Take Your Best Shot--Exclusive TJ Jackson Solo Erotica

I'll be perfectly honest with y'all: I am about the laziest person God ever put breath in and one of the last things I ever liked doing was working out or exercising. Most of the time I had about a dozen different excuses to keep myself from having to partake in gym class among other things. My lifestyle, physically, is so different from that of TJ Jackson's. He's incredibly athletic, coaches teams and even runs marathons in his free time. The man is a dynamo. He seemed absolutely perfect to me as the fitness trainer to a young woman whom hates the very thought of a gym. And while he's whipping that body into the desired shape, it's HIS body that becomes the desire.

"Take Your Best Shot"

A TJ Jackson Erotic Short Story By:

MJsLoveSlave

Prevost, California

Late Spring, 2014

“...ugh...ugh...ugh...!”

She knew it would come to this.

Not quite when or exactly how, but she had always known it would come to this.

“...ugh...ugh...ugh...!”

The idea of where had always been up in the air, very much like her slim, toned legs were in that very instant.

It had been a thought that had ruled her, taken over her, possessed her like some strange, aroused, out-of-control entity from the first moment she had set eyes on him.

“...ugh...ugh...ugh...!”

He was the archetypal tall, dark and handsome man that most all girls were trained to be attracted to subconsciously from childhood.

A Prince Charming, a knight in shining armor who was supposed to come galloping along on a brilliant white steed to whisk a fluttery-hearted, wide-eyed damsel in distress away and live happily ever after.

“...Oh my God...Oh!...Oh!...Madre de Dios!...”

Alas, this Prince did not fit the mold as cast by the Brothers Grimm some centuries ago, or rekindled by Disney only half a century earlier.

This Prince hadn't ridden up on a stallion, instead his horses lay under the hood of a snow white Lamborghini.

Nor had he arrived in full court dress with glittering epaulets on his broad shoulders. At one point in time, he'd been in sweatpants and a plain tee-shirt.

And instead of hailing from some unspecified European nation where all were one and alike with fair, alabaster skins, light eyes, and as tow-headed as humanly possible, he was the opposite: born in these here United States and by most rumored accounts was a blending of African-American and Latin bloodlines, resulting in a truly exotic, storied, and varied background to be admired.

The deeply rich, naturally glowing skin, sparkling with dewdrops of perspiration springing up all over his dermis from such vigorous activity.

Eyes, which, far off, seemed a flat shade of brown, revealed themselves to be full of a king's ransom of golden flecks once up close...and personal.

Hair, always quite moppish, in a mess of black corkscrews, sticking up here and there, mussed and glistening with more of those blessed dewdrops, crowning the taut, attractive and flushed face, cheeks going maroon.

“...Oh God!...Oh God....OH!...”

Yes, staring up at him, feeling him, touching him, tasting him in ways so intimate they were beyond description.

Something that could only be experienced, rather than told of.

He was an experience.

She had lived and longed to experience him from the first moment they met.

Pined for him.

Yearned for him.

Nay, even competed tirelessly for him.

And as that saying does go...

To the Victor, Go the Spoils.

And how incredibly spoiled she was with this treasure.

Her treasure.

And as simple and humble as his beginnings were...so was his name.

No long, drawn out, many generations old names were hooked to him.

No Prince, Duke, Marquise or Lord was he.

There were no titles, no pomp and circumstance.

He was as pure as a glass of distilled water and wholesome as a multigrain bagel.

And just as unassuming was his very name, only two initials:

TJ.

Three Months Earlier

Medford Hills, California

“...once the egg whites have been beaten until frothy,add in the mixture of sauteed kale, minced yellow onions, and low-sodium turkey sausage, removed from the casing and browned. Transfer to a lightly greased nine-by-twelve casserole dish and top with one and a half cups of shredded, skim-milk mozzarella and bake at 450 degrees for 30-35 minutes...”

Nancy Brent alternated between squinting through both the lenses and over the tops of her clear, cat-eye glasses, struggling to read the too-small print of the cookbook spread open on the counter in front of her.

Pushing the frames back into their rightful place, on the freckled bridge of her snub nose, Nancy glanced over at the baking dish, filled with what was supposed to be a hearty, satisfying and filling breakfast.

It certainly did look something close to the finished product pictured on the next page, golden brown and fluffy, with the vibrant green kale streaking here and there.

Picking up a serrated knife and starting to divvy the food up into six neat little squares, Nancy called over shoulder,

“Gigi! Hey Gigi! Breakfast is ready, come get it while its hot! Georgiana Maria Chris--”

“I know hell well you're not about to shout my entire damn name all through this apartment!”

A curt, cultured voice declared in disdain, the door to the kitchen swinging, a young woman storming forward.

Georgiana Maria Christina Arabella Santos, otherwise known by the time-saving nickname of Gigi, couldn't have been more opposite her best friend and roommate, had she tried.

Although the girls, both hailing from relatively wealthy families and having been friends since prep school, were the same age, the similarities ended there.

While Nancy was quite petite, barely cracking five-feet, and that was with her frosty, white blonde pixie cut hair spiked to its highest, Gigi soared a good seven inches over her friend.

Nancy had always been what she called “plagued” with a boyish figure, frankly slim, without a whisper of curve to be spoken of; Gigi spilled over with womanly delights that had seemingly sprouted over night in the sixth grade at Kimmie Drummond's annual slumber party.

Nancy's lineage was purely, staunchly and solidly Jewish, as far back as she could trace, to her family's homeland of Poland—where her grandparents now resided outside of Warsaw after retiring.

Gigi on the other hand, had mixed blood touching on Afro-Cuban, Creole, Irish and Mexican, that much she could remember anyway, leaving her with a naturally dark complexion, greenish-grey eyes and a cloud of naturally wild and curly ringlets that were routinely straightened into submission via weekly blowouts and daily flat-ironing.

Nancy, a natural redhead from birth had been hitting the peroxide bottle since she had been thirteen.

Coming forward, cinching the belt of the dotted satin robe over the scant nightie it concealed, Gigi glanced at the offering being dished up by her bestie.

“Is that another one of those casseroles from your diet cookbook?” She groaned waving away the plate held out to her.

“I don't want that!”

Reaching past Nancy, she tried to grab a banana from the bowl of fruit setting nearby.

“Gigi!” The nanner was snatched away and replaced. “I've told you a hundred times, you can't just get by on fruit and black coffee! The casserole has lots of protein and vitamins! I know you're trying to lose weight--”

“Yeah! Weight I put on because of you!” Gigi accused, but finally did take the plate.

”I don't know what the hell I was thinking to go with you to Warsaw to celebrate Hanukkah with your grandparents...”

Walking around the island, Gigi took a seat on one of the stools situated on the other side.

“I've been Catholic the whole twenty-five years of my life, half the stuff I was being fed, I didn't even know what it was—Kugel, Fried Artichokes, Bagels loaded down with Cream Cheese and Lox! And the Latkes—so, so many latkes—eight days and eight nights!“

“Nobody was holding a gun on you, Gigi. You could have pushed the plate away!” Nancy snorted, pouring a mug of coffee and sliding it to her.

“And say no to that darling grandmother of yours? Hurt her feelings when she looks like she stepped right out a fairy tale? I should say not! But she did keep loading my plate!”

Gigi whimpered, forking the casserole in her mouth and chewing begrudgingly.

“Needs hot sauce...”

“That's a Jewish grandmother for you. Stuff you to the gills and when you're near to popping, tries to give you another forkful! Say, how much did you put on anyway?” Nancy wondered, spooning sugar into her own mug.

Haunted, emerald eyes widened with torment.

“Twelve whole pounds! I actually went up to a size ten! Me! A ten! When I've been a single digit all my adult life. Goddamn! I almost fainted when I stood on the scale--”

“But you know why you can't shake that shit, though, Gigi?”

Nancy leaned against the counter, her slate-blue eyes wide behind her lenses,full of knowing.

“Don't say it....don't say it” Gigi begged sullenly, her head lowering and touching the cool tan granite.

Nancy smirked a moment, before continuing with her thought anyway,

“You know what you do, Gigi! You go on one of those crash diets, starve halfway to death, then go massacre a four-by-four from In-N-Out Burger! With the Animal Style Fries!”

(Author's Note: A 4x4 is a burger with 4 patties and slices of cheese with all the trimmings! Never eaten it, but I've seen it!)

Head still down, Gigi grumbled,

“You skinny bitch! I told you not to say it! I gotta get it off! I'm going to Rio for Christmas this year! I have to wear a bikini! You think I like being 142 pounds?”

“You think I enjoy being ninety-six soaking wet? With no ass or tits at all?”

At the complaint, Gigi's head raised in question.

Gigi had been so consumed with her own vanity for the last couple of months, it had never entered her mind that Nancy had been worried with weight woes like her.

It was Nancy's turn to have her head lowered, a finger running the edge of the counter.

Her bottom lip quivered softly.

“I'm the same age as you and keep getting carded every where I go. Folks think I'm still twelve!...” Nancy sighed, removing her glasses and pinching near her furrowed forehead.

“You want to lose...maybe there's some way I can gain in a healthy way to put some curves on my stick-figure!”

“Well, what the hell are we gonna do?” Gigi demanded, pushing her plate aside, only a few bites consumed. “We can't go on like this. I know I damn sure can't.”

The was a long moment of silence.

“You think maybe we should join a gym?” Nancy wondered and Gigi leapt to her feet aghast.

“Join a gym? You mean work out and spoil my makeup and sweat out my blowout—like hell—”

“Okay, your criminally vain ass can STAY a size ten then!” Nancy snapped, tossing her head.

“Aside from tossing your ass on an operating table for lipo, its the only way to go. Okay?”

Gigi glared a long second, but knew her friend was telling the truth as only someone as close as a sister could.

Even if that truth was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Alright...alright” she finally conceded, rising to her feet.

“Where you going?” Nancy called as Gigi suddenly ran from the room.

“To the mall! I need the best makeup setting spray money can buy--”

“You're not supposed to wear makeup to the gym!It's bad for the skin!”

“Well I'll be damned if I don't!” Gigi cried as a door slammed in the distance.

Chuckling, Nancy helped herself to another square of casserole.

A Few Hours Later

“...according to FitnessFinder.com, there are about a hundred and sixty gyms in the Greater Los Angeles area that fit into our budget for monthly gym member ships...”

Nancy declared from one end of the overstuffed couch, where she sat Indian-style, a silver laptop propped on a pillow on her lap.

“Yeah, that really narrows it down...” Gigi remarked bitterly, crunching into a bland rice cake, slumping sideways in the armchair across from her.

“Well...” Nancy squinted over the tops of her glasses at the screen. “There's a little list where you can check off the criteria you want for a gym and it'll narrow them down for you.”

“Get to checking then!”

“I know we need a gym as close to Medford Hills as possible to cut down on the commute--” Nancy started but was interrupted,

“There's a few other towns close-by that I don't mind driving to if you don't...” Gigi interjected, crunching louder. “There's Segall, Prevost and Belmont. Those are only, like, ten minutes away on the expressway.”

“True...true...” Nancy agreed, audible clicks being heard as she checked the names of the neighboring towns. “You want to go to a co-ed or all-female gym?”

A scathing glare got the co-ed label marked. In addition to the battle of the bulge, and hunt to find a figure, it had been so long since either woman had been on a date, they had almost forgotten what one felt like.

Several checks later to insure they had access to showers, a sauna, a masseuse, a healthy snack and smoothie bar and if needed an in-house nurse,a single option remained.

“Positivi-T...” Nancy read, pushing her glasses up on her nose for the umpteenth time.

“...'Where Healthy Mentality is as Important as a Healthy Physicality'.”

The frames were tilted.

“Hey! This place is over in Prevost...and according to the website, they have an all-over conditioning class for beginners. They teach everything: cardio, light weight lifting, spinning, aerobics. There's even a course on how to eat healthily without it being boring!”

“And it's in our price range?” Gigi inquired, and nearly fell out the chair when Nancy replied,

“One-forty a month, plus one free smoothie per session. Classes are on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Want to take the 11 am class?”

“Sounds good to me.” Gigi conceded, sitting upright and crossing her legs. “The sooner I get into one of those classes, the sooner I can get the flab off!”

“Hear, hear!” Nancy agreed and with a singular click had reserved spots for them.

Suddenly, Gigi's manicured hand was wrapping her wrist, and she was being yanked to her feet.

“Come on Skinny Minnie! We have to go to the mall--” She announced and was pulling her along behind her, towards the door.

“The mall? Gigi, you just got back!” Nancy cried her tiny body flung forward into the hallway.

“I know, but unless you want to work out naked, we have to go get some clothes!”

As the door slammed, those blue eyes rolled behind the lenses.

“You'll do anything to shop, won't you Gigi?”

Already halfway to the elevator at the end of the hall, Gigi stopped on the spot and peeked back over her shoulder, false lashes fluttering innocently.

“Have we just met? Girl, come on!”

Reaching the elevator and pressing the down button, Gigi added with a snicker,

“Besides, Abuelo won't get the credit card bill until next month!”

The Following Morning

At exactly fifteen minutes past ten, two very different figures disembarked from the matte black, Chevy Camaro that had been parked in one of the handful of vacant spots left in the massive, crowded parking lot and started towards the imposing, soaring glass, chrome and brick structure stretching to the heavens before them.

Gigi, even though she hoped to sweat the inches from her frame and tone up what was left behind overall, had remained true to her vainglorious self, and while she was dressed to exercise, she was the very definition of the moniker “athlesisure”.

Blending the practicality of workout wear with the sexiness that had been born of her, Gigi strolled along, wearing a loose white racer-back tank with “I Don't Sweat, I Sparkle” emblazoned on the front in bold black lettering, the straps of her eye-catching hot pink sports bra peeking out plainly. Matching pink spandex trousers and cross-trainers completed her outfit.

A tiny pink leather clutch was gripped and only contained the card she'd use to buy extra smoothies once she had drank up her complimentary one.

Her hair, slicked back into a bouncy pony, revealed what, on the surface, appeared to be a face free of any cosmetics.

But, Gigi, quite adept at the “no-makeup” makeup look was artificially natural, with shades very close to her tawny complexion being implemented. The only give away was as she blinked, her lush lashes were quite obviously false—but Gigi had worn falsies since middle school—and felt utterly naked (and ugly as sin) without them.

Nancy, on the other hand was truly natural, scrubbed clean, the only things adorning her face were her freckles and the pale blue frames of the glasses that matched her oversized, and baggy sky-blue sweats.

Nancy was more focused on working than simply looking cute, unlike Gigi.

In a nod to the the decade in which she'd been born, the 1980s, Nancy had supplemented her look with a bright orange braided headband, cutting across her short forehead, and slouchy orange socks with pristine white sneakers.

A white backpack had been slung over one shoulder, carrying the necessities like terry cloth towels, and bottles of water. (Not to mention Nancy's emergency pair of contact lenses just in case her glasses proved a hassle once she started moving.)

Nearing the building, through the glass windows, legions of people were engaged in all sorts of activities, from running treadmills to taking Zumba and Pilates classes, to dead-lifting weights.

At the very front of the building, a door revolved constantly, bearing the name “Positivi-T”, the “T” stylized as a little muscular man holding a barbell over his head.

A moment later, the pair stood just inside the sprawling, first floor of the six story Mecca of health and wellness.

Everything within view was a bright optic white, from the marble floors to the glazed walls to the large egg-shaped fixtures overhead.

Soft classical music played from hidden speakers and in the distance, at a stand made of marble cubes, blenders whirled, mixing up smoothies to revive tired and thirsty patrons.

Men and women, in a variety of athletic wear roved by in packs, going here and yonder in the quest of that “perfect” body.

“Welcome to Positivi-T, do you ladies need any assistance?”

A soft, cheerful voice rang out, and turning, Nancy and Gigi saw a young man approaching them.

He was quite handsome, with clear, bronzy skin and a tall, thick-set frame, draped casually in a plain black tee and green track pants with black stripes down the sides.

A white clipboard was clasped in his strong hands.

If Gigi had fluttered her lashes at the man any harder they'd have landed on him.

Starting to smile, she was drowned out by a light, squeaky voice,

“I'm Nancy Brent and this is Gigi Santos...we're supposed to be taking one of the all-over conditioning classes at eleven...” Nancy introduced herself.

“Oh yeah...” The man was rapidly flipping papers back and peering at them. “That class is extremely popular with beginners. I'm Taryll, by the way.”

“Good to know you.” Both girls chorused in unison, as his hazel eyes scanned a page.

“Here we go: Nancy and Gigi. You ladies will be upstairs in room 302. Your instructor's name is TJ--”

Taryll trailed off when he found Gigi well inside his personal space, smiling upwards at him.

“And...does this TJ look anything like you?” She nearly purred, eyes roving over him.

“Georgiana...”Nancy groaned, palming her own face in disgrace.

It was too early in the morning for Gigi to start in after a man like a hornet!

But respectable trollops like Gigi knew no limits.

Those light eyes danced as Taryll beamed down at her.

“Some people have said we do kind of favor each other. You'll have to see for yourself.”

He answered with a chuckle, shuffling more papers.

“I suppose I just will—what?”

At the urgent tugging on the hem of her tank, Gigi stared down into the distressed face of Nancy, scowling up towards her.

“I want to go get my smoothie before the class starts!” She growled and eyes rolling, Gigi looked back to Taryll.

“I didn't know you needed the buddy system to get a drink in this place—“

Gigi stopped cold when an accented, feminine voice called out from behind her.

“Taryll Adren...you're still taking me to The Salad Bowl aren't you, Mon Cheri?”

Flipping the papers back into place, Taryll called over Gigi's head.

“I'll be right there Tiffany!”

Smiling at the girls, he excused himself,

“Pardon me, will you? That's my girl. Oh... and enjoy you class.”

With that he jogged off and the pair watched as Taryll fell in step with a pretty, willowy looking woman, who immediately grasped his hand and placed around her hips as bared by the bright purple sports bra and matching, low-slung yoga pants she wore.

A head, covered in long, flowing black hair rested against Taryll's shoulder as the two moved away from them.

“Humph...Tiffany!” Gigi scoffed, stumbling a bit as she was pulled towards the smoothie counter by an impatient Nancy. “He would be with a chick named Tiffany!”

“For the love of God, Gigi!” Nancy laughed outright as they reached the counter. “Pace yourself. No need to burn through all fellas right away!”

“Oh shut up!” Gigi tossed her ponytail in angst and stared up at the lit menu displaying at least three dozen different types of smoothies, sandwiches, salads and wraps for sale.

“You know he totally fit the type of guy I like--”

“Breathing with a pulse? OW!” Nancy jumped as Gigi pinched down on her shoulder at the good-natured insult.

“...I'll be with you in one sec...”

Out of sight, another man's voice called to them.

“Take your time, we're still deciding.” Gigi commented absently, rubbing after her small, pointed chin, as a man rose up behind the counter.

While he was adorable, he didn't really do anything for Gigi, as he didn't really appear her type.

There was something timid about him, standing slightly slumped, his body, thick like Taryll's bearing a plain grey zippered hoodie and sweatpants.

His face, round with full cheeks was partially obscured by the long, tapered braids falling across his forehead into his eyes and over the ears jutting out on either side of his head.

“What can I get for you?” He asked smiling shyly at her.

“I wanted to get a smoothie...the first one is complimentary, right?”

“Right.” He nodded and a large hand indicated an open ledger, a red pen lying in the center of it. “You sign in right here. Otherwise, you'll be charged six dollars for any drink.”

Scribbling, Gigi ordered,

“I'll have a Pear Promise, please.”

She held the pen out to her friend.

“Nancy? Nancy?”

Glancing downwards, she found Nancy Brent quite stricken, paler than ever, eyes huge behind her lenses as she stared at the man with braids, as he chopped and tossed a pear with mashed banana and spinach in one of the half dozen blenders on the back counter.

A light shove brought the tiny blonde back to Earth.

“And...I...I want the Crazy Coconut, please.”

Taking the pen from Gigi, her name was jotted hastily while Gigi giggled.

So, she wasn't the only one scoping for guys!

Without provocation, after the shaved coconut, blue berries and celery needed for Nancy's drink had gone in, another blender was filled with diced mango, spinach and half a cucumber.

Coconut water was dashed into each and they whirred loudly a moment until each contained a thick, rich mixture.

Two large paper cups with lids were filled and placed on the counter.

“Here you are...and some straws...”

A couple of pink straws were held up and as the girls took them, the man asked an odd question.

“Do you like 'Star Trek'?”

Gigi snorted at first thinking he'd been speaking to her, but realized he was staring down at Nancy, pushing the straw into her drink.

“Um... yeah. Why do you ask?” Nancy was pale as a sick ghost at his attention. She was so caught up it was nearly laughable.

“Your bracelet.” He pointed at the silver ID bracelet circling her right wrist. “It says 'Live Long ad Prosper'.”

“Oh!” Nancy grinned. “Yeah, I love that show!”

“Really?” The man leaned closer to her, interest causing his face to glow. “You know, I met William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy at Comicon last year. I'm Taj...”

“Nice to meet you Taj. You really met ...”

As Nancy and Taj became engrossed in a conversation about a show that had ended in the 1960s, Gigi reclined against the cool counter, sipping her drink scornfully.

It would be just her luck that the one guy she could have gone for already had a chick.

And although Gigi liked flirting immensely, she was not the type to break up any relationships.

(She'd learned that the hard way in college and had sported a broken nose as a result for several weeks.)

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

“...you're still going too soft with that left cross, man! You gotta hit harder than that!”

“I am hitting hard!”

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

“Hit like its someone you hate—Ouch! Goddamn, man!”

“Just following instructions!”

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

“Well that's what I asked for! Put the pepper on it!”

From around a corner, two men came sparring, but only one caught Gigi's attention, and she came close to choking on her smoothie.

A man, statuesque, lean and toned, advanced, throwing punches, his hands, covered in boxing gloves, landing solidly into the padded shields protecting the hands of his partner.

The mere sight of him caused Gigi's heart rate to escalate, pupils to dilate and her breathing to increase.

He was glorious.

Gigi had to blink at first to assure herself such a man was truly before her.

She couldn't recall the last time a man's sheer beauty had drawn her breath away, but this man.

He had a deep glowing complexion, cheeks slightly darker from his exertion.

He was slender, but muscles both on his arms and legs rippled and flexed as he bounced to and fro landing skilled hits.

His hair, short, thick and curled, held in place by product didn't move, but shimmered beneath the fluorescent lighting.

“TJ! Hey, TJ—come get your Mango Madness!”

Gigi stiffened as, from behind her, Taj called to the pair, and the man whom had been throwing nonstop jabs halted, replying,

“Gimme a sec, gotta get these gloves off!”

Gigi was weak to watch, a loud ripping noise echoing as he loosened the Velcro cinching the gloves to his trim wrists. Handing them to his partner, he patted his back, before strolling towards the counter, where Taj was placing another cup and straw.

“Right on time, as always!”

TJ commented, taking the cup and helping himself to a sip.

“...well, what's your favorite episode?”

“The one where Captain Kirk kissed Uhura...”

“No kidding! Me too!”

That quickly Taj was occupied with Nancy again.

And Gigi was left to stare up at TJ.

He was her fitness instructor? Him?

This creature with the model good-looks, the finely chiseled face, where a few beads of sweat clung to a smooth forehead?

She'd have to stare at him, two hours, three times a week?

Watch him move, see him sweat?

How was she going to survive?

A light tugging on the bottom of her tank brought her attention back to Earth and she readied her tongue to sack out Nancy for messing with her clothing.

Yet, instead of a tiny white hand holding the garment, she found a large brown one.

Love of God, TJ was gripping her clothing!

“...'I Don't Sweat, I Sparkle!'...that's funny!” He chuckled, his voice light and gentle, as he continued to look down at it.

He was smiling around the straw in his mouth, and up-close, Gigi could see his broad, groomed brows, raised in amusement, the delicate upturning of his nose.

Smell the strong, yet unobtrusive scent of leather and dark chocolate—he smelled of chocolate!— wafting from his loose navy tee and basketball shorts, intrigued Gigi all the more.

“I'm...I'm in your class...”

It had been eons since Gigi had been timid near a man, but this was no ordinary man.

Lord no...he was a blessing in designer sneakers.

“Really now?” The brows went up further. “Well, I'm warning you: you're gonna 'sparkle' plenty while I'm working you out!”

His eyes, caught the light as he blinked, releasing Gigi's top, showing natural, golden flecks in a sea of light brown.

Any other girl under such a spell would have crumbled, Gigi held her own, tossing her head, eyeing TJ boldly and replying saucily,

“I look forward to it.”

“Do you?” TJ winked, tossing his empty cup into a nearby trash bin. “We'll have to see won't we—um...”

“Name's Gigi.” She giggled and a finger was pointed at her.

“I will see you in exactly ten minutes, Gigi!”

Turning TJ jogged off towards the wide, grand staircase leading up to the second floor.

As as he ran, Gigi's heart floated after him.

* * *

“...come on! I know you all have it in you! You wouldn't be here if you didn't have it! Come on! Come on! If you don't sweat it, you don't get it! In order to earn you have to feel the burn!”

Behind the closed doors of Room 302, twenty-six people, all in various states of fitness, and in some cases outright distress, were all doing their very best to keep up—or give the appearance thereof— with the enigmatic figure at the front of the room.

Since class the began, TJ had been in complete control, his fit, lean form in constant motion at the front of the room, atop a small stage, where he could survey the minions beneath his tutelage, a tiny headset microphone amplifying his commands.

In the last hour and forty-five minutes, he'd led his class through a warm up of stretches, and grueling, fast paced cardio that included everything from jumping jacks, lunges, vigorous jogging in place and all sorts of movements that awakened muscles that never knew they existed on the human body.

And while she was doing more physical activity than she could ever recall having done in her entire lifetime, Gigi Santos was rather content and oblivious to the hard work her usually lax and leisurely figure was being put through.

Not so much because she was burning up calories and on the way to pushing those pesky pounds off her frame, but because from her spot in the second row, the had an optimum view of her instructor.

Poised before an uncut, sheet mirror, with the words “Don't Dream of It; Train For It!” emblazoned in bold red lettering in an otherwise bland black and white room, TJ had been admirable.

His hair tousled, his cheeks glowing, an all over sheen of perspiration gave TJ the look of a melting candy bar, as he led his pupils through their paces.

There was something so wild, untamed,...beastly about him that caused Gigi to adore him all the more and want for his touch.

Sure, it had been less than two hours since they had met, but how long did it truly take for one to be blinded and overcome by a person they could grow to...love?

“...Twenty High Knees...I want to see those knees in the air! Get'em up! Get'em up! Slackers get nowhere!”

TJ's voice was amplified by the four large speakers mounted in the corners of the room and Gigi could feel his very voice in her soul.

Watching his legs, trim and pliable, going up and down, Gigi wondered if perhaps “love” was too strong to call what she felt for this man.

There was another L word that could have sufficed—lust.

Yes, that was the emotion being stirred within her.

LUST.

Lust, love, love, lust...

Well, whatever it was she was feeling, she most certainly liked it.

“...and five...and four...and three...and two...and ONE! Woo-hoo! You did it!”

Throwing both fists into the air triumphantly, TJ declared,

“Great first session, everybody! I'm really proud of all of you! Give yourselves a hand!”

Across the room, applause broke out, a couple of thankful souls collapsing to the hardwood floor, all gasping for breath.

“I'll see you all Monday, at the same time—big hand on the twelve, little hand on the eleven! Have a good day, and keep it POSITIVE!”

With a wave of his hand, indicating the class was over, TJ turned his attention to the purple backpack, bearing the Los Angeles Lakers logo, crouching down and starting to dig through it.

As bleary-eyed, and huffing patrons passed around her, Gigi ran her hands over the top of her head, smoothing back the few strands that had worked their way out of ponytail, readying herself to try to talk to this man.

A few feet away, Nancy, stooping to tie her sneaker, knew that unmistakable look in her friends eyes, like a hungry vulture on the prowl to pick apart a fresh carcass.

A quick glance showed TJ reclining against the mirror, picking at a smartphone, it's golden case gleaming in the lights.

“...no need to attack the poor man on the first day, Georgiana...” Nancy stated softly, and slowly turned her eyes up to the scowling figure looming over her.

“If not now...then when?” Gigi whimpered, keeping her voice low, to avoid attracting the wrong attention from TJ, as the room was nearly empty of students by then, and the room did possess a natural echo, being so cavernous.

Rising up and eyeing her friend, Nancy advised,

“You wanna be Teacher's Pet, not Teacher's Tramp! Now move your ass, I'm starving and I want to get something to eat! ”

Gently she pushed after her friend and rolling her eyes, Gigi chided as she was prodded to the door,

“Starving? Right, starving for that goofy looking dude with the braids!”

“He is not goofy looking!” Nancy argued, as Gigi, unable to help herself paused at the door, and dared another look back at TJ, still fiddling on his phone, chest rising and falling as he tried to gain his breath back.

“Taj is gorgeous!”

“You need new glasses!” Gigi scoffed, and was nearly yanked off her feet as Nancy took hold of her wrist and pulled on her.

“Shut up!”

* * *

Over the following month, Gigi Santos attended a full dozen workout classes.

And each time, begrudgingly following Nancy's advice that she not be a “tramp”, Gigi had slowly been upping the ante, doing her best to try to wordlessly catch TJ's golden-speckled eye.

Gigi's makeup had gone from her interpretation of “natural” to quite dramatic, at times featuring glitter on her lids and real mink false eyelashes trimmed in Swarovski crystals.

Her hair, with the help of one of the bests stylists in Los Angeles now started near-black at the roots and lightened gradually to a rich, dark blonde by the tips. Her styles varied between complicated ponytails, French and Dutch braids.

And her clothing!

What once began as tanks and yoga pants had shrunk to push-up sports bras and shorts so small they should have been outlawed.

Not to say that Gigi's hard work on her appearance hadn't attracted attention.

Nearly every man not strapped to a woman or a respirator in the gym had hit on Gigi, asking for her number, trying to give her theirs, and begging to take her out, all to be kindly rebuffed.

Gigi had set her cap for one man, and one man only: TJ.

The only problem was, as breathless, hot and bothered TJ left her, the one thing she couldn't seem to do was muster the courage to speak to him.

The gumption that had once caused her to go flirt with him the first day they'd met, now seemed to evade her completely.

All it seemed Gigi could do now was look on, and admire TJ from the second row in class, cherish the touch of his warm hand on her shoulder or back as he offered tips to improve her technique during the classes.

But a girl could only take so much...and Gigi was nearing her breaking point.

“...um, so...I hear they're screening “Plan 9 From Outer Space” at the Egyptian Theatre tommorrow night . It's over in Bakersfield...you...would you like to go?”

At the softly uttered suggestion, Gigi, whom had been sipping at a Watermelon Wave smoothie and lazily leaning against the smooth marble of the snack bar, glanced to her side, to see Taj bracing behind the counter, his eyes on the slim body in baggy pink sweats, returning the gaze over the tilted matching frames of her glasses.

Eyes rolling, Gigi took another drag of smoothie.

It was about time that geek got around to asking Nancy out.

He'd been hemming and hawing for weeks, making little annoying banter about various sci-fi topics and one day had even greeted then in Klingon!

If only TJ would get the memo and open his flap beyond yelling out how many cursed burpees he wanted the class to perform.

“...yeah, I'd like to go...thank you, Taj...” Nancy was tittering coyly and Gigi couldn't but feel a tinge of resentment.

“...maybe I can come by around four or so? Movie doesn't start 'til seven, we could catch dinner....”

Gigi couldn't quite figure why TJ hadn't been drawn to her. When they had met at that very same bar, Gigi had been certain there had been a spark, a flicker of chemistry.

As far as she'd seen, TJ wore no rings, so he wasn't married, and though rather soft-spoken when he wasn't shouting over a microphone, he didn't strike her as being gay.

And every so often when Gigi wore “statement” clothing, he'd find someway to take a few seconds to comment on the garments, allowing Gigi to bask in the radiant glow that was his smile and savor his mindfulness.

Hell, most of the effort she put in on a daily basis was for his benefit in the first place!

Whirling around, Gigi glared at Taj, holding Nancy's phone, its case made to look like a cassette of Prince's “Purple Rain” album, tapping in his information, and demanded,

“Say, Dust Mop, what gives? What kind of girl does TJ like? You're his friend, always slinging smoothies for him. Am I anywhere near what he's into?”

“I'm not his friend...” Taj replied icily, handing the phone back to Nancy before adding,

“I'm his brother.”

“His brother?” Gigi scoffed with indigence. “Really? You...you...”

She had to stop herself for fear of damaging his feelings and not only enraging him but Nancy too.

“Yeah, I may not float your boat, as I saw you go for my other brother” A thumb was jerked to Taryll, poised by the revolving door, taking a selfie with Tiffany.

“Other brother?” Gigi's brows went up, giving away her surprise.

“You look smart—the name of the facility IS Positivi-T. We're the Teez: Taj, Taryll and TJ Jackson.”

A cool hand came forward bumping Gigi's chin and closing her sagging mouth for her.

“And to answer you question...” Towel in hand he began swabbing the counter, “...yeah, you do kind of fit what my little bro goes for. Fit, pretty, tall. But he's shy...”

His eyes darted towards Nancy, and he winked at her,

“Give him time, he'll get around to making his move.”

Pinching after Nancy's cheek, he giggled,

“I made mine...”

“Taj!”

The shrill cry rang out across the otherwise quiet floor, over the ever-present classical music.

“Nix on my smoothie, Bro! I'm late! Got a flat tire earlier and I still have to set up for my class! Hi Gigi! Hi Nancy!”

A brown blur, clad in a bright Kentucky Blue tee and sweatpants, a Lakers backpack over one shoulder, was rapidly ascending the staircase.

TJ Jackson was in the building, and unbeknownst to Gigi, the wheels on his move being made were already in motion.

“...alright class, we're going to be changing things up for our session today!”

TJ announced brightly from his platform, very slightly winded after having just led his pupils through the paces of their warm-up exercises.

Hands pressing his trim hips, he added, starting to pace back and forth absently,

“For the last month, I've been conditioning you, helping to build up your stamina, and really, for the most part, I have seen a good amount of improvement as far as your being able to keep up better...”

Moving back a few steps, one hand dropped to the top of the large grey plastic bin that had been placed out of the way, against the inscribed mirror behind him.

Surveying those inquisitive faces watching him with a sweep of those bright eyes, and causing Gigi's swelling heart to flutter in her scarcely contained bosom, he stated,

“When I was in high school, many moons ago...”

A ripple of laughter coursed through the room, as TJ possessed such a pert, youthful appearance, his age could have been guessed anywhere between twenty and thirty,

“... I was a member of my prep school's boxing team. Won a few titles, too. To this day, several times a week, I brush up my skills with a buddy of mine...”

In spite of herself, a smile was curling Gigi's lips, as she recalled the very first time she had set eyes on TJ Jackson, he was indeed boxing with a friend.

How lean, how agile, how strong he had appeared to her then!

And even moreso now as he bent, removing the lid from the bin and tossing it aside.

“Boxing is a great way to further condition the body. Many muscles are engaged at once, offering an all-over work out, not the mention it can help boost hand-eye coordination. Today, I'm going to teach you the basics, such as stance, and few different types of punches. I want all of you to pair up. One of you will get the gloves and the other will get mitts to help protect your hands from flying punches. We'll work that way for about an hour and then switch, so everyone has a chance to practice the punching.”

Gigi glanced at Nancy to find her little companion already gazing up at her knowingly.

“...I need two lines, one for those of you getting the gloves and the rest for those getting the mitts, please.”

As the pairs fell in, Gigi felt herself being pushed gently towards the mitts-receiving line and found Nancy's tiny hands on her side.

“What the--”

“Let me have the gloves first.” Nancy begged, eyes wide. “I want to know if all the years I spent slapping my cousins Ezra and Chaim around for the Noodle Kugel has paid off!”

“Whatever...” False lashes fluttered as Gigi, who couldn't care less, rolled her eyes, the line advancing bit by bit.

Nearing the podium, where TJ crouched slipping gloves and mitts onto each pair, Gigi became enveloped in the tantalizing aroma of his cologne once more.

That sweet, yet masculine, cocoa-based scent.

It was dizzying, and Gigi could barely keep her focus as TJ, flat, padded mitts in hand squatted in front of her, taking one of her hands.

His very touch, sent heatwaves blazing through her, and unlike the others, whom he speedily put the mitts on, he paused a moment, staring down at her hand, and the nails varying in shades of pink, starting lightest at the pinkies and graduating to a vibrant hot pink at the thumbs.

“Are these your real nails, or acrylics, Gigi?” He wondered, turning her hand over, examining her nails closer.

“A-a-a-acrylics, why?” Gigi questioned, with him turning her hand back over and starting to slip a mitt on.

She tried to ignore the giggle her stuttering had caused to erupt from Nancy.

“Because if it was a natural nail, I'd have had you tape them to save them from breaking. But I know the acrylics won't break. Looks expensive; I wouldn't want it to be ruined.” TJ explained, putting the other mitt on.

He...he actually cared whether or not her manicure got spoiled during the exercise?

“There you go.” His hand, warm and smooth patted her shoulder, and he was up again, getting the gloves for Nancy.

“Breathe, girl!” Nancy teased, while his back was turned and was almost shoved clear off her feet by a flustered Gigi.

Fifteen Minutes Later

“...a jab is a quick, short punch. It should always be a surprise to your opponent, and speed is your best friend when delivering it. I want you all to try throwing jabs. And because I know some of you are 'lefties', feel free to use your dominant hand to jab...”

Off of his podium, TJ was nonchalantly strolling the room as the pairs took their fighter's stances, which had just been learned, and out of tandem, blows were being landed around the room, drowning out the classical music that played constantly through out the fitness facility.

“Don't be afraid to put your weight behind it, those mitts are sufficiently padded. You won't hurt your partners unless someone in here is related to Mike Tyson—no ear biting please!”

He joked and laughter took the room again.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Not truly wanting to hurt her friend, Nancy was laying meager jabs into the mitts held up by Gigi.

Although it was a certainty Gigi wasn't paying her any mind, the way her head was turning, following TJ as he sauntered about, pausing here and there to give pointers.

“...No, Luke, don't let your foot leave the floor like that, it'll leave you unbalanced...Good job, Inez! You're doing well for being left-handed!...Sakoya, hold your mitt up higher or you might get hit in the face accidentally, yeah, much better! And good jabs for you, Ainsley!”

Nancy noticed a paleness come over Gigi's face, that was visible, even beneath all of her carefully applied, overpriced cosmetics.

“You're going soft with those jabs, Nancy.”

A voice spoke up, and from nowhere, TJ was at her side, looking down on her.

“Well, I...I don't want to hurt Gi--” She stammered, and TJ's head shook.

“You won't hurt her. I tested every last one of those mitts with my brother yesterday. Taryll can throw a punch like he's Ivan Drago laying Apollo Creed out! Now show me a real, solid jab. You're paying me for a workout, I can't deliver that if you're slacking on your end. Show me a real jab Nancy.”

Nancy hesitated; Gigi was staring at TJ so intently, it was clear she was removed from the situation entirely.

“If you insist--”

“I do.”

Putting up her dukes, Nancy, sighed, and with all the force in her ninety-six pound frame, shot out her right fist.

POW!

“What in the hell?”

Distracted Gigi was brought back crashing down to Earth as the jab connected, sending her staggering a few steps.

Eyes widened, and she could only huff, as TJ, raised a finger, politely reprimanding her,

“Please, no foul language in my gym, Gigi.”

Her cheeks glowed harshly, as her embarrassment was swift and cruel, but she maintained herself, only nodding, holding the mitts up obediently.

POW! POW! POW!

Gigi didn't know how, but someway, somewhere in her, frail Nancy had the strength of a full-grown man, and each punch that crossed her, caused her eyes to shut momentarily, wincing to herself, but as TJ lingered by them, she kept her poise.

She didn't know how much longer she could keep up the ruse.

Then fate intervened.

“Ouch! You dumb bitch! I told you I wasn't ready yet!”

“And I'm not spending damn near two hundred a week to stand while you take goddamned selfies for Instagram! You've only got forty-three followers anyway! Your selfies suck!”

“My selfies suck? Fuck you! You look just like me—we're twins!!!”

On the opposite end of the room two women, began shoving each other.

“Sylvia, DeLora! Ladies! Please stop that! No fighting! And no swearing in my gym! Stop that!”

That quickly, TJ was sprinting towards them, advising to the rest who had stopped to gawk,

“Class is NOT over, continue jabbing!'

Reluctantly, punches were thrown again, as TJ tried his best to put himself between the scrapping sisters.

And unfortunately, for Gigi, that meant the palms of her hands went back to stinging with each jab Nancy expertly shot.

“You know I'm the prettier twin!”

“Like hell you are!”

“Ladies, let's be civilized!”

The more punches that landed, the more incensed Gigi became.

While she enjoyed the few bits of attention from TJ she received, it rubbed her in all the wrong directions to have had him chide her while praising Nancy.

POW! POW! POW!

Wasn't it enough that Nancy already had her juice bar nerd?

Did she have to have TJ too?

“...DeLora, Sylvia! Stop it! We're all adults here! Conduct yourselves as such...”

Without thought, Gigi's hands lowered.

The next thing she knew she was sprawled on the polished floor, her left shoulder throbbing.

“Gigi! Gigi!” Nancy was instantly on her knees at her side, ripping her gloves off, and patting after her.

“Gigi, I'm so sorry, oh my God!”

“I'll bet you are!” Gigi snarled, pulling back from the hand on her right shoulder.

“You know I am!”

Again class came to a standstill.

A pair of blue and white Air Jordans appeared at Gigi's side.

Looking away from Nancy's flushing face, she found TJ standing over her.

“Are you alright? I saw what happened—you took a pretty strong hit.” He pointed out the obvious.

“No kidding.” She grunting, as Nancy braced against her, helping her to her feet.

“Well, just to be on the safe side, I want you to go to the infirmary and get checked out by the nurse.” TJ advised and his hand laid on her back, that despite her discomfort, caused goose pimples to break out up and down her arms.

“I'll take her over there!” Nancy vowed and was jogging to the far wall of the class where she had thrown her white backpack out of the way.

“Gigi...” TJ's eyes widened and his lips pressed into a grim, straight line. “I'd like to see you after, class please.”

“Oh...okay...” She mumbled, as Nancy returned, taking hold of her wrist, began leading her away.

The last thing Gigi saw as she exited the floor was TJ staring after her.

An hour, a head-to-toe checkout and two Advils later, Gigi found herself standing outside the open doors of Room 302, the last few stragglers from her class streaming out.

After the last of the last departed, Gigi eased into the room, pausing just beyond the door.

TJ stood atop his platform again, fixing the lid back on the grey box the gloves and mitts had been stored in.

Gigi started to make her presence known, but stopped abruptly, her tongue becoming meshed to the roof of her mouth.

Finally getting the lid back in place, TJ had lifted the hem of his shirt and wiped at his damp forehead with it, revealing his chest and abdomen.

It was the first time Gigi had ever seen any part of him, besides his arms and legs, and her breath leaked from her lungs at the sight of so much brown, glowing flesh at once.

His slim, yet perfectly defined pecs, his cut abs.

The deeper, round nipples standing up proudly, the small, outie bellybutton.

He was even more gorgeous than Gigi had ever fantasized.

(And in the past month, she had fantasized, plenty!)

The blue fabric fell back where it belonged, covering his wonderland of a body, as TJ fumbled with his Lakers backpack once more, producing his phone.

He picked at it a few moments, but, as if overcome with the feeling he was indeed being watched, his curly head raised and he spotted Gigi, clinging to the door, eyes widened at him.

Instantly, a friendly smile was on his sharp, handsome face.

“Hey!” The stage was abandoned and he was crossing the room towards her swiftly.

“I was waiting for you. What'd the nurse say? You're not hurt too badly, huh?”

Did he have to be so concerned? So worried for her well-being? Her chest ached.

“No...” Her eyes dropped to the floor as Gigi couldn't bear to meet his gaze and peer into those lovely eyes of his. Her heart rate increased as TJ stood so closely to her, she could smell the chocolate on him so plainly.

“I'm alright...just...I got my bell rung pretty good and she gave me some painkillers for it.”

“Glad to hear it.” TJ chuckled with what sounded like relief before informing her,

“I'm going to be adding light boxing to the regime of activities we do in class and I want to make sure you can keep up Gigi. I don't want a repeat of you being knocked out happening again. Would you be able to come here tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Gigi's eyes darted up, then back down when they caught sight of those gold-tinged orbs.

“Yeah. I realize it's Sunday and you might have church or something, but I'd like you to come in and make up the hour of sparring you missed while you were in the infirmary. Is...is ten too early?”

Gigi's throat tightened a moment as it dawned on her that TJ was asking her in for an extra lesson.

“No...no, ten is fine...TJ...” She whispered, daring another peek and found that he was smiling down at her, his lips curling at the corners around his white teeth, giving him a very Joker-like appearance.

His thick brows went up as he repeated, his voice dropping an octave and sending chills through Gigi.

“Ten it is.”

* * *

The Next Morning

Prevost, California

“...wake up in the morning, feeling like P. Diddy...grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit this city...”

With the sounds of electro-pop princess Ke$ha blasting through her earbuds as she half walked/ half boogied her way up to the revolving door of the Positivi-T Fitness Center, Gigi Santos was quite blind and oblivious to her surroundings.

As she emerged into the familiar soaring, sweeping expanse of white marble, and paused to sway her hips in beat to the music, Gigi became alarmingly, acutely and swiftly aware that something was amiss.

On her usual class days, every time she entered that lobby, it was typically packed from the foundation to rooftops with hordes of spandex-wearing health nuts, running hither and to, destined for any sort of physical activity...the sound of the ever-present classical music competing to be heard over the cacophony of mixed voices calling out rep commands, more energized music from the Pilates, Yoga, Aerobics, Zumba and Kickboxing classes and the general conversation of more than a thousand people at once.

“Oh-whoa-oh-whoa-oh...”

The music continuing to play, Gigi no longer danced, as her eyes began to enlarge in her skull, taking in a sight which she had never seen, nor ever expected:

The Positivi-T Fitness Center was entirely empty.

“Oh-whoa-oh-whoa-oh...”

Pulling the crystal buds, in the shape of Hello Kitty from her ears, Gigi could hear the classical music steadily playing—something by Debussy if she was guessing correctly—but as her green eyes surveyed the area, there wasn't a soul to be spoken of.

No one appeared to be in any of the glass fronted classrooms on the first floor, no one on the stairs, no one lounging casually against the walls or roving about in cliques.

Well...

“Morning Gigi!”

A pair of cheerful voices chorused, and turning Gigi saw two familiar figures behind the smoothie counter: Taj and Taryll Jackson.

“Good morning.” Gigi started towards the counter and as she neared it, she found both men actively coring and slicing up Red Delicious and Granny Smith apples, sorting the pieces into separate, large Tupperware bins by color.

“Um...where is everyone?”

Blade on a small paring knife flashing as he reduced another fruit, Taj, head lowered spoke through his braids,

“We're usually closed on Sundays. The only reason I'm here is to get a jump on the prep work for the smoothies I gotta make tomorrow.”

“And since Tiffany is running amok at the galleria with my credit card, I'm helping. It's just us four in the building.” Taryll chimed in, now going after a pear.

“Oh...” Gigi stated more out of reflex, than actually being present for the conversation. She'd clocked out mentally when he had said they were the only ones there.

Both her mind and her pulse raced at one glaring thought:

She was going to really be alone with TJ.

Sure, Gigi had known she was coming for an extra lesson, but it was under the assumption that she would just sit in on another one of the classes, TJ led.

Not that she would be a class of one.

Somewhere...within in that very building...TJ Jackson was all alone...and waiting for her.

“...where...ahem...where...” Gigi's mouth was suddenly dry, the tongue meshing to the roof of her mouth, rending her unable to complete her inquiry.

Taryll's hazel eyes danced with amusement.

“He's in the weight room. Fourth floor, end of the hall. You can't miss it.” He advised tossing the pear slices into another bin, picking up another one and biting into it, droplets of juice running down his clefted chin.

“T-thank you.”

“No problem....Taj, pass me the strawberries, Bro...”

Moving away from the pair slowly, Gigi was quite sure she could make out the sound of muffled giggles from them.

She scarcely cared...she had a lesson with TJ to attend.

Following a jaunt up the grand staircase, and quick ride up the elevator, Gigi found herself in a situation not unlike the one she had been in the day before: by her lonesome, peering into what, at first glance, appeared to be another vacant room.

As with the rest of the work out spaces, the weight room was an austere white, the color broken by the rows and rows and black bench presses and other apparatuses used for the building and expanding of muscles.

On the far wall, the mirror was emblazoned with another message of encouragement: “Believe To Achieve It!”

Alas, upon closer inspection, the room possessed one occupant: TJ.

The breath leaving Gigi's lungs like it had been evicted.

Loitering in the middle of the room, phone in hand, picking away and staring intently at whatever content was contained on the small, glowing screen, he was dressed so simply, yet so lusciously.

A plain white tee, that differed from all the others Gigi had seen him in, which were loose and baggy. Instead, this one hugged his body immaculately, and from behind, she could make out how his strong, broad shoulders tapered down into his slim waist, the shirt tucked into a pair of light grey sweatpants, white stripes and snaps running down each side of the trousers further accentuating the fact.

Gigi's mouth kind of tightened, as she took notice of TJ's backside for the first time.

As he was an instructor, she was more than accustomed to him facing her, and had actually never paid much mind to what went on to the back of him.

TJ's ass was a product of magnificence and the very sight of it made all of the moisture in Gigi's mouth dissipate.

A globular, plump and puckered mass of muscle it was!

Gigi had never been hypnotized by a man's butt before, but she was coming extremely close to it.

How was she going to make it through the lesson?

Hanging on to the door frame, Gigi noticed TJ glancing at the thick, white rubber strap watch encircling his right wrist, the bridge of his perfect little nose wrinkling.

Golden-flecked eyes raised from the timepiece and his broad, full brows raised in surprise on his forehead.

“Gigi!...” He sounded as though he were gasping. “...you startled me!”

“I...I didn't intend to...” Gigi's voice barely touched a whisper as that majestic morsel of masculinity strode towards her. “...you looked so preoccupied with your phone...”

“Oh...” A boyish grin creased his features. “I have season tickets for the Lakers, I was checking how many home games they have!”

Pressing after the phone once more, a farewell tone played and the screen went dark.

“Now come on--” TJ started, but stopped short, his eyes darting as he read the words printed on the front of the electric pink tank Gigi had knotted to show off her belly and bright, abstract print shorts hardly covering her.

“This Girl Needs Coffee...” He quoted with a snort. “You like coffee, Gigi?”

Turning he was waving her on to follow him into the room.

“Well...yeah...”

How did his glutes ripple and quiver so attractively? Did TJ live doing squats and lunges?

“Make it yourself or do you go to Starbucks?”

“Uh, Starbucks. It's next door to my apartment building...”

A grey and white Jordan tapped the hardwood, indicating Gigi stand there before the mirror.

“And what do you usually get?”

“Mocha Frappuccino--”

“Large with all the bells and whistles, right?” TJ sauntered towards a rack overflowing with dumbbells, arranged by weight.

“Right--”

“Confidentially, I know they aren't very healthy, but I treat myself to a couple of Oreo ones each week. Sucking on smoothies all the time get stale after a while....”

A hand dropped to the weights.

“I want you to do a little bit of weight training before we proceed to the actual boxing. Warm up the muscles a bit. What's the heaviest amount you can lift, comfortably? Five, eight, ten pounds?”

“Eight, I guess...” Gigi shrugged, unwilling to admit she'd never lifted a weight in her life, but refusing to take the lightest amount offered at the same time.

She wanted to at least give the appearance of possessing some form of competency in front of TJ, even if it were all a lie at best.

“Here we go,” TJ held and carried the dull black weights, a bright white eight imprinted on each one in his hands, extending them towards Gigi.

“I want you to do some Bicep Curls. Fifteen reps.”

Arms folded over his solid chest, TJ stood behind and off to the side from her, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Though the weights were a bit heavier than expected, Gigi complied, bringing her fists up towards her shoulders.

“Slower...slower, Gigi, take your time...” TJ advised with a light nod, “You go too fast you might pull a muscle. Go slow, that way you loosen the muscle properly.”

Obeying, Gigi slowed her movements and saw a more approving nod come from her teacher.

“You're doing well... just three more...and two... and one...” TJ called to her, taking one of the weights.

“Now I want you to try the Wood Chop: You swing on a diagonal, just like if you were trying to chop down a tree...legs slightly apart so you don't fall over. Fifteen reps.”

“...twelve...eleven...ten...extend all the way. If you're doing to do something, do it all the way, don't half-ass—pardon my language—half way do it...”

Though she appeared quite calm and cool and even collected by the serene and placid expression presented to her in the mirror, Gigi was anything but.

It was absolute murder to the young woman to have TJ's undivided attention on her solely.

And the longer she worked out, the longer his gaze endured.

Through Reverse Flys, Side Lunges with Bicep Curls, Lawnmowers, and a Dead Lift with Back Row, all with fifteen reps each. (Was fifteen TJ's lucky number or something?)

Gigi could feel her biceps and triceps, reacting, feeling slightly sore, loose and tingling.

But she was tingling all over anyway.

Every so often the scent of TJ's colonge would play across her nostrils, that mouth-dampening scent, the rich chocolate and leather and teeniest hint of musk.

A scent that seemed to play so beautifully off her perfume.

Scents that went to so well together.

Why weren't their owners together?

“You're doing very well, Gigi...”

In the mirror, Gigi could see his gaze shifting as she repeated the very first exercise of Bicep Curls.

At the start, his eyes had been on hers in the reflection, but as she did her reps this time, she noticed he stood, arms still crossed, they were staring at the back of her.

Watching him, she saw his eyes start at the top of her head and lower, until his lush, long lashed lids were nearly shut.

Her ass.

He was staring at her ass!

Reaching the last rep, Gigi halted, expecting TJ to advise her on the next movement, and outside of the Mozart piece now being piped into the room, there was no other sound.

He was still focused on rounded protrusion in back of her.

Cheeks—all four of them—flaming at his blatant admiration, Gigi peeked over her shoulder.

“TJ?”

“Hmmm?” His eyes came up abruptly, registering his startling.

“I finished the fifteen reps...is...is there anything else you wanted me to do?”

“Oh!” Caught off guard he guffawed before putting his hands out for the weights.

“Pardon me, my mind wandered...” He snorted and with a toss of his head was leading her towards the closest bench press..

Oh, his mind had wandered alright, Gigi didn't bother to conceal her knowing smirk.

Perhaps...just perhaps, somewhere, deep down, there was a nugget of attraction to be found.

And scavenger that Gigi Santos was, it was going to be panned before the day was over.

But maybe not in the way she had imagined.

* * *

“...don't...don't let your elbows fan out. Keep them close to you as you bring the weight down...”

Thirty minutes later, Gigi was reclined on the bench, raising and lowering a twenty pound barbell, with TJ standing slightly off to the side, helping to spot her.

His right hand hovered just below the metal bar at all times to catch it in case she dropped it, to keep her from breaking her face wide open.

“Give me ten more--”

“Am I ever going to get to box today?” Gigi wondered, growing fatigued and bored with the monotony, even if she was sharing the room with possibly the best looking man in the state.

“You will--”

“When?” She challenged, matte pink lips poking out, her aggravation emerging.

“In a bit.” TJ's reply came out stronger and more pointed than it had all that morning, and his bushy brows furrowed as he peered down at her. “I have to ensure your stamina is where it belongs and that you can keep up with the rest of the workout--”

“Oh bull!” False lashes fluttered as she rolled hr eyes. “I've been working with weights all the morning! I bet I could qualify for the Olympics if I tried!”

“You think so?” Now those brows were up near his hairline in amusement. “You really think you can get into the Olympics on a twenty-pound lift?”

“I don't know—what the?”

Gigi's tone changed from one of sassy rebellion to outright alarm as TJ's grip on the barbell changed and he was putting his all of his weigh, pressing with both hands, bringing the bar down in one fluid motion, pinning her to the bench.

Gigi's tone changed from one of rebellion to outright alarm as TJ's grip on the barbell changed and he was putting his weight down, pressing with both hands, bringing the bar down in one fluid motion, pinning her to the bench.

“TJ--” She sputtered and was drowned out by him hissing at her.

“Twenty pounds won't get you anywhere. Add me in...I'm a hundred and sixty-five pounds...brings you to close to two hundred. That might qualify you for something...”

Feet in bright pink cross-trainers kicked as Gigi struggled to free herself the bar threatening to crack her sternum.

“TJ, please! You're too heavy! You're hurting me!”

Her eyes widened in horror as TJ proceeded to press down further on the bar, his eyes meeting her, his face somewhat curious, almost as if he couldn't process her conflict.

In one last desperate attempt, as her lungs burned from lack of oxygen, Gigi wailed,

“Get the fuck off me!”

TJ's voice reached her ears cool as a winter's breeze.

“And to think all this time, I thought you wanted me ON you, Georgiana.”

Eyes impossibly wide, Gigi went limp, TJ's dark face looming over hers, searching.

“I've been watching you since you first passed through the revolving door, Gigi...” He confided and slowly, began lifting the barbell off her.

“I saw how you looked at me...I looked at you the same way, but you didn't see it.”

A large hand was offered and a smaller trembling one was clasped in it, as he helped Gigi sit upright, still struggling slightly for her wind, placing himself beside her.

“I didn't see it?” Gigi echoed weakly, trying to make sense of everything being told to her, wanting to pinch herself to make sure the lack of oxygen wasn't producing a vivid hallucination.

“No...” Hands clasping between his parted legs, TJ's head lowered and he stared at the glossy floor.

“Because when you first came in, I saw you were attracted to Taryll, but dropped him like a bad habit when Tiffany intervened...” He chuckled shyly.

Gigi's hands wrung nervously in her lap.

“You...you like me?” The words sounded so foreign to Gigi, akin to a language she'd never heard, to utter such a sentence.

A short nod was all the confirmation Gigi received and her bosom raised as she inhaled deeply.

Why did it feel like that cursed weight was still on her chest?

He was attracted to her! Had been all along!

It was a dream come true!!!!

TJ shifted, cracking his knuckles absently, lips curling bashfully and causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle adorably.

“I've spent the last month doing my best to avoid breaking my own cardinal rule.” He wasn't looking directly at her, but instead, playing with his fingertips and studying them.

“And...and what's that?” Gigi questioned, blood rushing to her face.

His bottom lips was sucked in and chewed on a long moment.

“Not to get involved with my clients....”

His cool hand was on the back of her neck and pulling her forward, eyes sparkling for a split second before shutting, his mouth, smooth, moist and delicate, gracing hers.

His mouth...his mouth...his mouth!

So sweet it was as he worked his lips against hers, tasting of tropical fruits—he must have had a smoothie that morning!

“Mmmm!” Gigi moaned, her own eyes closed in ecstasy, hands finding his broad, hard shoulders, TJ's arms wrapping her in a hot embrace, mashing her weakened, heaving body against his.

Gigi's bosom rubbed his as he reclined a bit on the bench, holding onto her as if his very life were dependent upon it.

Her heart rattled in her chest, mind racing, blood pulsing through every vein and artery in her.

Gigi was alive and before that kiss, it seemed life had been nothing.

His mouth left hers , leaving searing pecks across her check, throat and earlobe.

“Oh my God...oh...oh...oh TJ...” She moaned, caressing the back of his long, hot neck.

Suddenly he leaned back and smooched her mouth playfully, brows meeting his hairline.

He was so handsome, and up close, for the very first time, Gigi saw he had a small mole on his left cheek.

A man with a beauty mark—it only seemed right.

There was that boyish, mischievous smile again.

“Is...this going where I think it's going?” He inquired, his knuckles brushing against the flushing rouged cheek of his inflamed partner.

It...it can go there, if you want it to...” Gigi, sucked in her bottom lip, mimicking him, hoping she looked at least a fraction of the sexy she felt.

She was so wool-gathered after TJ it was utterly ridiculous.

The Lord only knew she had been pining endlessly for the man for weeks!

TJ climbed to his feet and thinking better of it, cradled Gigi's face in his hands, bumping both of his lips on her bottom one, sending electricity through her.

Leaving his little conquest to turn on the bench, going up in unseen flames, TJ swiftly crossed the room to the open double doors leading out to the hallway.

Two kicks near the bottom of each disengaged the stoppers holding them open and they swung closed with a dull clang.

Reaching overhead, there was an additional, sharp click, as the barrel bolt between the two doors was set in place, locking them.

They were alone. And no one could get in.

Gigi's heat fluttered in her chest and befuddled, she faced forward, observing the reflection in the mirror.

Rather than make a beeline back to her, TJ wandered off towards the east end of the room, where a series of large pane windows overlooked the parking lot of the facility.

His hands intertwined behind his back, hanging over his bouncy, bountiful gluteus.

And there he lingered a short while, in silence, saying nothing, only looking out over the Hills and in the very distance, the Valley.

Gigi, whom had been watching him, unwavering in the far corner of the mirror, happened to blink.

And was shocked by what she saw next.

He was behind her.

He was directly behind her!

Staring down at the top of her head.

How he'd gotten to her so quickly, so soundlessly, would forever be a mystery.

His chest rising and falling, the white fabric so tight, Gigi could make out the points of his nipples.

“You don't know what its done to me...all this time watching you in my classes, Gigi...”

His voice was heavy, scores deeper than she could recall hearing it.

His lust and wanton laid in his very intonation.

“You...in all your little, skintight, barely-there costumes. Bouncing back and forth, looking up at me every time I glanced your way...”

His hands fell and gripped her shoulders, kneading her sweet, softened flesh.

“You tempted me...have been for the longest. And, while I tried to resist you as best I could, you can see now, you've worn me down...”

His hands slid forward, cupping her bosom through the thin knit of her tank, bringing him forward, his abdomen mashing her ponytail, as he leaned over her.

“...I'd like you to wear me out.”

Holding onto her breasts, feeling them going up and down as Gigi's breathing increased, TJ positioned himself ever closer to her....so close she could feel the warmth of his groin pressing the nape of her neck.

“God...” She gasped, her lungs flexing trying to dry a decent breath.

He was stating his lurid, naughty wants so plainly.

Laying it all before her without a second's afterthought.

“Stand...stand up, please...” TJ mumbled, releasing her just long enough to take hold of her arm.

With a light pull she was up and led around the bench to where she could face him.

“Que Bonita...” He whispered and Gigi blinked at him curiously,

“You speak Spanish?”

“I'm part Dominican and Puerto Rican.” TJ answered calmly, his hands going up and he began deftly undoing her ponytail, removing the elastic with a single tug, her silken stands falling over her shoulders and down her back.

Sexy and bilingual, it was almost too much for her poor heart to bear!

“Gigi...” He huffed looming over her. “You enjoy my classes, don't you, Baby?”

He called her Baby! TJ called Baby.

She was his Baby.

But he could have called her Mud and Gigi would have still be delighted.

“Y-y-yes...”

His stare was so pure, so uncut, so piercing.

“And you're such a good little pupil...following the directions I give you...so obedient.”

His lips pressed her forehead.

“You like doing what I tell you, don't you, Sugar?”

“Yes...T...TJ...” Gigi choked, listening as he audibly inhaled the combined aroma of her shampoo and perfume.

His eyes turned a burnished gold in his head.

“Good.”

A shove to the chest knocked Gigi back down onto the bench, a life-saving move as her jellified legs were seconds from buckling beneath her.

Making a definite point of having his golden eyes meet her greenish ones, TJ tugged at the cotton of his shirt, pulling it over his head, twisting the spent fabric in his hands, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Gigi had that dizzy, lightheaded feeling as she took in his glistening brown flesh, so toned, so solid, so hard.

The perfectly defined pectorals, the clear six-pack, the outie bellybutton...

Had he been cut from marble?

The shirt fell to the floor, TJ positioning himself so his feet outlined Gigi's.

“I know you've wanted me...as much as I want you...your perseverance is to be paid off...”

Clutching the waistband of his grey sweatpants, he yanked once, all of the snaps running the seams, popping at the same time, breaking away and being cast aside.

“Jesus!” Gigi gasped into her palm, blinking in disbelief.

Hardly hanging onto his plump, rounded hips, an obscene bulge emerging from them were a small pair of grey striped briefs.

The muscles in his tight, legs, shimmering with cocoa butter, flexed as again, TJ bent, this time grabbing at the bottom of Gigi's tank, lifting it over her head, revealing the matching pink lace bandeau top she had worn in place of a bra, doing its best to contain her sizable bosom.

The tank landed over on the rack of dumbbells.

“Look at you, Gigi..look at all of you...such a lovely girl...” TJ's lips barely moved now, drawing back over his pearly teeth, gritting in an effort to control himself.

“It's been hell for me...absolute hell--”

A finger topped by a hot pink nail, with silver glitter on the moon of it, was placed on the lips, with Gigi teasing in a singsong tone,

“I thought foul-language wasn't permitted in your gym.”

“Yeah..well....”

TJ trailed off, his hands gliding over his hips...causing the striped fabric to fall.

“...nudity isn't allowed, either, but since we're breaking rules, let's do a thorough job.”

TJ Jackson was in the raw.

And Gigi's eyes zeroed in unapologetically on his crotch.

Dangling from his pubis, shaved bare, and showing several shades lighter than the rest of his deep, richly complected form his manhood came close to whacking against his knees.

And that was in a limp state!

Gigi's jaw sagged in amazement.

She had often dreamt of playing with TJ's lengthy “jump rope” but the reality far exceeded her wildest estimations.

Gigi had long noticed a slight bow-legged gait to TJ's manner of walking; now she knew the reason why: he was dragging around a third leg!

“Listen Beautiful...”

TJ's fingers grazed her scalp as he ran his fingers through Gigi's hair, sending shock waves through her.

“I want you to warm me up before we have our 'real' workout.” He whispered, brows flexing and with neither a yay or nay to be heard, he was pushing her towards that swinging hunk of flesh.

“Grab me...touch me...I want to feel you, feeling on me...”

TJ urged, tracing Gigi's jawline, hands dropping limply to his sides.

Anything the man asked, Gigi was eager to fulfill.

All he had to do was wish it, and it was so.

Unwilling to disappoint the man she longed and yearned for so many sleepless, restless nights, determination surged through Gigi and squaring her shoulders, she ran her manicured hands over his smooth, moist flesh, down until they rested on those strong, sinewy hips.

“Yes, Girl...yes...” TJ moaned as she took hold of him, the thick, quivering mass, the blush tip peeking out from the folds of mocha-colored foreskin surrounding it.

The tip began to flash in an erotic game of peekaboo as Gigi, getting her feel for him, began stroking the massive cock,causing the girth to expand and harden against her palms.

The very sight of the meat was awakening the true freak in Gigi and before her mind could fully process it, she had placed her mouth over the bulb at the end of TJ's penis, suckling, as she continued rubbing.

“Oh God!” TJ whimpered lustily, his head falling back and staring at the ceiling overhead.

Her own head bobbing, Gigi slid from the bench, resting her knees in front of him, bumping against his Jordans, the only clothing remaining on him.

“Gigi! Yes,Gigi!” TJ grunted, head coming up and staring down at her as Gigi took the full shaft, easily a foot, into her mouth, painted lips flush with his groin, her hands around him, gripping his firm, hefty buttocks.

“Aw...aw....aw, you give head so beautifully...damn...”

Slipping back and forth on him, causing his manhood to sparkle with saliva and leaving pink prints all over his nether regions, Gigi managed to open her eyes, to gauge how TJ was liking her lip service.

Those smoky, golden eyes were peering down at her, through a cascade of bristly black lashes,

his pert little mouth was held in a tense line, the nostrils on his upturned nose flaring, carved cheeks glowing at the dastardly deed being performed.

“Yes...you like the taste of me...you like the taste of your TJ, while you give me that BJ, don't you? Yes...Mami...”

His hands fell behind him and he was peeling Gigi's grip from his ass, pulling away and watching himself plop from her mouth.

“Don't set me off all at once. Take your time... all we've got is time...” He cautioned, sweetly, hooking his finger in the front of her tube top, bringing her back into an upright stance in front of him.

Eyeing the elasticized piece of lace, that seemed far too small to contain all of Gigi's God-blessed wares, TJ asked, huskily,

“Was this...very expensive?”

“No...” Gigi giggled patting after his cheek, poking at the mole with her fingertip. “...eight ninety-nine from Forever 21...”

A loud rip resounded as TJ, with the ease of tearing a sheet of loose-leaf paper, he tore the lace from her body, setting her teardrop-shaped globes free.

“Shit...” He groaned, eyes roaming and taking her in. “...I knew you had tits for days, but...shit....”

He cupped them, pressing the mounds together.

“They...” Gigi tittered, as he jiggled them, playfully. “They are real...”

TJ's breath was warm on her throat as he laughed.

“I can tell just by the touch. I like it better that way...”

The nipples were pinched and pulled forward, lifting the breasts even higher than they fell naturally, causing Gigi to laugh all the more.

“God, I don't know how long I can last...you look so wonderful to me, Gigi... feel so good, smell so good—everything!”

He was smacking away at her mouth, coyly slipping his tongue in and out at will causing her to tremble all over.

With a pop he pulled loose from Gigi, resting his chin on her shoulder, TJ, brought his hand up, tickling her lips.

“Tell me something...” TJ begged, thumbs pressing past both the elastic of her shorts and the skimpy waistband of her panties. “...how is it that a girl...as fine as you are...”

The scraps of cloth fell to her ankles and she stepped from them, her entire body revealed to TJ, from the top of her head, to the the teeny “landing strip” at the base of that steaming little triangle.

His eyes locked with hers in the reflection in the mirror, a hand on her flat little belly.

“...doesn't already have a man?”

Meeting the gaze boldly, Gigi lifted her head, reaching back to grasp that booty once more.

Passionate lips parted and she spoke in a mix of a sigh and a lusty little groan.

“I was waiting for you...”

* * *

“...ugh...ugh...ugh!...”

That loaded exchange had been quite some time ago.

“...ugh...ugh...ugh!...”

Time? What was time?

It had ceased to exist for the pair of tanned, live, perspiring figures intertwined atop that one bench press.

“...ugh...ugh...ugh!...”

The only weigh being pressed was the moistening, beading flesh of TJ as he laid on her, breaths coming erratically, the thrusting of his hips slowing, as his fingers meshed with Gigi's, holding her arms up over her head.

Raising slightly, he observed the weakened, gasping, blushing young woman beneath him.

The delicate, sculpted, fine features, accented by a skillful, yet heavy-handed application of cosmeties, that despite their carnal connection, hadn't smudged or spoiled.

The pinks and purples adorning the lids, the touch of green liquid liner—though loud, Gigi was refined.

The nostrils on her her tiny nose flared as her breathing was still labored, that matte rosy mouth, pouted, lips pressed forward, showing a faint curl of pleasure.

“Hey....” Leaning down he bumped the tip of his nose to hers. “...you want me to stop or--”

“No...”

The heavy lashes fluttered and the eyes, true and green opened briefly.

“...don't ever stop, Papi...”

Leaving kisses along her throat, TJ teased,

“I gotta come sometime, you know...”

The green pools blazed at him.

“Are you gonna come...now?” Gigi questioned, tongue flashing and wetting her lips, bottom one sucking in so attractively.

“No--”

Her nails were digging into his chin.

“Then don't stop.”

He was handsome, so heart-stopping, poised above her, his hair all willy-nilly and falling where it may, the beads of sweat clinging to his brows, catching and throwing light back and forth as he huffed, beaming nefariously,

“You're the boss, Bella.”

“Oh!...”

And he was on her again, every inch of himself pressed to her, his strong, rippling hips increasing in pace with each new thrust, forcing him deeper and deeper into her.

“Yes, TJ...oh yes....Si, Papi...si...Oh my God....”

Gigi mumbled through grit teeth, pulling her own legs up and wrapping them around his trim, sleek waist, never wanting to part from him.

Holding onto him for dear life, her nail digging off into the damp flesh on his back, she found his hands on her backside, gripping just as hard, TJ throwing himself with such force, an audible clapping noise was emitted from their nether regions.

“Girl...you're so tight...just how I like it...oh...oh...oh shit....oh...”

TJ was in her ear, holding her cheek to his, lashes brushing hers as he blinked.

“You're so big—what are you doing?”

The spell of intimacy was broken with TJ rising suddenly, one hand stroking after that blistering hot cock, the other beckoning Gigi after him.

“TJ?” She giggled, hesitating on trembling legs a moment, as he leaned back against the mirror across the room, hand steadily moving up and down his shaft.

“Come...come here...” He sniveled, free hand waving her over. “I want you to see yourself. See us...andale...andale...”

Obliging, Gigi found herself facing the mirror, TJ behind her, placing her hands on the glass to brace herself.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

“Ouch!” Gigi half laughed/half cried as TJ slapped her backside several times.

“You like that?” TJ nestled against her, his hands in her hair, pulling her head back and kissing her, driving his tongue down her throat.

“Oooooh.... yes....” Gigi spoke off into his mouth, her eyes closing as she felt him start to fumble behind her.

The scent of his manly sweatiness, mixing with the chocolate of his cologne was dizzying

“Ah!” She gave a sharp intake of breath as she felt that mass forcing its way through her warm, wet folds, TJ steadying himself gripping onto her melons.

“Yeah....” He sighed, bumping into her again.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

The rhythm rediscovered, TJ hugging Gigi so tightly, she could scarcely draw a full breath into her bosom.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

“Mmm...mmm...mmm...glory...mmm!”

Releasing her breasts, TJ was sinking his fingers into her curvy lush hips, holding her in place as he continued to pound away mercilessly at her.

Gigi, unable to utter a sound could only stare in the mirror, her sweating palms leaving streaks on the glass.

TJ, leaving back a bit for leverage had his head lowered, staring directly at her ass as each blow made the ball of muscle and perfectly placed fat quiver.

And for the first time since she had known him, the usually clean-spoken TJ Jackson began to let the explicatives fly wild and loose.

“...Holy....Holy shit...Oh ….oh...Gigi... I'm...about to...Fuck... I'm about to fuck it up so bad...shit....”

Brow furrowing, his lips pressed down hard, his jaw setting, muscles clenching, sweat beginning to pour like tap water from him and falling to the hardwood beneath them as he abruptly pulled from her.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Hell! Ah! Ah! UGH!”

One hand remaining on Gigi, TJ began slapping the tip of that rudely engorged, swollen dick against the supple cheeks of his lover.

Feeling a warm wetness starting to spurt and splash across her ass, Gigi exhaled, unaware she had been holding her breath to start with, her head drooping with delightful exhaustion.

“Hmm...yes...” TJ was hugging her and kissing after her neck and shoulder.

“Yes, Baby...my sweet Baby...”

Hair falling into her face, Gigi was grinning.

Yes...she was his baby, and he was hers.

* * *

“...are...are you sure it's not an inconvenience?”

Throwing her head back and laughing Gigi stopped a few feet away from the shut doors of her apartment and gave TJ a shove to his shoulder so hard he staggered.

“I really don't see how you using my shower to clean up is an inconvenience...after all we've already shared!' She crowed and was met with a goofy, coy smile.

“Besides, it was kind of fun riding around in your Lamborghini!” She added, fishing in her small handbag for the key to the door.

“You can ride around in it anytime you like. Just give me the say so!”

TJ's hand was on her backside.

“I might take you up on that offer!” Gigi came up with the key in her hand.

“You'd better--”

“WOO!”

The pair fell silent as someone bellowed from the other side of the door.

“What the hell?” Gigi whispered, the same time TJ declared,

“I thought you said no one was at your house!”

“There's not supposed to be! Nancy was supposed to go out with your brother to one of those dreary sci-fi movies again!”

As the lock was disengaged, and TJ slipped in front of her, protectively, to keep whatever danger may lay beyond that door at bay.

“WOO!”

The door was opened only a split second, before it was shut again, Gigi collapsing to the floor and hollering into her palm, TJ leaning against the frame.

“Did...did you see what I saw?” TJ snickered, pounding a fist against the wall.

“Yeah—you can't unsee something like that!” Gigi guffawed shaking her head.

There was a soft click, and the door cracked just far enough for Taj Jackson to peek his braided head out, entire face looking much like a candied apple, he was blushing so hard with embarrassment.

Through the crack, it was quite easy to see he was nude, save for the decorative throw pillow he was mashing to his groin.

Behind him only Nancy's mussed head was visible, peeking over the couch. Her glasses nowhere to be found.

“You...you can't come in right now....” Taj spoke in a disturbed whisper. “Go over to the Starbucks, have some coffee and a sandwich or something—please!”

His eyes were huge through is tousled braids.

The door was slammed without further interaction and TJ offered a hand to Gigi.

“The nerve!” He simpered, helping her to her feet. “You'd think some people would do their love-making someplace private...like a gym--”

“Shut up!” Gigi squealed, intertwining her fingers with his and tugging. “We got busy, I guess your brother and my best friend deserve it too!”

“Come on...” TJ looped his arm around her shoulders. “Let me buy you something sweet...Sweetie...”

“That's more like it.” Gigi smooched his cheek as they sauntered back towards the elevator.

“You know...we never did get around to boxing today, Teej...”

He snorted, wiggling his brows at her and punching the button to summon the elevator.

“Trust me, we burned up way more calories with what we did than we could ever have hoped with boxing!!!”

Unmentionables--Exclusive Taryll Jackson Erotica

To some degree, I believe all of us within the 3T fanbase admire, love, even lust, for the “Teez” from afar. Be it listening to their albums or watching their videos, or for the very privileged few, have the blessing of seeing them in concert. Wishes, dreams and fantasies about them may trickle into a fans subconscious from time to time. It is all quite harmless, an intense crush at the most. It was that idea which inspired my story. No, it's not about some loving fan following 3T around, but rather, and intense crush one of the "Teez" themselves harbors for a young woman...and what becomes of it.

"Unmentionables"

A Taryll Jackson Erotic Short Story By:

MJsLoveSlave

Los Angeles, California

Spring 2013

Stauffer's Avenue was a street which had created with a certain type of shopper in mind, the crème de la crème, the elite of the elite. The sort of person who never bothered their minds with any stressful thoughts beyond what could next be bought with a slice of the trust fund.

In the Closet was one such boutique, like all the high-end others around it, offering everything from expensive sports cars, rare and exquisite jewelry to overpriced, chi-chi cups of coffee.

Though the merchandise being peddled behind the revolving glass door, was as exorbitant as any, it's intent was to be seen by only a select few, if that many: In the Closet was a lingerie store.

While any store with a selection of panties, bras and the like would have considered themselves on par with conglomerate chains such as Victoria's Secret, In the Closet was in a league of its own.

Each piece of merchandise was handcrafted by skilled artisans with the very finest fabrics in the world. The skimpiest of pieces rang in at three and sometimes even four figures.

But in a bubble where money was no object these numbers mattered very little to the discerning, greedy eyes of the women—and men—who frequented the shop.

McKenna Jensen spent a copious amount of time in In the Closet, but it wasn't to search the racks for the next demi-bra or thong to bolster her self-esteem.

For the last several months, McKenna, fresh out of business school and a niece of the owner, had worked as “General Manager” of the store, a broad term that encapsulated her being the boss, sales clerk, fashion consultant and at times, the window dresser...

And on that bright, hot and still Thursday morning, McKenna lingered on the sidewalk out front of the shop, a hand to her chin, eyes squinted as she scrutinized the huge front window she had spent the last three hours arranging.

While the facade of the building was an austere grey granite with clear glass and touches of chrome, the display to be seen was full oh fanciful, frolicking life-like mannequins in a field of faux turf, all I in sheer, hardly there, candy colored underthings featuring silk bows and floral lace, bits and pieces contained to the merest extent of the word decency.

McKenna Jensen didn't know it, but she was being watched...and had been for quite some time.

Directly across the street from In the Closet was Perk, a coffeehouse typically overrun by hipsters and members of the jet set up too early to pop a bottle Cristal just yet.

With her back turned, McKenna was completely unaware of the man on the sidewalk opposite her, looking on, and inter,intermittently tipping the large, glaring orange cup bearing Perk's insignia to his lips, for long swigs of his 'Miami Vice'.

(Author's Note: A 'Miami Vice' is: 1/3 Americano coffee, 1/3 Cubano coffee, 1/3 hot water and sugar.)

A tall, strapping, thick-set man he was, his free hand shoved into the pocket of his dark-washed jeans, the nylon of the black, open hooded jacket he wore over a tee crinkling as he had another sip.

Eyes shielded, hidden, behind the dark lenses of aviator shades, were trained on McKenna and only McKenna.

Taking her slim figure of average height, always dressed in some variant of neutral colors, as seemed the policy for any one working at In the Closet. Today it was a curve hugging black pencil skirt, featuring a tiny bow over the walking slit, paired with a light grey oxford, it's collar popped, over which her hair, a medium brown with sun-kissed highlights, had been slicked back into a low, sleek ponytail, held by a piece of her own hair, braided and wrapped around the rest.

The toned calves of impossibly long legs flexed as McKenna shifted back and forth teetering in a pair of ombre stilettos that were at least six inches tall.

Having another sip, the man witnessed McKenna making a misstep, staggering before catching herself against the display glass.

Despite four lanes of moving traffic, and the prerequisite din of a metropolis like Los Angeles, McKenna's nervous laugh, a sweet, musical chiming sound, found the man's ears and his heart raced in his chest as he gulped the last of his sixteen-dollar wake up call.

Hand pressed to a healthy bosom, McKenna turned, still tittering at herself, revealing a pretty, heart-shaped face, bearing luminous eyes that were more blue than grey, in a face so classically beautiful, she belonged in a painting.

Gathering herself at last, that quickly, McKenna was gone, having passed back through the revolving door, vanishing from sight.

Tossing the empty cup into a waste bin, the man removed his shades, trimmed brows raising above intense hazel-brown eyes, and stared after her a moment, trying to summon courage within himself.

For over four months, he'd been pining for her, wanting desperately to speak to her, look at her, touch her.

Get to know her in every way.

He didn't even know her name!

Finding a rare lull in the usually busy traffic, the man was in motion, his feet, covered in black and red sneakers carrying him through the openings and pockets in luxury vehicles gliding by to the store.

To the woman he wanted...longed for..needed.

He went through the revolving door so quickly, the tips of his shiny black hair, arranged in a mass of waves atop his head, whipped back, before the generous application of pomade he used daily whipped it back into form.

And then...he was in the store.

A vast, pastel pink wonderland, smelling of cotton candy and vanilla, with underthings arranged by color, a veritable rainbow of panties, bras, waist-trainers, and garter belts as far as the eye could see.

In the center of the floor was the check-out stand, rising stark, white and lacquered, it was glaring against the colors surrounding it.

Alas, one thing the man did not see, was life.

Aside from himself, there wasn't a soul on the floor.

Where had his little beauty in business-casuals gone?

Had she been real, or merely a figment of his imagination...?

“Do you need assistance, Sir?”

At the sound of the soft, polite, saccharine voice, the man spun on his heel, stumbling himself.

Standing beside him, hands on her hips, was his little wonder woman.

For a moment, his mind failed him and the man could do was look on her.

Look at the pretty, interested face, noticing for the first time, the handful of freckles scattered across the bridge of her little nose, the tip tiny and upturned slightly.

Those blazing blue eyes, rimmed in black, making their color deeper and more vibrant. Her small, pink ribbon of a mouth, lips parted, showing a glittering, friendly, smile to him.

And pinned to the front of her blouse was a tag reading as “MCKENNA”.

McKenna! Her name was McKenna!

As the man was trying every which way to stop himself from breaking into song, so happy was he to be in her presence, McKenna was making her own assessment of her latest customer.

He was quite attractive to her...McKenna had always gone for the sorts of men who were strong and athletic in appearance, built much like this stranger. It didn't hurt he had an frankly avant-garde appearance, the light eyes, tanned complexion and oil-colored hair, he could have been any mix of any number of races and that ambiguity was intriguing to McKenna.

She liked who were a bit of a mystery.

There was something about the way he vaguely resembled a deer in the path of a speeding eighteen-wheeler that endeared him to her.

He, as most men when entering a world typically inhabited solely by women, appeared out of place, frightened, perhaps a bit on the nauseous side.

He did look so helpless, his hands clasped in front of him, shoulders hunched.

McKenna could have gone for him in a big way, but she had learned from experience, more than once, that when most men darkened the doors of In the Closet, they had other women on their minds.

But he did stare at her so queerly, a deep, intentional, unwavering stare as if he could see the depths of her very soul.

There was something unnerving about it.

“Sir? Do you need my help?”

She repeated herself, and blinking, whatever hold that had had the men, appeared to be released.

“Y-yes...I...I want to buy something for....for my girlfriend...”

The man stammered, his hands beginning to wring in front of him.

He did seem so nervous and without thought, McKenna laid a hand on his arm, her face remaining placid as she felt the muscle building beneath the sleeve.

Golly, he was so strong, but the man just mentioned he had a girlfriend...he was off limits.

“Do you have anything in particular you'd like to see?” She asked, admiring how the gold in his hair brought out the same flecks in his eyes, making them glow.

“No...not really...” The man stuttered, eyes dropping to the floor. “It was kind of an on the spot decision for me to come in here...”

No truer words had ever been uttered.

“Well, that's quite alright um...” McKenna glanced up at him again. He was so handsome in a soft, baby boy kind of way. “...what's your name? Maybe you'd be more at ease if we were on a first name basis.”

“My...my name's Taryll...” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“My name's McKenna.” She informed him of the obvious, before questioning. “What do you think your girlfriend would like? Something a bit more sexy, risque, or perhaps sweeter? Frilly and girly?”

“Um...”Taryll paused a moment, mind racing. “I...I guess more on the girly side. She's classy...very ladylike.”

McKenna touched at her chin a moment, deep in thought, mentally sorting through all of the merchandise that was in her charge.

“Have you a budget--”

“No.”

Taryll's voice, still low, came out forcefully, with him adding,

“I...I want the best merchandise you have to offer...please.”

McKenna regarded him a few spare seconds.

On the surface, Taryll didn't seem the type to splurge on the most expensive pieces carried in that part of the country, considering his extremely informal attire. There was nothing flashy to him. He wore plain Levis, and Nike sneakers. There was nothing flashy on him to hint at wealth.

And yet, in a place like Los Angeles, looks could be deceiving and she had seen billionaires who dressed as low-key as this Taryll.

You just never could tell.

“That would be our Czarina Collection, if you'll follow me...”

With a wave of her hand, McKenna was leading Taryll toward a grandiose, kokoshnik shaped display in the far corner of the floor.

And even from across the room, the light was dancing on and reflecting off of all the gems which had been affixed to each and ever precious item of lingerie.

Falling into her “sell it or die” mentality of a saleswoman, she indicated the underwear, declaring,

“Don't let the name fool you. This collection may be named Czarina, which lead some to believe the lingerie comes from Russia, but the brand itself is purely French, based in Nice. Everything you see before is handcrafted in the French countryside by trained masters. Every loop of lace, every stitch of the seams...all done by hand. And the gems you see are all, genuine Swarovski crystals...”

McKenna continued speaking, her glossy little mouth sharing the history and finer points of the Czarina Boudoir Couture Company, but for the most part, her speech was lost on Taryll.

So caught up was he, so entranced by her beauty, the tinkling lilt to her voice, the rare shade of blue of her eyes, she may as well have been reciting the Gettysburg Address to him.

How he wanted to touch her, to kiss her, hold her against him and never let go.

But Taryll had ideas....he had definite ideas.

Pausing, she lifted a whisper thin brassiere of eggshell-colored lace up, a large princess-cut crystal sparkling in the center of it.

“How does this strike you Taryll?” She inquired, making sure to lightly move the piece so that the stone caught the light time and again.

“That's....that's not quite it...” He managed, forcing himself to tear his eyes from that peachy, pretty little face and focus on the scraps of fabric suspended by hangers.

“Feel free to browse and take your time...” McKenna told him, the hangers clattering as he picking around the racks. “There's hardly ever any rush on a Thursday, so few people come in. You might be the only customer I see all day today. Most of the shopping happens over the weekend, as you can guess...”

McKenna had been chuckling, but stopped when she noticed her laugh wasn't being shared.

Looking a few feet over, she saw what now held Taryll's attention.

In his large hands, he was cradling a delicate baby-doll type top, crafted of sugar pink satin and floral lace dotted all over with teeny crystals making the fabric appear to have been covered with morning dew.

“I see something has caught your fancy...”

There was that tinkling laugh again as McKenna sidled up alongside him, peeking at the top.

“Yes...ahem...” Taryll became mildly as his dream girl was standing so closely to him, he could smell the Acqua di Gioa wafting from her cool, pale skin.

“I'd like to buy this...um--”

“What are your girlfriend's measurements?”

“Measurements?” Taryll echoed and that look of a deer in danger returned to his face.

“Yes...” McKenna chuckled. “I need to know her bra size for the top and her clothing size for the matching G-string...”

“Um....uh...”

This was an unexpected hitch which had not occurred to the lovestruck Taryll before he'd entered the boutique.

And then that angel, McKenna opened her mouth.

Holding her arms out, she questioned,

“Is your girlfriend about my size? Shorter, taller? Larger, slimmer?”

“She is about your size... same height too...” He gulped as McKenna went to digging through the racks.

“That would make the top a 38C and the bottoms... a size 8.” She commented, first producing the embellished lacy top and then the crystal adorned panties which were really nothing more than three strips of fabric sewn together with the jewels placed.

“Would you like to add anything? A robe? Slippers--”

“No, that'll be all...” Taryll interrupted her solemnly. “Just those two pieces, please.”

“Very well, then.” A bitter sting of disappointment was sticking the young woman as she started back to ring the ensemble up.

As strange as he had seemed, so quiet, removed and detached, McKenna couldn't ignore her attraction to him, as outlandish and outrageous as it seemed.

This man was here with his girlfriend on his mind.

He was buying the best of the best for her.

And here she was, wondering what it would be like to run her hands through his curls and stare off into his hazel eyes for a while. She did love men with hazel eyes!

And yet, he belonged to another. He was untouchable.

Still...she was going to hate terribly to see him go.

Boop! Boop!

“Your total come one thousand, seventy five dollars even...”

The total hadn't cleared McKenna's mouth properly, before a platinum credit cart was held out to her.

Taking it, McKenna noted Taryll's full name, embossed on the front: Taryll Adren Jackson.

His name was as exotic as he looked.

With a swipe the transaction took place, with the total being approved for removal from his account.

“Would you like your lingerie gift-wrapped?” She offered and was rebuffed with a shaking of the head.

“No, thank you.”

Within moments, the boudoir bits were wrapped in tissue paper and had been slipped into a lemon yellow bag with In the Closet inscribed on the front in white.

“Here you are, Taryll...” McKenna slid the bag across the counter to her. “... I hope your girlfriend will enjoy your present for her. It's very sweet. You have impeccable taste.”

“Thank you McKenna...” He was rocking back and forth unconsciously one hand on the bag, the other on the counter. “...you were a great help to me. Really, I appreciate it.”

“It's my job.” She shrugged, dipping her head at his praise.

The paper of the bag rattled as Taryll picked it up and turned, starting for the door.

McKenna watched him go, unable to look away from the spectacle that was his bountiful, bouncing backside, braced so beautifully in his jeans.

Parting was, indeed, such sweet sorrow.

Were those actual pangs of pain in her chest upon his departure?

He wasn't leaving.

McKenna looked curiously as Taryll remained inside of the store, by the exit..

His head was lowered, the yellow bag being crumpled slightly in his hands as his grip tightened on it.

Had he been struck by an abrupt wave of buyer's remorse?

McKenna had seen it time and again.

Surely, most people would think twice or three or four times, when they plunked down over a grand on what was essentially fancy tatters of cloth.

And every so often, one would come back begging on bended knee for a refund, stat!

Slowly, Taryll turned back towards her and out of pure reflex, McKenna reached down and retrieved the form needed in order to return his money.

“Can...can I ask you something, McKenna?”

He wondered, his voice mild, as he placed the bag back on the counter.

“Yes?”

Her heart did flutter as his light eyes peered off, unblinking, into hers.

“What I just bought...would a girl like you....would you wear it?”

“Why certainly.” McKenna smiled, absently picking at the tiny white gold hoop in her ear. “The Czarina Collection is the very finest of the fine. Any woman would be quite lucky to wear it.”

The bag was scooted towards her.

“I...I want you to have it.”

For a long while, McKenna stood, rooted to the spot, stunned.

“M...me?” She stammered, gripping the counter in an effort to remain upright. “...but...but what about your girlfriend? You bought this for her...why would I want something intended for another woman--”

“There is no other woman.”

Large hands were placed on the counter and Taryll peered intensely at her.

“This is no one else. There never was. It's....it's only been you.”

“Me?”

Legs finally failing her McKenna all but collapsed onto the low stool behind her, her head buzzing and her vision blurry.

Suddenly, behind the counter, Taryll was resting on his knees at her side, one of her small hands being gently kneaded and squeezed in his big ones.

Gazing down at the low, nude manicured nails tipping the hand, the whole tale began to unfold.

“I've been wanting to come in here and talk to you for over four months. Ever since I first saw you while I was I getting coffee at Perk. You....you...”

Her hand was mashed harder and while she should have been recoiling in pain, all McKenna could do was look at the glossy curls of Taryll's hanging head, her breath catching and sitting there like a lead brick in her bosom.

“You were outside, working on the window dressing, and you just looked so sweet and cute and I wanted to get to know but couldn't figure out how...”

Gripping her hand, he brought it to his smooth cheek, adding,

“I wasn't planning on coming in here today. I don't know what came over me, but the next thing I knew I was in here, and you were talking to me, and showing me things and I was just so happy to have your attention I didn't know what to do with myself, McKenna.”

His head popped up and all the raw, untethered emotion was as clear as the upturned nose in the center of his face.

“It wasn't until you rang me up and I was heading to the door that I realized I had to leave. I—I don't want to leave! I can't leave! I want to be with you! I want to know I can be with you! I hope i'm not here, making a Grade-A Ass of myself right now. For all I know, a girl as wonderful as you probably already has a man...”

Throwing his own self under the bus, Taryll made an odd gurgling noise and his head dropped again.

And with his head lowered, he couldn't see that McKenna was beaming at him.

“I don't have anybody...Taryll.”

She giggled, and watched at he seemed to inflate and expand all over.

“Do...do you want somebody?”

Timidly he looked to her and was greeted by a bright, glowing smile.

“Oh!”

Impulsively, he was kissing at her cheek.
Holding onto his hands, actually starting to shake, McKenna stood pulling him up along with her, so he towered over her.

Was he that excited?

“What time do you get off? I'd like to take you out someplace. Dinner? A movie? Anything--”

Taryll was cut off mid-sentence as McKenna's lips pressed flush against his.

The small, sweet-smelling body was crushed against him as her hands twisted the nylon on the front of the jacket, pulling him to her.

Taryll's arms found his way around her figure and hers around his.

Chills lit up and down McKenna's spine, causing her hair to stand on end when she felt one of those wide hands cupping her buttocks through her skirt.

“Wait, wait a minute...” Pulling back with a snort, McKenna put a finger to Taryll's lips, which were still in motion, with him proceeding to kiss her index finger a few seconds.

“My store is still open.”

Untangling herself from him, McKenna crossed the floor to a small beside the revolving door, where she removed a key ring and small sign.

Straightaway, an “Out to Lunch” sign was placed at the base of the display window and the heavy glass and chrome door was locked with a loud click.

Leaning against the glass, her hands tucked behind herself, McKenna observed Taryll.

He had moved to just outside of the checkout, thumbs hooked in the unused belt loops on his jeans.

His eyes were on her, his bottom lip receding as he chewed on it thoughtfully.

Hands on her trim hips, McKenna approached Taryll.

“You know, my office is in the back...”

She giggled, taking more pleasure than should have been allowed as Taryll's face darkened from bronze to burgundy, as his blood rushed to the dermis.

“Okay...” Understanding the situation was going from zero to about a million and a half in a second, Taryll laid a hand back on the yellow bag.

And McKenna laid a hand on his, announcing, luridly,

“If I take off what I have on right now, I'm not putting anything else on.”

Tightening her clutch on his hand, McKenna tugged, indicating Taryll follow her.

The bag of costly good remained on the counter, as the couple, hand in hand, started down the corridor towards the rear of the building.

At the very end of a long, dimly lit, stark white hallway, McKenna Jensen's office both coordinated with and clashed against the light, airy, Easter egg shades that dominated the showroom and facade of In the Closet.

While the office had been dressed in pale shades, lending to a pleasant and soothing atmosphere, the color scheme wasn't as abrupt as that which lay beyond the shut double doors. Instead, McKenna had hand-selected the shades of off-white and soft, sage green, pairing it with dark-wood furniture and plaid accents, such as the shade on her lamp and the several plump, overstuffed throw pillows lazily slung about on the two guest chairs opposite her desk and the chaise lounge taking up most of the back wall of the room.

And it was one of these plaid adornment, filled with eiderdown, that was being held over Taryll Jackson's lap....the only thing saving him from complete, whole and utter nudity.

Taryll was still and silent, perched upon one of the tufted, green seats, strong, tonged, furred legs crossed at the ankles.

His eyes, turning from hazel to a pure, emerald green in his surroundings, were on McKenna's back, as she took her own sweet time, carefully folding and stacking his clothing atop her desk.

Directly next to his pile, was her pile: the crisp blouse, the skirt with the little bow above the walking slit, and her gradient shoes.

She now wore scarcely more than him, by way of a light grey satin brassiere and matching, cheeky panties.

McKenna could feel his eyes on her and that had been per purpose when stopping to fold and put their clothing away neatly.

A part of her wanted to be admired.

He had done so, for so long...would another ten minutes really do that much harm?

She knew he'd like the curve of her shoulders, the nipping of her waist, the bottoms of her buttocks practically falling out of her underwear and her long, lean legs.

Peeking over her shoulder, she was amused to find his eyes slightly lowered, staring at her ass, his broad shoulders rising and falling as his breaths had become labored, a hand pressed to his chest, one of his small, brown nipples obscured.

Her head had barely turned forward, when she felt it.

The warm, damp, heaving breaths on the back of her neck.

She could feel him directly behind her, his girth, his warmness...

The cotton-like curls of his exposed pubis as he pressed himself against her.

His penis, still in a flaccid state, bumping against her thigh.

“Are...are you just going to shadow me...” McKenna teased slyly, running a fingertip along the edge of her desk. “...or—ooh!”

With no word of warning, Taryll's fist curled around the back strap of her bra and with a sharp yank, he was forcing her to back up towards the chair he had been resting on.

The chair sighed as he took his place again, hands falling onto McKenna's hips, positioning her in front of him, his legs spreading on either side of hers.

Again the strap on her bra was pulled a couple of times, before the three little hooks came loose.

With a flip, Taryll had tossed her ponytail over her shoulder.

McKenna snorted, tickled, as teeny pecks from Taryll's mouth traced the length of her spine.

With exacting slowness, the satin straps were slipped from her shoulders, the molded cups falling from her bosom, the foundation garment landing at her feet.

Voice deeper and somewhat frantic, Taryll ordered of her.

“Turn...turn around...”

It wasn't until that precise moment, that McKenna's heart began to pound.

Oh, yes she had a fair of idea of what was going to happen during her extended lunch break with Taryll, but it hadn't rung so clearly as it did the moment her eyes saw him naked.

How recklessly sexy he looked!

How tan and deep his complexion was...how green his eyes looked and stood out against his dark skin and darker hair.

His teeth were so pearly as he smiled, his tender, glossy lips parted.

His skin was so smooth, so decadent, with a freckle or two here and there.

His thickset, powerful form, the wide thighs supporting him, legs parted fron around the bush fanning off onto said thighs...

His manhood lay draped over his left thigh...

McKenna gave an audible gulp...her eyes swelling in awe.

No wonder he had be slightly hunched when walking around the store, if he had to carry that thing around with him at all times.

“God, you look so good to me...” Taryll inhaled deeply, his palms slipping down, taking her underwear with, leaving her bared in front of him.

“...better than I ever imagined, McKenna...Baby...”

His eyes met her for a fleeting interval of time before descending down over her round globes of flesh each bearing a fleshy pink areola, her flat tummy, and the slit with only a tiny, square of trimmed brown hair gracing it.

Looming over him, McKenna's hands gripped his strong shoulders her mouth coming down on his, seeming to taste his soul, hopes and dreams in a kiss so deep, they were one in that single action.

Hugging against him, one of her hands dropped down, wrapping around the meat springing from Taryll's loins and began to stroke it to full ripeness.

“Mmm...mmm...mmm...” Taryll whimpered into her ear. “More...more...you're gonna make me hard doing that...”

“Hmm...isn't that what you want?” McKenna chuckled, sucking after his hot, tender throat and swabbing after his earlobe with her tongue.

He did feel so good to her, so warm, so alive, and with each pass was growing ever stiffer in her hand.

Tasted so good to her...

Everything about Taryll was just so damn good.

“Yes...” His head fell back, McKenna attacking his face, licking after the ridge in the cleft of his chin.

“Please...Please. I can't wait any longer...I can't wait. McKenna....McKenna, Sugar, please!”

Thinking Taryll wanted to stretch his fabulous form on the chaise, she started to move towards it and stopped when she felt Taryll's hand clamp down on her wrist with such a ferocity, the joint popped.

“Ow—Taryll!” McKenna gasped as she was pulled back to him at the chair.

Her wrist shone bright red when he released her.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

His hands slapped his haired thighs and her head cocked to the side.

He wanted to do...IT...on the chair?

Running her hands through his curls, she snickered,

“You're a little freaky thing, aren't you?”

His eyes sparkled,

“You bring it out of me. Now jump on me, before I let it go all over the walls instead.”

Smooching his wide forehead, McKenna conceded,

“You're the boss...”

* * *

“...Ugh! Ugh! Ugh...!”

“Oh, girl! Oh...oh shit! Yes, girl! Work me...grind me. Grind it!”

Taryll and McKenna were but a ball of live, wild, and perspiring flesh, testing the very limits of the tufted chair creaking and doing its best to support an in which it had not been constructed for.

McKenna clung to Taryll, her arms wrapping his long, wet throat, his hands in a death grip on her buttocks,guiding her up and down, up and down, over and over again on that impossibly large mass stretching the poor girl to her limits.

Slipping in and out of her, reaching deeper than any man ever had before, connecting McKenna to Taryll in a way she had never fathomed even existed.

SMACK!

McKenna winced, taking a direct slap to her right ass cheek!

“Ugh! Yes! Ride me! Ride me, girl! Aw...Fuck me...!”

Taryll huffed , his hands running up and down her back.

At once her ponytail was in his hand, pulling her head back, his face being buries into her throat, sucking fiercely, and leaving multiple hickies in his wake.

“Oh! Oh! Oh—Taryll! Oh! OH! OH! OH!”

McKenna wailed as Taryll bent forward, in turn bending her backward, throwing his hips , his hands on her waist holding her steady.

“Look at you...look at those titties...I'm making those titties bounce...Oh Lord...!”

His face was scarlet, droplets of sweat falling from his forehead, splashing her abdomen.

“Ah! Taryll! Ta-Ta-Taryll! Ah!”

McKenna cried shrilly , as Taryll put his hand in the middle of the back, uprighting them.

It was then she realized Taryll was standing up...while still holding her.

“Oh my God!” She gasped and cinched her legs around his waist, hugging tighter than ever as Taryll's took a cheek in each hand and slammed her into him.

Again... and again...and again.

“Hell yeah! Hell yeah! Hell yeah!”

Veins were popping out of his forehead and his neck, all the while he was taking a burgundy cast all over.

The next thing she knew, McKenna was bracing against the front of her desk, all the trinkets on it rattling, Taryll plowing into her from behind.

“You're so damn perfect!”

Taryll groaned into her ear, bearing down on her, pulling the elastic from her hair, her highlighted tresses falling over and clinging to her wet shoulders.

His hands found their way onto her breasts, fondling her, his weight on her back increasing.

His groin was flapping into her with incredible speed to the point McKenna became speechless, her mouth open, but no sound coming out.

“Oh God... Oh...Aw... AW...M-M-McKenna...!”

Taryll stammered, and with a shudder, her wrapped his arms around her , his forehead falling onto her shoulder.

“DAMN!”

He thrust one last time, holding onto her, both wheezing hoarsely.

He...he was climaxing inside her, McKenna feeling his warm moisture rich love shooting in her deeper recesses, but she made no moves to get away from him.

There was something to protective, so comforting, so pure and true about their embrace.

As naughty as they had been, McKenna felt something special.

And then Taryll called it by name.

“I...I love you McKenna...”

Love... that's what it was... this wondrous, monumental feeling.

Love.

Twisting to look at Taryll, rosy-cheeked, covered from tip to toe in sweat she patted at his cheek.

“I love you, too...”

* * *

“...kind of a crazy afternoon, huh, Sweetie?”

Taryll asked, draping an arm around McKenna's shoulders as they turned the corner of the building , headed for the parking behind In the Closet.

“I don't think the word to describe what happened today hasn't yet been invented.” McKenna snickered and Taryll chuckled.

Reaching the lot, only two cars remained—McKenna's small silver Prius, and a larger, white Land Rover.

“So...where do we go from here?” Taryll wondered as they reached the Prius, with McKenna digging for her key in the small clutch under her arm.

“I don't know” The door was unlatched, buy remained shut, McKenna staring down at the handle.

“Where do you want to go?”

Taryll's chest bumped her shoulder he got so near her.

“Home...I'd like to go home with you.” He stated seriously.

“Or I could take you to my home. I don't care, as long as I can look up and see you there.”

“I live in the Valley...where do you live?” McKenna glanced up at him, his face serious and set.

“The Hills, but the Valley sounds nice. Let's go there.”

A hand was extended and reluctantly, McKenna dropped her keys into it.

“Is the Land Rover yours?” She asked as Taryll slipped into the driver's seat of the Prius and leaned over, opening the passenger door for her.

“Yes, don't worry. I'll have one of my brothers come and get it for me.” Taryll shrugged, looking up at her.

“You've got brothers?”

“Yeah...come on, get in. Maybe over the ride to your place we can figure out what else we have in common besides two bodies made to fit together!”

Laughing, McKenna jogged around and hooped in beside him, wrapping herself around his bulging arm and taking the small yellow bag from, dropping it to the floor.

Backing out, McKenna had no idea where her relationship with Taryll would progress from there, but if it were anything like the love they had made, everything would be just perfect.

Yes...perfect.