The Marathon

Tori startled awake for the third time in a week. The shock from her recurring nightmare lingered, as she tried to regain her composure. In the dream, she was desperately reaching for a hand hanging on for dear life from a nondescript ledge. As in the other dreams, the hand slipped from her grasp. Just as it faded from view the image was of a young version of herself falling out of sight. A not subtle metaphor for her life, she thought.

“My life is great, I am incredibly fortunate!” she said to herself, trying to will away the image of her youth literally slipping from her grasp.

She cherished her family, truly. But no amount of placating or positive spin could change how difficult it felt for her as an over-worked mom of two girls (eight-year-old Ashley and ten-year-old Charlotte), with more activities in a week than there were days in a month.

Her husband of thirteen years, Paul, carried far more of the load than any husband she knew. She was the envy of all her married friends and was all too aware that if not for Paul, her life would completely unravel. He was her reliable, trusty rock. Imagining even their easiest day without her unsinkable buoy made her shudder. Her work as managing partner in an ambitious, growing consulting firm placed demands on her that stretched well into most evenings, frequently losing a weekend a month to some unavoidable crisis. Her travel had increased from quarterly to monthly as well. Yet affable, unflappable Paul was always there, enthusiastically solo-parenting at the drop of the hat in her absence.

Despite his best efforts, even vacations that he planned from door to door never quite took the edge off for Tori. Even when all she had to do was just show up, things wouldn’t reset for her. Not even five-star luxuriating could fully cleanse the baggage she carried into the trips. She returned feeling overwhelmed by imaginary crises building at work in her absence.

“I swear, Tori, you’re the only person I know who needs a vacation from vacation,” her closest friend Rena said when Tori complained once after returning from the Bahamas. “If you tell me one more time how stressed you are after you go on a dream trip, I will literally murder you. I know, deep down, you’re not an ungrateful bitch, but you can certainly act like one.”

Tori understood and resolved again to tone herself down and show more appreciation for all that she had going in life: two adorably sweet and precocious girls, a doting and handsome husband, a challenging and well-paid job, and an honest, albeit pain in ass, best friend.

Despite all of the positive affirmation, Tori still felt she couldn’t ignore her recurring nightmare, feeling like her vitality was literally slipping out of her grasp. She couldn’t pep talk away the fact that she had let herself go for years. Paul never said so, as he showed the same interest in her as ever.

Tori knew she was a long, long way from her soccer playing days in college or the marathon running of her late twenties. Her gym membership had gone unused for more than a year, and eating well felt impossible with her demanding schedule. If not for Paul’s healthy habits and cooking, she felt like she’d be a whale.

There was the lack of attention as well, and it was glaring. Paul was reliably there to boost her ego when she needed it and he doted on her in every way. But even his unwavering affection and adoration couldn’t replace what was missing: frequent attention from men. Sure, the odd leering look would come her way, but it was not even in the same ball park as it once was.

So many men (and some women) used to remind her of her appeal in not-so-subtle ways. It used to be such a pervasive part of her life that its absence now felt glaring. Despite adopting a stand-offish persona and a conservative fashion style to limit the extreme advances, she still received suitors of all kinds for most of her adult life. She didn’t miss the lecherous, uncouth advances or cat calls. Nonetheless, she did notice it was absent. Although conflicted, she missed the ego boost.

The need for an intervention of health in her life was coming to a head. She had to take her health back, and if her appearance would rebound, then all the better. Approaching forty years old, she thought, a little attention seeking is normal and healthy.

“Rena, I need you to help me get back into shape,” she texted her best friend one late night.

“When did you send me this text?” replied Rena the next morning. “You need to start sleeping better. Start with that. You can’t get in shape if you don’t sleep.”

“Sorry,” replied Tori. “I know! I worked late, had fast food for dinner (ugh) and realized after I got home after eleven that I can’t continue this unhealthy life. Can we train for a marathon again?”

“YES!” replied Rena. “But only if you take it seriously!”

Three days later, they began nine months of training for the marathon. The first few weeks were stop and go. Tori knew she was out of shape, but was surprised by her appalling lack of conditioning. Rena was floundering as well. After a particularly lackluster effort to run just three miles, where each of them walked more than they ran, they decided outside help was needed.

Sitting in Tori’s kitchen contemplating their setback, Rena popped up, startling Tori, “That’s it. I’m not having this crap. We can’t do this on our own. We need professional help. Now!”

Rena whipped out her phone and searched for running coaches, and found a glut of results nearby. “OK, there are almost too many options,” she said, chuckling. “Given our sad state, I’m not sure we need to be picky. Any with good recommendations within a half-hour should do fine.”

Their trainer had Rena and Tori feeling like world-beaters in short order. They focused on whole-body improvement, not just road sessions. The trainer had them blasting their cores and cross-training more than they would have ever considered on their own. She was a diet guru as well, helping them manage intermittent fasting without losing energy or relapsing.

Eight grueling months later, the results were undeniable. Both Rena and Tori were well past their lap and timing goals. The combination of whole-body fitness and diet had them both feeling like much younger versions of themselves. Tori had dropped twenty-five pounds, her lowest weight since well before her first child. She felt more developed and fit than even her college soccer days. She was also in need of a whole new wardrobe, having dropped two sizes and five inches around her waist.

She asked Paul what he thought about her new abs one day as she stood in front of the mirror.

“I’m so impressed with you, gorgeous!” he said. “I’m proud of you, and pleased that you feel so good!”

“But can I be totally honest sweetheart?” he asked. Tori became concerned.

“I’m starting to feel a bit self-conscious around you now,” he continued. “In some ways, I miss the old you. I know you’re the same wonderful, amazing woman, but I can’t help but think that you now look at my dad-bod and you’ll feel it’s not good enough anymore.”

“I love your dad-bod!” she answered emphatically as she rubbed his slight paunch. Catching herself, Tori pulled back her hands, hoping to soothe the wounded look from her husband, “You are my sexy man, Paul. You’re perfect for me.”

——————

With two weeks to go before the marathon, Tori felt the onset of shin splints. Rena had them a few years back and warned Tori that they could be debilitating. She booked an orthopedist an appointment immediately. The doctor advised her to stop training and rest for a minimum of ten days, rotating rest-ice-compression-elevation several hours a day. He warned her against running the marathon, but Tori could not be deterred. She hadn’t trained every-damn-day for nearly nine months only to give up at the very end and let herself and Rena down.

It was not easy to juggle her daily routine and keep her legs inclined and iced up that much, but she managed it, in no small part thanks to Paul, always supportive and helpful. He did all the driving, including shuttling Tori for work and errands. He cooked and cleaned up and doted on her in such a way that she nearly teared up each time he brought her ice or a healthy snack. She was amazed at how endlessly caring and wonderful he could be with her. She found him so handsome with his touch of gray at the temples and the playful twinkle in his golden-brown eyes. Tori could hardly believe her luck with this man.

As the race approached, Tori was feeling cautiously optimistic. She thought the shin splints might have been just the course correction she needed, helping her rest and avoid over-training right before the race. Even with slight soreness in her shins, she felt very good about herself.

Tori and Rena went shopping a few days before the race for coordinating outfits. They wanted to commemorate the event properly, and a bit of retail indulgence was their jam.

At the trendy fitness-clothing store, they both tried on a variety of outfits. They agreed on a traditional running combo of a loose-fitting tank and relaxed running shorts in coordinating teal and black. It was practical and would be very comfortable for the race. However, they didn’t go out only looking for practical clothes. They had fun picking out a few outfits for each other and modeling them. The store carried everything from jackets to swimsuits. They spent close to an hour shopping, trying on a dozen outfits each.

As Tori emerged from the dressing room in a two-piece swimsuit Rena had picked out, her friend was a bit stunned that conservative Tori would even try on the low-rise, hipster bikini with open sides.

“Damn Tori,” she said as she ogled her friend. “If I were bi, I’d be coming on to you so hard right now. We need to get you on insta, girl. You’re a stunner. I never noticed it before, but with your weight loss, you look so much like Rachel McAdams.”

“Who’s she?” Tori asked, feeling uncomfortable, but a bit flattered by the attention.

“Seriously, you don’t know Rachel McAdams?” remarked Rena. “I swear you are so clueless. You know her, I know you know her. ”

“Ugh. Look, here, look at her and then look at you in the mirror and tell me you don’t see it,” said Rena as she searched a picture on her phone and held it up in Tori’s face, faux aggressively.

“Oh, her,” chuckled Tori, blushing slightly. “She’s kind of my favorite, actually. I loved her in The Notebook. OK, I admit it, I see some resemblance. But my boobs are bigger.” They both laughed as Tori eyed herself in the mirror, jiggling her breasts playfully.

“Don’t look now,” Rena whispered. “But the hunky clerk guy has been eyeing you. He’s seriously staring.”

Tori reflexively beamed with pride in herself, having worked herself back into top shape. She took a furtive glance toward the counter and was startled to see a twenty-something, solidly-built hunk openly ogling her. Tori blinked rapidly as she fought to look away from his large shoulders, built chest, and sculpted arms bulging out of his tight shirt.

Out of the side of her mouth, she quietly said to Rena, “He’s really staring at me. It would be kind of creepy if he wasn’t so hot.”

Embarrassed but excited, she quickly retreated to the dressing room and thought about how long it had been since she received such overt sexual attention. She began to take off the swimsuit, looking at herself in the mirror.

With a playful thought about undressing so close to the hot guy, she slowly undid the top, then stood admiring her upper body in the mirror. She flexed her stomach a bit, turned to the side slightly, and raised her heel up with her knee angled. She then started to work the hipster-cut bottoms down over her hips. Feeling randy, she peeled them down to her knees, then bent at the waist. She slid the bottoms all the way to the floor, then spread her feet shoulder length apart and looked at herself bent over in the mirrors. She was incredibly turned on, she had to admit.

Reflexively, she reached for her phone. She stood up, posed seductively again with her hand on her hip, her heel raised. She flexed showing her ab muscles and taught quads. The outline of her muscular round ass was well framed as she snapped a pic of herself in profile that reflected back in multiple angles in the mirrors. She felt an incredible rush of excitement in the fitting room. For a brief moment her mind wandered back to check-out guy as she caressed her breast, then slid her hand down toward her small patch of bronze hair. She looked at herself and proudly thought that Rachel McAdams would wish she had these muscles and curves.

She was instantly brought back to reality, as her phone pinged. It was probably a text from Rena, wondering why she was taking so long. She looked at the phone and saw a unfamiliar notification on the lock screen. It was a new phone, her first iPhone, a recent gift from Paul.

The notification said, “Airdrop: Received item from CalBax95.” She had heard of Airdrop before but never used it. Despite the unfamiliar name, she assumed it was from Rena, and automatically clicked to accept the item as she unlocked her phone.

Tori’s jaw dropped as she let out a startled gasp. It most certainly was not from Rena. Instead, she was staring slack-jawed at a pic of an enormous, erect dick. Stunned, she struggled to get a handle on her emotions. She was definitely a bit offended, somewhat confused, but also seriously curious and surprisingly aroused.

A hand was holding the giant cock next to a can of Red Bull, which it dwarfed. It was slightly wider than the can and a few inches longer. There was a slight bend to the thick pale shaft, and the smooth pink head bulged, tapered to a glistening peak.

She couldn’t move or think straight as she just held the phone looking at the photo of the biggest dick she had ever seen. Whoever sent the photo either had a huge cock or thought she wanted a photo of one. She checked the message below the photo, which said, “Seeing you in that bikini did this to me!”

A few beats longer and she inhaled a startled breath. She realized the pic was from the check-out hunk, just twenty feet away through a flimsy louvered door, behind which she had taken her first naked selfie. She was so conflicted, she didn’t know what to do next. On the one hand, she basically had just been sexually harassed. On the other hand, she was incredibly flattered and aroused, as excited as she could remember in years.

Taking a few deep breaths, and slowing her heart rate, she resolved to compose herself and get out without causing a scene. She quickly put her clothes back on, picked up the practical, relatively conservative top and running shorts, then popped out of the dressing room, leaving the swimsuit behind.

Rena was waiting for her and said a little too loudly, “Took you a while. What were you doing in there? Admiring yourself in the mirror?”

“Be quiet!” Tori quietly hissed. “He can hear you.”

“Oh, I know!” said Rena.

Tori stared daggers at her friend, then motioned with a nod for them to move out of sight of the counter.

“Look, Rena. I’m not in the mood for any games. Can we just pay and go please?” she pleaded.

Rena acquiesced with a conciliatory smile and they walked up to the counter, Tori nervously trailing her friend.

Just as they reached the counter, Rena stopped abruptly and started to pat herself down, then announced, “Oh shit! I left my underwear in the changing room. Tori, honey, please buy my stuff for me while I go get my panties!”

Tori realized that Rena had set her up.

“Happens every day,” check-out guy said as he coyly tucked a strand of dark hair over his ear, leering at Tori with a sidelong glance.

“I’m sure it does,” she replied and wondered what she even meant by it.

As Tori placed their clothes on the counter, he asked, “Aren’t you buying the suit?”

“No thanks, this is all we need,” she replied in the most monotone, unflinching voice she could manage.

“Well, that’s a shame because you looked really hot in it,” he said, dispensing with any doubt about who airdropped the dick pic.

Tori was starting to lose her cool and beginning to feel a lack of impulse control that she was worried might spill out in unintentional ways. She willed herself to just remain calm as she mechanically handed her card across the counter. The card cluttered onto the counter as she dropped it. She was looking down at the counter when she noticed the can of Red Bull just to the side of the register and heard herself let out a small gasp.

Check-out guy looked up at her, then down to the can, and back up with a furtive grin. He parted his lips slightly and bit the side of his lower lip, showing a crooked, confident smile.

She stood staring at him, noticing her lips drying, a flushing feeling in her face and across her shoulders and chest, pulsing into her abdomen and groin. She could hear her breathing and thought that surely he could as well.

An intense moment passed and Rena startled them both as she reappeared at the counter. She placed the swimsuit in question on the counter, and said, “You’re buying this too. No arguing, Tori.”

“That wonderful suit gets my manager discount,” said the check-out guy with his leering smile. He picked up Tori’s card off the counter and took another glance at the can. He deftly processed the ordered.

Tori was practically overcome with embarrassment, arousal, and confusion. She mumbled something incoherent and hurriedly signed for her purchase, clumsily accepting the bag from the clerk. She couldn’t get away fast enough as she turned to walk out, and Rena followed her with an amused look.

Tori briskly walked out of the store in silence, and waited a few doors down in front of a book shop. Her mind was racing, her pulse rapidly firing; she knew she must be beet-red from blushing.

As Rena approached, Tori tried to ignore her friend’s playful, teasing smile.

“OK, spill it!” Rena demanded, poking her friend in the ribs. “What was happening when I walked up to the counter?”

“Give it a rest, please Rena,” Tori said trying to deflect.

“Oh no! I’m not giving this a rest. Tell me why you look like you just walked out of a sauna. You are flushed and practically panting. Check-out guy had your motor running, were you flirting with him? What did he say that got you so hot and bothered?”

“Stop, Rena, please. Let’s just get going, please!”

“You said please twice. That’s one of your tells. What are you hiding? What happened?”

“Damn it! OK. It’s so awkward. I don’t know how to even say this. Here, just look,” Tori held out her phone to Rena, showing her the dick pic.

“Ho Damn!” Rena exclaimed. “That is huge! Fuck me sideways and poke out my kidney. Holy Fuck! Tori, where and when did you get this? Is it…Check-Out Guy? It is! He sent you this dick pic! OH. MY. GOD! That’s a verifiable monster cock! That is literally the biggest one I’ve ever seen.”

Tori nearly fainted as her embarrassment took on swooning levels. Rena noticed and held her friend’s elbow, escorting her to a nearby bench.

“I got it while I was in the changing room,” she said. “He airdropped it and I foolishly opened it. Then, right before you walked up, he caught me glancing at the can of Red Bull on the counter. Oh God, Rena. I couldn’t help it. I was blushing and it was obvious that I was looking at the can. He gave me a look back as he caught me and I dropped the card. I couldn’t help thinking that he had THAT his shorts just across the counter and he knew that I knew and…Oh God! I’m happily married! I have two kids! I’m not supposed to be looking at that kind of pic and flirting with check-out guys,” she said in a stream of consciousness.

“Well, screw that!” Rena countered. “You are one of the sexiest, prettiest women I’ve ever seen in person. You deserve to be a flirt every now and then. Admittedly, dick pics are usually super gross, but this is the exception to all rules. This is truly a dick pic worth admiring. So what? You saw a picture of a big cock and it got you excited. You should feel flattered and enjoy this. We are forty-fucking-years-old. You deserve this kind of thrill. Hell, I’m jealous! Send me that pic, now!” Rena laughed.