Clapham Craving
"Yoga instructor Adaugo's exclusive Clapham studio caters to wealthy women—but it's the thick Nigerian investment banker who attends her Sunday class that makes her break her professional code."
Sunday morning yoga was Adaugo's favorite class.
Mostly because Nnenna attended.
The investment banker was thick in all the right ways—curves that tested her Lululemon, breasts that made downward dog a spectacle, thighs that Adaugo dreamed about late at night.
"Breathe into the stretch," Adaugo instructed, walking among her students. She paused behind Nnenna. "You're holding tension here."
Her hands found Nnenna's hips. Professional. Totally professional.
Nnenna pressed back into the touch.
"Stay after class?" Adaugo asked.
"Is something wrong with my form?"
"Something's very right with your form. That's the problem."
Nnenna smiled. "Then show me what to fix."
The studio emptied. Nnenna stood on her mat, watching Adaugo lock the door.
"This isn't professional," Adaugo admitted.
"I didn't come for professional." Nnenna approached her. "I came because you look at me like you want to eat me alive."
"I do."
"Then stop denying yourself."
Adaugo pushed Nnenna down onto the mat and straddled her thick thighs.
"I've been watching you for months," she confessed. "The way you move. The way you sweat. The sounds you make when you stretch."
"What sounds?"
"Little moans. Like you're already being pleasured."
She kissed down Nnenna's neck. "I want to hear what you sound like when you actually are."
What followed was the most flexible Nnenna had ever been.
Positions she didn't know were possible. Stretches that ended in orgasms. Adaugo's tongue finding places no yoga class had ever prepared her for.
"Oh God—Adaugo—right there—"
"Hold the pose. Don't move. Good girl."
They showered together in the studio's private bathroom.
"Same time next Sunday?" Nnenna asked, water running over her curves.
"Every Sunday." Adaugo pressed her against the tiles. "And maybe some private sessions during the week."
"For my flexibility?"
"For everything."
Clapham's most exclusive yoga studio became even more exclusive.
And the Sunday class waiting list grew suspiciously long.