The Fixation
Kai first noticed her on a humid Thursday evening in Equinox Tribeca.
She walked in like she owned the place and didn’t care who watched. Nineteen, creamy skin glowing under the harsh fluorescent lights, black wavy hair pulled into a high, defiant ponytail. She wore a tight black sports bra and even tighter gym shorts that left little to the imagination; curves spilled out in all the right places. Kai was mid-set on the pull-up bar, shirtless, sweat slicking the grooves of his abs, when his eyes locked on her. She stepped onto the treadmill. He stared. She caught him, a flush creeping up her neck, but she didn’t look away until the last possible second.
He couldn’t stay away.
He walked over, introducing himself as Kai, and offered to “fix her form.” What started as light, instructional touches on her shoulders turned into full palms on her waist, his thumbs brushing bare skin. By the time they reached the squat rack, his hips were pressed against her with every rep. In the private stretching room later, the air thick with the scent of rubber and adrenaline, he peeled her clothes off and took her hard against the mirror. She came twice before he spilled inside her.
The next day she returned in even smaller shorts—black BodyZone scrunch-back micro shorts that disappeared between her cheeks and a maroon sports bra. The teasing escalated. On the kitchen island of his apartment that same night, she crawled on all fours, ass swaying, daring him to choose between cooking Swedish meatballs and fucking her instead. He chose both—first her on the counter, then burned the meatballs while they laughed into each other’s necks.
