The first time I noticed her walk into the gym, the only things that immediately caught my attention were her size–my height and a lot of extra weight–and her muted-crimson jacket. As it’s hard to miss a movement in any part of that relatively small space, I did notice her moving around, climbing the invisible hill on an elliptical trainer, struggling to lift her torso to complete crunches, and doing other usual things people do in a gym in their pursuit of that elusive, desired level of fitness. But I didn’t pay any particular attention to her. I was still a bit occupied with stealing glances at the other one trying my best to evade her detection while doing so.
Her transition from being one of the many bodies toiling in the gym to an object of my fantasy occurred a few days later when she took her trademark maroon jacket off revealing her arms with even-toned skin and the contours of her sizable upper body. Her light yellow t-shirt clung to her body allowing a clear preview of what was underneath: breasts proportional to the size of her body possibly with a slight sag and midriff protruding to the level of her nipples hanging like a shelter over her–what I’d imagine a chubby, soft–pubic mound. I took a few seconds to get a view of the lower half of her as well: the big round butt and fat thighs.
I instinctively started imagining the kind of things I would do to this collection of squishy, plushy things wrapped in a thin t-shirt. My brain began playing the sensations of squeezing her breasts hard, burying my face in them, playing with the nipples with my tongue, rubbing my stubble on her tummy, nibbling on her fat waist, biting her butt cheeks, sticking the tip of my tongue inside her. I was also a bit self conscious thinking of the likely possibility of getting caught staring at her, but it wasn’t strong enough to completely dissuade me from ogling. I had a strong desire to introduce myself to her and initiate a conversation, but I couldn’t find a single opportune moment.
I finished my workout and prepared to leave with a mild disappointment at the lack of any progress towards befriending her. I placed my water bottle in the sleeve inside the bag, piled together the gloves and the hand towel next to it, and walked out. I pressed the button to call the lift. As I was waiting for the lift, something unexpected happened. She walked to the counter next to the water cooler, took her jacket, put it on, and walked out somewhat hurriedly. She walked past me towards the stairs, but when she heard the ding notifying the arrival of the lift, walked back towards the lift door. I opened it, motioned her to get in, and I followed her into the lift. I was clearly elated by the turn of events. It seemed like an obvious move because it’s the kind of thing I’d probably do as a last-ditch effort to catch hold of someone I wanted to start a conversation with but either couldn’t muster enough courage or find a convenient excuse in time. I said hi and asked if she started working out that week.I told her that I had started the week before. Inside that tiny cuboid, I got a clear look at her face. A pretty, pale face with dimples and thin, pink lips. She looked much younger than what one would imagine from a glance from afar. I asked for her name and told her mine. By then, we had reached the basement. She got out of the lift and walked off swiftly as if running away from a situation that didn’t go as well as she expected. Again, something I’d also do.
We spoke briefly each time our workout schedules overlapped the next few days without much improvement in the contents of our conversation. Yesterday, as I was leaving the gym, she again walked out hurriedly, paused at the lift door, but continued towards the staircase when she noticed I was walking down the stairs. She was about a half a floor behind me, and we couldn’t see each other, but I could hear her steps. When I reached the basement, I waited for her. She walked towards me muttering something about her sore legs. We talked briefly about this and that. I asked if she would like a filter coffee before heading home. She said “no, not now”. This again seemed like a response I’d blurt out. Now I shall wait for the next instance when our gym schedules coincide.
Cosimo's Confessions 