JAMIE KING
“You can go now,” Jamie mumbled under her breath as she found her mind slowly coming into focus. The dimly lit room, however, was still on spin cycle. It was safe to say she had consumed a large volume of alcohol.
“Where you want me go?” Tomás asked, perplexed, his thick Spanish accent laced with the remnants of the night before. At least, she thought it was Tomás. Jamie’s eyes, much like her mind, were still a blur. Her only clue that she was in the land of the living was her rapidly beating heart, as if she’d spotted an unsavoury ex at a friend’s party, and was dutifully forced to stay.
“Home. You can go home now.” Jamie felt the soft mattress beckoning her back to slumberland, the cool sheets a welcome antidote to the stifling heat in the room; she wasn’t ready to face the day yet, and Tomás, who annoyingly seemed to be woven around her body, was just adding to the furnace. She needed him to leave already.
“I am in my home. You go at my house.” Tomás was now staring at her—that much she could tell—his eyes practically boring a cavernous hole into the side of her face. Jamie opened one eye and stole a furtive glance his way. He didn’t look impressed. His demeanour contorted like a toddler who’d just eaten broccoli for the first time. Remarkably, it didn’t seem to take anything away from his delicious good looks. He still exuded all of his boyish charm beneath his displeasure.
“ Oh chico, lo siento , I must have been dreaming; of course I don't mean you.” Jamie quickly came to realise that she was not in fact in her own bed, but in the crisp white sheets of her spinning instructor. Bugger . Now she’d have to make small talk before escaping, especially as she was planning on going to his class later; it would be terribly awkward if she did her usual exit move. Despite fantasising about getting Tomás into bed since attending his first class, she hadn’t decided whether she wanted a repeat performance yet. As with most things in her life, Jamie King got bored easily. And whilst she had a voracious appetite for the opposite sex, variety was key.
Tomás was pouting. His sweet plump lips purposely stuck out to make a point, and although they looked more primed for a kiss, Jamie resisted. His sun-lightened hair, like rich milk chocolate with streaks of caramel, flopped over his deep hazel eyes. Damn, he was cute and the smell of his golden skin—a heady concoction of sweat, sunscreen and cheap cologne—annoyingly, still alluring. As Jamie motioned to move, Tomás pulled her back in, tightening his stronghold around her body with every athletic limb, the heat from his body radiating like an old laptop. Jamie wriggled herself free. After three Sex on the Beaches, she’d lost count. Or was it sex on the beach plus cocktails? Now that she thought about it, she did feel a little sandy. Either way, everything was fuzzy. She needed to leave, and despite the resistance from Tomás, she successfully peeled him off and inched out of the bed.
“Noooo cari?o … stay with me!” Tomás’s arm reached out to grab her, but only caught the air.
Jamie ignored him. Sunlight was peeking from behind one side of the long curtain, casting a stream of light across the centre of the room. Rubbing her eyes, she scanned the floor for her clothes, which seemed to be dotted randomly, almost decorating the minimalist space. She spotted her G-string brazenly lying on top of one of the dumbbells beside the bed. Fuck, girl, what have you done? You love his classes . Jamie slipped into the lacy black underwear and picked up what remained of her dignity. Clutching the clothes to her chest, she wandered backwards out of the room. Someone had once told her she had a ‘curvaceous’ bottom, and a girl doesn’t forget something like that.
“Turn around so I can see your ass. I love your ass.” Tomás was now lying on his front, his chin propped up on his hands, naked bar the big white smile he was now sporting.
Jamie turned around quickly, wiggling her bottom in Tomás’s general direction to keep him happy before resuming her exit.
“ ?Guau! I want just to bite it!” Tomás snapped his teeth in the air, like a mock shark attack.
The apartment was small, one-bedroom from what she could gather, and relatively sparse in furniture. Whilst it would not win any prizes for interior décor, it was clean and tidy enough to appease Jamie’s OCD. The bathroom, however, which she was seeking, was disproportionately large. It didn’t have a bath, but one of those oversized shower areas with a huge slab of glass between the water and the rest of the room. Jamie quickly locked the door and stepped onto the cool grey tiles, turning on the shower. Arrrrgggghhhh! The huge chrome rain shower head gushed cold water before she could regulate the temperature, or step out of the way. At least she was officially awake now. She added some warmth and enjoyed the water pounding against her skin as she gently leaned against the smooth marble, slowly piecing together the antics of the night.
* * *
Smoothing down the creases of her red mini dress as she stepped out of Tomás’s apartment block and into the blazing sunshine, the corners of Jamie’s mouth tilted up. God, she loved this place. Summertime and the living was real easy … as were the men. Stopping traffic as she crossed the road, a master in strappy heels, Jamie was on the receiving end of a flurry of wolf whistles, as a sea of eyes followed her. Ignoring the surrounding admirers and the odd “?Guapa!” Jamie opened the door of her silver convertible Beetle and slid inside. Shades on, sounds on, she drove the fifteen minutes it took to get home before she would head to the gym. Everywhere in Mallorca seemed to be fifteen minutes away, any further, and it really was too much of an effort. For a small island, it was curious how most residents kept to their corner. Driving into the parking bay in front of her home, Jamie glanced at the clock on her console. She had exactly forty minutes before class. She wasn’t in the mood to go inside. If only she’d packed her gym gear in her ‘never know’ bag, she could have gone directly. Unconsciously picking at the rose-coloured polish on her nails, she sighed and opened the car door. She’d make this quick.
* * *
Entering the large spinning studio, Jamie made a beeline for the same bike as always; a specific spot she’d claimed to the left of Tomás, granting her the perfect view of both him and the inevitably steamy wall-to-wall mirror behind him. And no one challenged it. Suddenly, Tomás burst into the room and bounced onto the stage at the front, fiddling with the music system. Within moments, Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger by Daft Punk came on, and as the sounds filled the large room, ricocheting off the sky-high ceilings, the class started to spin. Sliding onto his bike, Tomás looked over at Jamie and winked. She wasn’t sure if anyone noticed, but she didn’t care. She was ready for her workout, which was always the highlight of her day. Losing herself in the music, in the spinning, in him.
“?Más fuerte, mas fuerte!” yelled Tomás as he encouraged the class to push themselves harder. This was, after all, an advanced spin class.
You had enough ‘fuerte’ last night , Jamie thought, giggling to herself as she fixated on Tomás’s firm torso and strong, thankfully unshaven legs, unlike the baby smooth pins of most cyclists.
“?Arriba, abajo, arriba, abajo!” Tomás instructed, as the class lifted off their seats in unison, then down again over and over on repeat, like a giant octopus on LSD. Jamie could feel her thighs burning. She’d already had a good workout the previous night. Any more, and they’d surely ignite.
Jamie continued spinning, flashing Tomás one of her huge megawatt smiles as their eyes locked momentarily. And just like that, she was re-energised. There was a lot to be said for endorphins, and cute instructors. Glancing up at the clock, Jamie’s heart sank. Crap, there’s only ten minutes left. I won’t look at the clock again. I won’t.
Before long, the music slowed to a gentle, calming track, signalling that the cooldown had begun. Before she knew it, everyone was taking their last deep breaths and clapping. Vowing to return as soon as possible, she climbed off the bike as sensually as possible, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And for Jamie King, it really was.
“ Gracias , Tomás.” She beamed as she deliberately brushed past him as she went to leave the studio. His tanned fingers reached out and gently grazed the base of her spine, on show between her new orange crop top and black low-rise leggings, clinging tightly to every inch of her sweat-drenched body. She wasn’t sure if it was Tomás, the endorphins, or the pounding music in sync with her heart, which made her feel more aroused. Sexual tension was always intensified post workout; and another reason she found herself in class with increasing frequency. It was also likely how she ended up in Tomás’s apartment. Gazing back at Tomás, she couldn’t help but notice his beautiful physique was further enhanced with sparkling crystals of sweat and decided a repeat performance was definitely on the cards.
Jamie wasn’t ready to leave the gym, so she ventured into the main area. Wandering over to the expansive room crammed with every contraption designed to mould you into shape, Jamie scanned the area with the precision of an eagle stalking her prey and found it to be disappointingly empty. Jamie's ‘hot guy radar’ was so sharp she could scan any room in seconds, even this vast state-of-the-art gym that wrapped around the pool area below, mezzanine-style. It wasn’t quite lunchtime, as none of the locals seemed to be around. But she spotted someone, a woman, power walking on the treadmill. At first, Jamie noticed her hair. Even tied back in what appeared to be a little girl’s Barbie scrunchie, it was so long it practically reached her bottom. Exceedingly dark and poker straight. Unusually straight, in fact, unlike her own jaw-length mop of curls, which had to be straightened into submission every day. Five minutes into a workout and there was zero chance of Jamie staying frizz-free. Yet here was a woman in a hot, sweaty gym without a frizz in sight. On closer inspection, she noticed that the woman appeared bored and somewhat awkward. Perhaps it was just the faded black oversized T-shirt with shapeless tracksuit bottoms that appeared three sizes too big. Jamie acknowledged that somewhere beneath the swathes of cotton, there could be a reasonable body, but it was impossible to tell. Heading toward the treadmills, she stole a glance at the mirror. A quick cursory inspection to ensure things were a tad firmer as a result of the last hour. No matter how often she worked out, there was always room for improvement.