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Her Latin American look is hotter than J. She strips in a local gentleman’s club that is rather popular among men in neighboring states. Let me break it down for you: Lee and his wife are both strippers. I know he’s unavailable, for a relationship anyway. When he smiles, damn, when he smiles, when his lips slightly move to dance, I feel sweat driblets cascade down my legs and create puddles of lust-induced hope all around me. I feel alive, energetic-yet when he steps to me, I’m like a kid running downstairs on Christmas morning only to find the tree is bare. Composure is at a halt, focus is nilch, my surroundings are a blur. The word HOT doesn’t begin to describe how Lee’s presence grabs me, though. I was born during the summer, and I’m hot like the month. You’re wondering who he is, huh? He is Lee, the man I’ve had a crush on for over three months now.
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He usually strolls through the door around 6:10-five minutes to change out of his work clothes, another five to get to the gym. There’s nothing better than sweat dripping off my brow, headphones blaring techno music, and wet shorts riding up my ass. Weight lifting is good when I’m looking to have the boys ogle me, biking is good when I need to get my legs more defined, but running helps me burn off the energy I’ve built up throughout my day. Running is the thing I enjoy most when working out. I’ve been running on the treadmill for about thirty-five minutes, having arrived here from school, grad school that is. It’s nearly 6:00 p.m., six hours before my thirtieth birthday.