Trained (Completed)

Chapter 7: Stood Up

Clinton sits on the workout bench, reflecting. His only client for the evening flaked. Decided not to show. Not sure if it's because of last night, or the fact that her mother set this up, and not Palmer. The mind is what motivates. When the mind is not motivated, neither is the body. Clinton can strut and grow angry, but he understands.

Insecurities can play hard at any person's heart and mind. Toying, orchestrating people to believe they are not good enough, pretty enough, smart enough. That person has to rise and tell their own mind to mind it's own business and fuck itself. Control. Control even the mind. It's easy to think bad things. About oneself and others. But it's a whole new challenge to only think good. Once up, no one can get them down.

Gloria did slide Palmer's number to Kline, but he doesn't want to press the issue. If she wants to come, she will. Fuck. The word come reminds Clinton of exactly that. Palmer coming. All over his cock. Gorgeous blue eyes that squeezed shut. He wanted to pry them open and force her gaze on him. To yank her hair back and kiss his way down her neck. Goddamn. He'd be a lying fool if he said that her not showing up today wasn't a disappointment. Hell he was even looking forward to it.

Dressing in his nicest pair of workout clothing. Even bought himself a new pair of shoes. Picked out his favorite playlist and cleaned the gym, all for her. He wanted to see what she would be wearing. Maybe shorts. Or tight leggings that hug her ass as she squats. Is she a tank top kind of girl? Maybe long sleeve.

The selfish part of his brain begins to feed on the good. Will Gloria shut the deal down if she finds out Palmer hasn't attended? Of course he's more worried about himself than the girl who he's about to break. Quite literally too. He's going to break her and build her back up. Just to break her again, to the point she may never be able to get back up.

A waste of time as he spins the bracelet that's wrapped around his wrist, counterclockwise. Checking the black watch. Her session would be officially over in two minutes. He spent the whole hour waiting for her arrival on the bench. Not even working out himself. He decides to do so after the fact, in case Palmer ever did show up.

As if on cue, Ms. Valdore blinks on Clinton's phone.

Valdore: How'd the workout go?

Afraid, he doesn't know whether to lie, or be brutally honest. Kline only hopes she doesn't ask if he did the other part of the negotiation. Sleep with Palmer. Not the kiss and tell type. More like kiss and act like he missed. When other guys would talk about banging their chick, Clinton would lie and say his girl wouldn't let him hit it. Though he did, and he would hit it pretty hard.

Palmer at least deserves that much respect. Gathering the courage, after staring at the message for five minutes, he finally responds.

Kline: Not well.

The ding chimes immediately. He rolls his eyes, stressed about the whole ordeal.

Valdore: Why? Is she okay?

Thank god Palmaer doesn't go through her mother's phone. This would not end well for any of them. It hasn't even started well.

Kline: I'm not sure. She didn't show.

A few minutes after it marks that she's read the message. The bubbles pop up and then explode with her words.

Valdore: I'm not paying you to not train her Kline. If I find out you're solely sleeping with my daughter, I will end this little deal we have.

Kline's face fills fire red. Stomach steams with guilt. He doesn't just want to sleep with Palmer. He really does want to help her. In the end he's approaching it the wrong way, because he's only helping himself.