Getting into shape

Astrid looked at herself critically in the mirror and turned sideways to see if it looked any better. The scales showed she was some 15lbs overweight and the leotard she was wearing this morning accentuated every lump, bump and curve. She particularly hated her dimpled bottom. Aged 35 and a trader in the City she realised that too many late night sessions in the bar and too many corporate lunches had gradually started to take effect even on her 5′ 8″ frame.

“You’re not fat darling”, her best friend Georgie had said over a white wine spritzer the previous week. “You’re just not toned. Do what I’ve done and get yourself a personal trainer. Tony’s fully booked but he’s got a mate starting out. Marcello I think his name is. Italian. Doing the full thing. Diet, exercise. Apparently he’s wonderful. Gay too so you’ve no fears of him coming on to you. Want me to give him a call for you?”

And so it was that at 6 a.m. this morning that Astrid found herself kitted out in an extremely expensive piece of turquoise lycra studying herself in the mirror. Her hands ran up to her generous breasts where the morning coolness was making her nipples stand out through the tight fabric. She realised with a sigh that she hadn’t had a man in her bed for the best part of three months and that early mornings had always been her favourite time for sex. Absent mindedly she caressed her nipples, loving the sensation of warmth that permeated from her breasts to her belly when she did so. Any other morning she would have reached into her bedside drawer for her vibrator but that was when the intercom buzzer sounded.