Rebound (3 page)

I walked Chelz out and went to the
lounge to heat up my leftovers for lunch. It’s the only thirty
minutes of quiet that I get in my day. I spend the majority of my
work hours talking and listening to others that I’m not left much
time to just reflect about my life and my goals. Working four jobs
to make ends meet is exhausting. I feel like life is passing me by.
I’ve been trying to make up my own rules about how I want my life
to proceed. Since the divorce, I’ve decided that I must be
responsible for my own contentment.

I placed my happiness in Ben’s hands.
I thought that being his wife would be enough to fulfill me. I left
my personal and sexual gratification up to him. When he threw me
out of our home, I decided that I would be in charge of my own
pleasure and happiness. If I ever happen to meet, date and fall in
love with another man, my bliss comes first.

***

We tend to get walk in membership
inquiries during lunch, so I hurried to return to the office to
ensure that I’m available for tours and questions. It would be
easier if I had a partner to trade off with, but I was hoping to
prove that I’m capable of managing the sales office alone. Once I
get the full time position, I hope that I can convince upper
management to get a part time assistant during my scheduled work
hours.

I went to the front desk and asked for
the mail. As I walked back to the office, I stopped to rub my hip
and lower back. I didn’t think I could do another tour today, but I
knew that I would have a few more tours this afternoon, and I
expected to have some walk-ins.

I stopped at the office entry when
Mrs. Brink approached me. She wanted to cancel her membership for
the millionth time, and I listened. She didn’t like the fact that
the whirlpool was closed again for maintenance for the third time
in a month, and I nodded. I offered to give her grandson a free
month membership so he could check out the club . . . again. This
would make it the third time he was able to use this exclusive club
for free. He’s a dancer at the Conservatory and has no money. He
wanted to weight train his upper body for supporting the weight of
other dancers. And as a former dancer at the Conservatory, I could
empathize with his plight of picking up many women of varying
weights, and as a modern dancer he will be picking up and tossing
about men who’ll often be heavier than him.

As I stood there listening to her and
giving her my full attention, I felt very exposed, like I was being
watched. I felt a chill in the air, raising the hairs on the back
of my neck. I quickly glanced around the gym, starting from my left
and ending on my right. Doctor Dashing was standing at the service
desk. He was talking to Paul who had greeted him. I looked long
enough to see him look at me and deliver that curt smile again.
Flutters went through my belly at his acknowledgement. I felt
flushed and nervous. The damn tingling in my nether region popped
up again. I clapped my hands under my chin, arms covering the
pebbled nipples that strained from my lacy bra.

Mrs. Brink snapped me to attention. I
brought my gaze back to her before I could return the smile. I put
my arm around her and walked her into the office where she acquired
the pass. I walked her out of the office hoping I could get another
glimpse of Dashing, but he was long gone. I figured he was in the
weight room, which is on the back side of the gym.

I was pleasantly surprised to see him
at Duration. Paul wasn’t sure that he continued his membership. He
signed in without difficulty, otherwise he would’ve been sent to my
office. I went to the computer to check on his status and his
attendance record. However, a knock on the door interrupted me
before I could type in his name.

Keta was at the door. She’s one of my
closest friends. We became friends when I started working as an
instructor at the gym. I took a few of her classes so I could learn
how to create a routine. She was so helpful in creating my routine.
I appreciated her constructive criticism of my first few classes,
which she attended and critiqued.

“
Hey, girl.” Keta greeted.
She came in and sat down. “I only have a few minutes before my
class. Are you going to take my class tonight?” Her classes are
always fun, the time passes quickly, and never feels like it’s a
workout; more like a party.

“
I can’t. I still have
this hip issue that I’m trying not to aggravate. I don’t want to
shower and redress. Too much work, girl.”

“
Fine. I gotta go prep for
class. I’ll see you.” Keta said while standing up from the chair
and turned to the door.

I followed her out of the office.
“Have a good class.” She started to walk off. “Oh, don’t forget
Friday. Dinner at 7 and Lumiere after.” I blew her a kiss. She
grabbed the floating kiss in her hand. I giggled and waved my
hand.

As I turned to go back in the office,
I saw Dr. Dashing running on the treadmill with a tight tank top
on, muscles rippling—those biceps. ‘Fuck me,’ I thought. He stared
straight ahead, and had ear buds in his ears. I wondered if he had
been in the gym before today and I just didn’t notice him. He was
sweaty and his face looked flushed from the exertion. He looked
good, and if he looked good running, I wondered how he’d look
during and after sex. I felt my insides liquefy, and I hugged
myself, wishing his strong arms were around me. Lord, help
me.

A walk-in came in, and while I took a
tour of the cardio workout area, I refrained from peeking at him as
he ran. I tried to give all my attention to the perspective member,
a young woman who lived close by and was a graduate student at the
local law school, but in my peripheral vision, I tried to keep him
in my sights. I took quiet, deep breaths as a means to calm my
nerves. My tension eased when we moved from the cardio area to the
other parts of the gym. Once he was out of my sight, I gave a
thorough tour and answered all of the questions, but she was unsure
if she wanted to join close to her apartment or closer to the law
school. I offered her a free, seven day pass to try the gym. And
when I walked her out of the office, Dr. Dashing was no longer
running on the treadmill.

I had two more tours and fortunately,
both signed up for membership. It was quite a day. My libido was
aroused for the first time in almost two years. My body and mind
were once again in sync that I could finally move on from Ben. I
wanted to start dating and be intimate with a man. I decided that I
may have a lot more fun than I initially intended to have at the
bachelorette party on Friday. However, I refused to settle for any
guy. I would continue to be very discriminating.

My day was uneventful on Wednesday. I had only one tour all
day. I made phone calls to previous inquiries and invited the
perspective member to obtain a free week pass. Most of the calls
resulted in my leaving messages. When my shift was over, I went to
the locker room to change into my work out clothes. I kept my eyes
averted from all the women in various states of undress. I got a
few “hellos” from women that recognize me from the classes I teach.
I changed quickly and went to the fitness studio to set up the
music.

After forty five minutes of Latin
dancing, shaking of hips and arms, I remained in the fitness room
as the women walked out chatting and laughing with each other. I
usually stay behind with the music blaring. This is the only time
that I prefer to listen to the heart pumping music. I generally
don’t listen to music while alone at home because it reminds me too
much of my mom. She had music on all day and toward the end of her
life, I kept the radio on for her twenty four hours a day so she
could be comforted by the songs that we’d dance to.

As I drank from my water bottle, I
felt hands on my hips. Startled, I turned to see my best friend and
previous dance partner, Carson. A beautiful smile appeared on his
face, and I smiled to match his enthusiasm. Carson had been touring
with his dance troop and he’d been away from home for three
months.

“
You’re back!” I scream as
I grabbed him and pulled him into my arms. Carson and I danced at
the Conservatory and we kept our friendship over the years. During
my marriage, we infrequently visited because Ben didn’t care for my
spending any time with other men, even if they were gay. Despite
telling Ben that Carson was never going to be interested in me, I
respected his wishes, breaking Carson’s heart and mine in the
process. Ben’s behavior was another red flag that I checked off
after the separation.

Carson is definitely my type,
physically, of course; tall, dark and handsome. His body was a work
of art. He was ultra-masculine, strong and flexible. He moved
lightly, like a feather. And no matter how big I was, he would pick
me up like I was an errant plume. Our relationship was always
platonic, but it was confusing to my younger self because we often
danced sensually and I was affected by our practices and
performances. Not having male attention the first two years of
college was difficult on the ego and the libido. With time, I
learned to detach those romantic feelings because Carson would
never be physically attracted to me despite our strong emotional
attachment.

“
I got back in town on
Monday. I needed a couple days to veg out at home with Turner.” He
replied.

Carson emits a very heterosexual vibe.
I easily understood how women could fall in love with gay men. He
flirts with women, knowing the right things to say and he listens
to them. When he dances with a woman, he knows how to hold her,
just the right touch of rough in his grip. He brings his body
close, feeling every hard and soft edge of him, and there were the
times when he’d get aroused. He once explained that it’s human
nature. He can get caught up in the sensuality of the piece and his
body would respond, but his heart and mind would prefer a man. He
explained that he found women attractive, like a sculpture to be
admired and fawned over, but never to be claimed by him.

While dancing, his beautiful face
emotes a feeling that she is the only one in the world. His eyes
and lips suggested that he wants to fuck your brains out, but he
doesn’t. The worst was him showering me with attention by taking me
out to dinner and the movies. I’d often slept over his apartment
when we’d have a late night. But there was no kissing or sexual
touching outside of a wooden dance floor. When Carson met Turner, I
saw how he regarded his boyfriend in the same way he did women, but
with more vigor; it was pure love with an extra dose of lust. He
would never want me. I only imagined he wanted me because I was
desperate for love and affection.

“
I’ve missed you.” I held
onto his face. “How’s Turner?”

“
He’s good. Glad to have
me home. I’m thinking of staying home for a while. I have an
interview to teach at the Conservatory on Monday.”

“
You do? Oh, Carson. I’m
so happy for you. I will keep my fingers crossed.”

“
Thanks.” He said
sheepishly. “I’m hopeful. I want to be home with Turner. We’re
thinking of adopting. After we get married.” He pulled away to show
me a very masculine diamond encrusted platinum band.

“
Holy shit! Carson.
Congratulations.” I held his hand and looked at the masculine band
with a touch of glam. I brought his ring to my lips and give him a
light kiss, tears welled in my eyes. “I wish you two the
best.”

“
Well, you’re my best gal,
so you’ll be standing up for me at our wedding in the
Fall.”

“
What? You want me to be
your best man?” I beamed.

“
I do. I love you and I’d
love for you to be next to me when I marry my other best friend;
the one I get to sleep with every day.” I pushed him lightly. I
rubbed my hand on his arms and pull him in for a hug. My heart
burst with joy and truthfully, a bit of resentment that all my
besties were getting hitched and I was pathetically alone. The
reality of both my best friends getting married this year elicited
a twinge of panic.

While we embraced, Carson started to
rock me to the rhythm of the salsa music. I knew he wanted to
dance. Running his hands along my arms that wrapped around his
neck, he reached for my wrist and gently put my hand in his and
started leading us into some Salsa moves. Our bodies were still
close until he pushed me slightly away to lead me to the next dance
move. Instantly his dance face came on, the passionate, smoldering
face that confused me for so many years. It was his passion for
dance that created that look. We danced intricately throughout the
dance floor. We went from simple salsa steps to twists, lifts and
turns. He added some choreography from our old routines. It felt
like we’d never stopped dancing together. Even with the hip
discomfort, I didn’t want to stop. I loved dancing with him because
he challenged me and encouraged me to push past my
limits.

When the mixed music changed to a slow
song, Carson picked me up and held me in his arms as he turned. I
looked toward the exit, and saw a figure turning away from the
glass door. I couldn’t see who it was. Maybe the person was
entranced by our dancing. It felt pretty hot from my end, so I’m
sure the viewer got quite a show.

“
I think we had an
audience.” I informed. He slowly brought me down his body letting
my toes touch the floor. We laughed and smiled.

“
I miss dancing with you.”
He said wistfully.