Trained By Daddy by Ava Sinclair
Chapter Four
Gabe
It’s 3:30.She should be here. If she’s coming back, she should be here.
The door to the gym opens and I hopefully look towards the entrance, but it’s just another regular. I glance at my phone. On the screen is an app where I keep the individualized workout plans. I’ve been tweaking Lila’s as I wait for her. I don’t think she’s coming, though, and I feel angry at myself. I probably scared her off with my flirtation. She probably thinks I’m just another lunkhead trying to score.
“Welcome back!” I hear the receptionist speaking to someone and turn. When I do, a flood of relief washes over me. She’s here, and damn does she look cute in her snug black workout pants and lavender colored top. Lila doesn’t see me, so I take the opportunity to drink her in with my eyes.
Another member greets me as she walks by, but I don’t even notice her because at just that moment the object of my attention looks up. She gives me a shy smile and a small wave. I walk over.
“Lila,” I say. “I was worried you’d changed your mind.”
“No. Sorry I’m late. There’s a bunch of construction on Brooks Road. Traffic was crawling.”
“Yeah, I’d completely forgot about that. I should have warned you.”
“It’s okay.” She looks past me towards the workout rooms. “So, what am I supposed to do today?”
“Well, for the next two hours, you’re all mine,” I say.
She flushes and drops her gaze, her obvious nervousness reminding me to go gently. I’m glad I didn’t scare her away yesterday. I don’t need to push my luck, even if she has no idea what I’d do to her if she really were mine. It would take a lot more than two hours.
Down boy,I tell myself.
“Let’s start with the treadmill,” I say, and she follows me as I go to the equipment room. Once we’re there, she turns to me.
“Could I start with bikes instead? I enjoy biking. I take my bike down to the farmer’s market on Saturday mornings.” She pauses. “It’s not exactly a workout. It’s just a cruiser with a basket on the front, but it’s the only activity I do consistently.”
An image pops into my mind of a voluptuous Lila peddling along the brick streets, her dress fluttering as she makes her way past the vendors. It’s such a clear image, and one that does nothing to decrease my interest.
“Would that be okay?” she asks, her head cocked. I realize I’m staring.
“Yeah. That would be fine, but you need to stretch first.”
Stretching is important. I don’t want her to pull her muscles. I sit beside her on the floor. She’s more relaxed than she was when she arrived. As she stretches, I casually ask her what she does. She tells me she’s an author but doesn’t elaborate. There’s something slightly guarded about her, something that makes me want to draw out the personality I know is lurking behind those pretty green eyes. I joke with her and each smile, each little laugh feels like a reward.
When she’s sufficiently warmed up, I direct her to a stationary bike, explaining that while it offers more resistance than she’s used to, it also provides the added benefit of working both the arms and legs. I stand at her side, showing her how to pull on the handles as she pedals. She’s wearing perfume that smells like lilacs. It suits her.
“Are you ready?” I ask. She nods, her expression determined. I set a wall timer for five minutes and then turn to watch.
I’m happy that even after she starts to look tired, she doesn’t look miserable. In less than three minutes, a sheen of sweat appears on her brow and upper chest. Her shapely thighs pump up and down, her arms move forward and back as she works.
“Keep going,” I say at the three-and-a half minute mark. “You’re almost there. Come on. You’ve got this. “Don’t you stop. Keep going.”
At first, I worry there was too much authority in my tone, but it seems to breathe new vigor into her. Lila pushes herself harder, and when her eyes meet mine and I smile, she smiles back. This is a woman with an ingrained desire to please. My cock stirs in my pants and I turn away. I focus on the timer. When it gets to zero, I call out for her to stop.
Lila is breathing heavily, her generous breasts rising and falling under her shirt. Her heart-shaped face is flushed. She’s fair skinned. As she walks past me I can’t stop myself from looking at her full, shapely ass. I imagine the cheeks bare and white, blushing under my hand as I spank her. I shouldn’t have these thoughts, but I can’t help myself.
“So, what’s next?” she asks, picking up a towel and dabbing her face.
“What’s next is an atta girl. You’re doing great.”
“I don’t know about that,” she says. “I’m pretty tired.”
“No, you did good. You’ve got more endurance than...”
“...than some other chubby girls? Yeah.” She looks away.
“Hey, didn’t anyone ever teach you not to put words in other people’s mouths, young lady?” I take a step towards her. “I was going to tell you that you have more endurance that a lot of first-timers on that bike.”
“Sorry.” She looks down and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I have a bad habit of defaulting to the most negative thing.”
“Why?”
“Conditioning.” She shrugs.
“Hey, look at me.”
When she does, I smile. I can’t help it. “I’m in charge of your conditioning now. And if I catch you assuming I see anything other than incredible potential, then…” I have to stop myself before I say what’s on the tip of my tongue, before I tell her that I’ll spank her pretty ass.
She looks up at me and in her pretty face I see…expectation? Connection? Our eyes lock and then she looks away.
“Then what?” she asks.
“Then I’ll be very disappointed,” comes my unsatisfactory reply.” She’s a client, I tell myself. You’re her trainer. Act like it.
“You’ve got this,” I say. “Let me show you the weight machines and how they work.”
