The Trainer (4 page)

“Your life, your choices: 
own your shit, man. You were late. It’s not a huge deal, but you did inconvenience me. Not a great first impression. Call me next week.”

“Next week? But I wanted to get started right away. I can’t miss a single day.”

“Well, guess what? You just did. Sorry, man,” Mason replied, turning the keys in the ignition.

Chris looked stunned, but Mason could also tell that he was hurt. He pulled his arms from the window a
nd said sheepishly, “Okay, yeah, I understand. Mind if I leave my car parked here? I think...I think I’m just gonna jog around the block.”

“Sure, do your thing,” Mason said, putting the gearshift in reverse and pulling out without another word.

Chris backed off, took a deep breath,
and stuffed his car keys in his pockets. He shook his head as the truck took off, and he buried his face in his hands.

How fucked up could things get? He’d already had a hell of a night
, and now this fucking jerk wasn’t even giving him the benefit of the doubt for one unfortunate accident. Chris immediately broke into a jog. He rounded out of Mason’s parking lot and down the block passing all the little houses.

It was a humble neighborhood, typical of the area
, but it was well-kept. There were little tidy lawns and white begonias, pink hibiscus, and orange mimosa flowers bursting everywhere.  He tried to keep his mind on how beautiful the morning was instead of what had just happened. He was determined to get in shape one way or another, even if he had to do it on his own. He wasn’t sure when he was going to see Tim again, and part of him didn’t want to after getting caught with the fake profile; but he was still determined to look as good as he could whenever that day came. If Tim could move on that quickly and find someone, he could at least get in good enough shape to attract someone. He was in his late twenties, which in gay years was like being on the verge of middle age. He had to get in shape and stay in shape, because there was always a new crop of twinks taking the seniors’ spots.

His mother always told him s
uccess is the sweetest revenge, and he would cling to those words like a lifejacket during the next few months or however long it took to accomplish his goal.
Ideally, sooner rather than later
, he thought to himself, as he tried to pick up the speed, but he was already running out of breath.

Beep
. A car was honking at him.

He looked back, wondering why this jerk was driving so close
ly to him. But it was Mason’s truck. He pulled up beside Chris, his brown hair blowing as he leaned out the window

“Hey, you should stretch
better before you start running,” he called. He’d taken off his sunglasses, and Chris was petrified: hazel brown eyes. Hazel eyes that almost made him trip over his own shoes.

“Good to know
.” Chris said, as he continued jogging.

“Try to run on your toes; your knees are the first to go,” Mason yelled from his car.

“Ay-ay, captain,” Chris said, saluting sarcastically.

“Hey look, I’m sorry I was such a dick to you back there. Why don’t you stop? I
'll park and we’ll finish this session together. I ran my errands and I still have forty minutes before I have to pick up my daughter.”

Chris sighed.  He
knew he was acting immature and the guy was apologizing. He didn’t have to do that. Besides, he was exhausted already, and this would give him a chance to stop and catch his breath.

He ran onto the grass of a small park and caught his breath, pacing back and forth and practically keeling over. The sun was beginning to cut through the haze of the morning fog
, and already Chris felt the heat that had seemed so oppressive, even on the coolest days.

Mason pulled over. As he got out, he tugged his jogging pants downward and rubbed his belly once
, absentmindedly pulling his tank top up for a moment, giving Chris a quick glimpse of his washboard abs. God. Chris thought. How fucking crazy.  The sexy shower guy was his personal trainer. He only prayed that Mason didn’t recognize him, or had never noticed him watching. But wait a minute:  what if he knew Chris was watching, but kept on showing off anyway? Could this guy be gay?

Mason tossed his hat off before slamming the door and walking over to Chris, cool as ice. Again, as befor
e, Chris found himself flabbergasted just by Mason’s physique. He had a crotch-graspingly hot body. A black tank top clung to his Panther-like torso, and his shoulder-length hair framed his cut jaw, dimpled chin, and sculptural nose. Coarse stubble shadowed his face.

“Hey man, let’s start over. I never introduced myself properly,” he said
, extending his hand.  “Mason.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. So ...”

“So,” Chris smiled back nervously
, catching his breath.

He couldn’t help but stare at Mason’s bulging biceps, sinewy forearm, and large powerful hands tossing his keys back and forth.

“Shall we get started? You worked out before?”

“Well, a long time ago.”

“When?” Mason asked doubtfully as he looked Chris up and down.

“Back in college. More like high school actually,” Chris chuckled.

Mason flashed him a smile that made Chris’ heart stop. Gorgeous. “You’re funny,” he said. “Alright. I don’t want to kill you the first day. Let’s hop in my car and go to the park around your house. I like to work out there, and besides, on our days off, if you ever want to work out on your own, you’ll know how and where.”

“Good idea,” Chris said, nodding.

“That’s why I said it,” Mason joked, flashing his perfect smile again.

M
ason might have said he was going to take it easy on Chris the first day, but if this was taking it easy, he’d hate to see hard. Push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, burpees:  and by the time they were ready for their first break, Chris looked like a cardiac victim. His pale skin was splotchy, with some parts bright red and others pork pale. He wheezed. Sweat was literally streaming from his temples.

“You have asthma or something?” Mason asked, concerned as he saw Chris clinging to the tree branch to hold himself up.

“No, I,” he wheezed, “I...just...”

“It’s okay. Stop. Stop. We should hold off for now.”

“Thanks,” Chris said laboriously, smiling through the pain. Mason looked down at Chris who was bent over, his hands on his thighs. “I feel like such a fat ass,” Chris said, shaking his head.

“No, not at all. It’s just your first day. We’ll get you straightened out.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Chris joked, waving his hand to the heavens.

Mason chuckled, “Amen to that, brother. So, how long have you been here?”

“Costa Rica? Too long,” Chris said, half-jokingly.

“Gets frustrating
, right? I’ve been here for over ten years. If it wasn’t for my
daughter, I probably would have headed back to the States too, but I don’t know; Costa Rica grows on you.”

“Yeah? How old’s your daughter?”

“She’s just five.”

“Ah, that’s cute. I always wanted a couple of kids.”

“Yeah? Your wife doesn’t want any?”

“No, I...
”

“Sorry man, I didn’t mean to pry into your business.”

“No, not at all. I’m an open book. It was my ex who didn’t want them and he’s...well, I’m gay.”

Mason cocked his head. “Wow,” he said.

“What?” Chris asked.

“No, it’s just...
I had no idea. I mean, I know I just met you, but,” he shrugged, “you just didn’t seem...”

“Gay?” Chris finished his sentence.

“Well, yeah. Basically,” Mason said.

He’d heard that before. Most people assumed he was straight. Not that he would have cared if people thought he was gay. There was no shame in it
, and he’d long gotten past all those insecurities about masculinity and femininity years ago.

“Well, thanks, I guess?” Chris joked.

“I didn’t mean anything offensive,” Mason shrugged, “I mean, my best friend is or was gay.”

“Was?” Chris asked
, confused.

The subject seemed to be an uncomfortable one
, and Chris wondered if it was a sensitive topic for their first conversation; however, there was something about Mason that seemed very appreciate of frankness and openness. No bullshit. Besides Tim, it was the first real conversation he’d had in months since he moved there.

“Didn’t mean to pry,” Chris apologized.

“No, it’s just that, I uh...”

Mason’s phone rang and he glanced at the ID. His face went from concerned to irritated.

“Oh, shit,” he said, before putting it to his ear.

“Yeah?” he asked
. “Okay. Yeah, I know. It’s not...”

He looked at the time on his cell phone. Who
mever he was talking to (Chris guessed it was his girlfriend), she was very loud. Loud enough that Chris could hear half the conversation.

Mason seemed increasingly agitated
, but was trying to control his temper.  “Victoria, calm down. Yeah, I know. Okay, give me like forty five minutes. Okay, thirty, I’ll get there as quick as I can. I will. Yes, Victoria. You know my water’s off right now. How am I supposed to? All right, yes. YES. I’ll figure it out.”

He hung up, sighed
, and flashed a smile, “My ex.”

“I figured,” Chris said. “Don’t get me started on exes
.”

“Yeah?” Mason asked
, enquiringly.

“Believe me, long story.”

“You’ll have to tell it to me sometime. We’ll swap horror stories.”

“Deal,” Chris laughed.

“I’m sorry. I hate to cut our first session early.” Mason apologized.

“No, it’s probably perfect. I’m dying here anyway.”

“Listen, we can make it up tomorrow and do a longer session. I’ve just got to head down to my daughter’s school. Evidently, she has a counseling session that my ex didn’t tell me about, and I have to look nice. I need to head back to my place and at least change shirts.”

“No problem. Did I hear you say your water was off?”

“Yeah, man, the manager...”

“Typical,” Chris said
, rolling his eyes. “Hey, if you want, you can use my shower, and I’ve got plenty of dress shirts. We’re about the same size, so you can use one of mine.”

Mason paused. Was he blushing?

“You know...Really? I wouldn’t normally, but ...”

“Please don’t hesitate,” Chris said
, grandly. “It’s the least I can do after fucking up your whole schedule this morning. Maybe you’ll remove my first strike.”

Mason laughed, unselfconsciously, his big canines showing. He seemed genuinely surprised and appreciative. His eyes sparkled. Chris could tell
it was that warm smile that lifted the spirits of other people every day.

C
hris tossed his keys on the table.  They’d had just enough time to grab his car and drive together to his condo. They raced up the stairs, knowing Mason had barely enough time to shower and get over to the school.

“Nice place,” Mason said, admiring the wood floors and three Japanese prints on the wall. In spite of his rush, Mason paused to look at these pieces by Hiroshi Yoshida, a landscape artist who painted with dreamlike watercolors.

“Thanks. Those were gifts from my best friend Alison, back in Portland. They’ve been with me a long time. The shower’s straight ahead to the right,” Chris told him. “I’ll pick out a shirt for you and iron it by the time you’re done.”

“Wow, thanks, man,” Mason said, rushing down the hall into the bathroom.

“Hey, Mason. There’s extra clean towels under the sink in the bathroom.”

“Appreciate it,” Mason said
, closing the door.

“You have
it?” Mason said, already starting up the shower.

             
“Slam the door or it won’t close.” Chris shouted.

             
“Ehh. I’m not worried about it.” Mason said. His tone was more than suggestive.

Mason figured out the right temperature and shucked off his shorts, conscious that the door was slightly ajar, but ignoring it. What was the worst that could happen? Would his timid, sweet-faced voyeur burst in on him? Mason stripped as quick
ly as he could and jumped in. He only had a few minutes, but force of habit already had his dick hard. Lately, he'd jacked off in the shower nearly every morning, especially since that first morning he noticed Chris watching him from the balcony. It still blew his mind that, of all people, Chris was the person waiting for him outside that morning. When he first noticed the boy watching him from the balcony, he felt a bit indignant; normal, he supposed. After a split second, however, Mason had realized how turned on he was at the thought that somebody was admiring - no - drinking in his naked image. The double excitement that Chris couldn’t tell he knew that made him even hornier.

Just the memory of it m
ade him hard. Mason wasn’t gay, but the thought of a young, sweet-faced boy like Chris admiring his body and getting aroused by it made him feel tremendously sexy. And sexual. He started stroking himself again, right after he soaped up his body. He thought of his typical female sexual fantasy: a tight, young blonde girl, subservient, on her knees, sucking as she jacked his cock and kneaded his balls. Suddenly, however, the girl transformed. For just a split second, Mason thought of Chris on his knees, sucking down the girth of his cock. The thought thrilled him, and although he was also confused, Mason didn’t give it too much thought. He didn’t have time to...this felt good, now. He pumped himself to a climax thinking of Chris’s full lips wrapped around his cock, and burst upward, like usual, onto his belly and chest. He washed off, and rushed out of the shower as quickly as he could.

Meanwhile, Chris was scrutinizing his bedroom closet. His shirts were completely lined up
, color coordinated, and then re-organized by fashion label. He knew it was a bit anally-retentive, but he just liked everything organized, and he had trained his housekeeper well to know what to expect. He thought about Mason’s incredible deep hazel-brown eyes; a contrast to Tim’s blue ones. Mason had the type he could stare into for hours and just drown in them. What shirt would complement them? Nothing would do them justice, probably, but he found a perfect pale orange that would contrast nicely. He pulled it off the hanger and snapped out the ironing board, pressing it and replacing it on the hanger just as Mason’s voice startled him.

“Hey, ma
n,” Mason interrupted. Chris turned around to find Mason in nothing but a skimpy bath towel. “I’m so sorry to ask you this, but my pants got all wet on the floor. You don’t happen to have a pair about my size?”

Chris was tongue-tied. He looked unfathomably handsome. His olive skin was free of any tan lines: did this guy go nude sunbathing? What the hell? Quarter-sized nipples dotted the outer corners of his remarkable pecs. Between the clefting ranks of his perfectly
-chiseled abs, a neatly-trimmed happy trail ran down from his navel under the white terrycloth of the towel.

“Um ... w-what size?” Chris stammered.

“34 x 32,” he said, leaning against the frame of his bedroom door.

“I have a pair that size...and a belt you can wear with them,” Chris said dreamily. He’d be lying if he didn’t say his eye didn’t roam down to the man’s crotch. It was hidden behind the fold of the bath towel, but he could only imagine it was thick, long, and heavy.

Fuck,
Chris thought.
I have this hot guy standing right in front of me and he’s totally off limits.

He grabbed the pants off the hanger as quick
ly as he could, hoping it would distract him from his thoughts, and he tossed them to Mason, trying not to look at those chiseled abs, rippling sides, and meaty shoulders any more.

“Thanks, man. I owe you one,” Mason said, heading back to the bathroom as Chris’ dirty mind lead him to think of the various ways Mason could repay that favor.

God, he needed a cold shower, Chris thought to himself. Or a good jerk off. He preferred the latter and couldn’t wait for Mason to go so he could do exactly that. His cock was getting hard and full just thinking about it.

It’d been so long since he’d had a good
looking guy in his apartment, let alone an Adonis wearing a damp towel.

“Thanks, buddy,” Mason said, coming out of the bathroom and interrupting his thoughts.

“Anytime,” Chris said.  As Mason rushed by, something was on his neck. “Hey, Mason?”

Mason stopped and smiled halfway out the door as Chris
approached. “You got something, maybe soap, on the underside of your jaw?”

Mason wiped at it, looked at it, and bit his lip. His face was getting red. “I uh, I don’t know what it is. I better go. See you at the park tomorrow. Thanks for looking out for me
.”

He shut the door, raced down the stairs
, and hopped into his truck. It then occurred to Chris that Mason had been jacking off in the shower.