Chapter 1

The first clue that she might have been up for sex was that she was at the gym on a Saturday night. I mean, how many girls do you know who look like Hayden Panettiere who are hanging out at the gym on a Saturday night? Not many, I'd wager. Saturday nights at the gym in my town you usually find a bunch of middle-aged guys who have nothing better to do, and some overweight moms who ran out to do some leg lifts so they could get a smoothie with whipped cream without feeling guilty.

And there was me, of course. I was there because my last relationship had ended badly, and I didn't have the stomach for getting back in the bar scene yet. I was just content to work out and have a few beers on a Saturday night, rather than go through that whole silly exercise of putting up with a load of female BS just so I could get in a girl's pants.

Although, I have to admit, it had been months since I'd last gotten laid, and I was plenty horny.

That's probably why this particular girl caught my eye. She was about 28, blonde, with a killer body -- hips like a cello, boobs like fresh melons, luscious lips and a pert ass. She had a cute little button nose, too, but she carried herself like a goddess, and you could tell she wasn't in a mood to be approached.

She's probably pissed she's here, I thought. Probably can't understand why her boyfriend dumped her, and why she has nothing better to do on a Saturday night than go to the gym.

When I saw her she was running on a treadmill, and her ass was bouncing beautifully in a pair of black spandex pants, and I got an eyeful as I worked out with the free weights about 20 yards away from her.

I watched that ass bounce up and down, up and down, so many times I lost count. Her pelvis moved like it had a motor inside it and sights like that make me feel there really is a God in Heaven. I was so glad I hadn't given in to my laziness and just sat at home on my couch drinking beer and watching college football on TV. A sight like that sure made it worthwhile to go to the gym!

But there was more in store. She got off the treadmill, toweled the sweat off her head and neck, and proceeded to walk right over to where I was still working out with those free weights. To be honest, I didn't normally spend that much time with the weights, but I was stretching it out as long as possible so I could enjoy that killer ass.

And now she was standing not 20 feet away from me, starting to work out with the weights herself. She was so close I could see the little beads of sweat on her ass, and smell the sweat on her, which had a whiff of perfume mixed with salt. She proceeded to do some upper body work, and I could see she was in really good shape, with lots of muscle definition in her arms and back. That must have made it even more frustrating for her, to have that killer body and not have a date on a Saturday night.

I was wondering if I should talk to her, and I played around in my mind with a few opening lines. Somehow I couldn't come up with anything better than, "Hey, looks like we're the only two losers here on a Saturday night, what's your excuse?", which even though I'm not known for my sensitivity, I realized was probably not a good pickup line.

I was about to give up on the whole thing, when she shouldered a barbell and began doing squats almost right in front of my nose. Really, she was so close when she bent over that I could have reached out and grabbed a handful of her ass without even taking a step closer. Of course, I would never do something like that to a complete stranger, but damn, the temptation was intense.

Anyway, there I was, standing so close to a goddess doing squats, basically pushing her ass right in front of my face every few seconds, and it was driving me wild. Can you believe it? I was about ready to run to the men's room and stroke the dragon till I exploded in a gusher of come, because I felt like I had a telephone pole down my sweatpants and it was throbbing with excitement.

I don't know what possessed me to do it, but maybe the sexual energy was just too much to handle, and all of a sudden I just blurted out, "You know, you're doing those squats wrong."

"What?" she said, straightening up and looking at me. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're going down too far in your squat. It's putting too much pressure on your knees. You don't need to go down that far, and you should stick your butt out further, for leverage." Now, I'm no weight training guru, and to be honest, I was just making all of this up. I had had a little instruction in proper weight lifting technique over the years, and I basically just threw it all together and tried to sound like an authority.

It worked. She did another squat, only she didn't go down as far, and she stuck her butt out in the most eye-popping way. I got a firsthand view of those cheeks as they strained to lift that load of iron, and it was a beautiful thing.

But of course, I wasn't satisfied. I had to go further.

"That's better," I said, "but your form is still off. Let me show you how it's done."

I went over, acting every bit the clinically minded professional, a man who was only interested in teaching the proper form and technique, and I actually put my hand on the small of her back, and told her to another squat.

It still seems weird when I think about it. Here's this gorgeous woman with a killer body, and she's letting a perfect stranger in the gym touch her. Was I crazy? It was a situation that was crying out for a slap in the face, but somehow she didn't do it.

Instead, she followed my instructions like I was some kind of muscle god. She did one of the squats, and I said, "Good, that's better. Now, do ten more."

Normally I don't talk to beautiful women like that, and I don't know what caused me to act like a drill sergeant with her. All I know is she didn't object at all, she just went ahead and did the squats as meek as you please, grunting a little under her breath as she completed each one. Each time she went down I got a good look at the cleavage of her smooth, tan breasts and I could see the those puppies straining against the stretchy fabric of her red spandex top. Her ass jiggled at the bottom and the top of her squats, and I loved the cute little beads of sweat popping out on the top of her luscious red lips.

She was breathing harder when she finished the squats, and I could have taken pity on her, but somehow I was overcome with this need to dominate her, and I just continued channeling the spirit of a Marine Corps drill instructor.