Kara owned me since day one. Our very first training session at the old Tony's Gym on Peachtree involved a list of demands and ultimatums that never ended. Shaka, the manager, asked me to work with Kara because he knew that no one else on the staff would give her the time of day. Most of the 33 Tony's Gyms were known for having a family atmosphere, but the old gym on Peachtree was a hardcore training spot for serious athletes.
"No staring at my ass when I'm working out," is how she introduced herself. That request had been ignored by her last 2 trainers within their first hours, so I made sure to focus elsewhere. I chose to stare at her eyes. Beautiful brown eyes. "My goal is to have a perfect ass for me. Not you. Got it?"
I nodded and smiled. "Anything you'd like to work on in particular?" I asked as she headed past the train of treadmills to the free weights. Her pace was rigid but her flow was graceful. She must have run track because her posture was perfect. Each step had intent, precision and beauty. And I caught a quick glance at her ass. She was wrapped from head-to-toe in hi-tech performance fabric, but her frame was clearly that of a Marvel drawn heroine. My glance was brief.
Not a stare.
"I like being tone," Kara explained. "I'm going to run through my Wednesday Glutes workout and I'll let you clean up after me. I start with squats."
Before I could acknowledge her she hoisted 85 lbs atop her 5 foot 8 inch frame and proceeded the first minute of her 45 minute workout. Her form on each squat was flawless as I watched her perspiration build beneath the bandana that caged her thick black curls. I wanted to ask if she wanted more weight as she bounded from set to set but her wireless headphones were the only audio she needed.
I figured I'd do my best to stay out of her way, spot her on the larger weights she was tossing around like toddlers and wipe down the sweat her body began to drench the equipment with. The way she flew from bench to bench with barely a pause I figured she had been a professional athlete of some sort. Her movements were precise and calculated like a trainer, but fluid and soulful like an artist. Clearly a princess and a diva, she expected my every second as she moved from station to station. She couldn't have been a day over to 26 but Kara had the intensity of the gym's veteran athletes that were trying to keep up with the rookies. I'd trained her type before but she was extra.
Keeping up with her workout was a workout in itself. "Towel, please," she barked as she pushed through her fifth set of lunges. I simply wiped her forehead and neck while she stepped through the last three minutes of her regime.
As she dropped to the mat to cool off and stretch she released me from my servitude with a hardy handshake and a modest, "Good job." I nodded in kind and returned to the front desk to await my next appointment.
"Thanks for taking her on," Shaka smilingly acknowledged as I checked my phone for messages. "Glad you were here today because everyone else was done with Special K."
I smiled as I imagined every trainer rolling their eyes while this acutely
Yeşilyurt Escort maintained athlete tuned her body with a workout designed for Olympians. I was more than happy to take her orders. I was simply hoping I'd done a good job.
"Tomorrow at 4," Kara bluntly informed me as she headed toward the locker room, intimidating every man and woman in her path.
"Tomorrow at 4," I replied without lifting my head because I would not have been able to control my eyes. She would have felt my stare and there would have been no 'tomorrow at 4' for us.
So our unspoken agreement was 'tomorrow at 4' for seven days a week. I was technically only training 4 days per week at the gym, but I always matched her goodbye word-for-word.
'Tomorrow at 4.'
While her workouts were rigorous, Kara never showed any sign of slowing. She could have gone another 30 minutes each day if she wanted to push herself. Her Tuesday