New and Improved Olivia

Simon Says: So this is another stretch for me, content-wise. There are several ways to categorize this but again (and you will roll your eyes if you have read my other stuff) since this is intended as simply a romance I will call it that. You could argue at least three other things here, so I will say that there are elements of exhibitionism/ voyeurism in here, some bi-curious/ lesbian tensions, and some straight out heterosexual erotic couplings. But the direction of this is romance and love . . . So, that's what it is.

As with my other junk, I do the slow burn. There is actual sex in this, but I am more focused on steady character development. I am looking at this being up to four chapters.

As always, I enjoy all contacts and respond to all emails.

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I cautiously moved down the hallway, peeking through each door as I made my way to the end. The receptionist had pointed towards the last door-on-the-right. So, that is where I headed.

I didn't fit in here. Young. In amazing shape. Firm bodies. Wearing tiny sports bras and little shorts. Super flat stomachs. Perky breasts.

I stopped in the hall four times, each time considering a dash for the entrance, but managed to at least make it to the door. My hand rested on the knob for about a minute, my mind racing through the many reasons why this wasn't necessary, not a good idea, actually a bad idea and I could just do this at home.

If I wanted to get into shape, then I didn't need to go to this type of place. Maybe there was a mid-thirties women's fitness club within driving distance.

"Ahem." I was startled by the soft cough behind me. I glanced back to find myself face-to-face with a pretty brunette in one of those small sports bras. Even though women do check each other out, we are very quick and subtle about it. I didn't miss a beat.

"Sorry . . . " I began. But then I didn't know what excuse I was going to give for standing in front of the door and not moving. I suddenly felt embarrassed. She probably saw right through me.

And then it was confirmed. "No reason to be nervous," she reached out and her fingers gently grasped my hand. She was trying to be comforting but I wasn't used to much physical contact so it sent me a little shock through me. If she hadn't been holding my hand I likely would have taken a few steps back.

Her eyes were pleadingly kind as she smiled at me. I knew I liked this girl already. Maybe not enough to enter the room, but I did like her. Some people you meet and you just know that you can connect with them. It's like in some ways they are your kindred spirits. She was one of those. She seemed . . . so . . . sincere. Maybe I needed some sincerity at that moment.

When it was obvious that I couldn't speak, she confidently took over again. "First time?" She literally moved a little down to get into my field of vision as I had dropped my eyes. I nodded quietly. Her face exuded even more sympathy.

What in the world is wrong with me? I am a customer service manager! I deal with people (some very difficult) on a very regular basis. And I am good at it! But walking into an aerobics class scared me to death.

Likely it was because at work I deal with other people's problems while right then and there it was me, the problem, that I was dealing with.

Really it was because it was the beginning of 'Olivia 2.0' and maybe I wasn't ready. Would the new Olivia just suck (apparently) as much as the old Olivia? It seemed easier to me to accept my many faults and just hang on the outskirts. I was good at my job. I had some close friends. And a lovely extended family. Why would I need a new me anyway? Who cares about men? I don't! Or maybe I do a little . . .

And then I was suddenly aware that my new favorite fitness person was still looking at me curiously, and she was still holding my hand, and my fingers on my other hand still rested on the door knob, and I still looked like a total crazy person.

She looked very concerned.

"I am ok . . . Just . . . I can't decide. . . " She nodded and squeezed my hand a little tighter to get my attention.

"I am Astrid and I am the instructor for this session." She smiled warmly at me as she kept my hand in hers. I was acutely aware of her fingers still on mine as it just was such an unusual experience. "Why don't you come inside and stand in the back. If you feel comfortable enough, then you can join in."

I nodded again. That all made very good sense to me. But for some reason I couldn't find words. I am not sure what was keeping me from being the awesomely confident woman I am 99% of the time but I kind of hated it. Then again, it felt absolutely wonderful, warm and tingly for someone to be concerned about me. In fact, it felt so wonderful that I started tearing up a bit. Dammit!

And of course, Lil' Miss Perceptive caught it quickly and pulled me into a comforting hug. Which of course shocked me again due to the unusual physicality thing. And that's how I found myself on the first day of aerobics class hugging and crying on the instructor's shoulder. One hot mess.

Astrid led me into the class and guided me to a back wall. She placed her palms on my cheeks and held my face, looking at her. I felt so out of my element. I had received more physical contact with Astrid in the last three minutes than practically in ten years of marriage.

She gave me a look that basically asked if I was going to be ok and that she was going to head to the front of the room to get class started. I nodded. She smiled and finally stopped touching me.

Now, it's not that I don't like for people to put their hands on me, I just wasn't very used to it. Dating and early marriage saw a lot of sex, which wasn't necessarily just touching. The last few years before the divorce saw quite a bit less. I think the last time I had even had sex was a year and a half before the official end of our marriage. And there wasn't a line at my door to give me hugs. So, Astrid's actions were both somewhat welcome and very alarming at the same time. If that's possible.

I watched the dozen other women get settled into their seemingly usual spots. Everyone develops usual spots. Yes, about 2/3 of them were very slim 20 somethings, identically uniformed in cute little workout outfits and pony tails, but there were a few women who fit more into my category: 30s to 40s, conservatively dressed, and not perfect.

And then the music began and Astrid began leading class. Wow, she is energetic.

I watched all of the ponytails bounce around me, my own fingers moving through my recently cut hair. As part of Olivia 2.0 I opted to go very short. I was redefining myself after all. So, my light blond hair was cut into a short bob cut, a wave of bangs moving across my forehead towards my right ear. One great advantage of the new me was that the new me took quite a bit less time to deal with hair in the mornings.

My eyes finally came back to Astrid. She was watching me again. And that made me smile a little. And then she smiled back. Ok, Olivia 2.0, let's get going.

I slipped up next to a woman about the same age as me. She glanced at me and smiled and nodded through heavy breathing as she tried to keep up with Astrid. I returned the silent greeting and moved right into the exercise.

I moved my eyes to Astrid who was beaming at me. Little waves of warmth moved around my body. And that wasn't just because I was moving my legs faster than they had for some time but it was because a woman who barely knew me at all cared about me . . . or at least what happened concerning me in the next 30 minutes. And then a few tears started to form again. Great.

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Astrid walked up to me as I used my towel to wipe my face. I hadn't worked my body that hard in . . . um. . . forever.

"You were awesome!" She smiled at me as she placed her hand on my back. Gosh this girl is very touchy-feely.

"Thanks." I finally got most of my breathing under control. "It was pretty hard to keep up with you."

She laughed. "Oh please." She pulled her hair back into the standard issue ponytail to cool off I guess. But honestly I didn't even see that she had broken a sweat. Her yellow sports bra looked bone dry. Her exposed flat perfect belly was also. My tank on the other hand was drenched. Yeah I felt a little intimidated.

"I am afraid I don't even know your name?"

"I am Olivia." I shot my hand out to her and she took it and smiled. Not a shake. Just another small hand holding exercise. Warm and friendly. "And thank you for encouraging me."

She held onto my hand. "No problem!" She then finally let go as I started to wipe my face again.

"Do you have time to sit down for a few minutes at the cafe?" I moved the towel from my eyes to see her staring at me, waiting for me.

My schedule wasn't exactly packed today . . . or tomorrow . . .or any night next week. Olivia 2.0 hadn't managed to fill her schedule with dates and outings. I smiled, "Sure. But only if it is on me." She considered it for a moment and then nodded.

"Did you need to shower or change or anything?" I watched her eyes glance at my wet white tank. Fortunately, it was thick enough that I wasn't going to win any drunken contests dancing on a stage in it. Although the outline of my bra started to partially appear.

I shook my head. "I am afraid I didn't bring a change . . . I uh . . . well I apparently didn't think it all through." I smiled sheepishly at her.

She laughed again. "No problem, come with me." She grinned as she walked away "I know people."

I followed her back up the dreaded hallway from earlier. I glanced down and saw that not only did Astrid have a perfect stomach topped by perfect breasts and a very pretty smile, she apparently also had a perfect bubble-esque backside, wrapped in dark gray workout leggings. Again, yes, women check each other out.

She turned right and bounced into a small office. I waited at the door, unsure. She came back out with something blue in her hand. "One more stop and then I will get my fantastic smoothie!" She grinned as she motioned for me to follow her.

We rounded another corner and entered the women's locker room.

"Ok, give me that awful tank top." I am pretty sure my mouth gaped open.

"I . . ." She literally put her finger on my lips. Which, as with everything else with Astrid, proved alarming.

"Nope, no arguing. Give it to me." She held out her hand. She sported the cute and bossy look well. I wish I could pull that off. Probably would get lots of things done at work.

Another challenge of the last several years was that I had grown older and no one got to see the me under the clothes very much. So, I was used to that part of me being undiscovered. It sort of kind of was sort of a reason that aerobics was on my list of requirements for Olivia 2.0.

I don't think I was super out of shape, I just was standing in front of a pretty flat bellied aerobics instructor who probably was about 10 years my junior. I felt unbelievably self-conscious.

I knew her eyes would drop to my less than perfect breasts, gravity pulling them down against my bra, or my less than perfect belly. But I didn't see many options. The girl seemed rather determined.

So, I slipped my tank off and put it in her hand, my own arms immediately crossing in front of my across my bra and stomach.

She took the tank and literally tossed it into the trash.

"What are you . . .?"

"That thing was hideous and definitely not you." Her eyes dropped to my arms and then back to my eyes.

It looked like she was considering something. "You know you are beautiful, right?"

I just stared at her. I wasn't beautiful. My husband . . . ex-husband . . . didn't think so. His 21-year-old secretary didn't think so. His friends didn't think so. There wasn't much agreement with her statement. So, she was being nice . . . and I understood that . . . but I wasn't beautiful and she knew it. Especially now that my imperfections were fully on display. So, I felt a little anger flare.

"Olivia . . ., " her fingers reached out and touched my fingers again, "I am serious." It's like she could read my thoughts.

Maybe she was being sincere. Maybe she lost her contact lenses and couldn't see. Maybe she had a lot to drink . . . before leading an aerobics class. Ok that last one was definitely stupid.

So if she was telling the truth then . . . well . . . one person thought. . .

"Olivia, you are beautiful but that tank DEFINITELY is not." She grinned and handed me the secret item in her hand. It was a fitted tee with the gym's logo emblazoned across the front. I wasn't sure it would fit. It looked small.

"Go ahead, put it on." And so I did. Yep, pretty small. The hem just barely touched the top of my shorts. And my breasts were now hugged by the blue fabric. I did not feel comfortable wearing it.

She looked at me, appraising for a moment. "That'll do for now." I felt a blush spreading across my cheeks. I hadn't been 'appraised' in some time. In fact, outside of my job, I had received such little attention that I really was having a hard time wrapping my mind around this experience.

"Let's go!" She turned without waiting and headed back out of the locker room. Apparently, she opted to remain in her semi-undressed condition. She must have been using her telepathic powers again as glanced back at me, "my stuff is across the building. . . I will shower and stuff later."

I just nodded and smiled pleasantly. I followed her into the little cafe. She got a pretty healthy fruit smoothie, so I just went ahead and got the same. The smoothie was dee-lish as its icy goodness cooled me down even more.

We chatted a bit about nothing and everything. Turns out she wasn't ten years younger. She was eleven. She finished college locally and decided to do the personal training/ aerobics thing as it was decidedly more exciting than sitting in a cubicle exercising her business degree.

And from what I could tell, she loved to laugh, pretty much always saw the good instead of the bad and yes was very touchy-feely. I loved her.

I told her about pieces of my past. She listened politely and nodded at all the proper places.

"So you are starting something new?" Her lips immediately went back to being wrapped around the straw as her eyes widened at me expectedly. Seemingly we were going to be tag team talking while filling in the rest with enjoying smoothies.

I nodded and added, "yes, some life adjustments . . . um . . . were needed."

She nodded again. "Anything to do with this?" Her finger had snaked over to my left hand where her fingertip gently rubbed the slight indentation left by a wedding band. A band that I no longer wore.

I am afraid I was at a loss for words. She apparently was very perceptive.

"I am sorry, I should have mentioned that I really don't have much of a filter." She smiled warmly and then went back to her smoothie, apparently awaiting my explanation.

The indention in my finger represented something that I felt quite a bit of shame over. Something that essentially was a failure in my life. My marriage. Rick. I chose very poorly when I was young and then I didn't keep his attention, excite him, stimulate him as we got older. He got bored with me. His eyes wandered. Then the rest of him followed his eyes. Suddenly I found myself watching my husband move in with a much younger woman who was firm and tight and bouncy and energetic and probably very flexible. Things that I no longer was.

So that indention represented embarrassment. And pain. And sadness. And a little hopelessness.

And so I teared up a little and nodded.

"My marriage officially ended three months ago." She nodded silently waiting for me to continue.

"I felt I needed to do something better with me . . . um for me." Her eyes never left mine as her lips maintained their position wrapped around the end of her straw.

"Olivia, now that you know I have no filter, you should expect my input. Ready?" She confidently smiled at me her eyebrows slightly raised.

I nodded hesitantly, not even remotely sure of what she was going to say, which honestly was both actually a little exciting and very worrisome.

"Olivia, you are perfect the way you are. Whatever the asshole bastard ex-husband of yours has said or done, you are simply perfect. Don't you ever think otherwise." She emphasized the last words, her eyes burning into mine.

I just looked at her, this angel sent into my life to apparently encourage me. I barely knew her but felt like I really did. Or really that she really knew me, which was refreshing considering how unknown and ignored I had felt.

"You are very sweet for. . . " I began. She literally shushed me. "I am not being sweet, I am being honest. You will see." She took another sip. "Still, if you insist on a new 'you'" she air quoted "then we should go shopping for some workout clothes." She grinned at me.

I suddenly felt this . . . sadness. . or frustration. I realized that Astrid was treating me like a project. I still didn't understand her total motivations but in some ways this . . . relationship . . whatever it was . . . felt like it could be very one-sided. I liked to think I could and would contribute to a friendship, not be the pity focus of someone who happened to have it together.

At one time in my life I must have been stronger, more able, more valuable. I must have been some awesome woman at some point. But now I seemingly only encouraged sympathy from strangers.

She detected my hesitation and inner struggle but this time misunderstood. She reached out and reassuringly touched my hand. "Your clothes are ok, Olivia, just I think we can find some things that better suit you. If you don't want to then it's fine."

I just shook my head. "No, it's not that." I took a breath. The new Olivia was also going to speak her mind in her relationships and friendships. That definitely did not happen with Olivia 1.0.

So I nodded to myself, a quiet self-encouragement to go on. "I am just . . . unsure of . . ." I began but felt the need to be careful. I didn't want to sound accusatory. So, I did what Astrid did: I gently took her hand. Her eyes grew a little wider and a small smile came to her lips.

"Astrid, I am sorry. I love spending time with you, I am just trying to figure out why you are being so nice to me." She studied me so I jumped in again, "Not that I am not enjoying it! You are such a breath of fresh air. Honestly!" And she was.

She smiled and shrugged, "I like you." Then she immediately went back to sipping her smoothie, with her lips busy her eyes took over smiling at me.

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"We will try the green one first."

"Astrid, I am not wearing just a sports bra. Period."

It's like the girl wanted me to show off everything. Even when I was in my twenties I tended to go more for the conservative style. Now at the age of 37 I really saw less of a need to show it off.

"Well I might let you wear a small tank over it or something." She grinned as she pushed me into the changing room, a small handful of clothes in tow. And weirdly she came into the changing room with me, shutting the door behind her.

"Um . . "

"Quit your umm-ing. Strip down so we can see how these things will look." Then she started to organize the outfits she wanted, completely disregarding me.

She was a woman. She had boobs and a vagina just like me, so it's not like she didn't know what they look like. Of course, she hadn't seen Olivia Boobs. But now these were Olivia Boobs 2.0! And Olivia Boobs 2.0 were attached to Olivia 2.0, who was decidedly brave, brazen and confident. Screw it. I was going to do it. So I began stripping down.

I finally stood only in a set of panties as she turned towards me. She let her eyes move down my nearly naked body, "wow, you are so beautiful."

My fingers fidgeted in front of me, desperate to cover up what I saw was a long list of imperfections. I blushed and glanced at myself in the floor-to-ceiling changing room mirror, something I rarely did now-a-days.