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Superior - Chapter 9
🕑 Added 2022-08-18 06:11:30 +0000 UTCChapter 9: Bench Press
Seeing her offer as a perfect opportunity to finally find out some information about her life, I accepted the workout session wholeheartedly.
Jane and I took a shortcut to the gym, though one I never realized existed. She had taken me through an alleyway, below an underpass, and through a part of town I would have considered “seedy” to say the least. Certainly no place for a petite, prim and proper girl like herself. Despite this, I did not object. I walked wherever she silently directed me.
It was as if she knew exactly where I’d be staring, able to convey her intentions with the subtlest of hip swings. A slight deviation to the rhythm of her body, a gyration of her thighs rightward, her pencil skirt hiking up ever so slightly higher than usual—a consequence of her business attire being simply unable to keep up with her flawlessly curvy, flexible form.
She did not speak once during the trek, her focus set straight ahead. This was to be expected, she was a woman of few words, after all, but the inherent tension of the walk felt off. While usually, her silence came as a result of her calculated mindset—this lack of dialogue felt different. When her voluptuous body wasn’t captivating me with new subtle perfections every few moments, her face captured my sympathy. Her lips were pursed, her eyes hazed over as if deep in conflicting thought.
This expression remained even as Jane breached the entrance of the gym lobby, before pivoting sideways to hold the door open for me. I half-expected her to say something snarky like “ladies first” as she motioned at me to enter first, but no such remark exited her lips as we exchanged glances. I didn’t say anything either, my eyes merely narrowing at her mock chivalry—well, at least I presumed it to be.
Why else would she be courteous to me? Considering her response to Jim, leaving him writhing on the ground in pain for workplace harassment from just a single punch, I wasn’t sure why I was being spared from the same treatment. She knew I had tried to halt her progress at every turn. She even somehow knew that I was spying on her through the cameras. I was willing to bet she also knew about the bathroom incident from an hour ago.
Perhaps she knew I was stronger than Jim? After all, when it came to physicality, any coworker foolish enough to spar with me in the ring didn’t last long when I was playing serious. While she may have surprised me with her intelligence and workforce competence, I knew there was no way a curvaceous body like that could be secretly hiding strength that rivaled mine.
“Hi there Jane!” came the voice of the receptionist, Rachel, her voice cheerier than usual. I raised an eyebrow at her chummy tone. Was Jane a member of this gym? How come I had never seen her around.
As if reading my mind, the receptionist essentially answered my question. “Rare to see you around when there’s still daylight!”
Of course that’s when she was around. Did this woman ever sleep?
“Work finished early,” Jane responded promptly. “A coworker of mine was heading here with his friend, but those plans fell through so I offered to accompany him.”
Rachel eagerly turned her head to see who this coworker was, only to see me, her face immediately faltering. Apparently, I was the reason she never seemed all that cordial. Why was this girl the messiah amongst men? Why was everyone so eager to be Jane’s friend?
When she had first arrived at the company, no one had any faith in her. I remembered when several other coworkers and I would take jabs at her behind her back. Now, I swore I could hear those same men taking jabs at me.
I felt like the last bastion of sanity at Curritech sometimes, the only one capable of seeing through Jane’s magnificently crafted mirage. Even then… I found myself faltering sometimes. How a girl this hyper-competent at everything she did still managed to garner my sympathy as she stood there alone at the party, or as she remained silent in the face of Jim’s harassment.
But now, she was on my turf for sure. She wanted to make everything a competition at the office even when it didn’t need to be? Then I’d make everything at the gym a competition, when it especially didn’t need to be.
Returning from our respective washrooms with proper exercising attire, I nearly fainted from all my blood rushing to places it shouldn’t have. I had thought she looked beautiful in the juxtaposition of the rather conservative business suit.
Without her usual getup, painfully little was left to the imagination. Donning merely a sports bra and lululemon leggings, my eyes couldn’t help but drink up the sculpture of perfection before me. She was already a hell of a looker before—but now, her proportionately long, perfectly toned legs, miniscule waist and sinuous musculature in her arms wouldn’t look out of place in Sports Illustrated, yet her pillowy breasts would probably find a more fitting location on the cover of Playboy. She had to be the most voluptuous woman I’d ever seen, beating out the previous contenter of… also her.
In an attempt to not seem so perverted, I directed my gaze to the ground. That was a mistake. The strong studio lights of the gym prominently displayed her shadow on the floor before both of us. Even her mere silhouette was enough to further increase the intensity of my excitement, the outline of her scrumptious curves was the most enticing shadow-puppet show I’d ever witnessed.
Thank goodness my underwear was padded for sweat absorption.
In response to my antics, she merely sighed, retying her hair into a tight red ponytail fit for athletic activities.
“I’m going to start with the bench press, need to work on my pecs,” she spoke, turning leftward and making a B-line for the weight training bench, not even waiting to see if I would follow.
“W-wait!” I sputtered. “Don’t you need a spotter?”
“Hmm, yes, I suppose that would be proper gym etiquette. Thank you.”
Once I saw the monster of a barbell she was prepared to do reps with, I couldn’t believe gym etiquette was the only concern on her mind. A 220 pound barbell. Two. Hundred. Twenty. Pounds. That thing was probably twice her weight—hell, that was my weight—and she was about to lift it!?
Clearly, she was showing off. She would likely take the weights off and replace them with something more reasonable. But as she wiped down the bench, put runner’s tape on her hands and did some mild stretching to prepare, my confident smile slipped more and more.
Jane shifted into place on the padded leather, her massive breasts flopping about as her back felt out the most comfortable position.
Hesitantly, I helped ease the massive metal apparatus into her hands. I could feel the resistance of the weight on my palms. This thing was fucking heavy. There was no way she’d be able to do more than a single rep. I gritted my teeth, every part of my body assuring me that this simply would not end well.
“You can let go now, thank you,” Jane politely requested. My lip quivered as I reluctantly slid my grip off the metal. The last thing I wanted to see was a pretty face like hers in anguish.
And then, my jaw dropped. She was doing it. She was lifting the entire barbell without issue, inhaling quietly as she brought the metal to her chest and exhaling even quieter as she pushed it to the sky.
Her lift didn’t just rival my record, it straight-up surpassed it. My heaviest lift was a mere 200—an expected weight for someone my age—and she had just topped it by twenty whole pounds.
“H-how…?” was all my flabbergasted mouth could produce.
“What was that, John?” Jane asked, her words somehow unstrained even as she physically exerted herself.
“How the fuck are you lifting 220 pounds!?” I shouted, not caring who heard.
“99.79 kilograms, John.” she calmly responded.
“What!?”
“99.79 kilograms, John,” she clarified once more, a bit louder, her gaze still focused on the ceiling as her arms continued to ascend and descend the barbell to an invisible rhythm. “We both work in a company that is now properly integrated internationally, it would behoove you to start learning the metric system for the sake of our client base. If you’d like, you can always run your imperial measurements by me first.”
I simply couldn’t respond to that immediately. Her steadfast reply had left me completely unable to fathom any words. Not only had she calculated the correct kilogram count down to the hundredth decimal, but she used it to school me about a work opportunity while neither of us were physically in the building… and she had done it all while bench-pressing twice her body weight.
My body felt limp. If she were to drop that barbell at any time, I didn’t think I’d be able to help her. Not that she was at any risk of dropping it. If anything, she could probably lift more.
Finishing her set, she set the weight back into the holster and ran off to get a sip of water from the fountain. I felt sick to my stomach looking at the empty bench. It looked exactly the same as it had after she wiped it down. Did she… did she literally not break a sweat the entire time!?
“Something on your mind, John?” her calm voice suddenly broke my concentration. “Would you like me to spot you?”
“Y’know what? Yes. Yes I would,” I replied through gritted teeth. Surely, I was ready for 220 pounds after years of maintaining 200. Hell, I could probably do twice her amount of reps and still feel This would be a piece of cake.
It was not.
I immediately felt the extra twenty pounds as Jane eased the weight into my hands. My exhale came out as a meek groan, my hands shaking with the ferocity of an earthquake as I slowly completed my first rep.
“Don’t strain yourself, John,” she spoke. It took all of my effort not to physically seethe at that remark. Who was she to recommend tips to a pro!? She was just nineteen years old!
Eventually, I found myself getting into the swing of things. My rhythm found itself. While I was nowhere near as collected as she was, I was actually able to complete several reps in good time. However, a problem quickly presented itself with my line of sight. While Jane had no trouble staring up at the ceiling, my view was blocked by two particularly distracting objects.
Jane’s absolutely titanic breasts cast a shadow over my entire face, looming over me like a titan. As determined as I was, I could not help but find myself… distracted.
I could feel my arms becoming wobbly… but I couldn’t give in. Not yet. I still had one more rep to do. I took a deep breath, channeling my energy as I descended the bar down onto my chest. I already felt drained, but I knew that was only the easy part. Letting out a quiet yet agonizing groan, I pushed as hard as I could—yet my strength simply was not there. I was tired. Too tired. But I needed to prove myself. The barbell was already half way—
My entire life flashed before my eyes as my arms suddenly buckled under pressure and the metal bar of death came careening down towards my neck. I closed my eyes on instinct, bracing myself for an impact that never seemed to come.
“Alright, I think that’s enough bench pressing for tonight,” came Jane’s heavenly voice. “It was a good thing I was here to spot you, that could have been painful.”
One of my eyes opened, only to witness Jane safely placing the dumbell back onto the handles. It didn’t even look like it took any effort on her part to do so.
I sat up, breathing heavily. She patted me on the back in a friendly sportsmanship way. “Go get some water, John. I’ll clean up the bench for you. It’s drenched in sweat.”
Part of me wished that metal bar had just fucking decapitated me.
I took a humiliating walk to the water fountain. I could feel other gym patron’s eyes burning holes into the side of my head. I had once again been outdone by this redheaded girl, in my own domain no less!
Granted, bench pressing wasn’t my strong suit, which hers apparently was, given that it was the first thing she gravitated to. She probably picked it just to humiliate me in front of all my respected gym peers.
But now, it was my turn to choose. I’d let her have her fun for now, but there were a few activities here that I was unparalleled at.
After returning from the water fountain, the two of us silently completed our respective workout routines. I hit the rock climbing wall, and I assumed she continued to lift weights or something. All the while, my true intentions sat within the centerpiece of the gym itself, sitting equidistant between the two of us as I gazed at her from my vantage point atop the indoor rocky cliff.
By the time I was finished, she had already changed back into her work clothes. The sound of straining seams and tortured cloth filled the room as she stretched somewhat uncomfortably, her body’s assets clearly struggling to breathe upon returning to the confines of her limiting pencil skirt and jacket.
“That was a fun workout. Thank you, John. Perhaps we should make this a regular occurrence?”
Her face looked hopeful, as did mine. Both likely for different reasons. However, I couldn't wait another minute.
“We’re not done yet, Jane.”
“No?” her face looked genuinely curious at my proposition, only to follow my gaze to my true intention: the fenced MMA training area.
“You think you’re hot shit? Let’s put those skills to the test, shall we?” I spoke those words in a playfully competitive way, but I meant every single one of them. I was going to take her on in the ring and I was going to win.
There was that hesitation in her green eyes again, but it passed like a fleeting thought.
“Very well, if you wish to make this a fight, then I accept your challenge. I have all night, after all.”
