Wishing on a Blue Star (46 page)

Matthew heard the deep, raspy voice and looked over at the moderately-hairy, tanned skin and the rippling muscles straining against the tight t-shirt and wondered
—
yet again
—
what he had gotten himself into.  It wasn’t the idea of being a part of this revolutionary new exercise program that had him sweating already, but the realization that the two men who were already here looked like they’d already graduated from the advanced version.

“Thank you,” Matthew murmured as he made his way over to one of the huge windows near the rear of the room. 
With any luck, I’ll be able to hide how out-of-shape I am behind all of the people that will end up in front of me.
 

“My name is Duncan.”

Matthew looked up from his backpack and water bottle to see the beautifully white smile of the man who’d just told him to find a spot on the floor.  “Matthew,” he said as he shook the offered hand.  He couldn’t help but notice Duncan’s tattoos, especially the ones that indicated that he’d been in the Marines.  It seemed impossible for Matthew to control his eyes as they scanned the muscular, defined legs, the grapefruit-sized calves and the powerfully built quads.  Matthew’s mind had just about finished painting a picture of what the rest of Duncan must look like when he heard the deep voice again.

“I wasn’t sure if anyone would actually be willing to be a part of this test version.”

Matthew smiled and removed the cap from his water bottle as he tried to figure out what this man had to be nervous about.  He was tall, maybe a few inches over six feet, ripped, tanned with an incredibly full head of silky-looking salt and pepper hair.  “Well, if I…or we, I mean…look half as good as you after three months, your program will be a huge success.”  Matthew took a swig of his water and watched as Duncan’s cheeks flushed slightly, a little amused at how wholesome and nervous the big man seemed.

“Well, thanks, but…”  Duncan brought his hands together and rubbed them vigorously, looking around the room for a few seconds, as if he were cold and looking for a fire, before turning his attention back to Matthew.  “Listen, I know that everyone had to go through a physical and take a fitness test, but I’m really hoping that this program will be for everyone, not just those who are already fit.”

Matthew wasn’t really sure if he’d just been insulted or complimented. 
Is he putting me with the out-of-shape everyman or with those who are already fit?
  He didn’t have too much time to examine what Duncan had actually meant by the comment since it seemed that all of the other participants arrived within moments of each other, like they’d all caught the same bus from the suburbs.

Everyone was milling around, staking their territory and making small talk while each participant was weighed and the official
before
photos were taken.  Matthew decided to get it all over with and stripped out of his t-shirt, hoping that no one would notice the pasty white skin and the fifteen extra pounds he always seemed to carry around his waist.  He consoled himself since some of the others showed that they’d let themselves go even further than he had, but chastised himself again and again for having let the breakup drive him into the arms of Ben & Jerry
—
again. 

Finally, Duncan took to the small stage at the front of the room, a tiny microphone looped over his right ear.  Matthew smiled as he watched the nervous and uncertain man who was hoping that his program would work for everyone suddenly became a master showman.  Duncan explained a little about the necessity of the steps they’d each taken to get here, what would happen tonight and ended with a brief description of what everyone could expect in the next few weeks.

Matthew smiled and found his eyes riveted to Duncan as he listened to the deep, raspy voice crack a few jokes about aching muscles and how he would either end up a world-famous exercise guru or be in prison when twenty-two people were all found dead the next morning from exhaustion.  When he found himself to be the only person in the room laughing, Matthew cleared his throat and tried not to notice the heat pooling in certain areas of his body.  As he realized that he would be spending an hour a day over the next three months staring at the beautiful man on the stage, Matthew had to admit that his friend, Michael, had been right.  It had been far too long since Matthew had done any serious “research” for his novels.

* * * *

Despite Duncan’s attention to all of the participants and his consistent demonstration
—
and reminders
—
of the modified moves for those who were becoming tired, Matthew’s t-shirt was soaked through, his lungs were on fire and his body felt as if he’d just relived all of his sexual experiences in the last hour; and that included the unemployed actor he’d seen for almost two years
—
the very muscular action-star wannabe who wasn’t happy until he and Matthew had done it at least five times a day.

Any thoughts of Duncan as the sweet reserved type had gone out the proverbial window the minute the warm-up started.  And any impure thoughts Matthew had had while watching Duncan’s powerful muscles flex and strain, or while hearing the guttural grunts and moans of that raspy bass voice, were long forgotten by the time Matthew realized that Mondays would be nothing but push-ups and pull-ups.

As Duncan led everyone through the cool-down, Matthew felt a little better as he commiserated with a few of the other participants who’d also had some difficulty keeping up.  Directly in front of him was Sandra, a housewife from the valley who had grown frustrated by all of her failed attempts to lose the baby weight her fourth child had brought.  Immediately to his left was Joey, a tax attorney who’d wanted to join to ensure the heart attack he’d suffered last year would be his last.  And to his right was Emma, a police officer who hadn’t realized she’d gotten so comfortable on the job that she almost failed her last physical.

Duncan announced that tomorrow evening would be a cardio workout and Matthew found himself relaxing a little; cardio, he could do with no problem.  He followed Joe and Emma up to the table where all of the participants were encouraged to drink the recovery formula that promised to help with muscle soreness.  It wasn’t until he’d finished his eight ounces that Matthew realized he’d not consumed enough water during the workout tonight.  He threw his cup into the blue bin and was headed for the showers, hoping he wouldn’t be too sore tomorrow.  He had a fair bit of work to do around the new house still, and while he welcomed an excuse to keep him from painting the hallway and the foyer, he wasn’t sure he could look at that chartreuse color anymore.  Before he made it half way to the showers, Matthew heard the booming bass voice beside him.

“You made it!” 

Matthew looked over at Duncan’s smiling face and couldn’t help but return the smile.  “Yes, it was touch and go there for a while, but I’m glad it’s over.”

Duncan let go of a loud one-note laugh and reached out to place his hand on Matthew’s shoulder, the long, powerful fingers squeezing briefly before letting go.  “Only 89 more days to go.”  Duncan offered another quick squeeze to Matthew’s shoulder and then headed back to retrieve his towel from the small stage.

Matthew realized how negative he must have sounded and searched his brain for some sort of apology.  “But I’m also really glad I decided to take part,” he half-yelled across the spacious workout studio.  “You’re a great instructor.  I think your program is going to be a huge success.”

“Thank you, Matthew.”  Duncan picked up his towel and quickly wiped his brow.  He stuffed one end of the thick, yellow towel into his shorts and then pulled off his t-shirt in one smooth movement. 

Matthew wondered if Duncan knew the effect his body had on people.  With almost no body fat, Duncan was something akin to a bronzed statue straight out of a museum.  It would be easy for Matthew to assume that Duncan could get plenty of action, from males and females whichever he chose, but there was something about this gorgeous man that made Matthew wonder if he got any action at all.  He couldn’t pinpoint one specific thing, but with each exchange, Matthew became more and more convinced that Duncan was just as big an emotional mess as he was.  And the writer in Matthew was becoming more and more interested in learning everything about Duncan.

DAY TEN

Even though he knew better than to go after an ex-Marine like Duncan, and even though he knew better than to complicate his already busy life with thoughts of what it would be like to try his favorite sexual positions with someone as powerfully built as Duncan, Matthew kept finding himself arriving earlier and earlier to the studio.  By day six, he had almost arrived before Duncan.  And today, day ten, he actually did.  He thought of throwing his car into reverse so that he could drive around for a half-hour, but then he noticed a beat-up old sedan pull into the parking lot.  He closed his eyes and prayed it wasn’t Duncan.

Matthew watched as Duncan exited the very old, beat-up army green SUV.  He opened his own car door and cursed to himself as he felt frozen to a spot beside his own car.  From fifteen feet away, he was about to offer some teasing words to Duncan about what his first purchase should be when his program was successful, but stopped short when he noticed the tight Levi jeans and sandals.  Matthew couldn’t believe his eyes; it hadn’t taken him long that first night to realize that Duncan was physically perfect, but seeing him in street clothes
—
as if he were going out for some milk at the corner store
—
made Matthew want him even more.  It was one thing to see and fantasize about Duncan while his muscles were flexing and straining, but to see him as if he were dressed for a leisurely stroll through the park was enough to send Matthew’s mind reeling, clutching at the images of the two of them with two Samoyeds puppies and green tea from that coffee shop they both loved on lazy Saturday mornings.

“Have I created a monster?”

Matthew wasn’t really sure what the words meant and blushed at the idiotic thought that Duncan had somehow read his mind.  “Oh…no, I was just…I had a bad case of writer’s block, so I decided to get out of the house.”

“You’re a writer?”

He smiled at Duncan as the big ex-Marine closed the distance between them and stood in front of Matthew.  He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and tried his best to downplay his accomplishments.  “Yeah, more part-time really.”

“What do you write about?”

Matthew had never hesitated to respond to this question in the past; he’d always told people
—
very proudly
—
that he wrote queer romance to be precise.  But staring up into Duncan’s hypnotic blue eyes, Matthew wasn’t really sure how to answer that question.  “I, uh, write fiction…mostly.”

“Like detective stories or legal thrillers?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Matthew said, wishing that he hadn’t said anything about his profession.  As proud as he was of his accomplishments, experience had nonetheless taught him that not everyone would be so accepting of the kind of fiction he wrote.  With most people, Matthew enjoyed explaining what kind of stories he wrote, but Duncan wasn’t most people; there was something about this man that made Matthew want to keep him around as long as possible.

“Well, this is my lucky day then.”  Duncan pulled open the front door to the studio and stood aside to let Matthew pass.  “I’ve been looking for someone who can help me with all the writing I’ll have to do if this program is successful.”

“I could help you with that,” Matthew said as he found himself mesmerized by the smile on Duncan’s face.

“Great!”  Duncan’s expression changed a little, and Matthew wondered if he was supposed to say something now.  “You coming in?” 

“Huh, oh, yeah, sorry.”  Matthew passed by Duncan and chastised himself for letting himself think that anything could happen with this gorgeous man. 
Why do I always do this to myself?  Why do I always think that any man who’s nice to me is interested in more?

“Maybe we could meet sometime…for coffee, I mean, and I could show you what I’ve got so far?”  Duncan stopped at the door to the locker room, and Matthew realized
—
for the first time
—
that he would have to get changed in front of this perfect specimen.

“Sure,” Matthew threw his duffle bag on the floor and began to rummage for a pen and something to write his phone number on.  “I’ll give you my cell number and
—
”

“I can get it off the intake form that you filled out,” Duncan said as he pushed open the door and waited for Matthew to pass.

“Oh…right…sorry,” Matthew said, fully aware of how meek and embarrassed his voice sounded.

“Are you okay?”

“Me?”  Matthew tried to sound nonchalant as he waved his hand, as if to indicate that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him.  As he passed Duncan and caught the scent of after shave, Matthew closed his eyes and promised himself he would never again arrive early.

DAY FIFTEEN

“Your writer’s block must have passed, huh?”

Matthew looked up from his impromptu stretching before class, his eyes at the same level as Duncan’s groin.  “My what?”

“Your writer’s block.”  Duncan sat down a few feet away from Matthew, spread his legs wide, positioned his feet against Matthew’s and then leaned forward, offering his hands.  “Here, let me help.” 

Matthew put his hands in Duncan’s and felt the stretch in his hamstrings as the ex-Marine leaned back slightly.  The calloused, yet gentle, hands on his brought a flush to his cheeks and betrayed his own impure thoughts.  He breathed in and out, slowly, and willed his mind to concentrate on something
—
anything
—
else.

“I haven’t seen you here early lately, so I figured your writer’s block must be cured.”  Duncan said as he brought his body forward and released the stretch on Matthew’s legs.

“Oh,” Matthew grunted as he was pulled forward again.  “Yeah, it comes and goes.”