Perspiration on her body; sweat running from her brow, between her eyes, down the side of her nose… on the tip of it… dripping. Dropping.

Brine. Nature’s brew on her skin, upon her lips, down to her freckless chin, dropping. Dripping. Further. Down her neck, in, between the two Sheba’s mounds that formed her cleavage… and lower…

She was working her arms, her small biceps swollen – swelling and relaxing with the exertion; just like the muscles in her belly: her slim flat belly, with the tiny waist around it, bare and exposed, sweaty.

She was drenched in it, as were her slacks… or were they slacks? Because they weren’t – they were something else, smaller; much smaller; barely covering the whole of her hips. Those wide pretty things.

And the sweat still dripped, as she worked out in the gym, those thighs of hers mesmerizing as she cycled, captivating, intimidating, imprisoning, holding him ransom.

He caught the look on her face – the determined concentration in her eyes; wide with the curiosity of innocense.

He lost his footing and fell off the treadmill…