Workout Challenge

This is a seduction story. There is no actual sex. If readers want me to write a continuation of the story, I can think of a number of places to take the characters. It's up to all of you. If you want more, let me know and I'll write it.

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As I finished my surge workout, I felt the eyes on me as usual. Every evening my audience seemed to expand by one or two since I started doing my workout at six, and I wondered how many it would take to give them the guts to speak to me. Apparently it took seven.

"How often do you do that workout," a tall, slim blond man asked.

"That one? Every four days," I responded, knowing it would draw him to ask more questions, which is what I hoped for.

"Then what were you doing two nights ago?" he asked, right on cue.

"That would be a different routine that focuses on lower body. This one focuses on back and shoulders, with just a touch of abs," I looked down to hide my smile. It was too easy to draw them in.

A different man, this one not very tall, with a paunch and severely receding hairline, asked, "How much time do you spend working out each week?"

"Hmm" I said, looking up and calculating out loud, even though I already knew the answer, "Twelve minutes six days a week, and another eight minutes three times a week...that's ninety-six minutes a week."

They were murmuring, as they always did at this point. This was such an easy sell.

A buff, beautiful man spoke next, "Seriously! You get that body in ninety-six minutes a week? Get out of here!"

"Why? How long does it take you?" I asked, all innocence. I knew this guy was here for at least ninety minutes most evenings.

"A hell of a lot longer than that," he responded. The others all laughed and nodded.

Wait for it...wait for it...yes! They're hooked when they ask this:

"How does it work? You know, your workout, how do you get those results in such a short time?"

"Well-l-l," I began, then I gave them the whole spiel for surge training, my classes, and my personal training program. I usually try to stay in the background, being part owner of this gym, but with new memberships down and the need to get more members to partake of extra services, I found this scenario pretty successful. I had gotten the morning crowd involved several weeks ago, then the noon crowd, and now I had the evening crowd hooked. Next month's financials would surely be improved.

I had always offered the classes and personal training, I just never needed to actively promote it before. Having the nicest downtown gym, situated near the state house, court house, as well as city offices, we had a pretty good clientele... until the budget cuts started pinching us all a bit too tightly.

I didn't mind drawing the guys in the way I did. Sex appeal sells, and in this case, I was selling the real thing. My program does work. If it takes seeing my body clothed in tight stretch shorts and sports bra, covered in sweat, to sell my services, I could live with that. I just wish it didn't bring the other interests.

I tried to never mix business with pleasure, so all the invitations and sexual innuendos from these guys made me really uncomfortable. I'm no prude, but I really don't think the tendency for some personal trainers to use the intimacy of the professional relationship to pursue a different kind of intimacy is proper. Bad business in my opinion.

I don't have time for a private life anyway. I open the gym at six; and while I occasionally go home in the early afternoon for a couple of hours, I close the place at seven most nights as well. Once I get home, I usually have time to check email and call my mom before I can't keep my eyes open any longer and hit the sack.

When I griped about the sexual harassment I was getting, my business partner told me to give it back as good as they gave it, and eventually I'd be one of the guys. I should have known that only worked for him because he was a guy; but, I followed his advice in the hopes the men in my classes would stop pestering me for "personal training" of another sort.

"Come on you wusses," I called out over the loud music, "At this rate, I could take you all on and still not be out of breath."

I had been teaching this particular group three times a week for about six weeks. There were five in this class. Three were younger men, Austin, Jerod, and Guy, in reasonably good shape, who gave me a lot of grief over the whole dating thing. One man, Logan, was in his early thirties and buff. He was quiet but smiled at the antics of the three younger guys. The last was a middle-aged guy named Bob who was putting in a good effort to get back in shape. Most days there was a young woman in the class as well, but she was missing tonight.

The usually quiet guy said, "I think we'll take that challenge, Raney," and I saw a glint in his eye as he winked at the other guys. What did that mean?

Since surge training doesn't take long, even with warm ups and cool downs the class only lasts 20 to 25 minutes, I didn't have any time to think about the comment before we were breaking for the showers. The young guys were suggesting drinks, or something more private, but I told them they obviously couldn't handle me after the showing they had just given me. They snickered and turned off into the men's locker room. The class ran during the last 30 minutes the gym was open, so generally by the time I got out of the shower the place was empty and the front desk staff had locked the doors and turned off the gym lights. I frequently used that time to get the day's paperwork done before heading home. Today was one of those days.

A few times I thought I heard noises, but the gym equipment sometimes does that as it cools, so I ignored it after checking that the alarms were active. It wasn't until I heard music filtering through the hall that I realized I wasn't alone. The cleaning crew never comes until 3AM, so I got a little nervous, but not nervous enough to hit the panic button. Instead I went to investigate.

I followed the music back to the gym, at the free-weight end, and gasped at what I found. There was a small table set up with tablecloth, candle, flowers, wine and a single chair. Standing in front of the mirrored wall were three men in Zoro-style masks and black Speedos.

I jumped when a fourth man stepped from the shadows beside the doorway and touched my elbow. He gripped it just firmly enough to keep my sudden movement from dislodging him as he urged me forward towards the table.

"You shouldn't be here," I said, voice a tad shaky, "we're closed and the alarms are on," I continued, hoping my little threat would be enough. I was pretty sure these were the guys from my class, but what they thought they were doing was a little beyond my comprehension.

"So we'll stay far from the doors," the man beside me said evenly. He was definitely Logan, which convinced me the others were the three younger students. They had obviously put a lot of effort into this.

"What are you doing, anyway? What is this?" I asked. I wasn't afraid of them, they just didn't strike me as dangerous, but I also didn't think this was a good idea.

"You said you could take all of us without even breathing heavy. We just want to see if it's true," Logan purred as he sat me at the table and poured the wine.

"I meant I could take you at weights, or squats, not wine drinking," I laughed and it sounded as fake as it was. I had a bad feeling about just how they thought I could take them.

"Oh, this is just a little sustenance so you don't claim we have any unfair advantage. You usually pick up dinner on your way home, so we wanted to make sure you were fed before the challenge started," one of the other three said as he placed a salad in front of me. In the low light and with the little masks on, I had trouble telling them apart.

I was feeling a swirl of emotions, most of which weren't very positive to be honest, but the prevailing one was curiosity. While I was feeling a little stalked, and highly outnumbered, I still didn't get the feeling anyone was going to hurt me. I could play along for a bit. I hoped! "I appreciate dinner, that was very thoughtful of you; but I don't work out after eating, it makes me sick."

A different man answered, "We won't start out too strenuously, don't worry."

"I'm not buying what you're selling guys," I said, trying a different tack. I had told them often enough that I didn't date members.

"We're not selling anything," Logan answered from behind me, "you made a challenge, and since we all think you're a great trainer, we thought we'd take your challenge and prove that all your hard work isn't for nothing. We think we can have you breathing hard before we are."

Well there it was. They were going to group seduce me. The concept was not without its charms, but my basic scruples still wouldn't let it happen.

"You guys know that can't happen... right? I don't date members," I scoffed.

"No one said anything about a date," Austin answered, I could recognize his voice, "this is a simple challenge."

"You guys need to leave," I said, starting to stand. Firm hands held me in the chair.

"After all of our effort, you're backing out on your own challenge?" Logan asked. It was his warm hands resting heavily on my shoulders. He wasn't hurting me, just making me aware he was there to discourage me from leaving.

"I appreciate the trouble you went to here," I said, motioning to the table, "but I don't get involved with members outside of gym hours." I figured that took in anything they had in mind.

"Just eat. If you want us to leave after you're finished, we'll go," Logan said. He was obviously the ring-leader, which surprised me, because he had never harassed me the way the younger guys did. A look from him silenced one of the others who had started to speak.

"You'll leave if I eat?" I asked, to be sure we were clear.

"If you eat the meal we have for you, then ask us to leave, we'll leave," he repeated with what I considered unneeded detail.

"All right, I'll eat your meal, but then you are all leaving," I confirmed as I began to eat the salad.

Logan's hands remained on my shoulders, resting there lightly as I chewed. I wasn't aware when they started to move until his fingertips caressed the bare skin of my upper arms, just below the cap sleeve of my t-shirt. I knew this was the start of the challenge, and I began to get a little excited by it.

When the salad was finished, all three of the others moved to the table. One took away the salad plate, another set a covered dish in front of me, and the third moved across from me and suddenly disappeared under the table.

I started to rise and push back my chair, but with Logan at my shoulders, I didn't get far,

"Relax. He's just going to massage your feet. You must be on them all day," Logan whispered seductively into to my ear.

I nodded and remained where I was and in a moment my foot was lifted, the aerobics shoe removed, and a very pleasant rub-down began. I relaxed and looked at the plate in front of me. One of my favorite entrees from the Fresh Bistro was sitting there, along with two of my favorite sides. Someone really had been stalking me!

As I chewed my first bite, Logan stroked his fingertips along my neck, drawing my slightly damp hair back from my shoulder. His finger came back to sweep across my brow and move a few stray strands behind my ear. From there his finger trailed back down my neck and to my collar bone. I raised a hand to put over it, to stop it's progress. He leaned in to speak into my ear.

"Are you refusing the challenge, then?" He whispered, before nibbling my earlobe between his lips and feathering it with his tongue.

I was always the one who shrank back from dares and challenges when I was a kid, but as an adult, after I got in shape, I made it a point not to back down from challenges. That's how I was co-owner of a successful gym at age 27, and how I'd managed to finish two half-marathons and a full marathon in the past two years. Somehow, he knew the buttons to push. I let go of his hand and steadfastly ignored his warm mouth on my earlobe, hoping he didn't notice the goosebumps that it caused.

The man under the table had started on my other foot. I had to admit it was nice to be pampered like this! As I ate, someone refilled my half empty wineglass and Logan continued to lick my ear and caress my collarbone. It felt nice, but I was able to ignore the blatant sensuality of it pretty well. That is, until the man under the table suddenly licked the inside of my knee. I jerked, smacking my knee hard on the underside of the table as I choked on the food in my mouth. Logan patted my back as he pulled my chair out from under the table and the other two men came to fawn over my bumped knee.

"It's okay," I wheezed, "just bumped it, not hard even. You startled me," I chastised the man coming out from under the table. He grinned impishly, not looking at all contrite.

Now, with three men seated around my legs, I was being stroked and kissed from thigh to toes. I felt uncomfortable and tried to brush them away, but Logan tipped my head back to look at him. He held a cherry tomato that he brushed against my lips. I looked at him questioningly, and he nodded, so I took it between my lips and tugged it from his fingers. There's something strongly erotic about being fed like that, and it seemed to have more effect on me than the other things the men were doing.

Logan smiled and picked up another piece of my meal. I'm not even sure what he fed me the next few bites because I was mesmerized by this masked man dangling food over my lips. The gentle caresses on my thighs and behind my knees weren't hurting either.

My plate empty, two of the men seated around me moved away, taking the plate with them. Logan smiled down at me as he lightly touched my eyelids, encouraging me to close my eyes. When I did, he began to caress the planes of my face, lingering finally across my lips. The remaining man at my feet stopped moving, and I wondered if he was just watching this strange facial massage.

I heard a rustling and opened my eyes again. A strawberry, still dripping the warm, dark chocolate half-coating it, was being lowered to my lips. I opened my mouth, but the strawberry drew back and I felt the chocolate drip hit my lip. My tongue darted out to taste the bittersweet drop of heaven and the man at my feet actually moaned.

Logan drew the strawberry along my lower lip, leaving a trail of chocolate that I licked off. Gentle laps began along my calf again as the strawberry finally dropped into my mouth where I could bite it. Some juice ran down my chin and I reached to wipe it, but Logan held my hand back and bent to lick the drip himself. He didn't linger, only running his tongue swiftly up my chin to my lip. I felt a little twinge of disappointment when he pulled away.

A second strawberry hovered over my mouth so I lapped at the rich, dark chocolate starting to cascade from its point. Simultaneously, the first finger of my left hand was pulled smoothly into a warm, wet mouth. The strawberry slid between my lips, to be pulled back slowly, mimicking the movement of my finger in the mouth. These guys were good.

I bit the strawberry aggressively, smearing my lips heavily with the soft chocolate. Logan just smiled wickedly and leaned over me again, sucking and licking my lips. It was too much, I pressed into his mouth and fought his tongue for the chocolate, only to forget chocolate was even involved after a few seconds. We battled tongues as a second mouth took the fingers of my right hand in the same way as my left. I had tongues working all four limbs and my mouth. Needless to say, my breathing was ratcheting up a notch.

Logan's mouth pulled away from mine, to be replaced by his finger dipped in the chocolate. He watched me as he smeared the warm, thick sauce across my lower lip, then pressed his finger into my mouth. I sucked at it obligingly and his eyes opened wider before fluttering slightly. He leaned down to nibble my jaw, neck and ear while I sucked and licked his finger.

I knew this was wrong and that I would regret it later, but it was amazingly enticing while it was happening. I still wore exercise clothing: tight Lycra shorts and a similarly form-fitting t-shirt, so I felt it clearly when fingers stroked down my mound and across my sex. I gasped, but I had had so much stimulation, I couldn't seem to fight it any more. The second stroke was a little firmer and I felt the fabric dampen as it pushed into my folds.

I shook my head, coming back to my senses. Dropping the finger in my mouth and pulling away from Logan's nibbling, I pulled my hands back and laid them in my lap. All of my attendants sat watching me.

"You won. I'm breathing heavy and you are not. My meal is finished so you can all leave now," I said with as much force as I could muster.

Their looks ranged from confused to disappointed (I couldn't see Logan.) One began to reach for me and I pulled back; Logan set a restraining hand on his wrist.

"We've won the challenge, gentlemen. The lady wants us to go now, so we'll go," Logan stated simply. I felt a touch of disappointment that he was conceding so easily, but it proved that they were, in actuality, gentlemen.

I stood up, thanked them for a lovely, if unusual, evening, and left for the front office. I suppose they cleaned up because they took a while before coming past the office, once again in their street clothes.

"Can you let us out, Raney?" Guy called, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I walked out and put the code into the system, opening the door for them. They filed out carrying the little table, the folding chair, and a basket that must have contained everything else. Logan was the last to leave, and he paused to lift my hand to his lips and brush a kiss across my knuckles before smiling and slipping out the door as well.

I knew I wouldn't get anything accomplished tonight. While they had cleaned up and changed; I had tried to do the books, but I just kept thinking about that strange dinner. I was glad I had stopped things when I did, but still a part of me regretted not finding out just how far they would have taken it. I had never been treated to such decadence by one man, much less four, ever before. I could still feel the wetness between my legs, and if I closed my eyes, I could almost feel all of their mouths on my body. No, it was time to go home, if only to my vibrator and a fantasy of what could have happened.

I went for my bag and reset the alarm before I left, locking the door behind me. I was just pulling the key from the lock when I felt the brush against my elbow. I'm always on alert when I leave work because one of our employees was mugged last year. I pulled the key around, poised to swipe at the eyes of my attacker. Of course it was Logan.

"Whoa! I know we said we'd leave, but I wanted to walk you to your car. It's late and the streets are deserted. Just seems dangerous to me," he said in a rush as I dropped my arm slowly back to my side. Sheepishly he smiled at me, and put out his arm, "May I?" he asked.

Logan was undoubtedly a good looking man. Because he was quiet, buff, didn't harass me for dates, and didn't wear a ring; I had wondered if he was gay. I guess he put paid to that theory! His wavy light brown hair fell across his eyes as he waited for me to decide if I would take his proffered arm or not.

I reached up and brushed the hair from his forehead, letting my fingers trace down his high cheekbone and onto his strong jaw. He took a step closer. I didn't take my hand away, so he reached his own up and stroked my face. I stood still, looking into his warm hazel eyes as he watched me.

He took another step closer and I could feel his body heat, smell the soap on his recently showered chest. His hand on my face moved back, lacing in my hair as he tilted my face up and softly placed his lips on mine. He paused, barely touching me, again waiting for a sign I didn't want this, but I did.