Kiran
I’m typing away, trying to finish my article when Mason appears in the doorway in black shorts and a faded Dallas Cowboy’s T-shirt. Molly is at his side.
“Hey, mind if I use the treadmill?”
“Not at all.”
“Sure? It sounds like you’re working.”
“I am, but I don’t mind.”
I shift my focus back to the screen. I’m writing a book review of the latest Nick Dorsey novel. Each sentence becomes increasingly more difficult. The small desk where I sit is only a few feet away from the treadmill. All I have to do is lift my eyes to see him. He starts with a slow jog. His steps are rhythmic, playing against the hum of the machine.
“I’m going to put on my ear buds,” I tell him so he’ll know if I’m slow to answer. I don’t have to worry about him. Molly is right there standing to the side, alert and ready to jump behind him to break his fall if needed.
“Can you turn it on speaker?” he asks. “I usually listen to music when I work out, but my phone’s charging right now.”
“Any requests?”
“Something fast. But you choose the music, Miss DJ.” He lifts his eyebrow. “No boy bands, though.”
Figuring my workout music appropriate, I turn on my playlist.
Spoon sings “Do You.” Mason increases his speed, the muscles on his arms flexing. I try to keep my hands on my keyboard. Panjabi MC and Jay Z rap “Beware.” Good advice. Mason picks up the tempo. He loses the T-shirt. Oh holy mother of beautiful boys. His body is ripped and toned in all the right places…which is everywhere. A sheen of sweat covers his six-pack abs. His shorts hang just low enough to reveal those indented V-lines around his hipbones.
There are new tattoos on his sculpted body. The bible quote still covers his right arm, but the star has more shading now. The Marine insignia adorns his right shoulder while intricate black spirals weave around the hard muscles on the right side of his waist.
Eminem advises me to lose myself. That’s just what I do. Heat travels up my body. I press my legs together. My mouth is dry. My fingers trembling on the keyboard, I try to focus and ignore the hot as hell man in the corner of the room. But how? I know, I’ll search for hysterical kitty videos. That will take my mind off Mason’s Thor-like body.
My screen fills up with millions of hits. Kitties playing the piano. Kitties running in circles chasing their own tails, kitties doing back flips in midair, kitties prancing around in hilarious dance routines. After three minutes of watching kittens and their silly antics, I realize all the adorable kitties in the world can’t distract me. My willpower withers away. I glance up once more.
Little Wayne and his friends remind me I’m a sucker for pain. No shit.
Mason increases the speed on incline. His honey-colored hair turns damp as he sprints. Beads of sweat gather at the corner of his forehead. He takes his discarded shirt and wicks them away. He grunts one of those ferocious, exertion-fueled man-grunts. I sigh. Molly gives me a sideways glance. Yes, she’s on to me. She disapproves of my leering.
I disapprove of my leering.
I bite my lower lip so hard it will leave a mark. “Linger” by the Cranberries starts up. The song mocks me. He makes a face to indicate it’s not his preference. Are all the songs on my playlist sexual? I switch it up, opting for my happy playlist. These songs are innocent and barely scratch a PG-rating. Sure enough, the first one is from the Sound of Music soundtrack. Julie Andrews muses about her favorite things.
“What the fuck, Shenoy?”
“What? I love musicals. Deal with it.”
He lets out a frustrated groan. “Dealt.”
I tap my toe to it. It’s a good choice. After all, this is about as wholesome as I can get. I hum along, mentally patting myself on the back. Then I steal another glance like a thief in the night.
Solid tan muscles all drenched in sweat
Oh how gorgeous they glisten
Reminds me of a muscle that I have been missin’
A deep blue-eyed stare and a spanking that stings
These would be some of my favorite things
A warm husky voice and those strong but soft hands
Just waiting to quell all my lusty demands
Harsh breaths, flexing muscles, and big manly grunts
All of these things go straight to myyyyy…
Stop…stop…Stop!
“Shenoy?”
“Yes!” I scream, almost jumping from my chair. God, please don’t tell me I spoke out loud. I desperately need some bleach to disinfect my dirty mind.
“Julie Andrews isn’t exactly workout music.”
Says who? “I can change it.”
He slows down the pace. “I’m done, anyway.”
Thank God, stop me before I move on to something really raunchy…like Mary Poppins.