Gym Junkie

I wish he was just a Gym Junkie. Because then I could forget him and the way that he made me feel. I’ve fantasized what it would be like to be with a man like Brock Marx, more than I care to admit. Lately my gym visits have taken on a whole new meaning. I'm not the kind of girl who does this sort of thing and he's the kind of man that does. He's sexy, dominant and built like a machine. But worse than that, he’s witty and intelligent. He makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Everything I thought I ever wanted doesn’t makes sense anymore. I wanted him to be another dumb Gym Junkie, the look but don’t touch kind. But he’s not…and I did. What now?