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The moves themselves weren’t too bad. Grace was right that the class varied in ability, and the focus was on doing what I could and not trying to do things beyond my ability. The hardest part was in not getting a hardon as I watched Grace move. Jesus, she did fit her name. She could bend and stretch, and between each pose, she moved with such fucking grace. She was like a swan hidden behind librarian packaging. It didn’t help that her clothes left nothing to the imagination. It made me regret again how I’d fucked her on a desk the one time I’d had her. What I wouldn’t do now to get her fully naked in a bed to touch and taste every delectable curve that was bending and moving in front of me. And she was flexible. The positions we could try. My brain nearly exploded thinking about it.
After our first class, I was jerking off the minute I got home, my dick was so fucking hard. And that night, I slept better than I had in a long time. That’s not to say there weren’t any dreams. But when Sara and Chase were yelling at me, and Grace told me to let go, I woke up and started that breathing the instructor taught us. Within a few minutes, my heart rate was back to normal. Fucking amazing.
So now I was back to being erotically tortured by watching Grace move. I was a sadist, but I also knew she was a part of my improved mood and productivity. I was smart enough to recognize a good thing and work to hold on to it.
“Ready?” Grace asked me looking over her shoulder in class.
“Did you know about the other effect yoga has?”
She quirked a brow. “What other effect?”
“It makes me hard.”
She rolled her eyes and turned back toward the front of the room. But I saw the small upward twitch of her lips. I grinned. That is until we started moving, and the effect started happening. Some poses were uncomfortable, nearly painful, when my dick was getting hard.
After the class, Grace was rosy and soft, and I so fucking wanted to kiss her. The urge was there a lot. I was determined that at some point, she’d let me touch her again, so I did my best to abide by her rules. I was sure she wanted me, and that all I had to do was bide my time. But fucking-A, it was getting hard to wait.
My driver was waiting as we exited class, and like last week, I offered her a ride home. During the drive, she asked me about meditation.
“My brain won’t shut up,” I said in response. “Left to its own devices, it goes places I don’t want to go.” It was strange how open I was with her about the demons rattling around my brain. There were times I wondered if she’d realize how fucked up I was, but if she did, she never let on. It was probably her training that allowed her to hide her true feelings about heinous things. It made me think I shouldn’t trust her kindness toward me. Unfortunately, there was some part of me that needed to be around her. It was fucking terrifying.
“The racing brain is common for most people starting out. I can help you learn to quiet your mind and show you what to do if unpleasant thoughts creep in.”
We were pulling up to her place, and I decided I wasn’t ready to let her go. “Okay.” I got out of the car and when she probably thought I’d drop her off, I made a move to follow her inside. “You said you’d teach me to meditate.”
She looked surprised but then smiled. “I did. Yes. Come in.”
Her apartment was like her; a bit prim. She told me to sit on the couch with my hands on my thighs and close my eyes.
I did as she asked, noting her scent as she sat next to me. Even after yoga, she had a sweet scent to her, like peaches and cream.
“Focus on your breathing. Think in and out, in and out.”
I did as she said, but the heat of her body and intoxicating scent made it difficult. I popped one eye open to see her. She was sitting next to me, eyes closed. She was so pretty and sweet, and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned over and pressed my lips to her neck.
She pulled away and chastised me. “We’re just friends, remember.”
I saw the desire in her eyes, and while I wanted to respect her wishes, I needed her so fucking bad that I had to push my luck. “I’m working on mind-body connection. Your body is always on my mind.”
I saw the tug on her lips as she tried not to smile. “We agreed.”
