5. Chapter 5
five
H eavy’s apartment was only a few blocks into town from the Flyer compound, so it didn’t take him long to get there, especially on his Harley. Heavy rolled into the small parking lot of the 4-plex where he lived, and pulled up by the storage locker he’d bought off of a guy moving out, who’d also owned a motorcycle.
He unstrapped his duffle, stepped outside and locked the shed up tight. Crime was lower out here than in Spokane, but there were still those willing to steal anything to pawn for their next fix.
His truck, a silver 2010 F150, was parked in his slot by the walk. Heavy strode around the truck, humming under his breath the tune that had been playing on his truck radio, and skirted the fancy little SUV parked in the 'guest' spot. A woman sat in the driver's seat.
She opened her door, and he paused, expecting her to ask him if so-and-so lived here. She was attractive in a hard-edged way, a slim brunette with glossy hair and a sultry smile--a familiar one.
He stopped in his tracks on the edge of the sidewalk, recognition hitting him. "Britt? What the hell are you doing here?"
She laughed, a familiar husky sound, and slid out of the driver's seat of the BMW, closing the door behind her. "Not very welcoming for a gal you haven't seen in two years, Marcus."
"Just ... surprised to see you here." Shocked, more like it.
But pleased too. As she stepped up on the sidewalk in front of him, he surveyed her. Britt Eglund was still hot as hell, with that take-no-prisoners gleam in her eyes, in leggings, tight top and stiletto-heeled boots that displayed her highly-toned body.
His arms came up, and he pulled her close, giving her a hug and leaning down to breathe in her perfume. His cock gave a happy twitch at the familiar, sultry scent. "Damn, it's good to see you."
She leaned up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. "That's more like it. Invite me in?"
"Hell, yeah," he said fervently, and she laughed again, and patted his ass.
He led the way to the front entrance, unlocked his ground floor apartment, and gestured her inside. His night was looking up--way up.
His place was small, consisting of a living room with room for his big leather recliner, a slouchy sofa the last tenants had left behind, and a small cabinet beneath his wall-mount TV. A countertop divided the galley-style kitchen, and a short hallway led back to the bathroom and single bedroom.
The place was nothing fancy, but it was tidy. He'd grown up in squalor, but he'd be damned if he lived that way anymore. He picked up his dirty clothes, he cleaned up after a meal, and he kept the kitchen and bathroom spotless.
Britt paid no attention to the place, turning to put her hands on her narrow hips and look him over. "You look good, Marcus."
"So do you," he said. "Still competing?"
They'd met five—or maybe closer to six—years ago at a regional body-building competition in Seattle, had some hot sex, and stayed in touch, hooking up when they were in the same places for competition.
She shook her head. "No, you? I don't see any trophies on display."
"Nah, I quit competing for good. And the trophies are, uh, at my other place. God, has it really been two years since I saw you?"
She shrugged off her jacket with a graceful twist of her shoulders, and tossed it on the sofa. "It's been way too long, that's all I know."
His body reacted to the sight of hers, and the hungry look in her eyes. "Too long," he agreed, his voice hoarse. "You want a drink, or something? I have beer, and maybe a diet soda--ginger ale. And a bottle of bourbon." What he really wanted to do was get her horizontal and work off the steam he'd built up dancing and drinking, but he could be polite when the occasion required.
She smiled slowly. "Make it a bourbon and ginger ale, and you're on."
"So what are you doing in the Spokane area?" he asked as he pulled out a soda and popped the top.
“I rep for a sports supplement company now. Fitness Lab, out of Seattle. You’ve heard of us, right?"
He hadn’t, so he busied himself chunking some ice into two mis-matched water glasses, adding a splash of bourbon to each, then filling them with soda. "So, you travel for them, huh?"
"I do. My territory is this half of Washington state, basically. Not exactly the fun side of the state, but whatever. How about you?"
His chest expanded with pride as he brought their drinks around. "Good things. I’m about to open my own gym."
She gasped, her eyes widening. "No, really? Oh, my God, Marcus."
“You already knew,” he guessed.
She laughed. “Yes, I did. How do you think I found you? I saw a new fitness center opening in my territory, and knew I had to get in touch. Then I saw your name on the listing, and thought ‘Hurray, I get to see you again!’.”
They sat on the sofa, Heavy with his legs stretched out before him and Britt turned toward him so her knees rested against his leg. She put her free hand on his thigh and gave it a squeeze. "But your own gym! That really is great news. What you've always wanted, right?"
He beamed at her. "Yeah. Last time I saw you, I was managing Big Tony’s in Tacoma. Kept thinking of what I’d do different, but Tony shot me down every time. I started banking my ideas … thinking about opening my own place. Wound up here.”
Airway Heights had double advantages—it not only had a thriving chapter of his club, it was as far as he could get from Tacoma, and still be in Washington. Not only was it his home state, he liked the tax structure for small businesses.
"Well, tell me everything. Where it is, etc." Britt gestured with her drink. “Did you build, or buy?”
"Lessee, Heavy Iron Fitness is a few blocks from here, near the main drag. In a little strip mall, between a sandwich shop and a daycare—which is actually a plus, ‘cause stay-at-home parents are a target demographic for gyms now. It was built as one of those chain fitness centers, but they went broke a few years ago. I had new carpet put in–’cause theirs was orange and looked like shit–some new paint, got the wiring up to code… and here we are. Grand opening is Tuesday."
She nodded, hanging on his words like she was fascinated, so he kept talking.
He mixed her another drink, poured himself some more soda, sugar-free this time, and talked some more. Finally, he held up his second empty glass, and gave her lopsided grin. "Sorry, enough about my new business, right?"
"No," she said, leaning in closer, her hand stroking up his thigh. "Although maybe we could move on to … other things. I’ve missed you, Marcus." The look in her eyes made it clear in what way.
Her hand eased over the outline of his cock, and it jerked with happy interest. She smiled.
The next several moments were a whiskey-fueled blur of hot, open-mouthed kisses and clothing disappearing. Pretty soon, she had her tongue in his ear and her hands all over his cock, and he was reaching for one of the condoms in his wallet.
She settled astride him with a triumphant smile, and enveloped his cock in snug, wet heat. He grasped her tight little ass and fucked her for all he was worth. It didn't take long for both of them to cum hard and fast.
He dropped his head on the sofa back with a long groan of satisfaction. He was sweating, breathing hard and he felt awesome.
"I'll give that an eight-point-five for execution," she said, her voice a purr of satisfaction as she stroked his chest possessively.
He huffed a laugh without opening his eyes. "Why not a nine?"
"Because we're all alone, big guy," she said, squeezing his thighs with hers. "You know I like to be watched."
Yeah, he did know that about her.
Bodybuilders got used to displaying their bodies for show, and preening for points. Marcus had liked winning, and the sponsorships that came with it, but after the initial thrill of his physicality being the object of admiration instead of derision and shame, he'd always been relieved to strip off his tight trunks, shower off the oil they used to make skin gleam under the lights, and get his damn clothes back on.
Britt got off on being the center of all eyes, in every way. She'd always been horny after a competition, ready to leap on one of the guys and get it on. Marcus had been the grateful recipient of her attentions many times, but where she liked company then too, he did not.
Now, he dragged his sleepy eyes open and patted her ass. "I do know that. And you're worth watching. Still in top shape."
She was hot as hell if a guy liked the slim, hard-bodied type. He preferred more soft flesh to hold onto, but he did appreciate the positions this woman could get her body into.
She preened at his praise, tossing her hair back. "Better believe it, big guy. All thanks to workouts and using our supplements. Hey, you should carry them in your gym." Her tone was casual, but when he looked up, she was watching him carefully.
"Mm-hmm," he said absently, then yawned mightily. "Hop off, babe, and I'll get rid of this cock sock."
Her thigh was so lean under his big hand, he could feel her femur. He honestly preferred a woman to have more meat on her bones. He liked being pillowed in soft tits and thighs, and having more than a tiny handful of ass to grab.
But Britt was hella proud of her physique, and he knew it bugged the shit out of her that he had a shelf of trophies and she had only a few.
She hopped off as requested, smiling down at him like he'd just offered her his Harley for her own.
"What?" he asked, cupping a hand to hold the condom on as he levered himself off the sofa. He walked away, heading into his bathroom to flush the condom.
When he came out, he was unsurprised to see she was already wriggling into her black tights. Britt had always been a one-and-done gal, ready to move on to the next thing once she got off.
But she had a happy smile on her face, her perfect teeth glinting white.
"What?" she echoed. "Marcus, I'm thrilled, that's what."
She moved close, her hands on his chest, and beamed up at him. "If you carry Fitness Lab's supplements at your gym, that means I'll get to see you regularly. And we can do more of this, too."
She drew one hand down his torso, and grabbed his cock, lying flushed and soft against his thigh.
"Whoa," he said, easing her hand away from his junk. "Uh, listen, Britt . I'm not really sure I'm set up to sell--"
She laughed and squeezed his hand. "Silly, of course you are. I'll come in and help you set up the display, and all that. You won't have to do a thing except let your clients buy great supplements to enhance their workouts. Now, I gotta get back to my hotel. Big day tomorrow. I'll come by your gym around nine?"
He sighed. Damn, she was not gonna let this go. "I guess. But, listen, I'm not making you any promises."
She widened her eyes at him as she pulled on her top. He watched her tits disappear, pulling on his black bvds and settling his junk. Yawning again, he rubbed his eyes as Britt pulled on her sleek black jacket and stepped into her booties.
She stepped in again to tiptoe up and press a kiss to his jaw. "Night-night, big guy. Sleep tight."
Then she sauntered to his door and let herself out, a pleased smirk on her face.
He yawned again, harder than before, and moved to lock the door after her. Then he headed off to his bed. He was too sleepy to work out the wisdom of letting Britt talk him into putting her company's product in his gym.
What the hell, sounded like a win-win so far. He carried her product, and got regular action on the side? He was down with that.
Also, it’d be good that she was on the road a lot. ‘Cause she was hot as hell, and they had a past, but she was not the kind of woman he wanted a future with.
He fell into bed, hauled the sheets over himself and fell asleep almost instantly.
He dreamed that he and Britt were dancing in the center of Big Iron Fitness, both of them clad in their competition swimsuits. But when he pulled her in close, her ass was lush and pillowy against his groin instead of small and taut.
He pulled her closer, grinding his stiff cock into the crevice of that plush ass, but she laughed and slipped out of his arms and he saw with shock that she'd turned into a curvy little blonde with mischief in her pretty smile. On her, the scanty competition one-piece was incredibly risqué, and sexy as fuck.
He shook his head, backing away from her even as his cock swelled in his trunks. Suddenly the gym was full of Flyers and their old ladies, all watching him, and they did not look happy.
He squirmed with shame. Hell, they could all see he was turned on, and it was wrong, all wrong. She was just a kid.
He woke sweating and twisted in the sheet.
Swiping a hand over his face, he let out a gusty sigh of relief. Thank Jesus, it had only been a dream. A weird one.
He didn't usually remember his dreams. But this one had been so sexy and vivid he shuddered, remembering. Goddamnit, he was not one of the dirty old men who lusted after underage girls, so he did not understand his attraction to Cooler’s daughter.
Anyway, he was awake now, time to forget that shit.
He squinted at his clock radio on the bedside table, and groaned. Four-forty-five am.
He rolled over, punching his pillow, and closing his eyes. Maybe he could get fifteen minutes more.
But his stomach growled, and he sighed and flung back the sheet. One of the disadvantages of carrying so much muscle was that he always woke up hungry.
And not 'hey, he should get the coffee going and think about breakfast' hungry. This was more like 'get to the kitchen, grab a banana from the bowl and devour it while he dumped protein powder, frozen berries and milk in the blender and hit go, then get busy cooking more substantial food’ hungry. And if that didn’t happen fast, he went straight to what the dieters called ‘hangry’.
Once he downed at least half of his protein shake, he could start the coffee and get a skillet on the stove-top to cook up some eggs and whole-grain toast.
Get himself fueled up, make some more food for his mid-morning snack, his lunch and his afternoon snack, and stow them all in a cooler, to take with him along with a thermos of coffee.
Only then would he be ready to begin his day.