Rowan woke up early and started exercising. Without magic, progress was slow, but he knew that once he regained even a fraction of his old abilities, things would speed up. Still, he pushed through.
Last night, he had spent hours researching personal training and workout techniques. Most of it wasn't that different from his past life. Before anyone in his old world began practicing magic, they endured grueling physical training, some beneficial, some just painful. He understood how the body worked, how to push it, how to strengthen it.
'Seems being a personal trainer isn't so bad after all.'
He stopped stretching, his body slick with sweat. Working with this untrained, easily fatigued body was frustrating. It lacked the natural agility and resilience he'd once taken for granted.
He'd always believed that pleasing a woman depended more on motion than size. But his current equipment was so lacking that even perfect technique wouldn't make much difference.
Just as he was about to head for the shower, there was a knock at the door.
He opened it to find Ms. Smith standing there in loose pajamas, her blonde hair messy and unbrushed. She cleared her throat softly.
"Hey, morning."
"Morning," he replied.
"I wanted to tell you… you can come over now. I'm just going to wash up. Is that fine?"
Rowan nodded. "Of course. I'll clean up fast."
"Okay. The door's unlocked, so just walk in and wait for me in the living room," she said before turning and heading back to her apartment.
After she left, a faint smile touched Rowan's lips. He went to shower, his mind already working ahead.
'It's not about Ms. Smith herself… well, it is, but not only that. It's about the money.'
He hoped she would pay him today, or at least give him an advance. Combined with the little he had left, it might be enough to find a prostitute. That was the fastest way to jumpstart his energy absorption.
He finished washing, dressed in loose, comfortable clothes that hid his soft middle, and headed next door.
He knocked.
Kno—
His knock unintentionally pushed the door open.
'Oh yeah, she said I can enter.'
He walked in and was instantly hit with a scent, a soft, floral fragrance mixed with something clean and feminine. It was the same scent he'd noticed on her before.
Looking around, he saw her apartment wasn't much different from his in layout, but it was clearly better kept. Everything was tidy, decorated with warm colors, and felt lived-in but cared for. His own place, by contrast, was a mess.
In the living room, the sofa had been pushed back to clear a space.
'So we're working out here.'
His eyes caught a framed photo on a side table, Ms. Smith with a young boy and a man. The boy looked a lot like the man. Rowan didn't know much about her situation, only that she'd moved in about two years ago with her son. He'd never seen that man here, in fact, he'd never seen any man here at all.
He shook his head. Just then, a door opened. He turned and saw Ms. Smith step out of the bathroom.
She was fresh from the shower, her hair damp and clinging to her neck and shoulders. A single towel was wrapped snugly around her body, hugging her curves. It was just long enough to cover what needed covering, but it left little to the imagination, her shoulders were bare, skin flushed and dewy, and the towel dipped low in front, hinting at the swell of her breasts. Water droplets traced paths down her collarbone.
She saw him and a flicker of surprise crossed her face, followed by a blush that warmed her cheeks. It seemed she'd forgotten she'd told him to come in and wait.
"Oh! Rowan—" she stuttered, clutching the towel a little tighter. "I—I'll be right back. Just gonna change."
Rowan's mind went wild for a moment as he watched her. If his equipment had been any more substantial, the pants he was wearing would have clearly shown a tent. Somehow, it was better that it wasn't the case at the moment.
It didn't take long for her to come back out. She had changed into tight-fitting workout pants that hugged her hips and accentuated the curve of her rear perfectly, not overly tight or vulgar, but leaving little to the imagination. She wore a sports bra that supported her chest without being overly revealing, and had tied her hair up into a loose, slightly messy bun.
She smiled playfully and struck a little pose. "So, how does it look, coach?"
Rowan kept his expression professional, though his eyes lingered for a split second longer than necessary. "Great," he said with a nod. "Those are perfect for working out."
"Alright," Rowan began, slipping into the role of trainer more naturally than he'd expected. "Before we do any movements, I want to get a sense of your current mobility and strength. Have you worked out much before, or is this relatively new?"
Ms. Smith, she had introduced herself earlier as Lena, shook her head slightly. "Not really. I used to walk a lot, but since moving here, between work and my son… well, it's been mostly just daily chores."
Rowan nodded. "That's fine. We'll start slow and focus on form first. Later, we can build intensity."
He guided her through a series of simple dynamic stretches, observing her movements closely. Lena was surprisingly flexible, but her core was weak, her balance unsteady. Rowan stood nearby, ready to support her if she wobbled, which happened more than once.
"Good," he encouraged as she held a lunge position, slightly trembling. "Focus on your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth."
As she obeyed, Rowan couldn't help but notice how the fabric of her workout pants stretched across her thighs and hips. Her sports bra held everything securely in place, but each time she moved, it was a subtle reminder of the body underneath.
Lena, for her part, seemed acutely aware of his presence. Whenever he adjusted her posture lightly, a hand on her lower back to correct her alignment, or guiding her shoulder gently, her breath would hitch slightly, and she'd avoid making eye contact for a moment afterward. She wasn't uncomfortable, exactly, more… flustered.
"You're doing well," he said after they completed a set of bodyweight squats. "How do you feel?"
"A little shaky," she admitted with a breathless laugh, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow. "But good. Like I'm actually doing something."
"That's the goal."
They moved on to light resistance exercises, using a couple of small dumbbells she'd bought. Lena struggled more here, her arms weren't used to the strain. Rowan stood close, watching her form.
"Elbows in," he reminded softly, reaching out to gently tap her forearm. The contact was brief, professional, but he felt her skin warm under his touch. She nodded quickly, biting her lip in concentration.
Under the surface, though, Rowan's mind was elsewhere. Her flushed cheeks, the slight tremble in her limbs, the way she seemed so responsive to his guidance… It stirred something in him. She was eager to please, eager to improve, and seemingly receptive to his presence.
'If I play this right,' he thought, 'she might be more than just a client.'
But for now, he kept it professional. He smiled warmly. "Let's finish up with some cool-down stretches. You've earned it."
Lena smiled back, tired but clearly pleased, and perhaps a little more aware of him than when they'd started.