Working Up a Sweat

Working up a sweat, a fetish story....

It was the fourth day in a row that I had been coming into work early. Since getting my promotion, I had been coming in earlier than before, just before eight. I was a department head now and wanted to be there before my people showed up. Getting up extra early meant a few sacrifices.

I felt that it was important to maintain my well groomed appearance so I still took the time to shower and apply my makeup to perfection. I used only the best MAC cosmetics. I had a makeup artist teach me how to best apply it and was practiced at making my face model quality. I was blessed with big, wide, sea blue eyes on my oval face. My lips were plump and full and painted up a spring raspberry pink. I also took the time to do my hair in a business like ponytail. My long red hair was naturally wavy. Sometimes I would wear it down but it looked more professional pulled back tight away from my face with a couple of red wisps dangling at the sides of my face for a feminine touch. The remainder of long red tresses would dangle in a tail down the centre of my back.

I had got myself a manicure before the start of the week, so my French tip nails were ready. Today, I adorned myself in my best light grey, St. John's cashmere skirt suit with a skin tight, baby pink, pure silk blouse. This outfit showed off my dynamite curves. The skirt was a pencil cut which came to my knees but had a back slit so that I could walk without hobbling. To add to the outfit, I wore Secrets In Lace charcoal grey, seamed stockings. They had a vintage appearance which looked very sexy. Combined with the black, five inch, stiletto heels that I wore with them, my legs often made hearts break and mouths drool. Underneath it all, I wore Victoria's Secret black lace panties and a sturdy push up bra for my big, C cup breasts. I made sure that the buttons were undone low enough to show a little lace from my bra and plenty of my ample cleavage. I would have to do up a button once I got to the office but for right now, I wanted to show what I have. I added my gold watch, my pearl necklace and my eye glasses and was off.

One of the sacrifices I had to make was breakfast and coffee in the morning so I had made a habit of stopping at this little coffee shop a block from my office building which also served healthy food. I tried to eat right. I have a good figure, some people would call hour glass shaped. If I didn't eat right, I would probably bloat right up. I did yoga once a week and had a Stair Master at home which kept my legs and butt looking good. Still, it was nothing compared to this hot girl that I had been noticing in the coffee shop every morning this week.

Every morning, when I came in for my cappuccino and blueberry muffin, she would be standing in line in front of me. She was like clockwork, meticulous with her schedule. She always ordered a fruit smoothie, everyday. She appeared to be about the same age as me, somewhere around thirty. Her body was like a rock, but still feminine. She had muscle and no trace of fat. She was about five foot, five inches tall, same as me. She had dark streaks in her naturally blonde hair which was always pulled back tight in a ponytail. She never had makeup on. Her face was lean and linear, like a fox. Her cheek bones were high and her eyes were piercing, ice blue. I guessed that she was of either German or Scandinavian heritage. Her thin lips never seemed to smile. She was all business and seemed almost cruel.

The blonde woman's body is what was really drove me nuts. She was always dressed in tight grey sweats, with a zip up hooded sweater, worn out Reebok trainers and short, white ankle socks. There was no disguising her strong, muscled, tone figure. Her shoulders looked bigger than most girls. Still, she had a feminine curve to her tight butt. Her breasts stuck out and stretched her zip up sweater. I guessed that she was on her way to gym in the morning which really got me excited.

This fox was just the kind of girl that I was looking for since moving to San Francisco. I had been drummed out my last job back in Pittsburgh for sexual harassment after hitting on a lady at work that I thought was gay, like me. It didn't work out well. My employer was somewhat sympathetic as I had been one of the companies hardest working and trusted employees for almost ten years and so he offered me a strong letter of recommendation and hooked me up with an affiliate out here on the west coast. I jumped at the chance because of San Francisco's reputation of the numbers of lesbians living out here.

My luck in love had not been so good in the year that I have been living out here. Work kept me very busy and I did all I could to get this promotion. I avoided hitting on the women in the office for obvious reasons although I let it be known that I was a lesbian right away so if any of the women were interested, they would make the first move. So far, none had come calling. The men in my office were all very interested. My looks, my clothes and my teasing mannerisms had them all wrapped around my finger. Still, I only wanted a woman. I tried the lesbian bars on weekends but my luck wasn't good there either. I wanted a dominant top but seemed to only attract, large, butch, unattractive women. I liked fit women, strong and muscular. The girl from the coffee shop was my ideal.

I discovered her name was Ariel from the barista's writing on her cup every day. Ariel looked tough too. I liked that. One kinky thing that I obsessed with that I never talked about was Youtube videos of girls getting bullied. I imagined myself as the victim at the mercy of the stronger female. It was fantasy more than anything. I could not imagine getting beat up. This Ariel chick looked like she wouldn't take shit from anyone and could care less what anyone thought about her. I was just hoping that she liked women, a woman like me.

It was a warm July day, and with no breeze outside, it was muggy. I was feeling that I was wearing too many clothes. The silk blouse and cashmere suit combined with the under clothing and stockings had an oven like effect on my body when I was outdoors. It was a price I had to pay for being fashionable and besides, I knew that my office was quite cool with air conditioning. I got to the coffee shop about one minute earlier than usual and Ariel arrived at the door at exactly the same time. She was wearing her usual grey sweat suit and she held the door open for me without a word or a smile, just a cool stare. I smiled and said, "Thank you."

She gave me a shoulder shrug that seemed to say, "Yah, whatever."

That put me in line right in front of Ariel. I was accustom to being behind her, enjoying the view of her taut, round ass and her long, lean neck. I kept on half turning around to catch a glimpse of her from the front. At one point, I must have been busted because she stared right through me with those sharp blue eyes. I quickly turned back as the barista asked for my order. I ordered my usual and went out on a huge limb and ordered a fruit smoothie for Ariel too.

After paying, I turned and handed Ariel the drink with her name on it. She had a surprised but pissed off look on her naturally beautiful face. "You didn't need to do that," was her response.

"Sorry, it was the least I could do for you getting the door for me, and for me taking your usual place in line," I apologized.

"Still not necessary. Thanks, I guess," she said half heartedly. "You know my name too? Stalk much?" she asked, but with a sardonic tone.

"I've been behind you in line everyday this week. I'm just a very observant person," I defended. Ariel was thinking on that as she stared me down. Uncomfortable in the silence, I continued, "Ariel is a lovely name, sounds like a goddess," I complimented, where in my mind, this woman was a goddess. "My name is K.."

"Krista, Yah I know. You're not the only observant person around here you know," Ariel claimed. I was surprised for sure, not that she was observant but that she actually had taken notice of me. My confidence was going up. God, I hoped even more that she was a lesbian. "I guess you're going to want to sit and chat with me now, right?" she asked coldly.

"Well, sure, if you have a minute. I'd like that," I gushed.

She grabbed my wrist and looked at my watch. I could feel her strength in her grip. I took a sharp breath in. Arial noticed my reaction. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I have four and half minutes, cop a squat over here." She directed me to nearby vacant table.

As we sat, I asked, "Where do you have to be in four and half minutes?"

Ariel nodded out the window to the faceless, ugly building across the street with a plain white door. "The gym. I workout there every morning," she stated. I squeezed my thighs together at her statement. I usually don't get horny or aroused this early in the morning but I was this time. "What about you, where do you go all dressed up like that every morning?" she inquired.

"Oh me, I just work over at the pyramid building. I'm a department manager," I boasted but Ariel was obviously unimpressed. I tried to redirect the conversation back to her. "You work out everyday, is that before you go to work or..." I left it hanging.

"In a way, it is my work. I'm a fighter," she stated. I almost choked on my coffee.

"A fighter? Do you mean like a boxer or something?" I queried.

"A fighter, MMA stuff, boxing, wrestling, Jiu Jitsu, you know, fighting," she reiterated.

I was deeply excited and could feel the heat building between my thighs. I swallowed and carefully asked, "So professionally? You must be good then?"

She snickered and I wondered if she was going to hit me right there. "Of course I'm good. Just had a fight on Saturday. You don't see any marks on me do you?" she bragged with a cocky attitude. I was in awe at the moment. "Should have seen the other broad. Smashed the shit out her face. Left her a bloody pulp. Bitch had to get taken to the hospital. She was pretty before we started but I doubt she'll ever be pretty again," she laughed at her former opponents' folly.

Now I was out right scared to death. I was about to ask this goddess out or try to get her number but I feared that if I was wrong about her sexuality or offended her at all then I was in for a horrible beating. I had no doubts that she was very capable and willing to do just that. She then added, "I also do some modelling to help pay the bills, fitness magazines mostly." Now I was dying to see more of her.

I couldn't muster up anything to say and Ariel sensed my weakness. She started brazenly eyeing me up and down like a piece of meat. Ariel seemed to be assessing me in her own mind. She asked," Do you workout at all?"

"Sometimes, a little I guess," I answered meekly. "Not nearly as much as you I'm certain. You must be in incredible shape," I swooned. Indeed, I had already imagined how perfect her body must be beneath those sweats. I had imagined all her secret places, tight and muscular and dripping in sweat. I had masturbated myself to sleep every night this week while trying to picture her armpit as she flexed a bicep. My heart was pounding at the thought that she might be interested. In my momentary haze, I blurted out, "I'd love to watch you work out."

Ariel snickered and almost burst of laughing. She had to know that I had a serious girl crush on her. I must have seemed transparent. "You want to watch me work out?" she confirmed. I shyly nodded my head. "I'm not a personal trainer at all. I don't teach anyone. I work out for myself. I train hard. I'm in that gym for two and half hours every morning," she emphasized. She continued, "and I have a different class every afternoon; wrestling one night, Jiu Jitsu another, boxing another, tonight I do Tae Kwon Dao." I got a shiver like I do when I have a orgasm but just a mild one.

"I would be very interested in just seeing how intense that would be," I confessed. She had to know. It was as close as I had seen her to smiling yet. It was more of a sneer or a grimace. She was smart and looked to be thinking of something devious.

"Well, I'm going right now. Are you coming?" she stated as she got up from her seat. What? I could come with her? For real? I started to follow but suddenly remembered my job.

"Oh shit, work!" I shouted as I halted in my tracks. Ariel shrugged her strong shoulders again and turned away to leave. "Wait!" I yelled for her to stop. She paused for a moment as I dug out my cell phone. "I'll call in," I assured her. Ariel looked annoyed that I was delaying her. She crossed her strong arms, tilted her head and tapped her foot.

I quickly got hold of an associate department head and told him that I had a stomach flu and gave details of what I could get my team to do. I told him that I would call back in the afternoon to check in. He told me not to worry and said he would cover for me. Meanwhile Ariel had grown impatient of waiting and had started crossing the street to her gym. I chased after her. Running in five inch heels and a pencil skirt with big tits is nearly impossible but I bounced as fast as I could without falling flat on my face. Ariel waited at the door for me to catch up. She was laughing at my attempt to run. She held the door open for me again and as I passed her, she whispered, "You run like a fucking prissy little girl."

I wasn't sure to take that as a compliment or a direct insult. Even if Ariel was being serious, what could I do about it? Standing up to her could mean getting the shit beat out me. Also, I really wanted her to like me, so I giggled and laughed at myself with her. Catching my breath from my scamper across the street, I could feel a bead of sweat building on the back of my neck along my hair line. I could feel another growing in the crevice between my jugs where they were mashed together. I knew that one would soon drip down into my expensive bra.

Once again, Ariel found humour at my expense. "If you're winded from that then you're going to hate these stairs.," she said. The door at street level opened to a steep, narrow set of stairs that went up to another level. Arial led the way and I followed her sexy butt up the flight of stairs. She seemed to be sashaying that perfect, curvaceous pooper right in front of my face. My eyes hypnotically followed every motion of her hips. She knew that she was teasing me. Her sweat pants were riding low on her hips and I could see the top of a waist band underneath. It was neon green spandex. Above the waistband, I caught a glimpse of the small of her back. Her skin was flawless, with a tiny triangle above the butt with a light cover of soft, downy blonde hairs. I felt like bending forward and either biting her ass or licking that sweet spot on her back. I stayed behaved as I struggled to keep up with her.

At the top of the stairs, Ariel stopped to unlock the door. She has keys to this gym for some reason. Inside, she flipped on a wall switch which illuminated the small space with fluorescent light. It wasn't a Bally's or a Lady Fitness like I was used to. This private gym had a bare, hardwood floor, white washed cement walls, and high up windows which were already bringing in the morning sunshine. A set of blue mats lined the floor in most places. Mirrors lined three of the walls. A single, lone ceiling fan hung from above and provided almost no relief from the humid air inside. Around the spacious room were scattered pieces of fitness equipment; a couple of treadmills, rowing machines, stationary bikes, jump ropes, medicine balls, a punching bag and a lot of iron free weights. It was an old school gym that Rocky would have felt at home in. There was one single stool in the room, like the kind that you see in a boxing ring between rounds, short, wooden, and without any back support. In the corner was a separate doorway which presumably lead to a locker room or shower, or bathroom. There was a rancid odour in the air of old sweat. Most gyms had it but kept it low by intense cleaning and good air circulation. This room lacked both. The place was not what I was expecting.

"I know it's not Bally's, but it's my second home and I can do what I want here without anyone bugging me," Ariel informed me while giving me the tour in five seconds. "I guess you can sit there Krista," she pointed to the tiny stool as she went over to the corner and turned on some music on a cheap stereo set with speaker wire taped along the walls to two column speakers that flanked the room. Turning her back to ignore me, Ariel bent over, reaching into her gym bag as she produced four bottles of water and set them on the floor. She was flaunting her perfect butt cheeks at me again. She also pulled out a small, rectangular, white linen towel that was likely to be for wiping up her sweat. I focused on that for a second, wondering how her sweat might taste and smell. I got that shiver up my spine again.

Looking around some more, I saw a few fight promotion posters and photographs on the wall by the door. Some of the photographs had Ariel on them holding up a title belt while wearing only a tiny bikini suit and with arms raised in victory, her fists taped up and covered in someone else's blood. "That one was from last Saturday," she informed me. Indeed, her opponent looked dead laying on the ring floor. Her face was a mangled pulp, surrounded by a pool of blood. One promotion poster showed Ariel in a leather executioner's costume. It read, "Ariel the Assassin, Women's lightweight champion, record 23-1."

I thought, "23-1? How the hell did she ever lose a match?" She looked so strong and tough that I couldn't imagine any woman over powering her. Did she have a weakness? The photos of her confirmed my suspicions that her body was flawless. Her slim, tiny figure was void of fat except for the good parts of her ass and a good size bust. The rest of her was solid muscle. Impressed as hell, I recited the credit, " Ariel the Assassin, Women's lightweight champion, twenty three and one. The champ, huh? That's impressive. I can't believe you actually lost once."

"You can't win them all sweetie. There's other tough bitches out there," remarked the champ.

I went back to my assigned seat as I watched Ariel warm up with a stretch. She still had her sweat suit on and it was driving me crazy. I wanted to tear it off of her. I knew better of course. Ariel was very flexible. She could bend in ways I could only dream of. I imagined that if I could bend like her then I could probably go down on myself and take care of my own sexual frustrations. While she did the Russian splits, I could see her groin muscles straining the material of her sweat pants. Her pubic mound was prominent. I bit my lip with anticipation. I was using the mirror to see this and I realized that she could see me too. I was sitting rather uncomfortably on the little stool with my knees tight together and with my back straight. I didn't know what to do with my hands so I just placed them flat on my knees. I could feel my palms already soaking wet. My very expensive skirt would have to absorb the sweat.

The heat was stifling, and it would only get hotter. More sweat was building on my neck and between my boobs. I opened one more button of my silk blouse to get a fraction more air on my warm breasts. I was starting to regret wearing nylons. My legs were getting hot too. Luckily, I had worn old school stockings instead of pantyhose. At least my crotch wouldn't suffocate, even though the skirt was making my ass warm already. As warm as I was, I could only begin to imagine how hot and sweaty Ariel would get as she worked out. The thought of her body covered in slick sweat made my pussy tingle.

Even though I was certain she could see me fidgeting with apparent lust, she ignored me and continued her routine of stretches. The small clock above the mirrors showed the time. We had been there five minutes. We still had the better part of two and half hours to go in this sweat box.