Bow Bliss
"Yoga instructor Fatou helps her students find their center. When stressed lawyer Derek books a private session, she introduces him to positions not found in any traditional practice."
Derek's therapist had suggested yoga. "For the stress," she'd said. "Something to help you unwind."
She hadn't mentioned anything about Fatou.
The Bow studio was small and intimate, full of plants and soft light. But Fatou dominated the space—tall, dark-skinned, with a body that made her leggings look spiritual. Senegalese features, curves that seemed to defy the ascetic yoga stereotype, and eyes that looked right through him.
"First time?" Her accent was musical.
"That obvious?"
"Lawyers always look the same. Tight shoulders. Tight jaw." She touched his face gently. "Tight everything."
The group class was humbling. Fatou flowed through poses while Derek wobbled and collapsed. But she was patient, adjusting him with warm hands.
"Your body holds trauma," she said, pressing on his lower back. "Here. And here." Her hands moved up. "You need release."
"That's what the wine is for."
"Wine numbs. This heals." She leaned close, her lips near his ear. "Come back tomorrow. Private session. I'll show you true release."
The private session started normally enough. Breathing exercises. Simple stretches. But Fatou's hands lingered longer than before, and her adjustments became more intimate.
"You're still so tense." She straddled him while he lay flat, her weight settling on his hips. "Let me help."
"Fatou, this doesn't feel like—"
"Like what? Yoga?" She rolled her hips, and he felt everything. "The ancient yogis knew that physical pleasure opens spiritual channels. The body is not separate from the soul."
She leaned down to kiss him, and he stopped questioning anything.
She was impossibly flexible—bending in ways that made their joining otherworldly. She took him in positions he'd never imagined, her thick thighs wrapped around him from impossible angles, her body contorting while maintaining perfect connection.
"Breathe," she commanded. "Breathe and feel."
He felt. God, he felt everything.
Her full breasts pressed against him, her dark skin slick with sweat, her voice chanting words he didn't understand but that seemed to vibrate through his entire being.
"Yes... there... stay there..."
She came with a sound like singing, her whole body undulating, her walls pulsing around him. But she didn't stop.
"Your turn," she breathed. "Let go of everything."
She rode him through his release, her body pulling every drop of tension from his. When he finally came, it was explosive—days of stress and months of loneliness pouring out of him in waves.
He might have blacked out. When he opened his eyes, she was smiling down at him.
"Better, yes?"
They lay on the yoga mats, her head on his chest, her curves pressed against him.
"So," Derek said eventually, "is this part of the standard package?"
Fatou laughed, rich and warm. "Only for special students. The ones who need extra attention."
"How do you know who needs it?"
"I see it. The hunger. The loneliness." She traced patterns on his skin. "You needed to be touched. Really touched. Not just physically."
"And you?"
"I needed to touch someone worth touching." She kissed him softly. "Same time next week?"
His Bow bliss had transformed him. And Derek would never skip a yoga session again.