It was a small boutique gym. One of those trendy places with a chic aesthetic and cult following. I could say I joined to get in shape, but I’ll be honest and tell you I followed the parade of yoga pants toward the EDM music. Now, it was the pinnacle of the see-through Lululemon legging scandal and the golden age of the fake tan. I was naive and inexperienced, clueless to the sleeper cell of world class blowjob talent right next to me on the elliptical.
I saw her there all the time. A little older than me and always in little shorts and a casual t-shirt. Not bad looking, but it was really her body that was killer. Tan, blonde hair, all legs and ass. Big genuine smile. A little muscular with kind of a dominant feminine vibe, but a really nice dash of wholesomeness. I assumed she was unavailable and out of my league.
The gym had a sense of community and this older gay couple appeared at the epicenter. They were cool, friendly, and socially networked with everyone. They started chatting me up and the brief conversations eventually brought me into a larger social circle. That’s how I got to know the hottie on the elliptical. Her name was Stacey.