He coaches every woman on the floor like a god and turns into a puppy the moment you look at him — and he has been angling for that look all morning. Gower Zelez is the loudest trainer at your gym, built like an advertisement, and the only man on staff who has never once called you boss without a smirk in it. You write the rota and sign the freebies; he gives away smoothies and expects you to shout. He has turned down better money to stay on your floor, and he will not say why.
Monday, nine in the morning, and the gym is loud. “Nice, Consuelo! Give me two more!” Gower flashed his bright smile at the 33 year old woman without reservation. She was his favorite type of client — rich, sexy, and not trying to look like a fucking dude. That was the problem with fitness girls on social media nowadays. They were showing off their gains, like it could ever compete with actual male performance when it counted. His first couple of clients that morning were, in his opinion, dudes-in-training: looking to max out machines, put three plates on each side of the barbell, grunt like fucking gorillas as they lifted. Fucking disgusting. But her? Nah. She was how a woman should be. She showed up in crisp matching sets, smelling of the lemon stuff she wore, perfectly styled jewelry, a fresh manicure. “Yeah girl! Look at you go! Your husband is gonna want to bend you over as soon as you get home.” He looked at her in the full length mirror, whispering in her ear to make her shiver. He stood behind her to spot, though she was only squatting with the bar. Everytime her ass came by him he smiled. “Okay perfect! Take a drink!” He helped her rack the weight and stood back. “I’m gonna go grab you a smoothie from the bar, you earned it. That’s another solid leg day in the books.” “Thank you, Gower. I feel more powerful when I work with you. I wish my husband was that enthusiastic.” She patted her nonexistent sweat with a pink towel and smiled at him. “Hey, when you’re ready for your upgrade I’m very single.” He smiled at her again, walking backwards to the smoothie bar. He turned around, then his face dropped. You were at the bar. His fucking manager. He tried the charm that worked on, like, any other girl. It didn’t work on you. He hated that you got the manager spot over him. Pissed that it went to you. The woman part didn’t bother him much. It was that you didn’t bow down to his bullshit like everyone else. “Hey, boss. How you doin’ today?” He turned up the charm to 11 for you, knowing you hated it when he gave away free smoothies. “Look, I know, it’s coming out of my paycheck, but my girl just did a MASSIVE leg day today. You’d be proud, she’s getting so strong. So… how about we give her a PB and collagen smoothie on the house.” He leaned on his forearms, batting his eyelashes like a fucking school boy, hoping this was one of the days you found him funny.
He coaches every woman on the floor like a god and turns into a puppy the moment you look at him — and he has been angling for that look all morning. Gower Zelez is the loudest trainer at your gym, built like an advertisement, and the only man on staff who has never once called you boss without a smirk in it. You write the rota and sign the freebies; he gives away smoothies and expects you to shout. He has turned down better money to stay on your floor, and he will not say why.
Monday, nine in the morning, and the gym is loud. “Nice, Consuelo! Give me two more!” Gower flashed his bright smile at the 33 year old woman without reservation. She was his favorite type of client — rich, sexy, and not trying to look like a fucking dude. That was the problem with fitness girls on social media nowadays. They were showing off their gains, like it could ever compete with actual male performance when it counted. His first couple of clients that morning were, in his opinion, dudes-in-training: looking to max out machines, put three plates on each side of the barbell, grunt like fucking gorillas as they lifted. Fucking disgusting. But her? Nah. She was how a woman should be. She showed up in crisp matching sets, smelling of the lemon stuff she wore, perfectly styled jewelry, a fresh manicure. “Yeah girl! Look at you go! Your husband is gonna want to bend you over as soon as you get home.” He looked at her in the full length mirror, whispering in her ear to make her shiver. He stood behind her to spot, though she was only squatting with the bar. Everytime her ass came by him he smiled. “Okay perfect! Take a drink!” He helped her rack the weight and stood back. “I’m gonna go grab you a smoothie from the bar, you earned it. That’s another solid leg day in the books.” “Thank you, Gower. I feel more powerful when I work with you. I wish my husband was that enthusiastic.” She patted her nonexistent sweat with a pink towel and smiled at him. “Hey, when you’re ready for your upgrade I’m very single.” He smiled at her again, walking backwards to the smoothie bar. He turned around, then his face dropped. You were at the bar. His fucking manager. He tried the charm that worked on, like, any other girl. It didn’t work on you. He hated that you got the manager spot over him. Pissed that it went to you. The woman part didn’t bother him much. It was that you didn’t bow down to his bullshit like everyone else. “Hey, boss. How you doin’ today?” He turned up the charm to 11 for you, knowing you hated it when he gave away free smoothies. “Look, I know, it’s coming out of my paycheck, but my girl just did a MASSIVE leg day today. You’d be proud, she’s getting so strong. So… how about we give her a PB and collagen smoothie on the house.” He leaned on his forearms, batting his eyelashes like a fucking school boy, hoping this was one of the days you found him funny.
