Sunlight spilled through the high windows, screened by privacy blinds which allowed light to illuminate the gleaming wooden floor. Instruments of torture stood about the room in a measured pattern and my heart beat frantically as I assessed first one and then another. Belts, rubber implements, bindings hung from hooks while the centre of the floor stood starkly bare.
He strode in then and I quailed at this entrance.
He encompassed the best of both his Italian and Irish heritage. His piercing blue eyes assessed me critically. Blue-black hair, shining like a mink’s pelt was brushed back from a broad forehead. Cheekbones were chiselled and sharp and the blue of his magnetic gaze was even more marked in the sun-kissed glow of his golden skin. Tall, with strong, broad shoulders, he was clad in a tee-shirt that clung to the rippled folds of his washboard abdomen, while his long, muscular legs, planted slightly apart, were barely covered by a lycra sensation of material that embraced every strong tendon.
I shivered, feeling frightened and slightly overwhelmed, cowed by the bold gaze and knowing in those young eyes.
He had already done a thorough examination of my entire body. Like some quiet brood mare, I had stood and allowed him to poke and prod and examine critically each and every aspect of my aging physique, feeling inadequate and ashamed of what I had to offer.
Then, curtly, he had sent me to the small room to get ready in the clothing he had ordered me to bring.
Now I stood, my mind casting frantically for a way out of this.
His blue intense gaze caught my eyes and bashful, I lowered mine quickly, heart hammering in my chest.
“Come here” he said sternly, and meekly, feeling small and insignificant despite my 5’8” stature, I slipped obediently over to him.
He motioned to me and mutely, I raised my shirt. Fastening a binding around my ribs, he took my wrist and encircled it deftly with a thick rubber cuff.
Then he told me.
In a low, masterful voice EXACTLY what he was going to do to me. In intimate detail and with a matter-of-factness that was chilling, he related chapter and verse of the torture to come.
“And you WILL do it,” he said, menace barely perceptible in the measured tone.
“No tapping out. No refusals. NO whining that you can’t go there. Understand”.
I felt my skin ripple as fear and yes, a terrible anticipation, gripped me. After all, I HAD asked for this. I HAD begged him. I had told him unequivocally and with passion, I would DO this.
“Yes, I understand” I mumbled, barely raising my voice... and with that, a cruel grin twisted the sensual mouth and the blue eyes hardened and without further preparation, without warning, he began.
It was brutal.
He pushed me, he pummelled and lashed me with words and example. He sneered when breathless, heart hammering, muscles aching, tendon and nerve on edge, I begged him to stop. With a masterful hand, with a sadistic fervour he pushed me beyond anywhere I had ever been before.
Sweat glistened on my trembling arms and thighs, while the green of my eyes was brilliant with unshed tears. My heartbeat sounded frantically in my ear while I allowed this man to push me further again.... to bring me to a place I had never achieved .... to soar beyond my wildest imaginings....
And when i thought I was going to break, his quiet voice, his commanding presence and focused energy pushed me further again.
Later, heart still hammering, trying to find a rhythm of calm, I stood in the small room and mopped the honest sweat of my forehead and leaned against the wall and found an exultant JOY in my achievement .... I had DONE it ... I had preserved and broken through the barrier ... and felt grateful to his masterful hand.
Removing the heart monitor I carefully wiped it with the sterilized strips provided, doing the same for the monitor on my wrist.
Quickly changing, I slipped back into the main gym where the trainer was torturing some other poor woman (bless him) and made an appointment for NEXT Friday.
Personal Training ROCKS.