by Maren Smith
She’s making my body sing even louder than the dance music. I lean down and say into her ear, “You’re so gorgeous.”
She smiles shyly, and her fingers thread through the short hair at the nape of my neck. Damn, that feels good. I want to talk to her, but it’s insanely loud on the dancefloor.
“Want to get some fresh air?” I ask her, and she nods.
Taking her by the hand, I lead her through the crowd and out onto the club’s balcony, decorated with AstroTurf and fairy lights. I find us a table with a bench seat among the milling bodies and we sit down.
Livia scoops all of her hair off her neck and fans it. “That’s so much better. I love dancing but I was getting so hot.”
I can’t take my eyes off the curve of her neck and softness of her skin. “I can tell. You looked so amazing moving to the music that I had to come join you. I’m not usually much of a dancer.”
She gazes at me, and there’s none of the misgiving that was in her face this afternoon. Only curiosity. “It’s so funny seeing you here. I somehow don’t expect to see the guy who works at my local gym to be in a dark and dirty club.”
I can’t stop looking at her lips, which are glossy in the soft lights. Sometimes I like things dark and dirty. “We gym guys like to have fun, too. What’s your name?”
“Livia.” She smiles at me again. “You don’t seem so scary anymore.”
We’re sitting close together on the bench seat. Is it my imagination, or does she shift a little closer? “I’m not scary at all.”
Her eyes drop to my mouth. Oh, fuck yes. She’s going to kiss me. I wait, breathing softly, for her to lean in closer and press that lush mouth against mine. Come on, baby.
Livia takes a deep breath. “I don’t normally do this, but I’ve been single for six months now and I’m…I’m starting to go a little…Oh, god, now I’m babbling.” She takes a deep breath. “My apartment is just two blocks away.”
It takes me a moment to realize that she’s asking me to go home with her. I want to fist pump. I want to scoop her up in my arms. I want to leave with her right now, but she’s nervous and probably tipsy, and I want her relaxed and sober. “I’d love to, but just sitting with you is perfect. How about you and I get to know each other better?”
I want to know what makes her tick and what gets her excited before I touch her. I want to know all of her, inside and out.
Livia swears under her breath and scrambles to get to her feet. “Sorry, that was really presumptuous of me. I’ll go.”
I take her hand. “Please don’t go. What I mean is I don’t want this to be a one-night thing. I’m looking for more, and you’re cute as hell.”
Livia gazes at me in surprise and sits down again. “Thank you. And wow. There aren’t many men who would just come out and say that.”
If other men in her life have made her feel like crap or scared her, then I’m definitely not like other men. I’ll show her the sort of man I am, not tell her, and she can see for herself.
I reach out and brush my knuckles over her cheek. I can’t help myself. Her skin is beautiful and I want to touch her in so many ways. “I prefer to just come out and say most things. Have you ever called a man daddy before? Or maybe sir?”
Livia’s mouth drops open. That happens sometimes. Women think it’s gross or funny to call a man daddy. They don’t usually look terrified, though. I drop my hand because I’ve never terrified a woman in my life. “Livia? Are you okay?”
She takes a shuddering breath and her fear coalesces into anger and disgust. She turns her face away and wraps her arms around herself. “No. I don’t feel well. I’m going to text my friends. Can you go?”
I hesitate for just a moment. I brought up the word daddy just to gauge her openness to the idea, and it seems to be scoring a big fat zero. I guess she knows what it means, but she finds the idea of having a daddy dom disgusting.
Disappointment washes through me, and I stand up. “Of course. I’m sorry if I offended you, Livia. Have a good evening.”
The last thing I see as I head back into the club is Livia’s tense, unhappy face. I head downstairs for the exit without saying goodbye to the others. Another miss, and with a girl I’m really drawn to. Part of me wishes I’d never said anything to Livia, but this is better than going on dates and getting close to her, and then finding out we’re not compatible. I’ve tried sacrificing what I crave to make a relationship work in the past, but it just leads to heartbreak.
I have to believe it’s better, though it doesn’t feel like right now. It feels like shit. I really did like Livia.
Chapter Three
Livia
The moment I open my eyes the next morning, unhappiness crashes through me. I left the club ten minutes after talking to Trey, unable to shake off my disappointment. A gorgeous man who seemed to be attracted to me is just like my ex-boyfriend. I want to cry. Why do I keep being drawn to men who think women are empty-headed dolls to be played with and then cast aside like trash?
I throw the covers back and get out of bed. I didn’t drink after getting to the club, so my head is pretty clear, but that just means I remember every moment I spent with Trey. The way he looked at me so tenderly. The way his arms felt around me. The soft brush of his knuckles over my cheek as he looked deep into my eyes. As I wait for the coffee machine to deliver me an enormous hit of caffeine, my face drops into my hands. It’s not fair.
I take my coffee through to the sofa and spend the morning reading a fantasy novel, trying to lose myself in the world of an enchanted forest and a grumpy, sexy wizard. Then I head out and do my grocery shopping for the week.
It’s a beautiful morning and I grab a vegan caramel and pecan scone from my local bakery out of curiosity. I eat meat, but I’ve been interested in the idea of eating only from plants. To my surprise, the scone tastes amazing. Maybe it wouldn’t be hard to switch to vegan after all.
I’m just finishing the scone and dusting my fingers off when my gaze lands on Dom Fitness. Trey’s out there, looking tall and strong in the morning sunshine. My stomach lurches with longing. Can’t he just kiss me and maybe even be my boyfriend without all that dom nonsense getting in the way?
My instinct is to avoid anything difficult, but I’m learning that’s not how being happy works. You have to reach out for what you want with both hands, otherwise you never get anything.
I take a deep breath and go over to him. After turning cold on him last night I expect him not to want to talk to me, but his eyes light up when he sees me coming toward him.
“Livia. Hey, how are you?”
“I wanted to explain what happened last night,” I tell him, getting right to it. “I like you, but I don’t like…all that other stuff, and what you do here.”
He turns and looks at Dom Fitness, and then back at me. “What is it you think we do here?”
I feel a flash of irritation. He knows what he does, and what am I doing talking to someone like him? He feels strong by making someone else feel weak or in pain, and he probably thinks he needs to fix me. Maybe that’s why he’s been so friendly to me; because he thinks he needs to save me from my fat self.
Suddenly I’m fighting back tears. I met a beautiful man and I sensed kindness in his heart, only to find he’s hiding something cruel.
Trey’s brow wrinkles in concern, and he says softly, “Livia. Dom Fitness isn’t about bullying you into a size or shape that someone else has decided is right for you. It’s about showing you that you’re already amazing.”
That doesn’t sound anything like the dom/sub relationship that I experienced, and I have a hard time believing him.
“And as for the daddy thing,” he continues, and then glances around, as if remembering where we are and what he’s supposed to be doing. “I’m on the clock right now and I have to keep my personal life separate from this place. Why don’t we have a coffee later and we can talk about it?”
He means talk to me about him being a dom. My fear ratchets up again.
Maybe he’s a considerate dom or daddy or whatever, but it’s still about taking someone’s mind and soul prisoner and crushing them until they feel like they’re no better than dirt.
“No, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry for bothering you at work.”
I walk away, and it feels like my heart’s being ripped out. Tears slip down my face, but I wipe them away quickly because it’s ridiculous crying over a man when you don’t even know him.
I spend the next few days feeling raw and emotional, and walking the long way around to work so I can avoid Dom Fitness and Trey. All the horrible memories of Piers have come flooding back. I can hear his sneering voice rattling in my ears. You’re eating? I told you that you have to lose two pounds by the end of the week or you’re getting caned. I’m doing this for you. Say thank you, sir. I SAID, say thank you, sir.
I don’t understand how I ended up in such a nightmare. I was always such a strong and happy person, but Piers manage to suck away all my happiness in the year we were together.
By Wednesday, I’m tired of being that scared, needy person that Piers turned me into. I’ve reclaimed so much of myself in the past six months and I’m strong enough to walk past Trey without falling apart.
I grab my shopping bags, head out the door and start walking down the street. When I’m two doors down from the gym, I take a deep breath and look toward Dom Fitness.
There’s a man there handing out flyers, but it’s not Trey. His tank top reads JOSHUA, and a throb of despair goes through me.
Joshua sees me staring at him and comes over, probably thinking I’m interested in signing up. By the time he reaches me, his smile falters, because now there are tears pouring down my face.
“Hey, are you all right?” Joshua asks, leaning down so he can look into my eyes. All the Dom Fitness guys are enormous.
“Trey’s usually out here. I thought I’d see Trey. Where’s Trey?” Suddenly, my despair is overwhelming. What if I never see him again? “I’m sorry. I’m not usually such a mess.”
Joshua just looks sympathetic. “It’s all right. We’re used to a few tears at Dom Fitness now and then. Would you like me to take you to Trey? He’s inside.”
I look up at him, sniffling. “He is?”
“Come on.” Joshua lays a gentle hand on my arm and steers me inside. At the front desk, he lifts the phone and places a call.
I stand miserably in the middle of reception, wiping my face and wishing that Trey were there.
A moment later he swipes through the barriers. He strides toward me, moving like panther, but in such a friendly way that if he were a panther I’d expect a fuzzy headbutt and a big purr. When he’s standing right in front of me, he says in his soft, deep voice, “Hey, Livia.”
Just like that, my knees are made of rubber and his name is written on the walls of my heart.
Trey notices the tears drying on my cheeks and his smile melts into concern. “Livia, are you okay? What’s happened?”
“No. Yes. I’m here because…” I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to know what you’re all about, because you seem so lovely and so unlike my ex and yet you’re a dom, too. I’m scared and confused and I think I like you. “Um, I want to know what Dom Fitness is all about.”
“Oh. Sure.”
Is it my imagination, or does he seem disappointed? If he is, he covers it up with a smile.
“Let’s sit over here and I can tell you what we do here.”
Trey gets a clipboard from Joshua and we sit together at one of the tables in the juice bar. I like the décor in here. It’s not aggressive or hypermasculine like I was expecting, but modern with clean lines.
The juice bar attendant brings us water, and I take a grateful sip and wrap my hands around the glass. I can’t believe I’m being such an emotional mess in public.
Trey gazes at me, his brow wrinkled in concern. “Has someone upset you?”
“Rough week,” I mumble. “I thought some exercise would do me good.” Some Trey would do me good. I wish everything wasn’t so complicated.
“Sure. Let’s see if we can figure out a way to help you. So, as you’re aware, we’re a little different to a normal gym. Every trainer here is a dominant of some variety, and we’re here to motivate you and help you achieve your goals.”
He’s brisk and business-like as he talks, and it’s calming, but I can’t help but miss that other Trey, the one who put his arms around me at the club and looked at me like I was an ice cube he was dying to lick on a hot day.
I realize he’s holding a clipboard out to me. “What’s this?”
“The rules.”
I take the clipboard from him and read what’s written at the top of the page.
Rule #1: There will be no physical contact between trainers and trainees, other than for instructional fitness purposes.
I read the rule over twice, and the meaning finally sinks in. If I sign up here, that’s the end of anything romantic that could happen between me and Trey.
Chapter Four
Trey
“Is that rule okay with you?” I ask Livia. She’s staring at the clipboard like she’s struggling to come up with an answer. Say no, I silently urge her. Don’t sign up here. Ask me to show you what this dom/sub thing is about on our own time.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.” Livia takes another sip of her water, her hand trembling slightly.
It takes all my effort not to let my disappointment show on my face. “Okay. I know all these rules are daunting, but they’re for your safety and happiness and no other reason. Did you have any questions so far?”
She shakes her head. Her beautiful face is pale, but she seems to be pulling herself together in front of my eyes. Her back straightens and she resettles her jersey dress across her shoulders.
I could tell her that I don’t want her to sign up here and that we should get a coffee instead, but maybe she really does want some exercise and to get out of her head for a while. I’ve already pushed her enough.
“Let’s go through the other rules. Can you read them out for me, please?”
Livia nods and picks up the clipboard. “Rule #2: The trainee is to speak to their trainer politely and respectfully at all times, and address them as ma’am, sir, mistress, master, mommy or daddy etc., to be agreed on between each trainer and trainee.”
Livia’s eyes almost bulge out of her head.
“You can call me Trey, it’s fine,” I say quickly, and she visibly relaxes. Another pang goes through me. I can’t even ask her to call me daddy here.
“Rule #3: A trainee will commit one hundred percent to each workout and follow their trainer’s instructions to the letter. If a trainer feels as if a trainee is deliberately underperforming or being willfully disobedient, the trainer reserves to the right to set punishments for their trainee, including but not limited to: extra exercises, cold showers and corner time.”
Livia’s mouth quirks at that. “Deliberately underperforming or being willfully disobedient? People actually do that after they sign up here?”
I smile too, glad that the heavy mood is lifting a little. “Yeah, the brats do. They love pushing their boundaries and getting punished. Pushing boundaries is their cardio.”
“I don’t think I’m a brat. I break into a cold sweat if I forget to refill the coffee pot at work.”
I don’t think she’s a brat, either. I think she’s a quintessential good girl who’s highly sensitive and has been through a rough time. She’ll put her heart into whatever she sets out to do, but I won’t be able to pull her into my arms for a deep kiss and tell her that daddy’s so proud of her.
Fuck my life. This is torture.
I clear my throat and tell her to read on. When we get to rule five, Livia bites her lip.
“Rule #5: Trainees and trainers will act in a safe, sane and consensual manner toward each other at all times.”
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“I’ve heard that phrase before. Safe, sane and conse
nsual. That’s not really what people do though, is it?”
I study her closely, apprehension threading my body. Who’s been telling Livia such bullshit? Or, worse, who’s been subjecting Livia to such bullshit? “What makes you say that?”
Livia shakes her head, forcing a smile. “Nothing. No reason. Just asking questions.”
“It’s a thing. It’s the thing, actually. It’s the most important rule of all.”
I want to delve deeper into why she thinks this way, but I can sense that if I push her too much too soon then she’ll run right out of here and I’ll never see her again. I’d rather have Livia as my trainee than no Livia at all.
I launch into my usual spiel. “Those are the basic rules, but each of the trainers have additional ones, depending on what their focus is. I’m a planner, and I’m goal-oriented, so each of my sessions begins with a discussion of your goals and aims for the session, and then we revisit them at the end and see if we hit them. I expect you to do your best and focus on hitting your goals, or getting as close to them as possible.”
“What happens if I don’t?”
Normally it would be a lecture while my trainee holds weights aloft, or kneeling at my feet while they recite their goals for me three times over and promise to do better. I like an audience for my trainees while they do this so they feel like they’re being held accountable, so we do it right in the middle of the gym. I’m worried Livia will freak out if I tell her that, so instead I say, “Extra push-ups. Now, tell me your fitness goals.”
“I don’t know if I have any. I think I’m fine as I am.”
I think she’s fucking gorgeous, not just fine, but this isn’t about me. “People go to gyms for all sorts of reasons. Some want to bulk up or slim down. Some people want an exercise high or more energy. Some just like the atmosphere and the chance to get out of their head and do something physical.”
Livia looks around at reception and the juice bar. “It is kind of cool in here. I think I’d like to get out of my head for a while and do something physical. I haven’t felt confident enough to put on yoga pants since P—since about a year ago.”
