I Bet I Would Have To Pay Extra For That Training Session

So, I was on the leg extension machine at the gym today when the cute trainer I spoke of waaaaaaaaaaaay back when walked by me. In the space of about 5 seconds, I went from wondering if I was going to be able to finish my set without taking a break to having a very brief but VERY graphic sex fantasy, starring said trainer. In my fantasy, the cute trainer asked me if he could help me with anything and in response, I cocked my eyebrow (I really wish I could do that in real life. The properly cocked eyebrow is often more eloquent than the most cleverly worded phrase.) looked him dead in the eye and said, "Yes. You can fuck me." Rather than being taken aback, the cute trainer responded with a cocky smile and then my fantasy fast-forwarded to the part where he had me splayed out on a counter in a back room and was giving me a MOST energetic "personal training session."

I'm not sure that I started blushing after that, but I do know that my rhythm on the machine was SERIOUSLY disrupted. First of all, while I am a flirt, I'm not the kind of girl who is very confident in her own sex appeal. Chalk it up to poor self esteem or a bad body image or whatever, but I've always seen myself as the kind of girl the guys make their best friend or counselor, not the one they run to when they are after a booty call. And, of course, at that time, with the sweat pouring off of me and my breath ragged from exertion, I wasn't exactly feeling like Salma Hayek reborn. So it caught me my surprise.

Then there's the fact that I am just not given to fantasizing in that way. And even when I do, my fantasies rarely feature people I have gotten close enough to actually touch. This is one area in which Oscar and I are completely opposite. Oscar has a rich fantasy life and will often whisper naughty things in my ear about things he'd thought about doing or would like to do and I'll start to squirm thinking about what he's saying. Then he'll ask me what I've been thinking about and I'll come up with something particularly arousing like "balancing the checkbook," or "doing the taxes," or cleaning the house." Gets him really hot, let me tell you.

Which is why, instead of getting all freaked out about what this fantasy might mean about the stability of my marriage or my feelings for my husband or whatever, I am instead relishing the fact that for a brief moment today, I actually thought about doing dirty, naughty, sexy things with a really HAWT guy with a smokin' body. I consider this a milestone in my growth as a sexual being. (At least, that is how I am rationalizing it to myself. And Oscar, in case he asks.) After all, I am 30 years old and doesn't that mean I should be hitting my sexual peak soon? (No, you don't need to leave comments telling me that the whole "women reach their sexual peaks in their 30's" thing is a myth. We're rationalizing here. Get on board, would you please?) Right, so I figure this is just another stop on the path to complete sexual fulfillment. Or at least it would be if I could get the cute trainer to call me.

Err...did I say that last part out loud?