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Message-ID: <29118asstr$983146202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Deja User" <empath69@my-deja.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Leave it to Chance" by Empath (MF, rom, cheat?) [1/?]
Date: Sun, 25 Feb 2001 19:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d




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<1st attachment, "Chance1.txt" begin>

SUBJECT LINE:
"Leave it to Chance" by Empath (MF, rom, cheat?) [1/?]


Leave it to Chance
By Empath - yes, me! :)
Copyright, 2001

-------

Disclaimer: This story contains explicit descriptions of 
sexual activity and shouldn't be made accessible to minors.  
I, the author take no responsibility if this restriction is 
not upheld.

Author's Note: Nothing much to say, this one just came 
along and forced itself on me; enjoy! :)

=============

"You really...shouldn't beat...yourself up like this...It's 
not...your fault."

"Shut up and row...don't waste your breath...or do you want 
me...to beat you?" I replied in spurts.  I had let Pete 
drag me down to the health club ("C'mon and vent some of 
that anger at her" was a compelling argument), but I'd be 
damned if he was going to lecture me about getting out and 
trying again.

"Not...likely...but-" If he wouldn't pipe down I'd just 
tune him out.  I let go of the handles, kept my leg-motion 
going, and quickly turned my walkman up LOUD, grabbed the 
handles on the next forward movement, and resumed my 
stroke.  Pete had decided on a 'race': we took adjacent 
rowing machines, set them to a mile, and started at the 
same time.  The first to reach the 'finish line' won a beer 
off the loser.  And since he refused to let me stew over 
Becca cheating on me, and get over things in my own way, I 
vowed the price for nagging me would be that drink.

I put everything into my rowing, closing my eyes and 
clearing my mind.  In retrospect, I should have formed an 
image of me rowing across a lake or something, as thoughts 
of Becca slipped into the opening.

           *           *           *           *

We'd been dating for almost two years before we moved in 
together.  I was hopelessly in love with her, and she 
reciprocated: she walked on the ground that I worshipped.  
Seriously, she was warm and caring, fun and vivacious.  
Maybe too exuberant for me alone, looking back with the 
benefit of hindsight.

I'd been away on a training seminar, and on my way back bad 
weather had delayed me.  I called her to say that the 
earliest flight was twenty-four hours later, and she agreed 
to pick me up the next evening.

But when I checked with the airline the next morning, they 
told me someone had cancelled and I could get out on an 
earlier flight.  I took the chance, and decided to not 
bother Becca at work; I'd grab a cab back to the apartment 
and spend the rest of the day recovering from the jet lag.

I know, I know - you've already figured out where this is 
going; it's annoying to know you've lived a cliche.  To my 
credit, I didn't find them in bed; she was in the shower 
and he was drying off and getting dressed.

The guy just looked at me in surprise - towel in his hands, 
hair still damp and spiky, pants unbuckled but thankfully 
covering everything.  I looked at this stranger sadly and, 
glancing at the closet, said "At least she hasn't got you 
wearing my clothes" as I walked to the bathroom.

I rapped on the shower door, and got a "Just a minute, 
lover," for my troubles.  Becca shut of the water, opened 
the door, and looked upon me with shock.  She recovered 
quickly, and blurted out "We were at the gym, and went to a 
bar to have a drink.  He asked if he could clean up-"

I placed a finger on her lips and said softly "Just stop 
lying.  Please?"  Her shoulders sagged, and her head 
slumped forward, presumably unable to look me in the eye.  
I couldn't tell if it was tears or water from her hair 
dripping onto my shoes.  "How many times?"

"Just this once."  She did meet my eyes, and I knew.  
Looking her straight in the face, I could see that even 
though she was telling the truth, she didn't think this was 
nearly as serious as I did.  It was that point I understood 
our differences.

Becca was (and still is, I imagine) a hedonist - she had a 
huge amount of love in her and she had to share it with as 
many people as she could.  It was admirable, and I wish I 
could have accepted it in her, but I'm not like that.  I 
wanted one person to share my life and hers together.  A 
refuge I could count on when the rest of the world turned 
on me.  Someone to protect and to protect me.  In short I 
wanted a private parking spot, but she was a public parking 
garage.  It's not the best analogy, and I don't mean to 
make her sound slutty, but our conceptions of love were 
just that different.  It wouldn't work, and I'd realized it 
then.

After the guy left, I sat her down and tried to convey to 
her what I'd just grasped.  Becca agreed with my evaluation 
of her philosophy on love, but she just couldn't see my 
side of things.  She was so locked in her mindset that my 
'selfish' needs were incomprehensible.  Such limitations 
wouldn't fit in her head.  And it was that inability to 
understand my thinking was the point we agreed upon - this 
relationship couldn't work with us like we were.

That evening we packed up her stuff and got her ready to 
move in with some of her girlfriends, leaving me alone in 
our...my apartment.  That evening I gave up my worship of 
this bright, shining star of happiness, and settled into 
dwelling on the edge of the shadows surrounding that light.  
That evening I gave up on finding someone to share my love, 
and resolved to make the best of a solitary life.  That 
evening all of my plans for shared experiences with a soul 
mate were packed away in my mind, and probably festered 
themselves into hatred of Becca for stealing my future life 
from me...

           *           *           *           *

It was that pent-up rage that was Pete's downfall.  My fury 
at how Becca had betrayed me, had let me down, and how Pete 
was forcing me to dwell on it some more - not in a time and 
place of my choosing, either - fueled my body and sped it 
to its goal.  I reached a mile about fifteen seconds before 
my athletic friend.  But it wasn't enough.  I'd been 
charged by these feelings, and now I had to burn off the 
energy they gave me.  Pete stayed there and we went another 
three miles on the rowing machines.  Well, I covered three 
miles; Pete was keeping a reserve - he had to go to work 
after this workout, whereas I holding nothing back.  It was 
oddly peaceful, concentrating solely on my stroke and my 
progress.  That imaginary lake I finally pictured was 
crossed several times before the extra energy faded.  

I was setting the computer for another mile when I felt a 
hand rest on my shoulder.  "Ted?  I gotta go; if I don't 
shower and get to work, I'm gonna have too much free time 
to exercise!"

It took a second for my fizzing brain to process this.  
"Oh, okay.  Pete?  I'm gonna hang around for a little 
longer - probably hit the free weights."  My friend looked 
worried.  "Are you sure you should, Ted?  I mean right now 
you're a little worked up-"

"Thanks to you, and relax; I've burnt off that rage.  Now I 
think I'll work these depleted muscles just to the limit."

"But you're tired; you could hurt yourself."

"Don't worry - I know enough to not go pushing for strength 
work when I'm like this.  It'll be low weight, high reps - 
build up my endurance.  It HAS been some time, and I could 
use some improvement.  Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong."

He frowned at me, as he always did when I was right and 
when he didn't like it.  "Yeah.  Go ahead.  But promise me 
you won't do anything stupid.  And get someone-"

"-To spot me when I'm lifting.  Relax, Pete; I know the 
rules.  I'm just out of practice, not a rank amateur!  Now 
go get that shower before you have to rush straight to the 
hospital stinking like you do!"

           *           *           *           *

When I got to the weight room, I saw that my promise to 
Pete wouldn't be that easy to keep.  The place was just 
about empty; a lone woman working with hand weights was the 
only occupant.  She looked up hopefully upon my entry.  
Upon examining me, though, her expression looked 
crestfallen for a moment and she moved slightly away from 
the rack of weights.

Without someone to spot for me, I couldn't safely use most 
of the free weights.  I'd be stuck with the hand weights 
like this young woman.  I sized her up, while I did some 
curls - small, slender, maybe early twenties.  She had 
short blonde hair, a clean complexion and a decent set of 
curves to her torso.  She wasn't voluptuous but couldn't be 
called 'boyish'.  

When I looked in her direction, she avoided my gaze.  Shy 
around strangers, no doubt.  What petite woman wouldn't be 
in a quiet, lonely part of a health club?  Even someone 
like me - an averagely built accountant who'd skipped two 
year's worth of regular exercise - could be a serious 
threat...if he wanted to.  

I'd always been nauseated by this double standard life 
dealt out - a guy could go almost anywhere and be 
comfortable on his own, while a woman had to be paranoid 
about being alone in public - HAD to.  Well, this one 
wouldn't be on edge because of my presence, not if I could 
help it.

"Excuse me.  Were you hoping to use the barbells?"  That 
overture startled her, and she nearly dropped her weights.  
She recovered, and nodded.  "Yes, so did I.  I came here 
with a friend, but he had to leave, and there's no staff 
around to help, so I end up with no spotter."  If she'd 
listened to what I'd said, she made no sign of it.  

Oh well, I'd have to carry this conversation.  So be it - 
at the very least I'd be able to get some work done.  "So I 
was wondering, could you spot for me?"

This surprised her, and she doubtfully pointed to herself 
and asked in a soft voice "Me?"

"Yes, you.  You're the only one around here who could help 
me.  And don't look like that - I don't need 
Schwarzenegger, just someone to give that little extra 
boost when I reach my limit."

The woman thought it over for a second, and acceded to my 
request.  I rubbed my hands eagerly and went over to a 
bench.  I set up the bar light - only ten pounds in 
addition to the five-pound bar.  "This may take a while - I 
haven't been keeping up for years and I'll have to start 
off small.  That and I just had a pretty heavy aerobic 
workout earlier."  I heard a faint sniff, and tried not to 
smile.

I lay on the bench and grasped the bar in its cradle.  I 
felt my spotter take up position past my head.  I looked 
back, regarded this suddenly tall and upside-down woman.  
"You ready?"  She nodded and, patting my shoulder "Go 
ahead, you'll be okay.  What're you going to do?"

"Sets of five repetitions, three at least and then we'll 
see..."

"Only three?  I'll go get a drink and come back when you've 
done five!"  Apparently I misjudged her - the shyness 
must've been wariness from my being an unknown. 

I started and inwardly agreed with her - I barely noticed 
the weight.  But the truth was somewhere between our two 
estimates - the bar began to get heavy during the fourth 
set.

Then my spotter took on her secondary job - that of 
cheering section.  "C'mon!  You've got it; you can get it.  
That's it!  One more - you're almost done this set.  Just 
one more time.  That's it, down slowly, keep it slow - good 
going.  C'mon - c'mon!  You're doing it; up just once 
more!"  I could see her hands under the ends of the bar, 
but she'd be damned if she'd take any of the weight before 
I was completely wasted.  That fifth lift was agony - my 
arms had lost a lot of their mass during my hiatus - and 
despite her urgings, I couldn't lock my arms on my own.  
She helped me finish, then guided the bar back to its 
cradle.

"Uhhhh, thank you - I wouldn't have been able to get that 
far on my own.  You're a good spotter."

"Why thank you, too!  And since you'll need a little rest, 
would you mind spotting for me?"

I myself was surprised for a second, but remembered that 
she had been waiting around when I came in.  She wanted her 
workout too, so fair was fair.

"I'm working on my abs, today.  That okay with you?"

As I followed her to an angled bench, I smiled inwardly - 
my abdominal muscles were just fine.  Becca...well, she 
kept them quite busy when we'd been together.

"Not a problem."  She set a short bar with two ten-pound 
weights and lay down, head higher than hips.  She 
jackknifed her legs, crossing the ankles.  I lifted the 
weights - gritting my teeth at my temporary weakness - and 
rested them in the vee of her feet.  "And what limits are 
you setting...uh.  I don't know who I'm cheering on, here."

"No, you don't, do you?  I'll do four sets of ten reps, at 
least.  And if you need a name, you can call me Sam."

"Ah, Samantha - nice name."

She smiled sardonically.  "No, just call me Sam."

"Oh, I see.  Husband's name?"

"No, I'm not-" And 'Sam' realized that I'd wormed her 
marital status out of her.  And *I* realized the very same 
thing - what was I doing?  Becca had only moved out a week 
before; I still had a lot of brooding to get through before 
I could reenter the 'gene pool' and hope to keep my head 
above water.  And that was assuming I *wanted* to.  So why 
was I flirting with this perfect stranger?

I snapped out of my daze when 'Sam' began to work - lifting 
her legs up to touch her knees to her chest, then lowering 
them until her feet were level with the bench.  She'd work 
her thigh and lower abdominal muscles with this routine, 
and from my position I'd have to ignore the nice, tight ass 
that came into view every time she lifted.

Agggh!  What was I doing?  I didn't want this - not yet; I 
wasn't ready!  Half of me wanted to make an excuse and run 
for the showers, the other half wanted to...well, YOU 
imagine the position we were in; Sam lying before me, hips 
level with my knees.  Then the libidinous half played dirty 
pool and reminded me I was honor-bound to spot for this 
attractive young woman since she had just done the same for 
me.  I clenched my jaw, and tried not to remember the last 
time Becca and I...

           *           *           *           *

She'd dragged me into the bedroom by the tie as soon as 
we'd finished supper.  Her kisses mesmerized me and wiped 
my mind clear of independent thought; I now had to fuck 
this beautiful woman of mine.

Becca plopped onto the bed, legs dangling over the edge, 
and started unfastening her dress.  I knelt and removed her 
shoes, then rubbed her feet and legs.  She took the 
opportunity to play with me a little by working her panties 
off her butt and sliding them down her legs into my face.  
I savored their moist aroma, and slipped them free, then 
flung them over my shoulder.  She laughed, as she always 
did when she managed to make her 'dour, serious bookkeeper' 
act devil-may-care.  Her laughter caused the top of her 
dress to fall free, baring her breasts.

Compelled, I slid up through her legs to worship at her 
twin altars.  Almost as large as my head, each tit was a 
masterpiece, with just enough self-induced sag to tell you 
they were real.  My tongue laved over the fat nipple and 
dark areola, causing sounds of contentment from my goddess.  
I was lost in her bosom for an eternity, and then I felt 
her hips move and her pussy rub my covered erection.  I 
paused my suckling to look her in the eye.  She batted her 
eyelashes and tried to look innocent, humping my pants all 
the while.

I eased back from her, ripped my shirt, pants, shoes, socks 
and boxers off - in that approximate order - and slipped 
back into her grasp.  My dick was underneath her, nestled 
in her crack.  She rolled her pelvis around, squeezing my 
rod, then reached underneath us.  I felt her grasp my cock, 
stroke it tantalizingly once or twice, and then use it to 
push me back.  She guided it to her center, where our 
moistures met, and released me to grasp her nipples.

I twitched my pelvis, letting the head slide up and down 
the length of her slit.  Then, taking a moment to push 
myself down to the right angle, I entered her.  Her hands 
clenched her breasts, and she sighed in pleasure.  I only 
thrust in halfway at first, then pulled back until only my 
head was within her.  My second penetration was complete, 
our pubic hair mingling and my balls nestling against her 
ass.

Becca lifted her legs, pausing while I moved my arms clear, 
then rested her ankles on my shoulders.  I reached down to 
finger her clit, bracing myself with my other hand.  We 
began to move against once another.  She was tight, hot and 
wet.  I dipped my thumb within her, and moved the slickened 
digit against her clit.  Becca stopped manhandling her own 
chest, and lashed out to claw at mine.  I kept up my 
onslaught, fucking and diddling her mercilessly.  Strangled 
moans came from her throat and she managed to grasp her 
knees, her knuckles turning white.  I clenched my jaw to 
restrain myself, and pushed her ever closer to climax.  

It was the attention to her clit that did it; after wetting 
two fingers, I used them to press down on either side of 
her little pearl and then snare it between them.  The 
slightest twist set her off.  She screamed unintelligibly, 
her voice hoarse and desperate.  Every part of her body 
moved - shoulders leaving the bed then pounding against it, 
arms flailing wildly, legs lashing against my torso, and 
her hips smacking against mine.  I could feel her inner 
muscles spasming against my intruding cock, and the 
sensations were enough to set me spurting into her.

After we both came down from paradise, she let her legs 
slip down to my hips and pull me forward while her arms 
reached out for me.  We slid up onto the bed, lay on our 
sides - my wand still held within - and wrapped ourselves 
in each other.  I kissed her forehead, she kissed my neck, 
and we drifted off to sleep, pleasantly exhausted.

           *           *           *           *

"Good job watching me for my breaking point, but your 
cheers leave something to be desired."

I snapped back to reality, and dropped the barbell in my 
hands.  "Wha-huh?  What happened?"

Sam looked up at me from a seated position on the bench.  
"Are you all right?  I just did SIX sets, and you helped me 
perfectly through the last one, but you haven't said a word 
since I began.

My breathing was short.  I stared at her, then at the 
weight between my feet - I had to have taken it off her 
feet when she finished, but I didn't remember a thing about 
it!

"Jesus, you're crying!  Did you drop that thing on your 
foot?"

I wiped a little moisture from my cheeks, finally finding 
my place in reality.  "Oh, no.  I'm fine.  Sorry I wasn't 
terribly encouraging-"

"You're not fine, you're white as a sheet!  Honestly, 
what's your name - I'm Linda."  She stuck out a hand.

"Uh, Ted."  I took the proffered hand, shook it absently 
and was almost pulled off my feet when she used it to stand 
up.

"Ted, there's something wrong with you - no offense - and 
you were kind enough to help a stranger, so I feel 
compelled to reciprocate."

What the fuck?  Spill my guts to a woman I met only minutes 
before?  "You already have - you spotted for me, I spotted 
for you."

The woman shook her head.  "Beyond that; I was edgy and 
nervous when you came in.  I think you saw that and were 
kind enough to talk to me, disarming the tension.  That's 
what I want to repay."

Okay, decision time.  I could turn down her offer kindly, 
and stick to my usual two-month schedule for recovering.  
Or I could confide in this stranger, let out my feelings 
about a week before I'd give Pete a call to go to a bar and 
do the exact same thing, only with the aid of a lot of 
beer.  In short, she was offering to speed things up a 
little.  I looked at her closely.  Her expression was 
concerned, earnest and sincere.  

She broke the silence first.  "Tell you what - you can 
leave now, stay and talk, or just stay and resume our 
workout with me badgering you until you give in!"  I jerked 
my head to look at her, only to find her grinning to disarm 
the threat in her statement.  Despite myself, I returned 
the smile.

"How about a compromise - we exercise AND talk?"  She 
nodded and led me back to bench I'd been using; she still 
hadn't let go of my hand.  We set up the bar at twenty 
pounds, and I began more bench presses, while she made her 
prediction.

"That's good, nice and slow like that.  Right - I figure 
you've broken up with someone recently.  Someone you loved 
a lot, and who either initiated the breakup or hurt you 
into breaking it off, right?  Uh, your right arm's getting 
ahead of your left."

"Got it in one.  We've been seeing each other for two years 
and living together for a three months.  I caught her with 
another guy a week ago."

"Damn.  Oh, easy on the return - don't stab your arms out.  
My fault, I guess I set you off again."  Her smiling face 
eased into my vision.  "So, do you want her back?"

I paused before answering.  "No.  As much as I'd like to, 
we agreed to break it off.  We're too different."

"You agree with monogamy and she likes to sleep around."

"It's not like that!  Becca's a very nice person - warm, 
caring and compassionate.  She still loves me a lot as 
well, I imagine."

"Oh, I see - she has too much love to keep it all for one 
person."

"Yeah, I guess.  I suppose it's fair to say she doesn't 
agree with monogamy."

"Watch that right arm."

"Thanks."

"So what did you want from the relationship?"

"I dunno.  A partner, I guess.  Someone to share my 
successes with.  To console me when I lose.  To cheer me on 
when I need it-"

"Go team!"

I laughed.  "Yeah, and vice versa; I want to be there for 
her when she needs me."

"Ted?  Do you realize you used the present-tense just now, 
not the past?"

I thought that over.  "Does that mean I want her back?"

"I'm not sure.  You did speak hypothetically - how you 
wanted 'someone' rather than 'I want Becca to be this and 
that.'"

"So I'm over her?"

"Well, I think you've accepted the break on an intellectual 
level.  From your body language when you described her, I 
don't think you're angry with her.  If I had to guess - and 
I'm not making any promises here - you may well stay 
friends with her."

"Okay, but do I get to fuck her?" I asked, jokingly.

She paused before answering, I presumed because she had to 
keep from laughing.  "That depends.  Let me ask you this: 
is she really a panophile like you say?"

"WHAT?"

"Er, it's Greek - freely giving of love to all?"

I had to think on this, it was a rather deep question.  I 
thought back to the times we'd picked up stray animals and 
sent word out to their owners, that day at the amusement 
park where she took a lost child under her wing until we 
could find his parents.  Then too were the times we'd meet 
friends at a bar or dance club.  She'd dance with whomever 
asked - I wasn't jealous in that respect.  "We're talking 
more than just sexual attentions, right?"

"Affection, friendship, sexual relationship - all of it.  
Does she have lots of friends?"

"Oh, yeah.  Plenty of both sexes, and she makes more every 
day."

"Well, I guess that tags her as panophilic.  Now, would you 
be willing to share her with the rest of the world?  Could 
you be with her knowing she probably had other lovers?"

"Hold on, I was just joking earlier!"

"So you don't...lust for her anymore?"

"Well, yeah - she's great in the sack: hot, passionate, 
imaginative..." I realized what I was saying to a near-
total stranger.

"Really?  She wouldn't happen to be bi, would she?"

I dropped the bar onto my chest, and wrenched my head back 
to look on my spotter.  She was scrabbling to help me, but 
her expression told me she was merely joking.  "How about 
this: I call her up saying I've got someone I want to share 
her with!"

It worked!  She blushed...but that still twigged in the 
back of my mind - it wasn't a denial.  My spotter/analyst 
shook her head to clear itself, and said "Anyway, if Becca 
is as you describe her, she'd be more than willing to take 
you back into her bed, but you'd have to remember that she 
can't love to exclusion.  This may change later in her 
life, but right now she's has to 'heal the world'."

I stopped my presses for a moment.  "Oh my god; she's used 
the exact same expression!"

"Which proves my point.  Maybe she'll feel she's 
accomplished her goal at some point in the future, and thus 
settle down with one person, but right now she feels there 
are too many people who need love to stay with a single 
one."

"You sound like a shrink."

"Not yet.  Oh, and you just finished your seventh set of 
five reps." She helped me return the bar to its cradle, and 
helped me up.

My arms felt a little weak, but I hadn't noticed a thing 
while I had been talking.  "Wow - that's more than I 
expected to accomplish!"  We made our way to her bench and 
she lay down with her feet higher this time.  I hefted the 
same barbell to her and she cradled it to her chest.  Now 
she would work her back and upper abdominals.  I crouched 
beyond her head, ready to support her if she tired.

"Well, thanks for the talk; I'm feeling a lot better about 
things!  Anything I can do for you in return?"

She grinned at me each time she laid back.  "Not zone out 
like you did last time?  Sorry, just teasing."

I blushed and concentrated on her form. "You're pulling a 
little to your left."

"Oh, thanks.  But what happened earlier?  Are you an 
epileptic?"

"No...I just had, um...is it hot in here?"

"Were you thinking about her, Ted?"

God, my face was burning. "Yes."

"Oh.  Good memories?"

"Oh, YEAH," I blurted out before I could stop myself.  Her 
next glance was one of curious interest: she had one 
eyebrow raised (lowered?) and her mouth was pursed while 
she looked back at me upside down.

I tried changing the subject.  "Did you say how many sets 
and reps you were going to do...oh, damn I still don't know 
your name!"

"Six of ten; it's Linda; and I told you before but I think 
you were a little upset."

"Linda - right."

A lull came over us.  One that my new friend felt obliged 
to fill.  "So what made you think of Becca earlier?"

Damn - back to that.  "Well, er...I was-" I lost my voice 
as I realized Linda's nipples were standing up underneath 
her top.  Then I realized I'd been watching her tits; this 
was going to be one weird recovery period!

"Hmmm?"

"Can I be frank with you?"

"I thought your name was Ted!"  She poked her tongue out 
playfully at me when she came down again.

"It's just that...when you were doing leg lifts earlier, 
the way we were positioned...well, it reminded me of the 
last time Becca and I had sex."  There, I'd said it.  It 
was out.

"Oh."  Linda paused while sitting up.  I moved quickly, 
placing a forearm against her shoulders and the other 
against her spine, hand at the top.  This way she wouldn't 
strain her back trying to keep the weight up.  Despite my 
reflex action, I had enough presence of mind to notice her 
flinching when I touched her.

"I'm sorry, I should've kept quiet - now I've embarrassed 
you."

"No, no, I asked."  Her shoulders shrugged.  "In a way, I'm 
complimented that I remind you of her...doing that, too!"

"Well, it's a little embarrassing for me, as well.  Do you 
want to continue?"

She turned her face to look at me out of the corner of her 
eye, and I could tell she was trying not to smile.  "How 
far have I gotten?"

All the way into my mind, Linda!  "Uh, two sets and three 
reps into the third, I think."

"It's nice to have you hold me, but I'd better get finished 
before I start something."

I let her down and stepped back, somewhat agog at her 
behavior.  I watched her in silence as she continued her 
exercises.

"Ted?  Are you okay back there?"

An improper image came to mind, and I blushed again.  "Uh, 
fine, fine."

"Are you uncomfortable from talking so much about yourself 
to me?  Would you feel better if we talked about me for a 
while?"

"O-kaaay."  I didn't correct her on why I was uncomfortable 
- it was bad enough having to put up with the images my id 
was creating of the two of us, without sharing them with 
her.

"Well, I'm twenty-nine and just about to get my Bachelor-"

"Twenty-nine?"

"It's slow, I know, but I drifted from major to major for a 
while..."

"No-no, you're that old?  I thought you were younger than 
that when I first saw you!"

She stopped on the down move and stared at me.  "Thank you 
- that's nice of you to say."

"No seriously; I'm not trying to flatter you.  I guessed 
you were in your early twenties."

She still hadn't moved, and I felt her eyes piercing at me.  
"Really?"

I just nodded.  She looked up at the ceiling and thought 
for a second.  "Well, either I should feel good about my 
youthful appearance or you should worry about your poor 
judgement!"

I smiled.  "Maybe a little of both?"

Linda shrugged.  "Will we ever know for sure?"

"Probably not.  But you've almost got your Bachelor of..."

"Psychology.  And don't look at me like that.  I was going 
for a B.Sc. in Astrophysics and waiting tables to pay for 
it when I realized I wanted to go into psych."

"How'd that happen?"

"I got fired from my job for spending too much time talking 
to the customers!"

"Well, you don't have to dump your previous plans - just 
moonlight as a bartender!"

I made her laugh.  "Yeah, right!"

"No, seriously - there's less expectation that you'll solve 
their problems, you don't have to rent offices, and it 
takes a lot less time to be trained!"

"Maybe, but it pays a whole lot less, too!" she retorted 
with a chuckle.

"Moving on - is there a 'Mr. Linda' in your life?"

"Not right now - I was worrying about exams a month ago."

"Ah, trolling for a man now, are we?"

"No actively, no."  She stuck her tongue out at me as her 
head passed by.

Another lull snuck into the room, and Linda banished this 
one as well.  "So how old are you?"

"Thirty-three.  I'm a CPA, if it matters."

"Ah.  I'm just a widdle baby girl to you, huh?"

"According to first impressions you were!"

"And now?"  She'd stopped while lying down again.  We 
looked at one another.  That was the big question, wasn't 
it?  "I...I'd say you're an interesting, attractive and 
intelligent woman with a keen empathy for others.  Your 
turn!"

Linda shrugged.  "Similar - Ted 'blank' is handsome, 
bright, thoughtful enough to help others, and has a good 
sense of humor."

"Oh!  I knew there was something about you I was 
forgetting."

"He's also absent-minded."

We were still laughing when a staff member came into the 
weight room.  "Oh!  Ah, folks?  We're closing up soon."

I looked at the clock in the room - SHIT!  Eight o'clock!

"Oh my god, have we been here that long?" she asked.

"Looks like it."  I looked down at the weight in her arms.  
"How many is that?"

"What?  Damn, I thought you were keeping count!"

I thought quickly and made a guess.  "Without total 
accuracy, I can only say you've done four full sets.  I 
think you're somewhere in the fifth."

"Bah - it doesn't matter, then.  Give me a hand with this."  
I lifted the barbell from her, our fingers touching.

"So.  Do you have to rush off?" she asked as I helped her 
stand.

"Apart from the staff wanting to close up, no.  You?"

"Nothing that can't be put off if necessary."

Yes, but would it be necessary?  'Go for it!' someone 
inside my head yelled.  "Would you like to go get something 
to eat?"

"Sure," she replied as if it was a trivial thing I'd just 
asked.  "Wait for me in the lobby after you clean up."

========

Author's Postscript: Relax - I've got more planed for Ted & 
Linda!  I only cut it off here because a) it seemed like a 
nice point to take a break >:) and 2) this thing has become 
much longer than I'd planned.  I expected them to be almost 
married by 30kb!  Mind you, I didn't plan on Ted's breakup 
figuring so pivotally like this, either; ain't it fun the 
way some stories just evolve? :)  

I can't promise you'll find chapter two by the time you 
read this, but I've gotta finish it soon to snail-mail to 
Dancer as part of an anniversary present! Here's hoping!:D  

Thanks for reading!

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