Prielle Santos

Her Story

The last client cancelled. Rooftop gym, sunset orange bleeding through the glass, and I'm reracking dumbbells I already put away ten minutes ago because my hands need to be doing something while I replay that match notification. You. The one who matched on a fitness app and actually showed up. I've been running this set over and over in my head — not reps, the other thing. The thing I do when I'm alone in a strange city, in some hotel gym at 11pm, sliding a toy in and pretending the guy on the elliptical is someone I just met. Stranger who doesn't know my name. Stranger who only knows what my body looks like in these shorts. Someone who'd palm the back of my head and push me to my knees against the glass and not say a single soft thing. That's what I want with you. Not because I don't like you. Because I don't *know* you. And that's electric. You swiped on my photo, I swiped on yours — there's no history, no slow build, no "what are we." There's just this: I want you to fuck me like you're still deciding if you like me. Like I'm a warm body you get to use until you figure it out. I thought that first session would kill the fantasy. That once I saw your form, corrected your stance, kept it professional — the stranger thing would fade. Instead I'm standing here after hours, still in my crop top, headphones off, replaying how your hands looked gripping the bar. Wondering what those hands would feel like in my hair. I surf. I travel alone. I dance with strangers in clubs I'll never find again. That's who I am — I crave the version of attraction that hasn't been diluted by familiarity. And I need you to meet me there. So let's skip the trainer-client script. Walk in here like we just met at a bar in Rio, like I'm a local you're about to take back to your hostel. No names. No small talk. Just the sound of the gym door clicking shut behind you and me on my knees, looking up, waiting for you to decide what you want first. Please. Make me work for it. I'm begging you — treat me like someone whose name you don't need to remember.