Hotel Exhibitionist Ch. 01

"Thanks," Kymberly said, and she turned around. She could have sworn that when she did so at least a dozen faces -- not all men -- turned abruptly away from her. She was aware, more than ever, that, amid a large group of business and professional people checking into the hotel for the weekend, she was the only one dressed in skimpy workout attire.

"I hope Robert likes this, at least," she thought.

As if on cue, Robert sent her another text message.

"Did you get the directions?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Good. Before you go to the fitness center, stand in the middle of the lobby and take a selfie with your phone, with your back to the check in counter."

"I can't do that!" she texted back. "Everyone will be looking at me!

"I have a reputation to keep here!" she texted again before he could reply.

"Everyone will look at you," he replied. "That's a good thing. They will talk about you. They will want to talk to you later. It will help you."

Kymberly wondered about that. She was a 44-year-old woman dressed in not much more than a bikini standing in the lobby of a luxury hotel surrounded by customers and competitors in her industry. She had no doubt that she was the focus of a lot of attention. Men, especially the older ones, would be looking at her with unabashed desire. That didn't worry her too much. It was the women's reaction she worried about. Some might admire her gumption in being so bold. But others might resent her. She couldn't do something that would hurt her ability to represent her company.

But she had told her husband she would play his game. And, secretly, she wanted to play it. A part of her liked knowing that she was the center of attention.

She walked toward the center of the lobby and stopped under a large, Tiffany-glass chandelier. She pulled her phone out and held it as far from her as she could so Robert would see her figure in the little outfit with the check in desk behind her. She snapped the photo and then sent it to Robert. She held the phone and look around her to see if anyone was looking at her taking the picture. She saw more than a few faces turned toward her. Then, with chagrin, she heard a familiar, high-pitched voice.

"Kymberly!" the voice called out from behind her. "Did you get a good picture?"

Kymberly turned around to face her interrogator. It was Kristin Conway, a sales representative from one of her company's main competitors. Kristin and Kymberly had known one another for nine years, and they saw one another frequently at pharmaceutical industry events. Kymberly had long known that Kristin saw her as her arch-rival. Kristin was the last person Kymberly wanted to see right now.

"Hello, Kristin," said Kymberly, her face warm with embarrassment. "Nice to see you."

Kristin looked Kymberly up and down twice. "Nice outfit!" she said. "Is this part of Sintrell's new marketing campaign?"

"Bitch," Kymberly thought. Kristin -- short, blonde, and blue-eyed -- constantly maintained the perky, bubbly manner of a high school cheerleader. But, Kymberly thought, if you looked more closely you could see she moved through a crowd like a shark swimming through a crowd of fish. She always was sniffing for blood in the water. Now, obviously, she thought she had found it.

"No," Kymberly replied. "I'm going to get a workout done before tonight."

"Good idea!" said Kristin. "It gets harder and harder to maintain that figure as we age, doesn't it? But you seem to be doing a good job at it." Kristin was ten years younger than Kymberly, and never failed in their encounters to bring up the subject of age.

"Thank you," Kymberly replied. "Well, I better get going."

Kristin's eyes swept over Kymberly's body a last time.

"See you later," she said. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of people joining you soon to keep you company." She flashed a big smile and walked away.

Ugh, Kymberly thought. The less she had to do with Kristin Conway at this convention, the better.

She became aware again that she was standing in a hotel lobby crowded with fully dressed people, and she was the only one who was barely dressed. She quickly left and started down the hallway to the fitness center. It was time to find out what else Robert had in store for her.

It wasn't hard to find. In contrast with the arts and crafts style of the hotel, the fitness center was austere and modern. Mirrors lined the walls so guests could watch themselves as they worked out. Treadmills, stair climbers, and other cardio machines were clustered to one side in front of several television screens.

Various weight machines were centered in the middle, and the free weights and barbells and benches were set off to the other side.

Ping.

She looked down.

"Are you there?"

"Yes," she texted him.

"Start on the treadmill. After a warmup do some fast intervals so you work up a good sweat. Pick a treadmill in the middle of others to maximize the number of people who can see you."

"He's really thought of everything," she thought. That was Robert -- always a meticulous planner.

There were three rows of aerobic machines, with five machines in each row. Following her husband's instructions, Kymberly chose the treadmill in the middle of the front row. She judged that about half the machines were being used by guests. She felt keenly exposed from behind by the brevity of her skin-tight shorts. She set the machine to a slow setting, set her phone on the console in front of her, and started walking.

In a few minutes, she had warmed up enough to increase the setting and speed. She jogged slowly on the treadmill. Someone occupied the empty treadmill next to her. He was a tall, good-looking man, nice jaw, rumpled, short, brown hair, somewhat younger than she -- perhaps mid-thirtyish.

He took no time introducing himself to her.

"Do you know if you can set these machines to do intervals?" he asked her.

Kymberly thought that was a pretty smooth question. He hadn't said anything about her looks, or anything that was obviously flirty or lewd, and he had appealed to her knowledge of what she was doing.

"Yes," she said. "Just push the PROGRAM button and you'll get instructions about what to do."

"Cool," he said. "I don't have much time and want to squeeze in a good workout before this evening."

He punched the program button and hit a few more buttons to adjust the workout settings. Kymberly kept her eyes ahead of her, on a television screen showing the day's news, but she could see out of the corner of her eye what he was doing.

After he started a slow jog he turned to her again.

"Are you here for the convention?" he asked. She noticed his eyes moving up and down the length of her body.

Kymberly felt embarrassed at the man's stare, but she also thought that if she dressed the way she was dressed she wouldn't be able to avoid men's stares.

"I am," she said. "I'm a rep for Sintrell." She huffed a little between her words as she jogged on the treadmill. "I'm Kymberly."

"Nice to meet you," he said. He flashed a smile full of large, white teeth. "I'm Blaine. V.P., Marketing, Corvadex."

The phone on the console in front of her pinged.

"Tell me what you are doing."

She texted back to her husband. It was awkward doing so while running.

"I'm jogging on the treadmill and being hit on by a VP from another company." She hit the send button with a little glee, knowing that would make him jealous. It served him right for getting her dressed in such a little outfit in front of so many people.

"Good. Just remember. They can look, but they can't touch!"

"Don't worry, dear husband," she texted him.

Blaine was looking at her as she put the phone back on the console. He was checking out her left hand, which bore a wedding ring with a large diamond. It hadn't stopped men from hitting on her in the past, and Blaine didn't look like the kind of guy who would be deterred by it. But it was time to speed up the workout. She punched the buttons to make the treadmill go faster.

Soon she was running at a steady, brisk pace -- not all out, but fast enough to make her breath hard and to force her to pay attention to keep her body up right on the quickly turning treadmill. Her feet turned over rapidly and she pumped her arms. She looked at the reflection of herself in the mirror. It really was a small outfit, she thought, and the purple and black fabric was almost a blur as she ran in place on the machine. Her figure was nearly all taut, firm skin -- thin waist, with no fat, and legs moving fast like pistons. Her breasts, though, looked very full and upright in the sport bra, and they heaved and bounced with every deep, quick breath and step she took.

With a quick glance, she could tell her neighbor, Blaine, who ran more slowly than she did, was checking her out, though trying, mostly unsuccessfully, not to be obvious about it. He wasn't the only one. At least seven other men were on machines around her and most of them gave her at least one admiring glance. She even caught a woman in the back row on a stair climber sneak a peek at her butt.

Kymberly was working up a sweat, now. She knew that was what Robert wanted -- he wanted her to be damp and sweaty in her little shorts and bra top before she moved on to the next part of the workout. At first, she just felt her skin grow warm, but then she felt the growing dampness, and then moisture soaking into the edges of the bra and the waist band of the shorts. She even felt some moisture between her legs, and for a moment wished she were wearing something under the extremely thin shorts. It was too late to do anything about it now.

She kept at the brisk, steady pace for twenty minutes, until she covered in a fine film of perspiration. Then she slowed the machine and her pace to cool down for a few minutes, and finally she grabbed her phone and hopped off the treadmill.

She texted Robert.

"I'm done. And covered in sweat. What now?"

"Do some squats and overhead presses with dumb bells. Then do some bench presses. Get someone to spot you."

Kymberly moved over to the side of the room where the free weights were stacked. Kymberly was a regular gym-goer, and she preferred free weights to machines. She grabbed two moderate dumbbells from the rack and took up a position to start doing some squats. Before she started she saw another text.

"When you do the squats, turn sideways to the room so everyone can see your body in profile."

"My God, he's bossy and kinky," she thought. Her husband was hundred miles of way, hanging on his phone, and thinking about exactly how she positioned herself to show her body off to other people to maximum effect.

She faced sideways to the room, the dumbbells in her hands at her side, and began doing the squats, slowly. She lowered herself all the way, until her thighs were parallel to the ground. She exaggerated, just a little, pushing her butt out behind her and her chest out in front of her. By looking in the mirror at various places around the room she could tell that she was being checked out by other guests working out on their machines. Blaine was getting off his machine and walking over to the free weight rack. After finishing a set of 12 she paused for a minute. She did three sets of squats.

Robert texted. It amazed Kymberly that Robert seemed to have timed her movements perfectly even though he couldn't see her.

"Set up your phone to take a photo on 10 second delay, then take a photo of yourself standing with the weights in your hand and up at your shoulders."

He was making this embarrassing, forcing her to put herself on display and conspicuously take photos of herself while doing it, in front of colleagues and competitors. "Well," she had to admit to herself, "he isn't forcing me. It's my choice to do this."

Kymberly didn't have to follow his instructions. But she enjoyed following them, although doing so was embarrassing. She set the dumbbells down and set up the phone to take a photo on delay. Then she pushed the button, set it on a bench near her, and quickly back away and picked up the dumbbells again.

The flash went off. She hadn't meant to set it on flash, but she had, and now everyone in the room would know she was taking photos of herself.

"Workout selfie, huh?" she heard a voice behind her. It was Blaine.

"Oh, uh, yeah," she stammered. "I take photos from time to time to follow my workout progress."

"Oh, that's a good idea," he said. "Here, I'll take one of you -- it'll be a better photo that way."

"O.K., thanks," she said. She didn't really want to push things forward with Blaine, who obviously was interested, but she knew Robert would like it -- as long as things didn't go too far.

She posed in three different positions while Blaine snapped photos of her with her phone. He handed the phone to her and she checked out the photos. The last one was best: it showed her standing at an angle to the camera, with one arm curled with a dumbbell in hand, up at her shoulder, her bicep flexed and dewy with sweat, and her eyes open wide and lips parted. It was a sexy photo, and for a second she thought it was strange that she had just posed that way for a stranger. But Robert would like it. She hit the keys on her phone to send it to him.

"The man who's trying to hit on me just took this."

She held her phone and waited until Robert sent his reply.

"Very hot, baby. Now ask the nice man to spot you while you do bench presses."

Kymberly thought that she had a very naughty husband. She looked at Blaine, who seemed torn between moving on to his next routine and watching her. So far, watching her had won out.

"Hey, Blaine," she said, "would you mind very much helping me? I'd like to do some bench presses and I need a spotter."

Blaine's face lit up eagerly, and Kymberly knew he wouldn't mind helping her at all.

"No problem," he said. They walked together over to a bench with a bar over it. Kymberly put a weight on either side and fastened each to the bar securely.

"You look like you know your way around a gym pretty well," Blaine said.

"I do this a lot," she said.

"I can tell," he said, with a smile that was not quite wolfish but not quite innocent, either.

After finishing getting the barbell set up Kymberly glanced in the mirror, wondering what she looked like to Blaine. Her eye was drawn down to her shorts, and she noticed with dismay that a pronounced camel toe had formed where the tight and now lightly damp shorts covered the space between her legs. There was nothing she could do without calling attention to it. She knew Robert wouldn't want her to, either.

She lay back on the bench, splaying her legs and planting her feet firmly on the ground. Blaine stood behind her, ready to catch the bar if necessary. From her position, she couldn't see what he was looking at, but she guessed that he was getting an eyeful of the ample cleavage put on display by the skimpy purple and black bra. Or, maybe he was looking at the smooth, taut skin of her abdomen. Or, if his eyes were straying still lower, maybe he was staring at where the tight shorts fabric clung to the skin between her legs, where the seam fit directly over and formed a noticeable gully right over her sex. Kymberly didn't know. It was a little embarrassing, but she had a workout to do, and she hoped he wasn't too distracted to help her if she needed the help.

As it turned out, she didn't need the help; she could get through a few sets without too much difficulty. She was aware the whole time of the show she was putting on in the shorts and bra. Pressing the weight caused the muscles of her chest to contract, accentuating her cleavage. She also found herself clenching her butt on the upstroke, which caused her hips to rise slightly and to stretch the thin fabric even more tightly over her pubic mound. She noticed that another man had started lifting dumb bells a few feet beyond the end of her bench, and he must have been getting quite a view between her spread legs.

She finished and sat up and looked around, and she had the sneaking feeling that about half a dozen of the gym goers suddenly had averted their eyes away from her.

"Good job," Blaine said behind her.

She twisted backward to say "thanks" and she caught him staring at her still heaving chest.

"Thanks for your help," she said. Then she picked up the phone at her feet to text Robert.

"Time to stretch. Include planks and leg lefts and do some with your legs stretched open."

Robert is going to get me in trouble, she thought.

Robert wanted her to show her off to the guests in the crowded fitness room during her cool-down stretching. Kymberly figured that the way to do it without looking overtly like she was showing off was to look like she knew what she was doing and move through the stretches quickly. Fortunately, Kymberly, through lots of gym experience, knew what she was doing.

She walked over to a mat nearby and lay on her back. Then she planted her feet on the ground and lifted her butt as high off the ground as she could, clenching her glutes. She straightened her body, and she knew the front of her body was lifted high and on display for everyone -- her bra-clad breasts, lean torso, and, most of all, her lycra-clad pubic mound, still noticeably grooved down the middle and sculpted by purple and black lycra. She held that position for a minute.

She flipped over and got up on her toes and elbows, holding her body straight in a plank position. Now her perky butt was on display. Then she alternated taking each leg off the ground, first raising it as far back as she could, and then holding it out straight as far to her side as she could. She felt the muscles of her core tensing with the strain of holding the position, and she felt the muscles of her butt contract as well.

Kymberly had done all these stretches in gyms before, and she often had been aware of the glances she would get from men working out nearby -- sometimes subtle, sometimes completely obvious. But she'd never worked out in a gym in an outfit this skimpy. Through her side vision she could tell she was getting lots of glances, and a lot of them weren't subtle at all.

She stood up and moved to the wall to stretch her calves, and she pushed her butt out and put it on display again. Looking in a mirror to the side of her outstretched hands against the wall, she saw glances being cast her way. Her admirers included Blaine, who was sneaking peeks at her while curling dumbbells that looked too heavy for him. She thought he probably was trying to impress her.

Next, she lay back on the mat and raised her legs straight and pressed together in the air. She brought her toes back, back, back, until they were over her head, and then she spread her feet apart. In that position, she knew the little shorts were riding far up her thighs, and she could feel the exposure of skin at the edge of her butt. She knew the thinly-covered gap between her legs was on view as well. She held that position for a minute and then brought her legs back to the ground.

After a few more stretches she was done. She texted Robert.

"I'm done with the workout." Then she texted what stretches she had done so he could imagine her doing them.

"Good," he texted back. "Time to go back to the room. Let me know when you get there, and then take a shower."

"I'm heading back to my room," she told Blaine, who looked disappointed that she was leaving.

"I'll see you later this evening," he said.

"See you then," she said. She stood up, toweled off the bench, and left the fitness center.

By now nearly all the guests had checked in for the weekend, and the hotel corridors were crowded with people. She caught dozens of people -- mostly men but some women too -- staring at her sweaty, scantily clad body as she made her way back to her fourth-floor room.