I followed Martina into the living room of her small basement flat.
“Take a seat,” she said. “Be with you in mo.”
She flung her gym bag in the corner and disappeared though a bead curtain into the next room, apparently the bedroom. I caught a glimpse of an unmade bed, clothes on the floor. The living room was no better: books, magazines and clothes lay about on every available surface. There was a tennis racket lying on a rug in front of the fireplace, and a line of socks and knickers drying on the radiator.
“Sorry the place is such a dump,” she said. “I’m a total slut when it comes to housework.”
“Not at all. I love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Ha! Sarky bastard!”
Through the bead curtain, I noticed a dark coloured garment suddenly flung onto the pile on the floor. Martina, hidden around the corner, was apparently getting changed. I peered intently at the strip of fabric she had discarded. Had the lovely Martina taken off her yoga pants? A mental image of her standing bare-legged in the corner of the room, while she browsed the wardrobe for something to wear, sprang into my mind, and a shiver of excitement ran through me.
“Where’s your lav?” I asked.
“On the right.”
The door to the other part of the flat was immediately next to the bedroom door, but as I made my way out, I resisted the urge to take a sideways glance. Nevertheless, my heart was beating with excitement.
The bathroom lay out the back of the flat, where a window opened into a small garden, and then the backs of the houses behind. The glass of the window was not frosted and there was only a thin pair of net curtains to pull across. Not much privacy, I thought, as I untied my shorts, and lowered my boxers to pee. Anyone in the upper floors behind would be able to see into the room where Martina got undressed every day, where she bathed and showered. But maybe that kind of thing didn’t bother girls like Martina.
There was a bustle of activity from the kitchen next door.
“I’m making coffee. How do you take it, Nick?”
“Black no sugar.”
“Alright. But be warned, I make really strong coffee alright?”
“That’s the way I like it,” I said. Emerging from the bathroom, I found Martina busying herself amid the chaos of the kitchen, and I leaned against the counter to watch her.
“It makes me really hyper,” she said, turning her wide smile and her shining brown eyes to me. “So if I start babbling on just tell me to shut up, okay? I’m a total maniac on coffee.”
Martina had changed. But to my delight, she had only exchanged one yoga outfit for another one. She was now wearing dark blue yoga pants with a darker stripe down the side that turned vivid blue at the knees, a colour that showed off her tanned calves to advantage. The full-length top had been exchanged for a dark blue sports bra.
“I like your new kit,” I said.
“Thank you,” she replied, with a smile in her voice. “I’m going to give you a yoga lesson.”
“But I’ve just had a yoga lesson.”
“Yes, you have,” she agreed, turning to look at me again. “But you really suck. Come on.”
She took two steaming mugs through to the living room while I followed, admiring the sight of her pert young bottom as she walked, and wondering if she was wearing any knickers under there.
I plopped down on the sofa while Martina took a seat on the thick rug opposite, and began clearing things out of the way.
I took a sip of the coffee. She hadn’t been kidding. It was really strong.
“Come here,” she said, patting the rug next to her.
“Come here, dumbo. You can’t do yoga on the sofa.”
I sat down opposite Martina on the rug, mirroring her cross-legged posture. “I was going to watch your lesson,” I explained, with a fake innocent expression.
She smiled, then looked serious, “Do you like watching me, Nick?”
My heart skipped a beat. “Yes, yes I do, Martina. Very much.”
“What do you think about when you watch me?”
“Uhh…” It was getting hard to concentrate. Martina’s sparkling eyes were watching my every movement and gesture. Her gaze flicked to my groin, and she made no attempt to disguise the glance.
“Do you like to think about me naked, Nick? Do you want me to get undressed for our lesson?”
“Maybe I’ll give you one Nick. How about that? You want my top off?”
As she said the words, she hooked a thumb under the corner of her sports bra, lifting it an inch and exposing the curve of her left breast.
“Or you want my bottoms?”
This time, she pinched the waistband of her yoga bottoms and pulled them down a couple of inches, exposing a pair of pale blue knickers.
To be continued…