.

Okay, well, guess I'm going to have to take charge. I can do that, right? Keep your head still, girl. There. (Uh, her neck, under my fingers.) Now: flow.

Wow, okay, she figured that out quick. Is it me, making that noise? Guess so. Control yourself, woman. Moaning in a gym shower cubicle? While kissing the receptionist? Hah, she can feel me smiling; she is too. Not exactly finding a rhythm here. Well, fuck it, who cares.

Actually. No, it's not me. And it's not her either. Something else. A raised voice.

Whoa, that had real venom. Darn these interruptions! Okay, gorgeous green eyes, what the fuck is going on in your gym? Don't look at me: it's not my doing.

Jesus! Wow, that was a proper girly shriek. Uh, now she's conflicted. She wants to check it out; but there's people in the changing room. If we open that curtain... what? Could she lose her job, for snogging an inductee? Or, is she ashamed?

She's breathing hard; christ, we both are. Oh, my, that's definitely the sound of someone crying. But, okay, thank heavens: someone else has kept their head, and is doing some consoling. Now will you kiss me again? Ugh, that totally wasn't me. Go on, if you need to go.

Quiet. Her hands are mostly on my hips; not so far round to my bum though. Grinning at each other like schoolgirls sharing a ciggy behind the bins. Is this sexy? Or just weird? Exciting, for all the wrong reasons? Aha, fixating on my lips now. Yep, I'm sure this is her first time. Don't think she would be this undecided if she was some kind of serial lesbian seductress.

Come on then. But, need to take the tension down a notch. Go slow. Can't believe I'm doing this. Running my fingers over her ear, trying to look smouldering, haha. It's working, but she's still distracted. Poor thing. I'm such a bad person, putting her through this.

What! Not again!

Seriously? Jesus, yes, I forgot. Someone was in the next cubicle. But never turned on the shower! Oh, what? Is this place for real?

Haha! We've been totally outclassed! Giggling like we're in kindergarten. I wonder if they can hear? Bet they wouldn't care anyway.

Coffee? Sure, sounds good.

Maybe I can tag her hand. She can't pretend we've not been together in here. Okay, that was easy.

Don't look back. There's the dark body-builder; oh god this is so funny. I've never seen someone look so perplexed. And Elsie—I still can't remember her name!—she just says Hi like nothing's happening; fucking genius. She's so confident, in her element. Whee! I think this one's a keeper.

I can watch her as much as I like, now. Those sinews. Didn't think anyone could be so sexy just opening a door for me. Can't wait to get to know her. Loser, did you say? Well, screw you, inner voice of doom.

What. The. Fuck.

That's the evil bitch dancer. Stark naked. Outside the changing rooms?

________

Tamsin

Hello. That is just wicked pretty, right there.

Oh, but tiny. Not short, more like gawky. Like she's not completely there. Perhaps it's just because she's stood next to Els.

Bet she won't last long.

Shame. Ah, but, whatever, she looks straighter than the pole her momma dances on. All right, Grace! Stop your grunting, I'm coming. Let's hit this. Hum. I don't mind that image. You can do this. Not her momma, heh, but she could be a dancer, herself. Now! Do it! Well, I ought to be friendly, anyway; and it gives me an excuse to check her out again.

No way. Was she checking me out? Looking everywhere but at me, now. Well, girl, you'll be back; right... now. And kapow, that's a one-twenty-one jigawatt smile comin atcha.

Aw, Els, you spoilsport. It's not as if you're interested. Why don't you "induct" some more boys, and leave li'l Pitch Perfect down here in the dungeon with me? Ah, well. A girl can dream.

Haha, I was just thinking that! Trust Grace. Always knows what's going through my head. I bet she's only suggesting packing up so I can catch geeky-looks somewhere upstairs before she leaves. After all, she's not coming back down here again.

These weights always feel heavier at the end of a sesh. (Of course, duh.) Freaky the way Grace throws them around; and she's just done a seventy kilo press, to failure. Obviously not working hard enough, heh. I should get Christie down here to chew her out, instead of picking on Brittany like usual. At least, it'd be funny to watch. And maybe I could have Brittany to myself, just for a minute. Uh.

I wonder if they're here, upstairs. There was music coming through the floor, earlier on. They've been around a lot recently, getting ready for some competition or other. Hey, I might even catch them in the changing room. I am such a perv. Top up my memories for later. Perv! Oh, but Brittany is so goddamn stunning, and the thought of them, together...

Ugh, even the stairs are hard work. No music up here any more, though. Well anyway, if they were into each other that way, maybe they'd get along better. Hah, how many times have I said that to myself. Even to Grace once or twice. Just rolls her eyes. Hetty bitch.

Uh, only listening to her with half a mind. Hate doing that. Come on, focus. Be respectful to your bff. And don't call her a bitch. Much.

Ah, shame. No-one changing. Thought I heard a shower curtain when we came in; no water going, though. Must have imagined it. Goddamn! I completely missed that; now she's gone quiet. Hope I wasn't meant to say something. Hope she's not mad at me. Hope this sweaty crop-top comes off, without taking my tits with it.

Whatever. She's okay. Probably used to me daydreaming. Damn, the floor in here is always cold. Going to start bringing slippers, just to get to the showers.

Weird, there is a drawn curtain. Was that a giggle?

No-one else around. Back up, duck my head, see under... Trainers. Two pairs. Oh. My. God.

They are here.

Making out?

It has to be them. There was music earlier on. Brittany has freckles, on her ankles, just like that. I'm sure of it. They are together, after all!

I'm shaking. Panting. God, I'm even getting wet. Got to move; hide. Grace might be here any minute. The next cubicle, yes; they won't know I've seen them. Why are these curtains so loud?

Oh no, don't be sorry, girl. Huh, just like Brittany, to be apologising. Stand up for yourself! But, I can hear them moving, against each other. Fuck, I am so wet. I've got to touch myself. What, am I crazy? In the shower? I've got to!

Oh my god. Brittany and Christie. Together. Kissing. Touching each other. A private dance. Uhh!

Wait. God, wait. More people in the changing room. Don't care. Fuck, I have never been so aroused. Brittany and Christie. They're kissing, like, a foot away. No, wait! Shouting?

That's Christie's voice!

Chewing out Brittany, as usual. I was wrong! Who the heck is in the next cubicle then?

That's Grace, now. Standing up for Brittany. Good for her. Haha! Calling Grace, a dyke? That was the last mistake you is ever going to make, honey. Yup, there you are. Wonder what Grace did to make you squeal like that?

Holding my breath. What am I doing here, standing in a shower, with my fingers in..? I must be nuts. Brittany's crying. Grace, you are a total, one hundred percent hero. Can't hear what you're saying, but it seems to be working. I'm gonna give you the biggest hug, ever.

Quiet. Guess I should have that shower, then. Pretty weird session in the gym today.

What? That was my shower curtain! Who?

Brittany!

This isn't happening.

Yes. Yes! I have always had a crush on you. Grace must have told her! But why on earth is she...

You have? On me?