Sweat and Text

The hotel room smelled of chlorine and regret. My phone buzzed against the nightstand, and I knew it was her before I even looked.

Lena.

I'd been her trainer for six months, and I'd been hard for half of them. She had this way of arching her back on the leg press that made my mouth dry. And now I was three hundred miles away at a certification conference, alone in a king-sized bed that felt way too big.

The message popped up: "Missing my favorite spot in the gym."

I stared at the screen. She'd sent a photo. Not a gym selfie. This was her bathroom mirror, towel wrapped low on her hips, water droplets still clinging to her collarbone. Her skin looked warm, damp.

I typed back: "Which spot is that?"

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

"The one where you stand behind me when I do squats."

Fuck.

I sat up in bed, heart hammering. "You know I have to watch your form."

"I know you watch my ass."

The words hung there. Bold. Direct. Nothing like the polite small talk we traded between sets. My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

"Can't deny that."

"Good."

Another photo. This time the towel had dropped. Just the edge of her hip, the curve of her waist, the suggestion of something more. My cock strained against my boxers.

"Lena... what are we doing?"

"Finally being honest."

I called her. She picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, trainer."

Her voice was low, a little breathy. I could picture her lying on that hotel bed, miles away in her own room, phone pressed to her ear.

"This is crazy," I said.

"Is it? You've been looking at me like you want to eat me alive for months. I've been waiting for you to do something about it."

"I'm your trainer."

"You're a man. I'm a woman. And right now, you're alone in a hotel room, and so am I."

I closed my eyes. "What do you want me to do?"

"Tell me what you'd do if you were here."

The words came out rough. "I'd push you against the wall. Pin your wrists above your head."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'd kiss your neck, that spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. I've seen it when I correct your stance."

She let out a soft sound. "You pay attention."

"Every fucking detail. The way your breath catches when I touch your lower back. The way you bite your lip when I count your reps."

"What else?"

I shifted, my hand moving down my stomach. "I'd slide those shorts off you. The black ones with the pink stripe. The ones that make your ass look like a goddamn masterpiece."

"Fuck, Mark."

"I'd turn you around. Bend you over the bed. And I'd take my time."

Her breathing was ragged now. I could hear her moving, sheets rustling.

"Are you touching yourself?" I asked.

"Yes. Tell me more."

"I'd spread you open. Look at you. All wet and ready for me. And I'd slide inside you so slowly you'd feel every inch."

She moaned. "Mark..."

"I'd fuck you until you forgot your own name. Until you couldn't walk straight tomorrow. Until everyone at the gym wonders why you're smiling so much."

"Dios, sí."

"I'd fill you up. And then I'd do it again."

Silence. Just her breathing, ragged and fast.

"I wish you were here," she whispered.

—Yo también.

"Send me a picture."

I hesitated. Then I switched to video, propped the phone against a pillow. The camera caught me, boxers tented, chest flushed.

She gasped. "Oh."

"Tu turno."

She flipped her camera. She was naked, lying back, legs slightly parted. The sight of her made me groan.

"Look what you do to me," she said, her hand moving between her thighs.

"Show me."

She did. Her fingers slid through her wetness, circling, teasing. I watched, mesmerized, my hand wrapped around my cock, matching her rhythm.

"I want to feel you," she breathed. "Inside me."

"I want to be inside you. Feel you clench around me."

Her hips lifted. Her mouth fell open. "I'm close..."

"Come for me, Lena. Let me watch."

She did. Her back arched, her cry sharp and broken. I followed, my release hot against my stomach, her name on my lips.

We lay there, phones pressed to our ears, breathing hard.

"Fuck," she said finally.

"Yeah."

"Next time, no phones."

"Next time?"

"I'm booking a flight. Tomorrow."

I laughed, shaky. "I'll pick you up at the airport."

"Good. Wear those shorts I like."

"Deal."

She hung up. I stared at the ceiling, the scent of sex and sweat in the air. My phone buzzed one last time.

"Can't wait to see you squat tomorrow. Properly."

I grinned. Neither could I.