by Ash Harlow
Zach gets behind me on his knees on the mat and eases me forward, my arms outstretched like I’m reaching for a lifeline. He’s kneeling right up against my back.
“Roll up now, slowly, one vertebrae at a time against my legs.”
I do as he asks, all but melting into him.
“Lift the crown of your head towards the ceiling.”
I sit as tall as I can.
“Right back against me, Natalie…imprint your spine against my legs.”
Oh. God. I’m sure if I take my head back it’s going to land right in his groin, and I’m thankful he’s not wearing tight Lycra, too.
“Head back, lift your arms, and I’ll give you a nice stretch.”
When I raise my head and arms, I’m confronted with the mirror. Our eyes meet. Zach beams at me and I’m pleased my face is already flushed, crimson, from the effort I’ve been putting in. At least now he can’t see my blush. The way I press my lips together, though, is almost as telling. I can hardly suppress my smile. I’m leaning against him, sitting tall, and finally all the effort at trying not to touch him there takes its toll and I collapse against his legs.
Zach huffs a short laugh and nudges my back with his leg. “Lift here, enjoy the stretch.”
He pulls my arms high above my head and I have to admit it feels wonderful. After a few seconds, he lowers them again and tells me to bend forward and reach for the mirror. His hands move down my spine, encouraging me into a deeper stretch, forcing a very unsexy grunt from me as I feel the strain on my hamstrings. Zach’s leaning over my back, and we’re almost touching.
“You need this, don’t you?” he says quietly, and I feel his words in the breath that is so close to my ear.
I want to squeeze my legs together to ease the pressure there. I can’t trust my voice to respond to him because I fear it will come out husky with desire. This is hell and heaven in one demanding package.
“There you go, up we come.”
This time I’m not shy at all about imprinting my spine up his thighs. In a tremendously sad way, this is the sexiest thing I’ve ever done. Hands down it beats the grope and fumble of the two boys I’ve been with, and I wonder what I can do to make it last.
We repeat the exercise three times, then Zach stands and tells me we’re done.
“How do you feel?”
Disappointed that we’re finished, but I can’t say that. And even I know it would be inappropriate to tell him I feel horny so I just say that I feel great.
“Expect some soreness tomorrow. We’ll stretch first thing, and I can massage out any aches if your muscles trouble you too much.”
“Ah, okay.” My heart dances. I’ll invent aches if they’re not there.
“You’ll probably want to shower. Come back to the studio when you’re done and watch Maree take Tai through his workout. You’ll get to see some advanced exercises, and it will give you a good idea of where you’re heading.”
I’m about to answer when I notice he’s looking over my head, and his mouth breaks into a broad smile.
“I’ll be right with you, Sian,” he says.
When I turn I see the person he’s speaking to. She’s stunning, tall and exotic like a Miss Venezuela. Jealousy grips me, and every wonderful thing I was feeling slips away as I come crashing back to earth. In minutes she’ll be the recipient of his talented hands, his firm commands and the whispers of encouragement.
Injuring her as I pass would probably have me banished, and I have to keep reminding myself I’m no longer in school where elbow jostling and shoulder bumps are an accepted method of communication among my peers. The way I feel is a direct response to the crush I have on Zach, and I know I’ll have to take control of it or risk making a fool of myself. My shoulders want to slump, but I straighten them and walk quickly from the room.
Gran’s in the reception area as I pass through, and she calls me over to introduce me to one of the clients. I smile and shake hands, muttering an apology about my damp palms before escaping upstairs to the shower.
I turn the showerhead to a pulse and let it pummel my shoulders. Closing my eyes, I formulate my plan.
4
~ ZACH ~
Sessions with Natalie are as excruciating as I imagined they would be since confronting the impact she had on me when I first met her. In minutes she switches from coy, to frustrated, to flirty, and each mood of hers extracts the same response from my body.
I want to fuck her back to her baseline normality, then into the stratosphere. I want to do things to her that will make her never forget me, so that when she’s with another man she will only be capable of thinking of the way we did it.
Fuck that. I never want her to be with another man.
This line of thinking is taboo in so many ways. For a start, the studio has a strict no-intimacy policy encompassing staff and clients. It’s imperative that clients have a safe environment in which to work out, especially since we’re in a business where trust and touch are vital to our teaching. Intimacy between staff upsets the hierarchy balance, particularly if it occurs between a senior and junior staff member. And, yes, even in today’s enlightened world where we strive for equality, different level teachers are automatically assigned appropriate status.
The studio master simply cannot become intimate with an apprentice.
Birdy would have a fit if she knew what I was thinking, and Natalie would wind up as collateral damage. The kid’s clearly been in trouble, and although I don’t know what happened, she needs to settle into a professional environment and leave her past behind. That isn’t going to occur if I can’t keep my dick and fantasies under control. It’s never been an issue for me in the past, and I have no idea why she’s so troubling to me. So intoxicating.
I’ve never considered the studio uniform to look sexy, but Natalie wears it like a venial sin. Every time she passes through the room my heart stutters and my cock springs to life. No matter who I’m teaching, I seem to find myself surreptitiously checking the mirrors to catch a glimpse of her. Sometimes her soft laughter tumbles through the air, making me smile. Other times, she’s too close to Tai or James or any one of our male instructors, making me want to put her over the ladder barrel and spank her luscious arse for giving me grief.
No, that’s a fantasy. We don’t actually treat apprentices that way.
Yesterday she knew I’d caught her being flirty with Tai. One stern look and she stopped mid-sentence. I eyed the ladder barrel, then looked back to her; she gave the equipment a quick glance and blushed as if she’d read my mind. Today I was unable to resist that image, and during her workout I put her over the upholstered barrel, feet on the lower rung of the ladder behind her and spent way too long simply observing her, face down and draped over it, before explaining the exercise I wanted her to do.
Natalie insisted she wasn’t supple enough to execute a backbend and touch the wall behind her, but with a little assistance she got there. The way her breasts thrust out, the arch of her spine—a position not dissimilar to one I’d like to put her in to fuck her—stopped all the men in the room. It made me crazy to think they were having the same idea as me.
The speed in which she’s changing is rapid and exciting. Her confidence is growing, and during breaks she asks intelligent questions about the things she’s observed when watching other client sessions. If she’s serious about this she’ll make an excellent teacher. I try to convince myself this is why I’m putting so much effort into her studio time, but not even I’m that deluded.
I’ve got her in the mat room and we have it to ourselves.
“On your knees, facing me, eyes forward, hands at your side,” I instruct her. She assumes the position in a flash, then she looks up at me with that innocent gaze and we simply lock eyes. I struggle to break the connection. She might not be completely aware of the significance of the position I’ve asked her to adopt—both submissive and sexual—but even a naïve eighteen-year old would have a reasonable idea.
“Eyes
forward, Natalie, not up at me.” I keep my voice deep and low because I’ve noticed that affects her in a certain way.
She gives me a slow blink, and with a shiver that runs through her body, she lowers her chin.
What a minx.
I muster my self-control and take her through a few exercises, finishing with a thigh stretch that draws a complaint about her quads and those tight hip flexors. It’s the perfect excuse to get down on the mat with her and guide her through some stretches. I glance at the clock. My next client is due, and I reluctantly bring our session to a close.
My behaviour is reprehensible…not so much outwardly, but there’s enough guilt in the intent that’s there to convict me.
I’ve been avoiding dinners with Natalie and Birdy as much as I can with the purpose of removing my presence from the apartment for the evening so that it appears I have a full social life with no room for an eighteen-year old. Naturally, Tai has seized the opportunity to take Natalie out and this all but kills me. Stepping back from my insane attraction to her was the honourable thing to do, but having done that makes our studio sessions even more intense.
I could have coped with the intensity. I could have made it through the year and at the completion of her apprenticeship sent Natalie on her way, out into the world that waits for her, if only she hadn’t come to my bathroom this evening when I was taking a shower.
That one move has changed everything.
From the landing that separates Birdy’s and my apartments I hear voices, then laughter. Samuel is there cooking tonight. He’s a quintessentially gay ex-dancer friend of Birdy’s. Of an indeterminate age and race, he has a complicated past life that he only shares in small cupfuls—demitasse, as Samuel would say. His accent is thick, derived from a melting pot of a number of languages and constant travel to foreign countries. Rich amber eyes dance with secrets, and he has a smile that’s lethal to dark thoughts.
His name he pronounces Samwell, which would sound pretentious coming from a lot of people but perfect from him.
I pause at Birdy’s door and hope that there’s enough chaos surrounding dinner preparation and tales of Samuel’s latest European trip that I can put to the back of my mind the fact that just half an hour ago, I jerked off in front of my young apprentice.
My godmother’s granddaughter.
I haven’t really thought about how I’m going to deal with this, because a lot depends on Natalie. I’m certain that it’s wrong that not one bit of me regrets what I did. Natalie chose to stay—no force, no coercion on my part. That’s what I’ve been telling myself for the last hour.
I take a deep breath and fling open Birdy’s door, stepping right into Samuel’s arms.
“Zach, darling, I was just coming to find you. I hoped I would catch my favourite burly rugby player in the shower.”
He’s teasing, but it’s so close to earlier events I respond with a nervous laugh, which he’ll probably take the wrong way.
“Sorry you missed your fun, but hopefully this will make up for it,” I say, shoving a bottle of his favourite chilled Krug into his hands.
Samuel rolls his eyes. “Love you, precious.” He kisses the label on the bottle. “Quick, let’s set these bubbles free. Natalie, find Birdy’s champagne flutes.”
He grabs my forearm and hauls me with him to follow Natalie. “Hasn’t she grown into the most adorable creature?” he says in the loudest whisper, and I notice Natalie adjust her posture, pulling herself as tall as possible.
“I’m thrilled Birdy—and you, of course—have taken charge of her and got her away from those oppressively dull parents the poor girl’s been saddled with. The lottery of birth might give her a robust inheritance when her parents pass, but that staid father of hers is as insufferable as his judgy wife. I still can’t believe Birdy gave birth to such a boorish git. Give Natalie’s life some colour, Zach. She deserves it.”
Obviously I’d like to add more than a bit of colour to Natalie’s life. A blush to her cheeks, a red handprint branded by a spank on her naked arse. I give Samuel a you betcha wink before I pass him to show my girl where the champagne glasses are kept.
Samuel seems to know more about Birdy than any other person I’ve met. And although he might appear to be a gossip, he merely chats, giving little away. However, like Birdy, there’s not much that gets past him, and I’m hoping Natalie will be discreet about the little episode that took place in my bathroom.
Right through dinner the girl is perfect. She should be playing poker because there’s not a hint of betrayal or unease about her, and she doesn’t give a thing away. For someone so young, she certainly knows how to keep her head.
Samuel has cooked dinner, as he always does when he visits, and at around ten he floats around the room, triple-kissing us all farewell, saying he has someone to meet in the city. Birdy is ready for bed so I make noises about leaving.
Cool as can be, Natalie asks if I’m going to watch the movie I’d mentioned to her today.
We haven’t discussed movies, and I hope my pause to take in what she is really saying slips past Birdy unnoticed.
“I am,” I lie. “You’re welcome to watch it with me if you’d like.”
With her back to her grandmother, her smile is saucy. “Great.”
I wait, holding the door open while she kisses Birdy goodnight, my heart leaping about in my chest like a rabbit being pursued. My mind’s going nuts as I usher Natalie from one apartment, across the landing and into another.
5
~ ZACH ~
I nudge Natalie into my apartment and tell her to go to the sitting room. Her step falters as she hears the tell-tale click of a door being locked behind her. The tension in the room is palpable. I follow her through and place my hands on her shoulders, keeping her back to me, only inches separating our bodies. With my mouth close to her ear, I ask the question that will determine whether she leaves immediately or stays.
“Why are you here, Natalie?”
Her tone is soft but lacks hesitancy. “I’ve come to watch a movie.”
Movie? What the fuck? I wouldn’t even watch porn now that I’ve got my obsession in my apartment.
She continues with a tighter voice. “The movie I’ve been playing in my head for two weeks. You know the one…you’re the star.”
The way she says star with a posh, breathy accent makes my entire body jump to life.
I think we’ve read the same script, and I don’t know if it’s the wine I’ve consumed that steals my common sense, or simply the fact that I need a fucking chaperone around Natalie because I can’t control myself, but I lower my head a couple more inches and lick that sweet spot right behind her ear. She moans and tries to twist to face me, but I’ve got size and strength over her and I hold her in place.
In a lengthy inhalation, I breathe in as much of her as I can, and she smells delicious. Completely sweet and edible. I continue at that spot with my tongue, my lips, baring my teeth to roughly graze the area before teasing it again with soft licks. Natalie’s trembling in my arms, her breathing harsh, and fuck, the noises she’s making have my cock straining impatiently in my jeans.
“You’ve got five seconds to leave, Natalie, or I’m going to make you come with my mouth, my fingers and my cock in your hot little cunt, all before midnight. You can be the princess or pumpkin. Your choice, treasure.”
Her breath hitches at my dirty words before she comes right back at me.
“I want you to fuck me.”
From her lips, they’re the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard.
“Good girl, follow me.” I take my hands off her and walk through to my bedroom. I feel as though I’m going to explode; not just my cock, but my whole body, my mind, my world. She’s everything I’ve dreamed about, and I’m about to have her naked, about to pump her full of my cum.
“Stop,” I say once she’s in the middle of the bedroom. I lean against the wall and try to appear nonchalant. A surge of lust rushes through me as I have the chance
to simply look at her, properly, look at her like a man, drinking her in with my eyes. She shuffles a bit, and I imagine her earlier boldness has deserted her.
“Strip for me.”
Her eyes flick to the window where the blinds are open, then back to me.
“Nobody can see in here. Now do something from that movie you’ve been playing, I want to know if we’re on the same page.”
Her mouth works in that same manner it had earlier when she was in the bathroom watching me jerk off. It’s as if she actually chews her thoughts before she can make a decision. She makes eye contact with me as she toes off the sneakers she wears. I nod, yes, I want her to continue, and suddenly she moves with a flurry. She drags off her sweater and t-shirt in one move and quickly releases her bra, sliding the straps down her arm and dropping it to the floor. Perhaps she has to get naked before she loses her nerve.
I’m disappointed because the bra looked gorgeous and it pushed her young ripe tits together in a way that made me want to spit on my cock and fuck them with it. She wriggles out of her jeans, and I’m given a glimpse of something lacy and small in the same scarlet colour as her bra. Her underwear, I guess, but I’m not given another opportunity to see because she wads her clothes up in a ball and sends them into a heap by the skirting board.
Natalie stands before me with her hands clenched by her sides, her chest heaving in a way that speaks more of nerves than arousal, and I’m sure if I listened carefully, if the blood wasn’t pounding so fucking hard in my ears, I’d hear her heart beating. The look on her face is determined, and I’m just as determined to show her that the decision she made is one she’ll never regret.
“As a striptease, the execution could do with some work. On the other hand, I’m awarding ten points and much gratitude for speed.”
