Fit to be Tied  

rm_pichuan 56M
44 posts
7/5/2006 6:50 am

Last Read:
7/5/2006 7:06 pm

Fit to be Tied

It's been a long week and every other driver on the road has been a real dick, both ways.
Work; can't anyone else do their job? Does everyone else have such a poor work ethic that she has to cover for them, whether they're there or not? The kids; can't they act like the civilized humans that she's been trying to teach them to be since they were born? Do they have to have everything right now! as if nothing else in the world was happening anywhere to anyone?
And bills! God, she never, ever, meant to have a cash flow like the one going on now.
Plus, it's hot out. It's been hot since April and it just gets worse. Hot and sticky and it just makes everyone that much more pissy.
Oh, she needs relief before she strangles someone or simply gives in to the stress and loses her sanity for a brief, terrible moment of emotional violence.

So she calls him. He'll know how to help. He won't let her get away with half-assed effort or whining or excuses; once she starts she's his for the duration and she will have to perform to his satisfaction.

She arrives a bit late; it's a long habit of hers that causes her more stress, and she knows it but can't seem to break the routine. He sits on the matted floor in careful contemplation of a small juniper that he's transforming into a semblence of an aged pine tree in miniature.

Without turning he says, "Begin with squats. 40 should be about right."
She begins to say something but he cuts her off, "Just do the squats... then sit ups, then pushups, then crunches, then frog hops...."

She sighs heavily and begins the exercises.
How can he just sit there? Doesn't he even care about her? About her needs and desires and... and...

With each rise and fall of her body the burning in her thighs increases and her frustration mounts. She watches him make careful snips here and there on his bonsai, as if nothing else had any importance whatsoever.
She continues to the sit ups, the pushups, her breath coming in even gasps as she pushes herself in her stress induced fury. She'll show him. She'll do the work and show his lazy ass... How dare he not even look at her?! Sitting so smug with that oh so serene looking facade of his...

"Good. Stretch now. Splits, hurdler's, spinal twist, plough... And breath, all the way in and all the way out....breath..."

She'll show him breath all right! Damn him!

"Now, bag drills. 500 punches, as hard and fast as you can. Don't lean, keep your back straight, sink into your knees, use your waist and legs to drive the punches... and breath..."

A low growl starts in her throat as she puches, gradually increasing in volume. Harder she hits, the more he exorts her to put her legs and waist into the punches. He stands like a rock as she gives it everything she has, pounding away 'till the sweat is pouring off her body in huge droplets.

She's near collapse after the last punch. Her legs are screaming, her arms feel like noodles, her breath comes in ragged gasps.
She glances up to find him staring at her in calm consideration. He says, "Kick. Side thrust, close to the bag, stay upright. 400 kicks per leg."

The nightmare continues, as it always does. When she had first come to him, the workouts weren't so hard, tho they seemed so at the time. 50 punches, 40 kicks, and more drills designed to make her stronger and faster and better balanced, the reps just keep increasing as her level of fitness increases.
Gradually, her stress leaves her, his demands for focus and intent and relaxing her neck and shoulders and back sinks thru her rage and into her work, and a laugh begins to come here and there, his comments which had enraged her earlier now are seen as humorous asides and she knows that his little stories are intended to give her just a minute to catch her breath before continuing.

75 minutes pass, dragging by like torture but, oddly, over far too quickly. Her stress is gone. She feels like a wet noodle, relaxed, spent, ready for a hot shower and dinner. She smiles and plays flirt games with him as they cool down with light calisthenics, more stretching, more breathing.

She thanks him, in a small voice, and apologised for her attitude when she arrived...

He regards her, then moves behind her and begins massaging her now spent muscles, seeming to rach into the core of her being to draw new blood and energy into her with his hands.

"This is the person you want to be. Yet you work terribly hard to be the other. You have the choice to be who you want, to do the work to necessary, yet you choose instead to wait until your blood boils to release the pressure of your frustration.
"If you want to change your environment, first change your head."

And he leaves her, then, and begins walking a circle, his hands moving in a blur, his posture upright and relaxed, rising and falling in a dance of pantomimed strikes, throws, sweeps, grabs and dodges.....

rm_PurryKitty2 49M/51F
9753 posts
7/5/2006 7:50 am

I need to change my head then!

Purry {=}


sexyariesgirl 58F

7/5/2006 6:09 pm

Great story!!!!

Power To FOK

rm_pichuan 56M
21 posts
7/5/2006 7:06 pm


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