by KD Robichaux
“Try putting it on the back of your neck,” the woman who was next to her in the studio suggests, and Astrid lifts a brow to add to her wide eyes before doing just that.
“Oh… ma… goy-d,” she states dramatically, her eyes rolling back in her head, and when the other woman chuckles and walks off, Astrid turns to me. “I think that lady just fixed me, because I’m pretty sure I just came.”
I can’t help it. It comes so out of nowhere that I throw my head back and laugh so loud it echoes around the room. I hear someone’s angry “Shhh!” and I look over to see the instructor glaring at me as she reaches out to close the door, and I stage-whisper a “Sorry!” before it shuts.
I face Astrid. “You got me in trouble.” I grin.
“Worth it.” She giggles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh like that.” She wipes the cold cloth over her shoulders and down her arms as her eyes twinkle up at me.
“I don’t remember the last time I did,” I confess, and then I tilt my head to the side and lift a brow at her. “I don’t think you’re supposed to bathe with it, my love. Everyone else is using it like a compress.”
“Everyone else can eat a dick,” she replies. “This shit feels way too good. In fact, I’mma break the rules and get another one.” I pull my lips between my teeth to keep from bursting out laughing again as she spins to bend down to the freezer and take out another one of the rolled-up washcloths. When she cracks it open and wipes it down between her tits inside her sports bra, she crosses her eyes and groans. “Aaaand… I just had my first multiple. Sorry, Viking, a cold lavender towel beat you to it.” She says it breathily, like the towel itself is a sexy beefcake on one of her books, but it’s the use of my Astrid-given nickname that puts me in motion.
I snatch her up by her waist and throw her over my shoulder, swatting her on the ass while I’m at it, since she didn’t mind it the first time I fucked up and did it.
She squeals. “Sweaty and gross!”
But I shake my head. “Not after you just bathed right here in front of me with your new boyfriend,” I tell her and start out the door.
She starts to giggle uncontrollably, but she manages to get out “My shoes!”
I spin around and follow her pointed finger to the cubby she left her stuff in then head back out the door, the whole time her laugh becoming more and more breathless. It does something to my heart, healing cracks in it I didn’t realize were still there after all these years. Hearing Astrid laugh like this, after all she’s been through, and being the one who made her do it, is like a balm to my soul. It feels like everything I’ve worked toward my whole life, helping those who had their power taken from them unwillingly, avenging the ones who didn’t survive, was worth every second, because it all prepared me for and led me to this woman. Who is now banging on my back with her tiny ineffectual fists as I carry her through the gym and over to the weight benches.
I pull her back off my shoulder and plop her down on one of the padded benches, handing over her shoes. “You came without me,” I tell her, and she looks up at me as she sets the washcloths on the floor then pulls her socks out of her sneakers.
“No, I came before you. I was already on my way when you texted you’d be later, so I figured I’d just do a class to kill time until you got here,” she replies.
“You never texted to let me know you were here,” I counter, crossing my arms over my chest and looking over at the men working out nearby who are grunting and growling with each rep, and I narrow my eyes. Fuck Seth for putting that image in my head of my woman getting hit on at the gym while I’m not here.
She’s tying her second shoe when I look back down at her, and when she puts her foot down on the floor, she hops up and crosses her own arms, popping her hip and putting on her sassy face. “I didn’t want to interrupt some poor therapy patient’s session that you were supposed to be paying attention to,” she argues haughtily.
Of course she’d be considerate of that.
“What’s this really about?” she asks low, her voice sounding dangerous for coming out of such a small woman. “Because if this is how it’s gonna be with you when I’m finally actually taking steps to enjoy my freedom….” She shakes her head. “I already lost an entire decade of my life thanks to one controlling asshole. I don’t want another one.”
My heart squeezes inside my chest. Fuck. My scowl drops, and I lower my arms, ignoring my urge to reach out and pull her to me, to force her to see I’m not trying to control her, but even that would be mixed signals. So I just keep my voice calm, and I tell her, “You’re right. I’m sorry, goddess. My need to keep you safe is coming across all wrong, and I can see clearly how you would think I’m being controlling.”
She loses some of the feistiness in her expression, so I keep going. “I’ll be honest with you. It’s been a very, very long time since I was in a relationship, and even I’m going to make mistakes. It’s very different being the one on the inside, experiencing it, instead of the therapist on the outside, looking in and teaching someone how to fix things. I’m no longer an unbiased bystander. My emotions are involved, and the emotion that was coming off as ‘controlling asshole’ was actually jealousy,” I confess.
Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead and her jaw drops, her hand rising to press to her chest. She blinks at me. “Jealous?” She scoffs and lets out a quick manic-sounding laugh as she looks around the gym. “You… jealous.” She shakes her head then meets my eyes once again. “Why in the world would you be jealous?” She takes the hand that was pressed to her chest and gestures at me from head to toe. “Have you looked in the mirror? In the words of the great Emma Stone, you look like you’ve been photoshopped!”
I chuckle, tilting my head toward the floor then looking up at her with just my eyes. “I thought I was old, baby?”
Her brow furrows even as she smiles. “The only thing old about you is your slang, Viking. Get with the times.” She rolls her eyes and takes a step up to me, placing her palms flat in the middle of my chest. “I will admit, the first day we came, I was super jealous of those bitches in class who were eye-fucking the shit out of you.”
I smirk, remembering her possessiveness.
“And what did I do about it?” she prompts.
My smirk grows even cockier. “You marked your territory.”
“Ya damn right,” she says loudly, nodding slow and dramatically. “I pissed aaaall over this.” She waves one hand in front of my face, and I pull my lips between my teeth and laugh through my nose.
When her face finally softens, she rubs a circle in the center of my chest, and it does wonders to loosen the knot that formed there moments ago.
“Is that something you’re into, goddess? I mean, I know we haven’t discussed our likes and limits, but Golden Showers have always been on my hard limits list,” I tell her, trying to say it with a straight face, but I know she can see the mirth in my eyes.
She jerks her head back and grimaces. “Eeww-wah! Metaphorical peeing only. You can mark your territory in front of the meatheads all you want, but you make one freaking move to piddle on me and we. Are. Over.”
“In that case—” I bend my knees and wrap my arms tightly around her ass, straightening my legs and lifting her so her feet dangle. “—you’re just going to have to start getting over the gross and sweaty thing.”
She grumbles. “Blech. I think you’re all good with the marking of me today, Viking. You made it loud and clear by hauling me over here like some freaking caveman.” She rolls her eyes. “Now kiss me and put me down. You need to work out so I have some new mental images for my spank bank.”
And I do just that.
Chapter 13
Astrid
Me: Came to the gym earlier than your lunch break to do the 10:00 barre class with Destinee. And then I’ll keep you company while you work out. Look at me texting like a good girl *sticking out tongue emoji
Neil: Thank you, goddess. I appreciate the communication. I’ll see you at 11.
I smile, slipping my phone into my purse and setting it next to the mirror beneath the barre, and then I spread my legs into a wide straddle to do some stretches.
“Hey, new girl,” someone calls, and I look up to see the woman who’s always in the class walking toward me, the same one who shoved me on my first day when Neil was handing me my weights. She’s dressed in red leggings and a black sports bra, her dark hair pulled back in a ballerina bun at the top of her head, a full face of makeup.
I watch her warily as she approaches, having avoided her like the plague the last time I came by myself. I crisscross my legs just as she gets to me, looking up at her and wondering what she could possibly want.
“What’s your name?” she asks, and I look at her suspiciously but answer.
“Astrid.” The “what’s it to you” is clear in my tone.
“You got a job? Or do you happen to be looking for something?”
Okay, not what I was expecting—not that I knew what to expect. “Um… I’m a makeup artist. Why?”
Her eyebrows lift in surprise. Probably because she’s only ever seen me with a clean face, since I don’t wear makeup when I work out. “Really?” She seems to think about something. “If you’re interested, here’s a card. I have some work for you.” She hands me the card she pulled out of the pocket of her leggings, and I look down at it. There’s an address and a phone number, and it says Referred by Crystal in someone’s handwriting, but there is no business name.
“Um…” I look back up at her. “Thanks.” I twist and put the card in my purse then turn back to face her.
“Have a good workout!” she says cheerfully, and not sparing me another glance, she spins on her bare heels and goes over to the small group of women she always seems to arrive with.
The interaction was odd. Why would she have asked me if I wanted a job first before even knowing what I do?
I don’t have time to think much more on it, because Destinee turns on her mic and tells us it’s time to start.
After class, dripping with sweat but feeling amazing, I reach into my purse and pull out my phone to see if Neil is here yet. But the text I find is disappointing.
Neil: Not going to make it to the gym during work hours today, baby. 911 appt. See you when I get home. Meet you in the hot tub?
I’m bummed I won’t get to see him to get my midday fix, but I’ll happily spend more time with him in the hot tub later. We’ve made it a daily ritual since the first time a couple of days ago, and things always lead to heavy petting and making out.
He hasn’t tried to take things any further though, and I’ve tried not to let it bother me. Even though in the back of my head I worry I might’ve turned him off when I got all emotional the first and only time he went down on me. Or maybe it was just too much work to get me off and he didn’t feel like putting in that much effort again.
Whatever the case, it’s now Tuesday, and after having my first real orgasm on Saturday, spending every second with Neil all weekend, establishing we are in some type of relationship, agreeing to officially live there with no plans to move out, and sleeping in his bed every night, I’ve been fiending for a second one. And a third. But he’s made no move.
I slip the phone back into my purse, not really paying attention, but then I hear something weird as I’m walking toward the door to leave.
“…said that if we don’t find anymore recruits, then they’re just going to start ta—”
“Hey, Astrid!” the girl who must be the Crystal on the card calls, and I look over my shoulder at her as my hand reaches to push the door open. “Make sure to call me to set something up. It’s a great opportunity for a makeup artist. Anywhere from ten to twenty faces a night.”
I raise my brows at that. That would be a huge chunk of change to make in one night, and it would go a long way toward saving up for cosmetology school.
But seeing as the gym is the only place I’ve gotten really comfortable coming to by myself, I don’t make any promises. “I’ll think about it,” I tell her, but I smile and give her a little wave as I go out the door so she doesn’t think I’m a complete bitch for blowing off her seemingly generous offer.
By the time I get to the car, the opportunity sounds better and better, and I’m so excited to tell Neil about it that instead of texting him or waiting until he gets home, I drive straight to his office. He’s likely in with his emergency appointment, but maybe I can sneak five minutes with him before his next one.
I enter through the office door and look around, never having actually been inside before. He’s pointed it out when taking me to the post office before, trying to make conversation, but we never stopped to visit.
The waiting room actually reminds me a lot of the one between the yoga studios. Everything is all neutral tones, cozy lighting, and a diffuser that’s misting lavender into the air above it. The lady behind the glass window pulls it open and smiles at me.
“Can I help you, hon?” she asks, probably wondering why I haven’t come in farther than the doorway.
I smile awkwardly. “Um… is Dr. Walker available?”
“He’s in with a patient right now. Do you have an appointment?” she asks me.
“No, I… um. I was just going to sit and wait for him, try to speak with him in between,” I tell her, finally moving and going toward one of the comfortable-looking chairs.
“Honey, are you feeling all right? Dr. Walker doesn’t see patients without an appointment, but we can call someone if you’re having unwanted thoughts,” she says, whispering the last part.
Jesus Christ. Do I look suicidal right now?
“Uuummm… I’m Neil’s roommate?” It comes out like a question, because one, I don’t know if that will be enough to get this lady off my back, and two, I don’t know if she’s even aware Neil lives with someone. That and I have no idea if he’s told anyone besides my sister and Seth that he’s in an unlabeled relationship, which is why I played it safe and said roommate.
Her face brightens instantly. “Astrid?”
My brows lift. Guess she knows he lives with someone, and she even knows my name? I wonder what else she—
“Nita, come here. It’s Astrid!”
“Astrid’s here? She really exists?” I hear another woman ask, and then her head pops into the rectangle of the open window, her eyes as big as the first woman’s.
Instead of sitting down in the chair as I planned, I cautiously approach the window, their smiles growing the closer I get. By the time I reach them, I’m glad there’s a half wall between us, because they’re reaching through, trying to… I don’t even know… pet me and check that I’m actually real? I stay just out of reach. Sweaty and gross. But I do feel the barest touch of Nita’s nails on my bicep, and I notice how long those suckers are. She has them filed into points, and they’re all super blingy and colorful, looking cool against her flawless black skin. I grit my teeth and hold my hand out to shake theirs. I’m still disgusting after just working out, but I don’t want to come off rude when these women are clearly excited to see me.
“She’s real!” Nita exclaims, and I can’t help the giggle that leaves me.
“You’ll have to excuse us. Doc talks about you all the time and we were wondering if he was schizophrenic and you were just a voice inside his head. Because, you know, what woman in her right mind could resist that man?”
“Hm.” I laugh softly. “It’s cute you think I am.” In my right mind, that is.
They ignore that. “Girl, he’s told us all about you. Always going on and on about how talented you are.” Talented? Nita must see the question in my expression. “With your makeup. I, myself, am a bit of an artist. I do my nails myself,” she says, holding her hand out the window again and wiggling her fingers.
“That’s really amazing. I can’t even paint my right hand. My left one is useless except for typing with,” I admit, and she laughs. “Speaking of typing, I’ve always wondered. How do you type with long nails like that?”
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She just shrugs. “Practice.”
“Anyway,” the first woman says, and I see on her tag that her name is Theresa. “He’s in with a patient, but he’ll have a fifteen-minute break between the end of this one and the next one, hon. As long as he doesn’t run over. That man is too dedicated for his own good.” I smile and nod, knowing what she means. “No, really. Before you came along, what, about a year ago now? He never once took a lunch break. He never left before seven, in order to fit in clients who had to come after work—”
“And he just looked sad, girl. Like, not with his patients. He’s always got his doctor mask in place for his patients—”
“Mm. His shrinky face,” I insert, and the two women look at each other and then proceed to scream with laughter.
“She called it his shrinky face!” Nita hollers, and Theresa wipes tears from her eyes.
“Yes,” she says, still choked up from laughing. “Exactly. He has his shrinky face for his patients, but any other time… he just… never smiled. Always so serious. No life in his eyes.” She pauses, her voice having gotten melancholy. But then she perks up again. “Then about a year ago, he started bebopping in here like he done won the lottery or something.”
“Nah, girl,” Nita corrects. “Man’s already rich. He started looking like he was gettin’ laid.”
I let out an “Eep!” and put my hand over my mouth, my cheeks turning bright red.
“Ni-ta! Don’t go embarrassing the poor thing,” Theresa scolds her.
“Well, I’m just saying. He just started looking real happy all of a sudden, and it was soon after he started talking about you. So good job with your… summer cabbage.” She waves one of those long metallic nails in the general direction of my crotch.
I pull my hand down from my mouth and can’t help the little giggle that escapes. I may be mortified by what they think happened to Neil, and I have no idea what a “summer cabbage” is, but it also makes me feel amazing to know I affected him that way all this time. Which, I have no idea how, seeing as I was a miserable person up until less than a week ago.
