Jenny and Alex find ways to incentivize each other.
This chapter is mostly prelude, with a little teasing play. The entire beginning of the series is a slow buildup.
Read and enjoy.
======================
“What kind of incentive are you talking about?” my sister-in-law Jenny asked me, suddenly intrigued.
“I’d like to tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” I answered with a grin, sipping on my half-full mug of Guinness.
“Come on! I’m desperate for some kind of motivation to get me off this plateau,” she pleaded. “If it worked that well for you…”
“Oh, it wouldn’t work for you anyway.”
“And why not?”
“Remember, I was a 20 year old male.”
“So I’m a 27 year old female, and…?”
“For all men, there is one ultimate incentive, and at 20 years old, it’s more incentivizing than ever.”
“What the hell are you talking about,” she said, frustrated. “Can’t you just tell me?”
I relented. “S-E-X. Of course. I’d known that girl, Donna, for about 3 months but we’d never even dated. Just worked out together occasionally in the gym. When she told me that if I could lift that weight that had me stymied, she’d give me a, quote, ‘weekend-to-remember’, I went nuts working out for the next three weeks, and she teased me constantly. But in the end, it was just the motivation I needed, and she was as good as her word. Better.”
“You are so full of shit. You expect me to believe that all a guy needs is a little T-and-A, and he can work miracles.” She laughed. Her speech was a tad slurred, owing in part to the empty pitcher of Mud slides still sitting on the kitchen counter.
“Behind every great man…” I reminded her.
“Right.”
“I’m not kidding. I wish I could get that kind of incentive now.”
“I’m sure Holly would give you whatever you want,” she answered.
“It’s not the same. God, I wish it were. But I know I can get that anyway, so why would I bust my ass over it?” Maybe it was too much of the Guinness, or the late hour, but I was suddenly going beyond where I’d intended.
She looked at me for a while, sipping her chocolate colored frozen drink. She appeared to be studying me, wondering just how much of what I was saying meant anything.
“Fine,” she finally announced. “So men want sex. What do women want?”
“You’re the woman, you tell me.”
“You’ve got it all figured out. If I knew, don’t you think I’d be doing something about it?” she snapped.
“Ok. What do women want? Stability, attention, independence, financial security, beauty, health, romance, affection, mystery, status, bragging rights, sex.” I rattled off. “Go ahead stop me anytime.”
“C’mon. You know what I mean. How would you motivate me?” She asked intensely, leaning towards me, looking very serious.
She had turned toward me, her leg folded under herself, half ‘indian-style’, on the couch. Her other leg’s knee was wrapped over her ankle, her foot waving in the air the more agitated she got. Her small black dress was riding high on her hips, exposing a lot more of her tiny panties than she would normally allow. She had been half-drunk when she’d gotten home from the wine-tasting, and the frozen drinks and animated conversation were driving all thoughts of decorum out of her mind.
“Well let’s see. You’d like success in your personal training business. You love the beach. You love to dress nice. Your car needs help desperately. You need more clients for your training. There are so many ways.”
“So get specific.”
“Ok. Here are some incentives. One, a fixed air-conditioner and complete tune-up for your car. Two, a $250 gift certificate to Lord and Taylor. Three, a Master Fitness Certification course at the Cooper. Four, 2 new Clients, putting you over 40 hours a week. Five, a weekend getaway to the beach.”
She stared at me, dumb struck. “Ok, now who do I have to kill?”
I laughed.
“No really. So it’s obvious I’d love all that stuff. But how am I going to get any of that done. I can’t even really cover my bills yet, and I’m still paying off the IRS from last year.” She insisted.
“Ok, how about this? You know I want to lose about 25 lbs and get cut-up. For each 5 lbs I lose, you get an incentive. When I’m under 10% body-fat again, you get the ‘grand prize’.”
“Now you’re talking nonsense,” she answered. “Why should I get rewarded for you losing weight.”
“You’re the personal trainer. Help me.”
“But you already know what you need to do.”
“So, motivate me.” I told her, looking straight into her eyes. I couldn’t believe I was saying this. I let my eyes wander down her hard young body. Her nipples stood out as little bumps on the smallish mounds pushing forward within her tight stretch top. Her narrow waist had her skirt bunched around it, and her legs were spread wide enough that I had a pretty clear view of her red-trimmed, narrow black thong. Her skin still had that smoothness of youth and she was deeply tanned.
Her eyes suddenly opened just a hair more, and she became aware of the position she was sitting in, bringing her leg up on the couch and her knees together. She looked away from me, searching for her drink. She had finally figured it out.
She held her glass, trying to drain any last bit of drink out of it, then put it down and turned to me again. I could almost see her gathering her thoughts.
“Are you serious?” She said softly. All joking aside.
“I can be. We can go in and weigh me right now. If I lose 5 lbs, I will fix the air-conditioner in your Mazda, and give it a tune-up and oil-change.” I leaned towards her a little, letting her know I was totally serious.
“And what do I have to do?” She asked.
“Nothing. If I lose 5 lbs, you get it.” I told her. “I’ll get on the scale now.” I got up and headed for my bedroom. She followed behind.
“I’m going to strip down to my underwear, to be fair. That won’t bother you will it?” I asked her, not waiting for an answer but already pulling off my shirt.
“No. I guess not.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, removed my shoes and socks, and pulled my jeans off. I was wearing Joe Boxer boxers, and checked to make sure my semi-hard cock wasn’t falling out. I looked up and Jen was making a half-hearted attempt to appear interested in the books at my bedside.
I walked to the digital scale, and kicked the front button on. “Two-Twenty-Three.” I announced. “I’d really liked to get down under 200, but for now, the 5 pound goal is 218.”
Walking back to the bedroom, I pulled my shirt back on, and walked back out through the living room to the fridge where I pulled out another Guinness. Even in a can, it was better than that other slop. When I got back to the living room she was seated on the couch again. I sat down nearby. Very nearby.
“Good Luck!” I told her, toasting her with my beer.
“How are you going to lose 5 pounds drinking all that beer just before you go to bed?” She asked me, almost shrilly.
“Good question. I guess I won’t.” I laughed.
“You need to get rid of that beer and get back on your diet. And you need to hit the weights more than once a week. And you need some cardio.” She told me vehemently.
“I know, but I’ve had a tough time staying on any diet for more that a week or two in the last year – that’s why I’ve put on almost 20 pounds.”
She thought about it. “If you diet and exercise, I promise I’ll do the dishes everyday, and take out the garbage,” she offered out of the blue.
I smiled, chuckled, and took a sip from my frosty mug. Smooth.
“What if I woke you up each morning, and I gave you a personal training session using your weights, and your elliptical machine?”
“That would help.” I told her.
“Would you diet?”
“I will, but I swear, I’m so weak-willed, it’s hard for me to stay on any diet. Sometimes I get so tired of dieting and cardio.”
“How about…” She hesitated, licking her lucious lips, “how about, if you lose 5 pounds, I’ll show you these?” She glanced down at her breasts, whose nipples seemed unusually perky.