Writing first-person sexy is difficult

"...and then he told me I was being a bitch for not having enough sex!" "What?! What a prick!" "I know, right?" Two women on the elliptical machines. Two complainers. Two stupid bimbos. I roll my eyes as they continue their inane conversation, and turn up the volume on my iPod and the volume of Jason DeRulo's voice. I look at the timer on the machine. Only 21:20 min so far, 40 min to go before I can get off the machine.
A movement to the right catches my eye. As my head automatically swivels to the entryway of the weightroom, my eyes adjust to the tall, lean muscular body of the trainer, as he walks through, leading his trainee to the lifting machine. The red tee of the fitness center fits him beautifully, like it was poured over his shoulders. The muscles in his arms slightly bulge from adjusting the weights before motioning the old man to sit in the seat. His eyes quickly roam over the people in the room, and before I knew it, his eyes bore into mine, the dark eyebrows set over dark piercing eyes, the latter of which looked like molten steel. I quickly lower mine, whether in lust or fear I do not know, but my heart is pumping (and it's not just the running...).
He takes his trainee to the stretching area, and teaches him how to use a pilates ball for situps and such. A horrible screamo song comes on the iPod and I quickly scan through my song list, and pick another one. As my eyes come up again, my ears no longer bleeding, I see him coming out of the "employees only" room, holding a casual shirt and sweat shorts.
Yes, my mind whispers, he's going to workout. And you know what that means: a walking, talking, breathing orgasm... I grin to myself.
A few moments later, after he comes out of the men's locker room, his body loosely covered with a sleeveless gray shirt and his classic dark blue sweat shorts, the two women begin to twitter even more loudly, like they are trying to get his attention. well, at least they're doing something right... He walks towards the ellipticals, his arms beautifully tanned, his legs muscly but not bulging... I sigh to myself. As he walks past, I look away from him, but I sense his brief gaze upon my sweating, albeit-still-smelling-good-with-a-little-perfume body. He enters the weight room, and upon entering, greets about a million of his weight-lifting friends, all of whom have a 20 pound extra dose of testosterone. They're all so manly, but only he, the bright, beautiful Adonis, stands out as the sexiest man.
20 min left. I switch directions and begin to walk backwards. An old-ish man walks out of the weightroom towards the fountain, and stares at me. Uncomfortable, I look away from him, just in time to land my eyes on Trainer. As luck would have it, his eyes meet mine, and this time, he looks away. He walks past me, his body hard and his posture confident, and one of the women initiates conversation. Apparently she was a past trainee? I don't pay attention to them, blah blah blah, and eventually, he goes back into the weightroom. I finish on the ellipticals and do some weight machines. As I walk to the women's locker room, I pass the entrance to the weightroom, and glance inside. He's doing the bench press, and as I glance at his muscles, my eyes accidently slip to his face as he sits up. Our eyes meet in the mirror. Flushing slightly, I walk into the locker room.
It's a comfy shower. Hot, steamy, and definitely good for the muscles. I dress and put on some foundation. There. Presentable. After adding some perfume behind the ears, I grab my bags and take a deep breath as I walk out. After glancing left and right, I still don't see him, but earn the curious gazes of a few people working their biceps. As I sort of depressingly say "bye" to the receptionist and exit the center, I see him a couple hundred feet in front of me, carrying his bag, ready to leave for the day. Automatically my heartrate speeds up. My boots click on the sidewalk, and he glances back as I debate with myself on whether I should open my mouth.
Ah, screw it. I only have a few days left anyway! He turns back forward and continues walking.
"Um, excuse me?" He stops, and turns around, his gaze inquiring, and not unfriendly. "Yeah?" He's turned sideways, but as I walk to catch up with him, he turns more towards me. Since he's a few inches taller than me, I have to slightly look up, but it's worth it. The nicely muscly, arched shape of his neck, the slightly glistening skin, and the smell of his cologne is definitely worth the anxiety. His lips turn up slightly in amusement as his hand reaches out, and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. I sort of shrink in surprise, but the heat of his finger as it grazes my ear gave me goosebumps of a different variety. "I've been watching you, you know..." His deep voice rumbles across the couple of feet to my ears. "Everyday, you come to the gym, exercise in the same pattern. Is there something you need to ask a trainer, finally?"
Before I could stop the train of thought, the words tripped out of my mouth. "Can I feel your muscles?"
A moment of silence ensues. I look away, pressing my hand to my mouth, as I move to walk past him. "Um...sorry." My face is red and I'm about to die of embarassment, but a big hand comes out and grabs my wrist. I look back at him, biting my lower lip. We don't move. At that very moment, a couple comes out of the fitness center, and before they could see us, he presses me against an inset in the plaster wall, the index finger of his other hand against my lips. They leave. "Sorry about that. It's just that I'd be in trouble with the center if I were found to be.... fraternizing with our clients." "But, we were just talking," I mutter. His eyes travel the length of my face and stops at my lips. "We were, weren't we?" Before I could utter a single sound, he lowers his head and touches his lips to mine. Distantly, I recall him dropping his bags and removing mine from my arms, but not quite sure when or how.... his lips are so soft. He kisses his way from my jaw to my ear. "You smell... delicious." At that moment, I pull away, a virgin's fears finally settling in. "Wait, wait. I-we can't." I roughly brush my mouth with the back of my hand, and glance at him warily. That damned grin flashes across his face again. "What is it that you asked again?" My eyes nervously flicker. "Uh, I didn't think we could move this fast... I actually just wanted to talk." He tilts his head. "You wanted to talk... so you asked if you could feel my muscles?" I chuckle hesitantly. "Stupid now that you say it, isn't it?" His cologne, goddamnit. I can't think. So much for an ivy league education when your mind doesn't even work. He lowers his head again, but I duck. He sighs. In between one breath and the next, he tugs on his shirt and lifts it over his head, exposing his tanned and hardened body. "So, which muscle did you want to feel?" He takes my hand and places it on his left pec. My fingers glide over the smooth yet rough skin, and my thumb softly smooths over his nipple. I suck in a breath at the same time his body tightens. My hand, by itself now, runs over his abs, tracing each line of muscle, up to his chest, and arm, the bands of muscle flexing as his gaze remains on the spot right behind my left ear. "I was thinking, this one," I said, leaning over and touching my lips to his right bicep, right where the tattoo of the clasped hands was inked. As I lifted my head, my tongue peeked out and wets my lips, tasting the slightly salty flavor of his skin. "Thanks for being so... accomodating." I pick up my bags from the ground, give him a parting grin, and stride towards my car. "Wait," he demands, "where are you going? We're not going to get coffee?" He quickly puts on his shirt and follows me. His large, warm palm lands on my shoulder. I sigh softly, closing my eyes and mind against the temptation of spending more time with Mr.Sexy. Right when I open my mouth, about to accept his ridiculous proposal, a "Reyes! A lady here wants training sessions!" is shouted from the door of the center. I close my eyes, exhaling a relieved sigh. His eyes turn back to me, troubled, and his mouth curved in a cute frown. "When will I-" "Reyes!" His brow furrows as he shouts back "I heard you the first time!" Taking advantage of the distraction, I move to quickly open my car door, sit inside, and close the door before he consciously noticed. Putting the car in reverse, I roll down the window.
"Six months, Reyes. See you then."