I got a phone call from a guy who used to be my lover.

J: Should we go to the Body Pump class this afternoon and look like total sluts? I’ve got an urge!

In my head I saw images of leopard spandex pants, or leather minis. But I know him and knew that he was more going total American Apparel with Kylie short shorts and tank top or see-through tee, and maybe a headband to control is beautiful curly floppy punk hair. Basically how I look when I go to the gym usually, but he didn’t know that. So we met in my usual corner in the locker room, I went for a black and white look and since thisĀ  was early spring, my skin was as white as my white tank top (yes, since we were going prostitute I did choose one where you could see my nipple from the side). He was doing the 1980s thing with bright colours and it suited him well. I could never pull it off. if I could, I would probably go working out in tweeds. We got to the class and realised immediately that we had lost the competition.

In front of us was this super masculine, tall Viking, wearing a black tight wresslers outfit with… bronze detailing. Bronze detailing. Bronze strips round the legs, the chest lining was cut deep and forces your eyes to look at his pecks, and with lining being a halv an inch bronze stripe, I just stared. And I really couldn’t focus on the class. I felt like a looser. My friend did too and left fast after the workout. The Viking started to talk to me in the sauna, about his girlfriend and so on. His girlfriend… she must be a dominarix. There is no other explaination to this!

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