Winter's pursuit of female muscle triggers unprecedented growth. But she's caught in the crosshairs of a major tech acquisition with perplexing, mysterious and increasingly dangerous complications. Can an impossibly beautiful woman devote herself...
The weeks that followed knocked the wind out of Winter, wiping all fight and self-worth from her. Apparently, fabulous wealth could afford you the best lawyers, and lots of them. Meanwhile, far too late, Winter realized she hadn't asked any questions about her husband's recent fortune. Where was the money, in what account, with what jurisdiction? Without answers, and only the measly checking account with shared marital custody, she found it difficult to muster the energy, time and money to mount a defense.
What little she read of her soon to be x-husbands claims, it amounted to a barrage of complaints. According to Phil, Winter had no claim to his fortune. It had been the success of his labors while his wife was notably absent. "I was working, for you..." she wanted to scream. But worse were claims of sexual inadequacy and unavailability. Not relevant in a divorce proceedings, they seemed to be peppered throughout his claims purely for nefarious purposes.
The last attempt to right a sinking ship came at the courthouse. But words escaped her badly outmatched lawyer. An inexpensive lawyer that showed up late and disheveled. After not more than an hour, Winter walked down the courthouse steps with nothing but a negative balance in her checking account.
One piece of consolidation, their old studio apartment had 11 months left on its lease. She had a roof over her head, no furniture, but it was something. Sighing, fending off tears, she threw her bag into her now aged and beaten car and headed to her tiny apartment.
Two blocks from her home, stopped at a light, Winter glanced down the side street and saw the neon signs of the old warehouse gym that briefly served to motivate her towards healthy habits. When the light turned green she ignored the blaring horns and veered into the turn lane heading down the side street.
It was another dark, wet San Francisco evening and the faint flickering lights inside the gym hardly seemed inviting. But something about the raw strength and hardcore unapologetic vibe of the place beckoned her. Winter pushed open the squeaky worn doors and was met by the crashing and banging of heavy weights and shouts of encouragement. Hardly dressed for the gym, she was in awe of the view stepping into the gym and out of the cold damp night afforded her. Posters littered the walls with men and women exhibiting incredibly muscular physiques of various degrees. On the stretching mats, just beyond the entrance, an older woman in baggy sweatpants and a tight skimpy sports bra was coaching a young man through exercises. She put a strong arm under his back showing him how to hold his posture to isolate the lower abdominals. As she did so, she flexed her own midsection and it popped with definition. She must have been in her 50s yet her abs danced with the slightest inflection as she fingered and pointed to herself to help coach her student.
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A young man at the desk raised his head and gave her a friendly glance.
"Can I help you?" He asked.
Winter hesitated and almost turned to go before pausing. "Umh, do you have individual memberships?" She found herself asking.
