The busiest day in the fitness industry is Monday. The average American spends their weekend praying to Dionysus, Loki, and (occasionally) the Porcelain God. On Monday they will come to gyms just like mine. Using we fitness professionals as priests in the church of pain and sweat. It is also the day most people sign up for a gym membership. My new job of gym manager, combined with my loathing of Mr. MMA, has led me to schedule the start of my eight hour work day at noon on Monday’s. The gym gets me working through the evening’s busy period. I don’t have to see Mr. MMA’s smug condensing face. It’s not perfect, but it’s a workable arrangement.
Yesterday, I’d been at work just long enough to enter my password on the computer when Puppy Dog walks up to me with a mischievous little smile on his face. It was the smile of a typical teenager when they're about to get into trouble.
“There is going to be a photographer coming into the gym in a few minutes,” he tells me, the smile only getting bigger.
Puppy Dog fancies himself a patron of the arts. He’ll let local artist use the gym as a gallery after hours. He’ll allow the same artists to show their work in the gym. Like someone in the middle of a workout would suddenly stop and think “oh wow, I really need that painting” or some shit. It appeared that he had decided just having art in the space wasn’t good enough. We must now make the gym part of the art. Yet, his face betrayed a certain enjoyment that went way beyond what you get from looking at a painting.
“Ooookay, is there anything I need to know about this?” I ask him, alarm bells going off and my spidey sense tingling.
“The model is going to be naked,” he tells me. Immensely proud of himself for finding a way to interject naked chicks into the gym, in the middle of the afternoon.
“Here? Today? She’s coming in... and just taking off her clothes? Errr, Why?” My brain wasn’t working on this one. I love women. I have an even bigger affinity for hot naked women. I will go so far as to say there is few things better than being with a hot naked woman while letting basic biological impulses take over. That said, the gym is still a place of business, and we were in the middle of the business day.
“Right now!?!?!” All Business cut in. “Where are they doing this?”
“Here,” Puppy Dog says pointing around the front desk and entry way, which has floor to ceiling windows on two sides of the room. “Also in the weight area and mat room if they want to do that as well.”
“In front of the windows?!?” All Business asks with an ever-reddening face.
“Yeah, why not?” Puppy Dog asks him clearly not understanding how it could be seen as public indecency if Mommy and little Johnny walked by the windows and saw the nudie model doing God knows what. “These are going to be artistic photos, I don’t see a problem with it.”
The thing about Puppy Dog is he really didn’t see a problem with all of this. Somewhere in his head he thought all of this was actually all ok.
“Puppy Dog…” All Business started in, searching for how to put the barest of common sense into words. “That might not be such a good idea.”
“Hello,” a voice called from the doorway. We all turned to see a man who looked to be in his mid to late 60’s walk in with a girl. She was a very petite lady who looked to be in her mid-to-late 20’s, short curly brown hair and blue eyes. Both her ears were doubled pierced and had thick plastic tribal looking earrings in them. She looked, to me at least, reasonably plain. Not ugly, but not “dear God woman take your clothes off” hot either. The baggy sweat pants and loose shirt made judging the soon to be naked body difficult, though the lack of large breasts was immediately apparent.
“Hey Photog!” Puppy Dog exclaimed, jumping up to greet them. “How are you?”
“Fine, fine,” he said gesturing to the lady. “This is my subject, ________. In addition to being stunningly beautiful she is also a yoga instructor here in town.”
Yoga hmmm. I thought perking up as images of a finely and firmly toned female form flashed through my head. When I think Yoga I think of crazy contortion, freakish flexibility, and people Gandhi skinny.
With the sources of consternation now in the gym All Business quit arguing and Puppy Dog started helping the guests set up their photo shoot. In full view, I might add, of the plate glass windows.
“Where’s your bathroom?” Yoga Model asked me.
“Right there,” I told her pointing it out.
“Thanks!” She told me with smile and bounded towards the door, emerging a minute later in nothing but a pair of lacy black boy shorts. When she walked out my illusions of the yoga instructor were quickly shattered.
Let me also take a hard right from the story to say that maybe I had unrealistic expectations of the situation to start. Since I work at a gym, and I understand the prime motivation of my profession is to look good naked (I know what you tell people and you’re full of shit), I expect everyone who is thinking about taking their clothes off to be a naked model or porn star to be tight and toned. This was not the case with Yoga Model. Her upper body was pretty nice. While you might use the word “humble” to describe her breasts they were the definition of perky. The rest of her upper body wasn't so bad either. From the boy shorts down… that was another matter entirely. Cellulite and anti-tone ruled her thighs, made all the more noticeable by the black color of her underwear clashing with her pale skin.
“Well Photog, go ahead and get started,” Puppy Dog told him with a smile. “I need to get a shower. I’ll be back in a minute. Boss Fighter, do you mind giving them a hand if they need it?” Puppy Dog asked me over his shoulder heading to the locker room.
Right then something clicked in my head, and I started recapping the past 20 minutes.
-It was 12:30 in the afternoon, on a Monday.
-The entry way/studio section of the gym has floor to ceiling plate glass windows for two of the walls.
-Puppy Dog had told a Photographer that it was ok for him to bring in a model to take naked pictures of her. In such an environment and in the middle of a workday.
-Said model not only wasn’t that great looking (admittedly in my opinion) but had just shattered my illusion of what a yoga instructor was. Complete with flabby thighs, no less.
-Puppy Dog didn’t see anything wrong with this and (there’s always one of those isn’t there?)
-He’d just passed off babysitting duties for this goat rodeo to me.
Fuck me running. I thought as I watched the back of Puppy Dog’s head going towards the locker room. How the fuck did this happen!?!
I looked over at All Business, hoping for a reprieve to the sentence I just found myself under. I got nothing but an eye roll and a shrug. Shit flows down hill and I just got hit with an avalanche.
“Can you help me move this?” Photog asked me, snapping me out of my shocked stupor and into the present.
“Uhh, yeah sure,” I told him reflexively. “Were do you want it?”
Ten minutes of topless photography, one incredulous look from a woman walking by on the street, and All Business and I going from annoyed to pissed later, and it was time to change shit up.
“Hey Photog, have you seen the other section of the gym?” I asked him. In contrast to the free peepshow that everyone on goddamn main-street could see right now, the weight area/mat room only had a couple of windows. None of which you could really see into.
“Oh this is lovely!” Photog said as he walked into the space. “This will do nicely! Yoga Model what do you think?”
Spying the sit up bench she moved over to it. She looked at me and smiled. “Can I get fully naked on this?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I told her. “As long as your, I don’t know, not being, like, a porn star or something…”
“Oh no, no, no!” Photog jumped in cutting me off. “Nothing like that. This is art and it will be done tastefully. This is a celebration of the female form. Nothing so crude as that.”
No dipshit, this is a Goddamn goat fuck. I give fuck all about you wanting to photograph lumpy thighs in her birthday suit or whatever, but this is far from tasteful. I fumed in my head. How the fuck Puppy Dog thought this was a good idea, I have no idea. If anyone comes back here…
I didn’t allow myself to finish the thought.
“So it’s ok?” Yoga Model asked me again
“Sure, go ahead.” I told her. Before the words had left my lips the boy shorts came off and I was staring face to neither regions with an overflowing example of au natural. The boy shorts made complete sense in this new light. It was those or granny panties if you wanted to keep that tangle in the dark. It was thick dark, hairy, and above all, a fucking scary sight to behold. If the Army still ran a Jungle Warfare School they could conduct the whole course in that forest of pubic hair.
I stood shocked, horrified. Knowing in the back of my mind I should have turned away, closed my eyes, or at least looked up towards the sky, something. Anything. Instead I did what everyone looking at a freight train wreck does, stared.
Thankfully, Yoga Model missed it. She was too busy talking to Photog. She did me the favor of turning quickly to drape herself all over the ab bench. Snapping me back to the present and tearing my eyes away from her untrimmed secret garden.
“I’ll be back in a second,” I told the pair. Run and found All Business in the office.
“Where the fuck is Puppy Dog? And why the fuck isn’t he babysitting this disaster? He has to be out of the shower by now.”
“Oh, he’s at the desk. He told me he thought you wanted to supervise them, so he’d let you do it,” All Business told me in a “don’t’ shoot the messenger” tone of voice.
“Oh yeah, that’s just what I want dude. To babysit Cottage Cheese thighs and her geriatric photographer. While at the same time making sure that no one gets by the front desk. You know, so we don’t have a fucking lawsuit on our hands. Never mind this bitch has, apparently, never heard of a shaving, trimming, or waxing.”
“No shit, really?” All Business asked me in a mildly inquisitive tone.
“You’d need a GPS to get through that bush land.” I told him. “Seriously, get Puppy Dog’s ass over there so I can go do something more productive. Naked or not this is not my idea of a good time. Nor do I want to be babysitting these two.”
“All right,” All Business told me with a hit of a smile on his face.
I walked back over to the weights to find Photog giving instructions and excitedly snapping pictures.
“Uhh, the, uhh owners wanted to know if there was anything I could do for you or help out or, uhh... whatever,” I told Photog and Yoga Model.
“They sent you over here to watch us huh?” Photog said with a gleam in his eye and smile on his face I took to be him teasing me.
“No, no, no,” I told him.
Fuck yeah they did. I thought.
“More like if you need any help or anything, just let me know. Like moving things around or stuff like that.”
Or me throwing you out on your ass or, maybe, introducing your model to this century and what a razor is- whatever floats your boat.
“Ok, thank you.” Photog told me and continued to snap pictures and move Yoga Model around. I, on the other hand, made sure I was out of his shot and turned to watch the door. Five minutes, no Puppy Dog.
10 Minutes
15
Half an hour
40 minutes. I’d officially had enough.
“I’ll be right back,” I told the pair and went back to the front desk.
“They almost done?” Puppy Dog asked me by way of greeting.
“How the fuck should I know?“ I fired back at him. “I'm hoping you’re going to tell them they’re almost done, cause this is officially getting stupid, but that’s your call. And why aren’t you down there babysitting them anyway?” I know it’s not normally a good idea to yell at your boss. I was past caring.
“Oh they don’t care if people watch their process,” Puppy Dog told me. “In fact, they’re exhibitionists and prefer to have as large a crowd watching as possible.”
“And you think that’s a good idea!?!” I practically screamed at him.
“What!?” All Business chimed in.
“Yeah, they don’t care who watches,” Puppy Dog reiterated.
“Dude, I, pff, DUDE!” I stammered. I was starting to see red. “What if someone went down there and was offended? Then what? What if...”
“Just go down there and tell them this is over Puppy Dog,” All Business commands him, ignoring me, and glaring at him.
“Ok, fine.” Puppy Dog said with a hurt look on his face walking towards the weights.
“Goat fuck, an unbelievable fucking goat fuck!” I exclaimed to no one in particular.
“I know man,” All Business told me. “But Puppy Dog lives in his own world, sometimes we’ll ask him what color the sky is in it.”
“Who cares!? Do you know how much fucking trouble we’d have been in if the wrong person had walked in on this, and the way he wanted to let it go down!?!?” I asked. “This can’t ever happen again!”
“I know Boss Fighter, I know. I’ll talk to him about it when they leave.”
Fifteen minutes later Photog and Yoga Model had left, with promises to drop off photos soon. Puppy Dog “had to go to a meeting,” All Business was in the office doing paperwork. I got to go through the gym disinfecting the ab bench, along with all the other equipment, of Yoga Model's ass and bush sweat.
I don’t care if he’s an owner and because of that my boss. I'm keeping him good and leashed from this point forward. If that pisses him off, I’m kicking his ass too.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment