The drive to the gym was always my favourite part of the day. The destination is my sanctuary where I sweat out the agony and the frustration that has built up inside of me, thanks to elderly customers needing me to explain the same thing five times. Training exhausted me, helping me to fall asleep like a baby. I also loved seeing the shape of my body mould into a figure that looked chiselled out of stone. Sure, the occasional rude comment by a guy trying to flirt annoyed me, but overall, the gym was my safe haven.
Although I hate to admit it, even to myself, I believed the gym would be the place where I would meet the man of my dreams. I thought that was Rob, but I was wrong. After scoping me out for weeks, he eventually summoned up the courage to approach me. His nerves made me feel uncomfortable, and I reluctantly gave him my phone number.
Rob texted me every day for a month. I never replied. His persistence made me reconsider my attraction for him, so I gave him a chance to take me out to dinner. I was surprised that he was funny, considering his creepy demeanour when we met. Perhaps, he had to overcome the nerves to reveal his true disposition.
We ended up dating and had sex a few weeks after making our relationship official. Nine months later, Rob proposed. I said, yes. He always made snarky comments about my modelling photos, but he reached the boiling point after the lingerie shoot I did with Maximo. It was really hot.
Rob went into a full rage, nearly attacking me physically, and then threw me out of the house. The dream of marrying the man I loved was over but not my feelings for him.
Since our breakup, I haven’t seen him at the gym. He either trains somewhere else or in the mornings. Shortly after the breakup, I heard he got laid. That broke my heart. I couldn’t believe how quickly he had gotten over me. I thought he would fight to get me back.
To get back at him, I slept with a trainer at the gym. He was a complete douchebag. I detested his arrogance and narcissism, but I figured he was the perfect puppet to spread the word about our intimacy, which I hoped would reach Rob’s ears.
He found out about it, but it seemed not to affect him. I guess I should get over him, but the mere thought of starting from scratch all over again to find the one seems exhausting. I experience enough fatigue as is.
Yesterday, a short guy approached me while I was doing leg presses. My legs were wide apart, my knees almost brushing my face. Surely, he could’ve waited until I was in a less awkward position to compliment me?
For today’s training, I decided to run on the track. I need to improve my stamina and deep-clean my polluted mind. After completing five laps, I walked to catch my breath. A guy sprinted past me, brushing my arm and startling me. Had he leaned a few centimetres to the left, he would’ve knocked me hard.
I frowned, watching him dash around the track. I looked over my shoulder and shifted to the left as he approached me. He slowed down, bounced on his feet and stopped next to me.
“Hey, sorry about that. I know I almost collided into you,” he said.
I forced a smile. “It’s fine.”
I look forward and carry on walking. He remains by my side, making me feel slightly uncomfortable. The awkward silence intensifies with each passing second. If he wants something, he should just spit it out.
“Do you come here often?” he asks, sounding like it was the first thing to come to his mind.
“Almost every day,” I say, still looking forward.
“That’s cool. I can see you train. You got the muscles and whatnot.”
I chuckle internally. Strange expressions like ‘whatnot’ amused me. I never understood people’s need to say them.
Noticing the silent awkwardness reappear, he says, “Yeah, it’s a nice day to train today. I came to blow off some steam. It was a hectic day at work.”
I feel his desire for me to ask about his day, but I ignore it.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Angelique.”
“That’s a nice name. It suits you.”
I briefly glance at him and say, “Thank you.”
“I’m Mark, in case you were wondering,” he chuckles awkwardly.
I wasn’t. I wish he would continue running.
“You seem like a nice girl, so I’ll give you a second chance.”
Lines between my eyebrows appear as I’m perplexed about his comment. He’s giving me a second chance? Okay, wow.
“I’ll tell you what, Angelique.”
Oh, God. Again with the silly expressions.
He continues, “You’re fit. I’m fit. We should run together on the field next to the gym. After that, I’ll treat you to a healthy shake and a wrap from the place that opened across the street.”
For the last few weeks, I intended to try that place. It’s definitely my kind of joint. Why spend my money when I can be spoilt?”
“Okay, I’m up for it.”
“Now see, that’s what I’m talking about. We’ll have a good time, hey?”
I giggle and shake my head. He smiles, probably believing that I’m impressed by his charm and not that I’m laughing at him. Typical Joburgers need to end a sentence with hey.
Mark offered to pick me up, but I insisted we meet on the field. I need to protect myself, even if men take it personally. I’d rather hurt their feelings than be physically hurt.
We run two laps together, and Mark remains silent. I’m surprised. I feel that he’s getting back at me for my one-word answers when we met. What a strange way to start the date. Let’s hope he’s got some game.
After the fifth lap, he asks if I want to rest. I’ll be damned if we stop because he thinks I’m weaker than him. I speed up, pulling slightly away from him. He catches up to me, and I increase the pace. Again, he manages to match my pace, slightly brushing shoulders with me as if to prove he’s faster. I admire his competitive streak. It shows me that he’s masculine, and his challenge pushes me to run faster.
We complete the eighth lap, and I slow down. “You sure you don’t want to take a break?” asks Mark.
I smile and nod. He runs to his kit bag and returns with two bottles of water, handing me one.
“Thank you.” That was incredibly sweet of him to think of this in advance.
We sit on the grass, and I take a few sips of the water. He’s barely sweating, making me believe that he runs regularly. I like a man with stamina. It makes me think that he’ll last long in bed and he thrusts aggressively for prolonged periods—just what I need.
I wonder if he’s got a big dick. I look at his feet and see that they’re long. That’s usually a reliable indicator that he’s packing in between his legs. Hmmm. I wonder what it would feel like if he unpacked it inside of me.
I notice that he’s staring at me and smiling. Oh, God, does he know that I’m thinking about sex with him?
“What?” I ask, smiling.
“I could ask you the same thing. Looks like you’re fantasising about something.”
“Kicking your ass.”
“Fat chance. I run this track all the time. It’s understandable if you need more time to practise,” he says, smirking.
I peer at him and shake my head. He chuckles. I wish I could wipe the smirk off his face, but he is faster, which irks me. The emotional side of me wishes to challenge him so that I could beat him and rub it in his face, but the logical part of me is smarter than my ego.
“You ready for a few more laps, or do you wanna get a bite to eat?” asks Mark
“We can go for a few more laps.”
I maintain the pace that I’m comfortable with, and Mark remains by my side. He’s sweet for not trying to show off by running faster because he knows I’ll struggle to keep up with him.
After the third lap, he notices my fatigue and stops. While drinking water, I see that he’s got a few sweat beads on his forehead. I’m drenched in sweat.
“Don’t feel bad about losing. We can go get a wrap now. It’ll make you feel better,” says Mark, sarcastically.
I look at him from the corner of my eye, and he laughs. I know he’s being playfull, but I’m not in the mood for it.
At the wrap joint, he asks if I want two because one might not be enough. At first, I think he’s insinuating that I eat a lot, but then I see the guy next to me holding his wrap. It’s quite small. I realise that Mark was concerned about me not receiving enough nutrition. I guess he’s not that bad.
The lettuce crunches as I bite into the wrap, and the avocado slides over my tongue and brushes my gums. I love avocados. Delicious.
After finishing the first wrap, I look at the second one and smile. Mark notices it and asks, “Aren’t you glad that I’m always looking out for your best interest?”
I bite into the second wrap, smile and chew while avoiding eye contact. He’s sweet for being considerate and also annoying at times. I guess I have to take the good with the bad.
I finish the second wrap and thank him for the treat. He asks if I want another wrap. I thank him and reject the offer.
“They’ve got fruit salad and healthy dessert. You wanna try it?” he adds.
“I’m fine, thank you. That’s kind of you.”
Mark walks me to my car. We square up and smile. I see that he wants to make a move, but he’s hesitant. I put my arm over his shoulder and lean into him. His chin hangs over my shoulder, and his arm is around my lower back.
“Thanks, this was great,” I say before stepping into my car.
“Bye.”
I feel that he wanted to say something to me, but I didn’t give him a chance because I turned my back quickly after our embrace.
Driving home, I think about how I treated him and if I was rude. Maybe I was slightly offish, but it was a test to see how he would respond. He did well. I would’ve given him a higher rating if he hadn’t made fun of me, but he balanced cheekiness and consideration well. If he had kissed my bum too much, I would’ve felt that I could walk all over him.
I wonder if he’s going to ask me on another date. If he does, maybe I should reject him just to see his reaction. After all, if he’s serious about me, he’ll fight for me. I don’t want a weakling who gives up at the first sign of failure.
If he doesn’t call me, the hell with him. I’m a prize, and any man would be lucky to be with me. I hope Mark believes that as well. Otherwise, he’s not the right guy for me. With time, his feelings for me have to develop to the point that he thinks I’m God’s gift to Earth.
The following day, my phone beeps during lunchtime. Mark’s message: I had a great time yesterday. Hope you enjoy your day.
Hope you enjoy your day? That’s it? No mention of a second date or how much he enjoyed my presence and looking at me? Wow. I guess he’s not the one.
It’s Friday, two days after Mark messaged me. The nerve of him not to check in with me again to ask how my day was or tell me that he’s been thinking about me. I’m starting to think that his message was merely out of courtesy and not genuine.
I look at my watch and see that it’s four o’clock. I’ve got no Friday night plans and the rest of my weekend is pretty much open. Someone as beautiful as me shouldn’t be alone ever, especially on a weekend night.
I look at my phone and blow out a long breath. I wonder who I can call. Nancy is away with her husband. Kristen is coming back from Dubai only next week. Maybe I should message Zeb. If I just say hi, he’ll immediately ask me out. Hmmm. I don’t know. He’s really not my type. That’s scraping the bottom of the barrel.
My phone beeps and my head perks up. Potential plans? Hopefully. I open the app and see a message from Mark. My lips curl.
‘Hey, Angelique. Hope you had a good week. What you up to?’
I start typing and then stop, not to seem desperate. I wait two minutes, which takes forever to pass, and then type, ‘Everything’s good. Just cranking into the weekend gear.’
I send the message and then read the last part. Cranking into the weekend gear? What the hell does that even mean? Where did I get that from? I press edit, but it’s too late. Mark’s already read the message.
‘Cool. What’re your plans?’
‘Still waiting to confirm some things, but yeah.’
I reread that message and frown. But yeah? What the hell is going on with me? If someone messaged me that, I’d think they’re a lunatic.
‘All right. I wanted to grab a bite at the Hey Cafe and wanted to know if you’d join me.’
I smile. Yes! Thank God. I thought I was going to drown in my sorrows tonight. ‘Sure. Sounds fun.’
As I approach the table, Mark stands up. Oh, wow. He wore a blazer and slim-fit pants. It suits him. I’m glad that he made an effort to look good for me.
He pulls out a chair for me. I smile and say, “Thank you.”
He leans back and puts his forearm on the edge of the table as his hand hangs, facing me at a slight angle. I must admit that makes him look manly.
“Did you go to gym this week?” I ask.
“Ya.”
“I didn’t see you.”
I cringe on the inside, realising I revealed that I was keeping tabs on him. Wonder if he noticed.
“I usually train in the morning. I wasn’t feeling well the day we met, so I decided to postpone the session to the afternoon.”
“Oh, I see.”
“You? Did you train?”
“Every day. Work was hectic, so I needed an outlet.”
“What do you do?”
“Accounts receivable for a tech company. The government is our biggest debtor, and trying to get money out of them is a constant battle.”
“I can imagine.”
“You?”
“I’m a car salesman.”
“All right. So you’re the guy to talk to if I need a new car?”
“If you like luxury SUVs, then I’ll sort you out.”
“That’s slightly out of my budget, but I’ll keep that in mind in case I get promoted to CEO.”
We laugh.
“What do you like to do for fun except train?” asks Mark.
I like that he’s taking a genuine interest in getting to know me. How refreshing. “Photography.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Oh, really?”
I smile and nod. “It’s been a passion of mine since high school. I started taking photos of everything around me. Then when my body developed, I constantly took selfies. Got hundreds of them.” Mark chuckles. “I’d love to do it professionally, but I can’t seem to crack that nut.”
“Maybe start with weddings, birthdays, conferences.”
“Ya, I tried that, but competition is fierce. There’s too many of us, and the photographers who have consistent work have connections.”
“In the meantime, while you’re searching for clients, why don’t you take photos of me?”
I smile and briefly frown. “For work?”
“Personal. We can start with me in a suit, and then I can change into something more comfortable and revealing.”
I look down and smile, uncertain if he’s serious. “Okay. I’ll have to charge you.”
“Your lowest rate.”
Gaping at him, I say, “I have to charge what I’m worth.”
“I assume that I’m your first client. Consider this as a way to get the ball rolling. It’s a nice gesture. You’ll receive payment for something that you do for free.”
I pucker my lips and shift them left and right, contemplating the proposition. “Fine. You’re on. I’ll go as low as I can as a token of my appreciation.”
We smile at each other. Huh. Who would’ve thought a couple of hours ago that my evening would turn out this way? I’m on a date with a great guy, and I just bagged a client. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.
After the waiter takes our order, I ask, “When do you want to do the photoshoot?”
“Right after this, if you’re up for it.”
“Oh, okay. I didn’t think you’d want to do it so soon.”
“There’s nothing to wait for.”
I smile. “Right. I agree.”
“I presume you’ve got everything set up at your place.”
“I’ll have to connect a few cables and set up the seamless paper, but I’m ready.”
“I don’t mind lying on your couch while you snap away with your camera.”
“I thought we do it professionally.”
“Whatever you say. I don’t mind if we mix it up. Some professional shots and some more casual and laidback to capture both sides of my personality.”
“Sounds good to me.”
After dinner, Mark follows me to my place. I’m a bit nervous about the photoshoot not turning out to be the level of quality that I desire. This will be the first one with a client. Usually, I capture the environment and people promenading. Having a half-naked man in my place at night is slightly different from what I’m used to. If he’s unsatisfied, I won’t charge him. Either way, this will be good practice.
We walk into my place, and I offer Mark a drink. He declines the offer and asks where he should sit. I escort him to my photoshoot room, and he stands in front of the white background. I tell him to relax and act completely natural because that will bring out his personality.
He smiles and puts his left leg slightly ahead of the right one and hooks his thumbs into his pants pockets.
“That’s perfect,” I say and capture the first shot.
He folds his arms and tilts his body sideways. I admit that he’s handsome from all angles. He’s got an incredibly sharp jawline that makes him perfectly suitable for modelling campaigns.
Mark pulls off his shirt. Okay, that came out of nowhere. I wasn’t expecting that. He seems to be adjusting well. I’m glad he’s comfortable.
His tight pecks and chiselled abs complement his gorgeous smile. He’s the perfect package. Let’s hope he’s well endowed with a big package.
He turns his back to me and looks over his shoulder, smiling. I notice him clutching his pants. He turns around and releases his pants, which drop to his ankles. I lower the camera and stare at his package. Okay, he’s definitely got it going on. Wow.
He didn’t need to take direction from him. He just ran with his own thoughts, and I like the way he’s thinking. Even his legs are muscular. Is there a part of his body that’s not muscular?
Mark turns his back to me and puts his hands on his waist. I look at his tight ass and then snap a few shots. He turns around, and it seems like his package is bloated. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but it definitely looks bigger. It’s possible that he’s got a slight boner and is trying hard not to extend it to its full length.
He faces me again. Abruptly, he pulls his jocks down. My bottom lip hangs as I look at his dick. He’s smiling at me, and I can’t stop looking at his groin.
I grunt and swiftly lift the camera to my face to hide behind it. Mark puts his hands behind his head. Strangely, it props up his boner even more. I continue to take pictures of him, but I’m struggling to concentrate. I feel that the shots are purposeless and done to avoid awkwardness.
Mark steps towards me, and my heart beats faster. What is he doing? I lower the camera slightly below my face. He grabs my wrist and takes the camera out of my hand, then places it on the table.
His face is a few centimetres away from mine. We stare in each other’s eyes intensely. He leans into me, and his broad stature overwhelms me, prompting me to close my eyes. He presses his lips against mine, and I feel his dick poking my groin.
As our tongues slide against each other, I grab his dick. He’s rock hard, just the way I like it. He fondles my breasts as our kissing intensifies. I get wet.
Squeezing Mark’s dick makes me want to feel it in my mouth, so I drop to my knees and look up at him as his dick dangles above my face. He looks down at me and grins. I know he wants me to suck it as badly as I do.
I stroke his dick a few times while looking at the head, which is bloated and red. Knowing that blood has rushed to his dick because he’s so horny makes me want him even more.
I shove his dick into my mouth and bob back and forth rapidly. The head pokes deep into my throat, briefly making me gag a few times, but I love it. The passion between us feels like a fiery ball expanding in size and heat, and I can’t wait for him to take me.
Mark grabs my arms and raises me to my feet. He puts his arms on my shoulders and turns me around, then presses his hand on the back of my head.
I bend over the table and perk my ass up. He runs his hands up my back and massages my shoulders.
His left hand squeezes my shoulder as he rakes my hair with the other hand, then clutches a fist full of my hair and yanks it. He inserts his dick inside of me and thrusts. I shoot out a groan.
Mark continues with the hard pounding for several minutes. My pussy is completely soaked, and I want him to keep up the aggression.
Several minutes later, he’s still giving it to me hard. The stamina he’s built from running has come in handy.
He slows down, giving me a chance to catch my breath. I bow my head and pant, feeling sweat beads on my forehead. He yanks my hair again, spanks my ass and resumes pounding me from behind. I spread my arms open and clutch the edges of the table.
I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut tightly as Mark continues to punish my ass. I’m loving the spanking and the remark that I need to take it deep in my ass. I wonder if he’s going to shove it in there.
He pulls out his dick and tells me to lie on the table. He raises my legs, and my heels press against his shoulders. His dick slides into my pussy, and I feel a vein protruding from my forehead as he puts his back into the thrusts.
Oh, God, this position feels amazing. It feels like my hole has gotten smaller, and his penetration is more pleasurable. Mark thrusts fast, creating the slapping sound every time our bodies collide. The sound turns me on even more.
Abruptly, Mark pulls out his dick. I’m confused and slightly irked.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Get down on your knees.”
I kneel in front of him, and he strokes his dick a few times. His cum splatters on my face, and he smiles. To make the intimacy more enjoyable for him, I open my mouth, and he deposits some of his load into it. I swallow.
The following day, he messages me and says that he had a great time. I reply with a smiley emoji.
No message from him the next day or for the rest of the week. What the hell?
No longer being able to tolerate his silence, I call him.
“Hi, Angelique. I’m actually quite busy. Can I call you back later?”
“Just a quick one.”
“Ya?”
“I haven’t heard anything from you since the message from almost a week ago. What’s going on?”
“I’ve been really busy. Sorry.”
Not wanting to bicker while he’s at work, I let go of my desire to press him, and then I tell him to call me.”
Two days later, he still hasn’t called. What the hell is going on with him? Was I terrible in bed?
I call on Friday evening because he can’t use work or a hectic schedule as an excuse. He doesn’t answer. I knew it. He doesn’t want to talk to me.
I’ll be damned if I don’t have my say. I message him: Mark, you’ve been ignoring me. I want to know what’s going on. Is it something to do with me?
He replies about fifteen minutes later. ‘It’s got nothing to do with you. I’m focused on myself. That’s all.’
I frown. What? You’re focused on yourself? What the hell does that even mean? My lips part as I close my eyes. Oh, I see. He used me for sex. That’s all I was good for to him. And to think that I swallowed his load because I thought it would strengthen our bond.
I bow my head, eyes closed, and rub my forehead, feeling incredibly stupid. I can’t believe I let a guy use me to empty his ball sack and then ignore me like I’m an annoying door salesperson. That bastard.
I groan on my way to the balcony. I grip the railing, gritting my teeth and leaning slightly forward. The only appropriate retribution for Mark’s selfishness is for me to offload my emotional torment by lashing out at him directly in his face.
Although that may make me feel better in the moment, I would be embarrassed by my petulant behaviour later.
My shoulders drop as I let out a heavy breath. I admit defeat. He got what he wanted, and I feel used. It’s difficult for me to accept the outcome, but I can get something important out of it—a lesson.
Reflecting on my approach to all relationships, I realise that I went on a few dates before making the relationship official. Only after being in the relationship for a few weeks did I have sex with my partner. With Mark, I jumped into the sack after our second date. Not good.
Wait a second. That’s actually not the problem. Even some of the partners I was with for a few years dumped me. How is that different from what Mark did? My intention with the partners was to get married, but that didn’t happen, yet I added another sexual partner to my list.
When my potential husband asks me about my bedroom partners, he’s going to be concerned about the number, not how long I was with them.
That’s it. That’s the lesson. I can’t sleep with any other man than my husband. That means waiting until marriage. If he’s the one, he’ll respect my decision and love me for saving myself for him. Well, technically, I won’t lose my virginity to him, but I’m not going to dig the hole deeper by having another guy dig his shovel into me. It hasn’t worked.
In today’s modern world, most men want to test drive the car before buying it. And I can understand that. But the man of my dreams will respect me for not being a slut and saving my body for the man whose children I want to bear.
Thinking about my sexual endeavours, I regret them. Sure, sex is great and I wouldn’t know how I would’ve survived without it until this age, but it’s best for a woman to save herself for the one. Now, it makes sense to me why my mother and grandmother got married in their early twenties. They didn’t have to wait years into adulthood to have sex, and they attracted good men because they were at their peak of their attractiveness.
A few minutes ago, I was ready to unleash a wave of wrath at Mark, but now, I’m grateful to him for teaching me a valuable lesson that I wish all young women would learn before engaging in meaningless relationships and sex.