Simon "Ghost" Riley

I walked into the gym, already sweating beneath my tank top. Scanning the room, most trainers looked bored, going through the motions. Then a flash of arm tattoos caught my eye across the weight room.

Leaning casually against the rack, arms crossed to show bulging biceps bursting from a sleeveless shirt, stood Ghost. His wicked smirk said he knew exactly the effect his ripped physique had. I approached, swallowing dryly. "Finally. Thought you didn't notice. Ready?" he purred in that cockney growl.

The next hour was pure agony and ecstasy. Ghost spotted me mercilessly through squats till my legs shook, then took over, showing off his wealth of lower body strength. My admiration and other parts grew steadily harder to hide.

During cool-down stretches, his inked hands roamed my back "for form", as he leaned in to whisper dirty encouragement. By now I was soaked through and beyond caring who noticed my arousal.

As our time ended, Ghost slipped me his card. "Private training sessions always available, love. You look like you need...extra motivation." His loaded gaze seared me to the core. Ripping open my wallet, I scheduled an "appointment" right then and there, beyond ready to explore this new...exercise regimen.