Chapter Seven Red’s Hot Yoga
Red’s Hot Yoga
Melody’s collaboration with Dorothy had been an atomic hit with her fans. Tons of resubscriptions, new subscriptions, and even her back catalog of videos were getting new purchases.
She sat in her car in the Fitness World parking lot, the engine idling to keep the heater battling against the unusual chill in the night, watching the rain hammer against her windshield.
She scrolled through her analytics with a satisfied hum.
The video had done huge numbers. The comments section was a mix of genuine fitness enthusiasts praising Dorothy’s routine (and body) and the usual legion of thirsty guys dissecting every glance and touch between the two women.
“Melody looks at her like she’s a snack.”
“You know they made out after this.”
“Made out with their pussies LOL!”
Melody smirked. If they only knew. The footage of the hour they had spent in her bedroom afterwards was sitting securely on her laptop’s backup drive, waiting for a rainy day when she really needed the money.
Since that video dropped, Melody’s inbox had been flooded with requests from other local "micro-influencers.
" A keto chef wanted to do a meal-prep video.
A girl who taught spin classes wanted to do a "Cardio Queens" segment.
Even a rich fitness pro from Dubai who had wanted Melody to fly out and do yoga on the rooftops with him.
Melody was considering a few of the offers, knowing that cross-promotion was the lifeblood of the industry. She played the part of the bubbly, dedicated fitness pro perfectly in emails and DMs.
But deep down, there was an itch that the shiny, polished world of influencer collaborations couldn't scratch. Her inner suburban succubus needed to feed.
It was 2:15 AM. The gym would be deserted. Even the most dedicated addicts usually stayed home when the weather turned this bad. She grabbed her gym bag, pulled her hoodie up, and made a dash for the entrance.
The sliding doors parted with a hiss, admitting her into the dry, fluorescent-lit sanctuary of Fitness World.
The place was a ghost town. The front desk was empty, and the night shift employee (Dorothy’s night off) was likely asleep in the back office or hiding in the break room with headphones on. The rows of treadmills stood silent.
Melody shook the rain off her jacket, revealing her outfit for the night.
She had chosen it specifically with the mirrors in mind.
It was a matching set in deep crimson. "Red for Red," she had giggled to herself while dressing.
The leggings were high-waisted and seamless, designed to sculpt her ass into a perfect heart shape.
The top was little more than a sports bar with intricate strappy detailing across her back, leaving plenty of skin exposed.
She walked straight past the locker rooms, toward the back of the facility where the group fitness studios were located.
Specifically, the Yoga Studio.
The door to the studio was cracked open slightly.
Inside, the lights were off, but the room wasn't entirely dark.
The studio had one wall made entirely of windows facing the parking lot, and the storm outside was putting on a light show.
Flashes of lightning strobed through the glass, casting long, dancing shadows across the bamboo flooring.
And there, in the corner on a stack of yoga mats, was a shape that didn't belong.
"Red?" Melody whispered, stepping inside and letting the door click shut behind her.
The pile of blankets on the mats stirred. A grizzled head poked out, white hair messy and sticking up in tufts. Red blinked, his eyes adjusting to the crack of light falling on him from the open door.
"Melody?" His voice was a rasp, thick with sleep and the wear of a hard life. He sat up, the blankets falling away to reveal he was wearing a faded, oversized t-shirt and his boxers. "Figured I had the whole place to myself. What in God's name are you doin' out in this weather?"
The air in the room was cool, but she felt a familiar heat rising in her belly just hearing his voice.
“I’m glad you’re not stuck out in this,” she said
Red let out a dry chuckle. He rubbed a hand over his face.
"That young fella with the glasses working tonight said nobody would be in and he took pity on me.
Said the storm was gonna be a bad one. Told me I could crash in here as long as I was gone before the 5:00 AM yoga bunnies show up. I was just tryin' to stay dry."
Melody smiled and walked to the edge of his makeshift bed, the crimson spandex clinging to her curves. Red’s gaze sharpened. The sleepiness vanished from his eyes as he looked her up and down, taking in the tight red outfit, the swell of her breasts, the roundness of her hips.
He licked his lips.
"You look like a devil woman in that red," he growled. "Or a cherry lollipop waiting to be licked."
Melody’s giggle echoed in the large, empty room.
"Maybe I am. I missed you, Grandpappy. Dorothy is fun, but she doesn't… she doesn't look at me the way you do."
"And how do I look at you, sugar?" Red asked, shifting on the mats, his legs falling open slightly.
"Like you want to eat me up," Melody whispered. She dropped her gym bag on the floor. "Like you’re starving."
"I’m always starving for you," Red admitted. He patted the mat beside him. "Come here. Your hair is still wet from the rain. C’mere and let me warm you up."
Melody shook her head slowly, a playful smirk touching her lips. "Not yet. I need to stretch. I drove all the way here in the rain… my muscles are tight."
He reached for her, trying to grab her hands and pull her down with him on the mat. She danced out of reach, turned away from him, and walked toward the center of the room.
The wall opposite the windows was floor-to-ceiling mirrors. In the dim light, illuminated by the intermittent flashes of lightning, she could see her own reflection. Red was behind her, watching from his nest of blankets.
She began to move. Not a standard warm-up. It was a performance.
She started with a simple forward fold, keeping her legs straight and hinging at the hips.
She reached for her toes, letting her upper body hang heavy.
In the mirror, she watched as the movement stretched the red fabric over her ass, the seamless leggings disappearing into her crack.
She swayed her hips side to side, a slow, hypnotic metronome.
"Lord have mercy," she heard Red breathe behind her.
She rose slowly, vertebrae by vertebrae, sweeping her arms up over her head.
She arched her back, thrusting her chest out, her nipples pressing hard against the crimson fabric of her compression top.
She caught Red’s eye in the mirror. He was sitting up fully now, leaning forward, his hands gripping his knees.
"Is this helping your muscles?" Red called out, his voice rougher now.
"Oh, definitely," Melody purred. "But I need to open my hips."
She opened her stance and sank into a deep squat.
She pressed her elbows against her inner knees, pushing her legs wider apart.
The position left her completely open, her crotch hovering just inches off the floor.
The leggings were high quality, but as she rocked forward on the balls of her feet, the fabric stretched thin over her pussy, outlining the damp heat between her legs.
She held the pose, rocking slightly, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked powerful. Sexy. And knowing the old man was behind her, his eyes glued to her ass, made her pussy throb.
"You're killin' an old man, Melody," Red groaned. "You know that?"
"I'm just doing yoga, Red," she teased. "Don't you want to join me? I bet you're stiff from sleeping on the floor."
"I don't know much about yoga," Red rumbled, standing behind her. "But I am definitely stiff.”
Melody stood from the pose, arched, keeping her back to him. She felt his hands land on her hips. They were rough, calloused, and warm. The contrast of his weathered skin against the taut fabric of her leggings sent a shiver down her spine.
"I can teach you," Melody whispered, leaning back into him. She could feel him hardening through his boxers, a thick ridge of pressure against her lower back. "Let's try… Downward Dog."
Every pervert’s favorite yoga pose to ogle.
She stepped forward, placing her hands on the floor, and walked her feet back.
She lifted her hips high, forming an inverted V shape.
It was the classic yoga pose, but the way Melody did it was pure pornography.
She arched her lower back, sticking her ass high in the air, presenting herself to him.
The mirror view was incredible. She could see the curve of her spine, the dangle of her ponytail, and the massive, heart-shaped prominence of her glorious teenage ass in the red leggings. And she could see Red standing behind her, staring at her display like a man finding water in the desert.
"That's a hell of a view," Red muttered. He stepped into the space between her legs. His hands roamed over her calves, up her hamstrings, squeezing the firm muscle. "Best view in the city."
"Don't just look," Melody panted, her blood rushing to her head and her cunt. "Help me with my… alignment."
Red chuckled darkly. He gripped the waistband of her leggings. "I think this fabric is gettin' in the way of your form, darlin'."
With a sharp tug, he peeled the leggings down. Melody lifted one leg, then the other, kicking the fabric away until she was bottomless, her bare ass white as cream in the flashes of lightning. She kept her top on, the red straps framing her back.
Red groaned at the sight of her naked, ceamy ass, giving one cheek a sharp smack that echoed in the silent room.
"Grandpappy likes that," he growled. "Look at that jiggle."
Melody watched in the mirror as Red shoved his boxers down. His cock sprang free. Thick, a little weathered, and almost always impressively hard for a man his age. It bobbed with his heartbeat, heavy and eager.