Grays Goddess
"Gym owner Adanna's busiest client is a thick Botswanan barrister named Kefilwe who comes for fitness but stays for very personal training sessions after hours."
Kefilwe trained like she argued cases—intensely, thoroughly, leaving nothing unconsidered.
Adanna found herself watching. The way those thick thighs powered through squats. The glow of sweat on mahogany skin. The determined focus that promised interesting things.
"You're staring, trainer."
"Just checking your form."
"My form is excellent. Check something else."
The personal training sessions ran later each week.
Spotting became touching. Encouragement became flirtation.
"You're very hands-on," Kefilwe observed during bench presses.
"Just making sure you're safe."
"I feel very safe with you." She set down the weights and sat up. "But I don't want to be safe tonight."
The gym closed at ten.
By ten-fifteen, they were on the yoga mats.
Kefilwe argued her case with her body—thick curves pressing against Adanna, hands presenting evidence of desire.
"I've wanted this for weeks," Kefilwe admitted.
"I could get sued."
"I'm a barrister. I'd represent you." A kiss. "Now stop talking and train me properly."
Adanna trained her very thoroughly.
On the mats. Against the weight rack. In the shower where Kefilwe's moans echoed off tiles.
"Your cardio is impressive," Adanna panted.
"Stamina is everything in court. And in bed."
"Show me more of that stamina."
"Motion granted."
Their sessions became legendary.
Kefilwe's fitness improved dramatically. So did her stress levels.
"Best trainer in Grays," she told colleagues.
They didn't know the half of it.
"Is this sustainable?" Adanna asked one night.
"I've thought about that." Kefilwe pulled her close. "I'd like to make it official. No more client-trainer pretense. Just us."
"Dating your lawyer is complicated."
"I'm not your lawyer. I'm just a woman who's fallen for her gym owner." She smiled. "And I always win my cases."
Grays had never seen a more dedicated fitness partnership.
Or a more satisfied barrister.