Chapter 3: Tension in the Stretch
Rae was already on the mat when I walked in that night—same spot, same quiet focus.
She was dressed in her usual workout gear: a fitted black sports bra and leggings that accentuated her lean, toned frame.
The dim lights of the gym highlighted the curves of her arms, and I couldn’t help but notice how her muscles shifted as she stretched.
She gave me a small nod, acknowledging my presence but not speaking.
She was already deep into her warm-up, moving fluidly through stretches as if she’d done this a hundred times before.
I watched her as she raised her arms above her head in a deep stretch, her tank top riding up slightly as she extended further.
Her skin was smooth, the soft pale tone of her armpits clearly visible.
The subtle glow of sweat made her look even more striking under the harsh gym lights. She didn’t seem to care that I was watching, or maybe she just didn’t notice. But I was transfixed by the delicate curve of her underarms, the smoothness of her skin.
She shifted, lowering her arms to her sides before raising them again, this time bending slightly to each side. The motion emphasized the lean muscle in her arms, and I found myself unconsciously tracking every movement. The small dip under her armpits, the way her skin stretched over her muscles—it all looked so natural, so effortlessly graceful.
I didn’t realize I’d been staring until she caught my eye.
“Like what you see?” Her voice was light, but there was a subtle edge to it, almost playful.
I quickly looked away, trying to hide the heat I felt creeping up my neck. “Just admiring the form,” I said, keeping my tone casual.
But it was hard to ignore the fact that I was staring at her—really staring.
She smirked slightly, but didn’t comment further. Instead, she moved into her next set of stretches.
I turned to my own routine, but the image of her smooth, exposed armpits kept flashing in my mind.
Each time she stretched, each time her arms lifted, the subtle line of her skin under her sports bra seemed to pull me in even more.
Eventually, I forced myself to focus on my own workout, but Rae’s presence, her effortless grace, lingered.
Every time she moved, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at her, especially when she stretched her arms over her head, her skin soft and inviting.
The session passed in a quiet haze, both of us lost in our routines. But when the gym finally started to empty, I found myself moving toward her without thinking.
“Same time tomorrow?” I asked, not sure what I was even asking anymore—just a way to keep the connection going, to keep the rhythm between us flowing.
She paused, looking me over for a moment. The faintest smile tugged at her lips, a glimmer of something unreadable in her eyes. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Same time tomorrow.”
I gave a nod and turned to leave, my heart still racing slightly from the exchange. As I reached the door, I glanced back one last time—Rae was finishing up her stretches, her arms once again lifting high above her head. Her smooth, pale underarms caught the light, and I couldn’t look away.
It was clear—this was only the beginning.
[To be continued.]