She picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers.
"Jackson, Emma's here."
The woman smiled as she put the phone receiver back into the cradle. "He'll be right out."
"Great," I said, feeling a bit uncomfortable just standing there. I was surprised she knew me by name, but I assumed that part of her job was knowing all the members on a first name basis. Even prospective members. The woman was looking at me with way too much interest. It was friendly interest, but uncomfortable just the same.
"I'm Allison," she announced, holding out her hand.
"Nice to meet you, Allison," I replied, reaching out to shake her hand. Were people always this friendly at gyms? I wouldn't know since I rarely frequented one.
"I heard you just moved into town."
"Yes, I just moved here from Maryland." It was a bit discomfiting to realize that Jackson had apparently been talking about me to Allison.
"They have great crabs in Maryland." Allison continued, nodding at me and smiling. I started feeling a little creeped out.
"Er, yes. Maryland's known for their crabs." I prayed Jackson would appear soon and save me from this awkward conversation.
As if on cue, Jackson walked out from a door behind the front counter, giving me a wide smile as he caught sight of me.
"You made it." Jackson walked out from behind the counter and nodded to Allison as he grabbed my hand, drawing me down the hall closer to all those intimidating metal machines. "I was worried that you were going to change your mind."
I eyed the workout machines with trepidation. "I still may. I wasn't kidding when I said I don't really work out."
Jackson grinned, looking down at me. His green eyes were sparkling with amusement and a lock of brown hair fell onto his forehead, making him look rakish. He was much taller than I was and I had to tip my head back to make eye contact. Wearing athletic shorts and a t-shirt, he should have looked nondescript. Instead, with nothing to detract from his handsomeness, the blank canvas just made Jackson look all the more gorgeous. He was leanly muscled and I had to stop myself from reaching out and stroking his muscular arm and squealing like a preteen.
"We'll take it slow and easy today. The more sessions you get under your belt, the more I'll challenge you."
I let Jackson guide me over to a large mat in front of a mirror but protested at his words.
"The more sessions I get under my belt? I'm not planning on having more sessions. I'm not even planning on joining this gym!"
"That reminds me." Jackson slipped his hand into the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a membership card. He grabbed my bag and slipped it in, then placed my bag against the mirrored wall and out of the way.
"Wait, what was that?" I exclaimed, moving to grab my bag. Jackson pulled me in the opposite direction and stood behind me, putting a hand on each of my arms and holding me in place. The warmth of his hands was distracting and I was keenly aware of the close proximity of his body behind mine, but I was undeterred.
"Jackson, what did you just put in my bag?"
Jackson looked at me in our mirrored reflection and shrugged. I felt dwarfed by his size, the top of my head just shy of reaching the top of his shoulders.
"I pulled some strings and got you a year's membership to the gym."
"Wait, what? What do you mean you pulled some strings?" I narrowed my eyes at Jackson's reflection. "Did you pay for my membership?"
Jackson looked at me innocently. "That's not how it works. We don't pay people to come to the gym. Otherwise, we'd be out of business."
"Jackson," I warned. As flattered as I was by the idea that Jackson would get me a free membership to the gym, it made me uncomfortable to think that he had paid for it. I had just met him. I wasn't looking for a sugar daddy.
"I just have some pull around here. The owner was more than happy to give out a free membership when I told him I was thinking of increasing my hours." Jackson smiled at me winningly.
"You must be in high demand if you're able to give out free memberships willy nilly by promising to work a few more hours." I was still suspicious, but decided not to push it. It seemed churlish to throw Jackson's generosity in his face.
"Well, thanks for the free membership. Really." I then sighed. "Let the torture session begin."
Jackson laughed at the dour expression on my face. "Don't worry. We'll take this nice and slow. First, we'll just do some stretches."
Jackson guided my legs apart and I tried not to blush when his hands touched my thighs. He seemed determined to take a hands-on approach with the stretches, instead of just demonstrating them for me.
"Now just lean down to your right side and let gravity do the stretching for you."
He put one hand on my waist and put the other on my arm, gently guiding me down so that I was bending sideways to my right. It felt as though there was electricity running through his fingertips as he touched me, my body tightening with awareness.
"Okay, now the other side."
Jackson continued using his hands to show me how to stretch. It was one of the most excruciating fifteen minutes of my life. He seemed unaffected as his hands glided over me, pulling me into different positions. Some of them were so suggestive that I was starting to feel lightheaded.
"Okay, last stretch."
Jackson had me sit on the mat and spread my legs apart. He kneeled in between my legs, pushing them out with his hands to stretch my inner thigh muscles. I thought I was going to scream in pent up sexual frustration when I noticed that he was breathing heavily, each inhale and exhale sounding more and more strained. I glanced up at his face and saw that his eyes had darkened into a mossy green. Jackson gave me a half-grin as he released my legs.
"Let's try some laps on the treadmill." His voice sounded husky and rough.
I released the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding and nodded my head. "That's a good idea. And I know what to do on a treadmill," I said with a wry smile. "You don't need to show me with your hands how to run. I know how to put one leg in front of the other."
Jackson burst out laughing. "Duly noted."
He grabbed my bag and led me to a treadmill, punching the keypad to start the machine.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-five." I watched Jackson input my age into the control panel of the treadmill.
"How much do you weigh?"
"Nuh uh," I said emphatically, shaking my head. "There is no way I'm telling you my weight."