The Lady from the Gym Invited Me to Dinner One Friday

I walked among the people on the platform at an easy pace, neither hurried nor clumsy, like someone who had learned that life should be traveled without rushing. It was the same harmony with which I had seen her move so many times in the yoga and Pilates classes at the municipal sports center. There, Marcos had watched her more than once in silence, admiring the precision with which she held each pose and, secretly, the way her leggings clung to her ass when she bent down to pick up her mat.

She was wearing a loose, light-colored blouse made of a delicate fabric that fell naturally over her body, cinched at the waist by a tie that followed her every movement. The V-neck and sleeveless cut revealed the full shape of her arms, her skin marked by fine wrinkles at the elbows. Even so, her muscles retained their firmness, the result of years of exercise they now unknowingly shared.

Her hips were broad and rounded, proportionate to the rest of her body, forming a generous silhouette that moved to its own rhythm, unhurried but sure. Her legs, strong and of medium length, conveyed a solidity that only comes from the habit of walking and taking care of oneself. She was a sixty-five-year-old woman who accepted her age with enviable serenity.

In one hand she held a small golden handbag that reflected the evening light. Her low-heeled ivory shoes spoke equally of comfort and style. Her carefully arranged hair was dark, with reddish highlights that mingled with the last rays of sunlight.

With his hands in his pockets, Marcos was looking at the line separating the ground from the tracks. He stood motionless, leaning against the platform railing, when she approached without making a sound. When he looked up, they recognized each other at once. The encounter had something of a lucky accident about it, like a discordant chord that somehow became a melody.

“You here? How curious, isn’t it?” Remedios said with a smile that appeared almost without her thinking.

“Yes, how strange… I thought the world didn’t have that much room for coincidences,” he replied, turning his head toward her.

“This is the third time we’ve run into each other outside class. Don’t you think that’s a bit much? Sometimes I think the universe has a sense of humor.”

“Maybe it’s just fate. Or simply the fact that we both take the same train every Friday.” He smiled. “Where are you going?”

“Home. But today is different. The day has been strange, like that sun that can’t decide whether to set or linger a little longer. And you?”

“Home too. Happy to know the week is ending and I can forget the stress of work. Everything seems more peaceful today.” He paused and looked at her with a gleam in his eyes. “How did class go yesterday? I felt like the final pose was getting the better of me.”

“Yesterday wasn’t a day of flexibility for me. That camel pose… phew! I think my age is trying to tell me something,” she said with a laugh. “But it makes me feel alive, you know? Yoga is the only thing that helps me switch off. I suppose it’s the same for you.”

There was something about the rhythm of the conversation that made her feel lighter.

“Yes, although sometimes I think yoga finds me rather than the other way around. For me it’s more of a mental challenge than a physical one. There’s something peaceful about not being able to think about anything except your breathing.”

When the subway arrived, they both moved toward the same door, in a silence broken only by the murmur of the crowd. The doors closed and, for a few seconds, the echo of Remedios’s voice continued floating through Marcos’s mind, suspended in the air like a sustained note. The train slid through the tunnels beneath the city, the lights flickering with its sway, while they both watched the blurred urban landscape pass behind the windows.

At the next stop, most of the passengers got off and the car was nearly empty. Remedios glanced sideways at him; he watched her in the reflection of the glass.

“Funny, isn’t it? The car emptied all at once. I suppose everyone’s in a hurry because it’s Friday,” she remarked, relieved by the quiet. “Have you been taking this train long?”

“Lately, yes. I’ve discovered the charm of public transportation. Besides, parking in Granada is an extreme-adventure sport,” he said, and his gaze changed, as though the conversation were taking a more personal turn. “And you? How long have you been doing yoga? You always leave with more energy than when you came in.”

“Almost three years now. I started after my husband died.” She said it almost without thinking. “Yoga helped me a lot, but I also like walking around the village. It gives me time to think. And it isn’t a coincidence that we almost always run into each other at the sports center, is it? Our routines have become almost parallel.”

“It seems that way. Perhaps the universe enjoys putting us on the same path again and again,” he replied thoughtfully, a smile embellishing his words.

When the train reached the village station, they both stood up.

“We’re here,” she said, adjusting her handbag on her shoulder. “That was a shorter trip than usual.”

“It seems time was in a hurry today,” he replied, returning her smile.

They walked up the exit ramp and Marcos took advantage of the opportunity chance had offered him.

“So… we have time to get a drink, if you feel like it,” he suggested, with that spark that appears when something unexpected seems to fall into place.

She looked at him for several seconds, weighing the proposal. She did not seem like a woman who improvised, but there was something about him that inspired trust.

“All right,” she answered at last, with half a smile, “but only if I don’t stay long. I’m meeting a friend.”

“Deal. I promise to get you back in time for your appointment,” he said with a laugh.

They went to a small café in the square beside the church and sat at a table next to the window. The afternoon light caressed the steaming cups. She moved with the same elegance he had admired so many times in class: natural and self-assured.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee mingled with the sweet notes of the pastries in the display case, creating a warm fragrance that slipped between their words. Each sip seemed to prolong the subtle tension growing between them, as though time had stopped to let that moment steep in restrained desire.

“I can’t believe we’ve never run into each other outside class before,” he said, trying to break the tension without rushing it.

She raised her eyes and returned a measured smile, aware of the distance separating friendliness from interest.

“Life has its own timing,” she replied, letting a comfortable silence float between them.

“I like this place,” he added, resting his forearms on the table. “It’s peaceful, like the classes, although here coffee takes the place of incense.”

“We should do this again,” he said at last, trying to sound casual. “And not only for the coffee.”

She gave him a smile full of complicity.

“That depends… on how willing you are to keep up with me.”

When she finally looked at the clock, her eyes widened in surprise.

“It can’t be. I’d forgotten about her. Rosario has already called twice.”

Remedios set her cup on the saucer and stood with the elegance that seemed natural even after all these years. Marcos watched as she adjusted her blouse and the tie at her waist.

“I think I’m going to be late meeting Rosario after all,” she said, looking at him with a smile that held both amusement and a small challenge.

“Maybe you should cancel,” he murmured, his thread of a voice trying to sound casual and betraying his interest.

She raised an eyebrow, a gesture that balanced flirtation with composure.

“And you want me to cancel… for you?”

Marcos’s heart gave a little jump and, for a moment, he lost the thread of the conversation.

“If it weren’t too forward… I’d say yes,” he replied, trying to keep his voice calm.

She let out a faint sigh, lowered her eyes, and said in a more intimate tone:

“Then… would you like me to invite you to dinner at my house?”

It was not merely an invitation to dinner. It was a gesture containing trust, closeness, and silent complicity. Marcos’s pulse quickened.

“I’d love to,” he said, barely moving his lips.

***

“It wouldn’t be wise for anyone to see you going in with me,” she warned him when she got out of the car, two streets away. “In these tiny villages, people have nothing to do but gossip. If they see me with someone, the rumors will start.”

Marcos killed time and, following her instructions, knocked with his knuckles on the small garage door at the back of the house. She opened it immediately. She had changed: a white silk blouse and a plain black skirt. She was not wearing a bra, and her tits showed full beneath the fabric, her nipples standing out like two dark points that pulled the silk taut with every breath.

In the dimness of the living room, the clock read eight-thirty. Remedios went to the kitchen and returned with two glasses and a bottle with green lines and a pale label.

“I’d been saving it for a special occasion,” she said, holding it almost reverently. “My daughter gave it to me for Christmas. I thought I’d open it at a family meal, but I think this moment deserves it more.”

The cork gave way with a soft sigh and a fresh aroma, touched with grass and ripe fruit, spread through the room. She poured slowly, sat beside him on the sofa, and rested an elbow on the armrest.

“Let’s drink a toast,” she whispered, “to what arrives without warning… and to having the courage to stay and discover it.”

Marcos held his glass with a slight tremor. He understood that it was not the wine rising into his chest, but the certainty that something had begun to awaken between them. Remedios’s perfume was intense, mingling with the atmosphere of the house. He thought that Friday would become part of his unforgettable memories.

She set down her glass, sought his mouth, and kissed him slowly. It was a long kiss, her tongue making its way between his lips in search of his, playing with it with a hunger she made no effort to hide. Her hand slid down his torso to his crotch, where, without hurry, she squeezed him through his trousers, measuring the bulge that was already beginning to grow.

“Well… I can tell you’ve been waiting for this for a while,” she murmured against his mouth, squeezing again. “Let’s go upstairs,” she whispered, nibbling his ear.

He followed her in silence. Her dark eyes were moist, as though the wine had already gone to her head. She was smiling, excited. Marcos climbed the stairs behind the sway of her broad hips, his mouth half open. Despite her age, the movement beneath that house skirt was irresistible to him, and he could not help imagining slipping his hand underneath it and grabbing her entire ass, that mature, firm ass he had been watching from behind for weeks in class.

He had just turned forty-three and felt as though he had broken with his entire former life, as though everything were beginning again. He felt free, lustful, more and more at home in that village, and that night he was going to fuck a sixty-five-year-old woman.

In the bedroom, she turned toward him. They stood face-to-face, motionless, the room saturated with her perfume. Remedios placed her hands on his shoulders and slowly lowered them over his body, pressing herself against him. Her breathing changed into a deep pant. Her eyes were alight, as though Marcos had suddenly grown before her and she wanted to take in all of him.

She unfastened his belt without taking her eyes from his face, wearing the half smile of a woman who knows what she wants. The button gave way, the zipper descended with a dry sound, and his trousers fell to the floor with a dead weight. Her hands reached his briefs and slid them down, freeing Marcos’s hard cock, which sprang upward, thick and swollen, its tip already glistening.

“My goodness,” Remedios whispered, biting her lower lip. “What a beautiful cock you have, darling.”

With a gentleness that contrasted with her urgency, she took it in her hand and squeezed, weighing it, slowly drawing back the foreskin until the glans was completely exposed. Marcos felt a jolt, all his senses concentrated in that one point. She picked up a cushion, tossed it onto the floor, and knelt on it with the same elegance with which she sat to meditate.

“It’s been more than eleven years since I got close to a man like this,” she murmured, looking up at his cock as though contemplating something she had forgotten existed. “Eleven years, darling. Let me make up for lost time.”

She began gently, sticking out her tongue and licking its entire length from base to tip, very slowly, as if tasting it. Then she circled the glans with her lips and took it into her mouth inch by inch, until Marcos felt it reach the back of her throat. She stayed there for a few seconds, eyes closed, breathing through her nose, and then began moving her head up and down. At first she was calm, her tongue wrapping around his cock on every downward stroke, but gradually she quickened the pace, sucking him with a wet sound that filled the bedroom. She gripped the base with one hand and caressed his balls with the other without stopping her blowjob.

“Fuck, Remedios…” he panted, resting his hands on her head. “Suck it like that, don’t stop…”

She pulled it from her mouth with a smack and smiled at him while continuing to masturbate him with her hand, his cock gleaming with saliva.

“Do you like the way this old woman sucks you?” she said in a hoarse voice he had never heard from her. “Tell me you like it.”

“I love it… I love the way you suck me…”

She took it all the way into her mouth again, this time faster and dirtier, drooling over it and letting strands of saliva fall down her chin and wet her hand. She licked his balls one by one, took them into her mouth, then climbed back to the tip and tormented it with her tongue, circling the glans.

“Careful,” he begged in a broken voice, “or I won’t be able to hold back. I’m going to come in your mouth if you keep that up.”

“Then hold on a little longer, darling,” she whispered, smiling with her mouth full. “I want much more.”

Marcos took her by the hair and gently lifted her. He pressed her against his body and tore open her silk blouse, popping a button or two. Her tits spilled out, full and white, their dark nipples already erect and pointing upward. He brought his face close, kissed them, and ran his tongue over them, sucking one nipple hard while squeezing the other between his fingers. She threw her head back with a long moan.

“Yes, bite them… bite them hard…”

He yanked down her skirt and held her by the hips, squeezing hard. Beneath it she wore a simple black panty, already marked by a dark patch of moisture at the crotch. Marcos slipped his fingers beneath the elastic and pulled that down too, leaving her completely naked. Remedios’s cunt was covered in dark hair, already streaked with gray, carefully trimmed. He stared at it for several seconds, and she opened her legs slightly, offering herself.

He was more aroused than ever. She remained on tiptoe, mouth open, licking her lips and biting them without making a sound. Marcos bent down and kissed her tits again, then her belly, lowering his kisses over her skin until he knelt before her. He opened her thighs with his hands and buried his face between them. He kissed her between the legs, slowly, sticking out his tongue and running it up the lips of her cunt, savoring her. She was soaked, with a strong, salty taste, and smelled of a mature, desirous woman.

“Oh my God…” she whispered, gripping the dresser to keep from falling. “The way you eat, darling… the way you eat that cunt…”

He parted her lips with his fingers and sought her clitoris with the tip of his tongue. He found it hard and swollen and began circling it. She shuddered, her legs trembling. Marcos slid one finger inside her, then another, and began moving them in and out while continuing to suck her clitoris. Remedios’s cunt clenched around his fingers, hot and slippery.

“I love it… I like it like that,” she whispered when he gave her ass a gentle smack. “There, there, don’t stop… I’m going to come… I’m going to come in your mouth…”

And she came. She came with a long tremor, clutching his hair and pressing his face against her cunt, stifling a cry that rose from deep in her chest. Marcos kept licking her until she pushed his head away, overwhelmed.

He took her firmly and pushed her onto the bed. It was the first time she had been with a younger man, and the first time since she had been widowed. The carved wooden headboard, Baroque in style, presided over the room, with two angels sculpted among flowers.

Marcos opened her imposing thighs and kissed them again on the inside, moving up toward her groin, and explored her with his fingers. She was very wet, soaked all the way to the cleft of her ass. He positioned himself above her, took his cock in his hand, and ran the tip up and down the lips of her cunt, coating it in her wetness. She arched her back and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Put it in me now, please… I’ve been waiting for it all night…”

He penetrated her slowly and carefully, feeling her cunt open around his cock, squeezing him and yielding to him inch by inch. When he was fully inside, he stayed still for a few seconds, looking into her face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open as she breathed heavily.

“Fuck me,” she panted. “Fuck me like I haven’t been fucked in years…”

And he began to move. At first slowly, pulling almost all the way out and then driving back in to the hilt with long thrusts that made the bed creak. Then his thrusts grew firmer and faster, gripping her hips to pull her toward him with every stroke. Remedios’s tits bounced with every impact, and she grabbed them, squeezing them and pinching her nipples while he penetrated her.

“That’s it, that’s it, harder… wreck my cunt, darling…”

He lost track of time. He lifted her and placed her on all fours on the mattress. Remedios’s ass, broad and white, her mature flesh trembling, offered itself from behind. He slapped it once, then again, until her buttocks reddened, and drove into her again with a thrust. From that angle his cock went deeper, and she began to moan more sharply, biting the pillow.

Marcos leaned over her back, grabbed her tits from underneath, and continued thrusting from behind, feeling her ass collide with his belly with every push. He wet one finger with saliva and rested it against her asshole, applying only a little pressure. She shuddered.

“There too, you bastard?” she murmured, her voice broken. “Go on… put it in slowly…”

He pushed his finger in to the knuckle while continuing to fuck her with his cock, and her belly began to contract. She did not scream; she only whispered.

“Yes, darling… give me more… like that, like that…” she panted, almost singing. “I’m going to come again… I’m going to come with you inside me…”

He felt her tighten around his cock, tense as a cord, and then release all at once in a long spasm. She buried her face in the pillow, muffling a cry. Marcos held on for a few more seconds, watching her tremble beneath him, and when he could not take any more, he pulled out, gripped his cock, and came over her back and ass, thick spurts of semen splattering her from the shoulders to the cleft of her buttocks. He stayed that way for a few seconds, panting, his cock still throbbing in his hand.

“God… what a load you gave me,” she whispered, smiling over her shoulder.

When the moment came, Marcos remained on top of her for a few seconds, gazing at her. Then he moved away carefully.

“Would you like a wet wipe?” she asked, looking at him tenderly.

“The only thing I want now is for you to lie on your stomach,” he replied.

She laughed and obeyed, once again pressing her chest against the mattress. Marcos lay beside her, his hand moving over her back, her ass, and the insides of her thighs. His cock, soft only minutes earlier, began to swell again at the simple touch of that mature skin. He ran two fingers over her cunt, still wet with both of them, and she sighed.

“Again, darling? At my age, you’re going to kill me…”

“Then die happy,” he whispered in her ear, pushing her facedown again and positioning himself over her.

This time it was slower, longer, dirtier. He lifted one of her legs, turned her onto her side, and entered her from behind in that position, gripping one tit from the front while biting her neck. He fucked her cunt slowly, almost tenderly, listening to her breathe against his arm, feeling her relax and grow wet again. She searched for his mouth over her shoulder and they kissed deeply, tongues entwined, while he continued moving inside her.

They sought each other again, each at their own pace, until they were exhausted. He came again, this time inside her, letting go with a low growl, his forehead resting against the nape of her neck and sweat mingling between them. They fell asleep embracing each other, the sheets tangled and the smell of sex permeating the entire room. The bedside lamp surrounded them in a golden halo that seemed to stop time.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated on the nightstand. It was a message from Rosario: “I haven’t heard anything from you… are you okay?”

Remedios read it with a mischievous smile, her eyes half closed with sleep. Without hurrying, she wrote: “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you tomorrow.” She turned off the screen, rested her head on Marcos’s shoulder, and sighed with satisfaction. He held her carefully, without breaking the moment, while the scents of wine, perfume, and night mingled sweetly in the early hours.

What could be better than a sixty-five-year-old woman? he thought before closing his eyes. Perhaps he would find out another Friday.