My eyes slowly slid over the figure on the brochure cover. There was quite a lot of it—the figure, I mean, not the brochure. Not that the guy was fat. On the contrary. You could hardly imagine anyone who had less fat in a single cell of his body. On the other hand, he was quite well-equipped in the muscle department.

For a few moments, my eyes wandered appreciatively over the fine figure. Hey, yes, I had a boyfriend, but come on, give a girl a break . Everyone can appreciate a fine figure—from a purely artistic standpoint, of course.

Then I remembered that Chuck had given me this brochure, and I wondered if he admired the guy's figure, too.

I looked up.

"Is this your way of telling me you're gay?"

"Cassy!"

Never in my life had I seen Chuck's face so red. It was quite impressive. He could have beaten tomatoes and beet roots any old time.

Quickly, his finger darted forward, tapping on the caption on the brochure cover. "Did you even read this?"

Admittedly, I hadn't. My attention had been a bit distracted by the half-naked Adonis. Now, however, I firmly squashed down my estrogenic instincts and read:

New York City, 22nd Amateur Fitness Contest

"Oh," I said.

"Yes, Oh." Chuck threw me a look which could only be described as censorious.

"Um... I'm sorry. About the gay thing, I mean. I didn't mean to offend you or anything."

"Cassy—"

"Not that there would be anything wrong with you being gay. I don't have anything against gay people. I don't like rainbows much, but gay people are great. So, if you were gay, it wouldn't be a problem with me."

I hesitated, realizing what I had just said.

"Actually, it would," I corrected myself hurriedly, "I mean, if you were gay, you and I couldn't, um... you know. And I really like, um... to..."

"Yes," Chuck nodded, solemnly. The way the corners of his mouth were twitching, though, made me suspect he was trying not to laugh. "I really like umming with you, too."

Now I was the one whose face was red! Wasn't he was the one who had just handed me the brochure with a half-naked guy on the cover? This wasn't fair! I decided to turn the tables right then and there.

"So what's this about?" I asked, tapping on the brochure.

"Well... you might have noticed I'm really into fitness. Training and fighting and stuff."

I gazed at Chuck, lifting one eyebrow. Even sitting completely relaxed at the breakfast table, with all his clothes on, I could discern the hard ridges of his muscles under his shirt. "I think I noticed something of the kind. We had the lights on while umming last night, if you remember."

"Yes, well... I thought, if I'm into that kind of stuff, why not go? I mean, musicians go to competitions, so do designers and race car drivers. Why not fitness trainers?"

He waited just long enough for me to open my mouth, then hurried on before I could say a thing.

"It's just an amateur thing, of course, nothing like real bodybuilding. I don't think I'd manage that unless I swallowed a bucket full of steroids. But still... I'd like to compete. Do you think my, um... physique is good enough to—"

"It is."

He bit his lip. "That's very nice of you to say, but I don't want you to pretend just because you don't want to hurt my feelings. I know I don't look nearly as perfect as I could be if I did real bodybuilding, and the jury—"

"—will choose you over a bodybuilder any time. At least if there are any women in it."

"What?" He blinked at me, confused.

"Listen to me, you dumbass!" Grinning, I reached across the table and grabbed his collar. "Do you honestly think looking like a 'professional' as you put it, wins you any beauty points? I'll tell you a secret: I prefer a man who doesn't look as if they had footballs stuffed into his arms and legs."

Chuck blinked again. "You do?"

Pulling him across the table, I pressed a firm kiss on his mouth. He opened up the moment our lips touched, and heat surged between us. When I finally broke apart, my voice had turned breathy.

"Oh yes, I do. And I'm not alone in that preference, believe me. Your abs alone are good enough to win a hundred contests. At least if there are women in the jury."

"R-really?"

"You don't believe me?" I blinked at him, innocently. "Looks like I'll have to give you proof. Wanna take this discussion to the bed and practice umming with me?"

❤☠❤☠❤☠❤☠❤

When we lay in bed together later, satiated and exhausted, I turned towards Chuck, caressing his face with my knuckles.

"You really want to do this?"

Capturing my hand, he placed a kiss on the back of it. "Yes. It's not about the looks so much, you know. I'm not that shallow and vain."

"Aren't you?" I teased. "Well, what's it about, then?"

"Being in top form. Seeing in what shape other guys are—from fitness trainers, to martial arts instructors, to ordinary people who just love working out. There will be loads of tests and disciplines to compete in. It's a great opportunity to test how fit I really am."

"And why do you need to know?" Bending forward, I placed a peck on his nose. "I love you just the way you are."

"I want to be the very best, if I can."

"Why?"

He hesitated, frowning for a moment. Then his face cleared.

"If there were a beautiful animal," he said, "a really rare one, and someone called together a whole bunch of vets in the hope to cure it, you'd like to be there, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"And I bet you'd like to be the one to cure the animal."

"Of course!"

"Even though it doesn't really matter who cures it as long as it gets well again?"

I had already opened my mouth to say something, but then I changed my mind. Slowly, I nodded.

"We all want to know that we do well at what we love to do," he told me, softly.

The words sank into me, deeply. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him close.

"This is important to you, isn't it?" I whispered into his ear.

"Yeah, it is."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay, we'll go."

"You'll go with me?" Grabbing my shoulders, he pushed me away, just enough for me to see the ridiculous grin on his face.

"Of course I will!" I told him, unable to stop myself from giving back his grin. "As long as you don't make me take part in any of these contests. Sounds exhausting."

"Don't worry," he growled, grabbing my earlobe between his teeth. "I know better ways to exhaust you."

And so he did. Oh boy, he did.

❤☠❤☠❤☠❤☠❤

Has your boyfriend ever competed in a fitness tournament? If he hasn't yet, make him. I mean it. Do it right away. You have no idea of the benefits the preparations bring.

Firstly, if your boyfriend is also giving you karate lessons, it means that he's too exhausted from all the running and weight lifting to defend himself, which means that for the first time in your life, you get to kick his juicy butt on a regular basis. Secondly, once you've dragged your boyfriend to bed, he's even more helpless, which means you can have your wicked way with him, without him being able to do anything about it. And thirdly... well, there's always later in the night, for round two.

Defenseless men are simply awesome!

The competition's venue would be, so the brochure proclaimed, in a conference center on Staten Island. We drove by there a few times, casing the joint. It looked like a nice building, unlikely to come crashing down on the competitors' heads, and big enough to hold plenty of testosterone.

In the last few weeks before the competition, Chuck really turned up the muscle power. He extended his usual runs in the park from ten laps to fifteen, and then to twenty, leaving me behind panting on a park bench. Every minute he wasn't looking after a customer in the gym, he was glued to the gym equipment himself, working out like crazy.

And do you know what was the most impressive thing of all? Over all this, he never forgot me. He never ceased to bring me little gifts every now and again, gifts that showed he really cared and knew me: a beautiful new collar for Lucky, vine-like flowers to decorate the cables that still hung from the ceiling in my underground apartment, and the best of all, a complete worm bin with a book called Worm Care 101.

Wouldn't everybody want to have a boyfriend like that?

Finally, the great day arrived.

"God!" Panting, I tried squeezing my way through the crowd. It was easier tried than done. This wasn't just any old crowd—it was a solid wall of muscle, and it was a dozen yards thick. "I didn't know there were that many fitness nuts in the whole world, let alone New York! Where are all those obese people the media says society is full of?"

"Probably at their own competition," Chuck suggested, plucking his gym bag out of the trunk and throwing it over his shoulder, as if it weighed no more than a rose petal.

"Can't we go there? I could kill for a decent hamburger." And I meant it, too.

He grinned at me. A grin I simply couldn't resist. "Oh, come on. You'll have a better appetite after this."

"Why?" I grumbled, unable to keep an answering smile off my face. "It's you who will be working out all day, not me."

"Exactly. You'll get the opportunity to watch me get hot and sweaty all day long."

"And that's supposed to give me an appetite?"

He winked. "I didn't say you'd get an appetite for food."

I felt my face light up. Well, well... That was a promise well worth taking a bit of trouble for.

"All right. Let's go." Stepping forward, I pushed against the wall of muscle, trying to squeeze between two burly guys trying to get to the entrance.

They didn't even notice.

"Allow me." With a bow, which turned out rather ridiculous with a gym bag on each shoulder, Chuck stepped in front of me and pushed. The crowd parted, and I hurried to follow in his wake, before the gap closed up again.

"Well," I sighed a little later, standing pressed against the back wall of the lobby. "You managed the first discipline of the competition: getting through the front door."

"I don't think that's actually part of the competition, Cassy."

"Well, it damn well should be!"

"Hey! You a contestant?"

We turned to the side, to see a frazzled little man in a black suit and tie approaching us, winding through the crowd like a sneaky little salamander. If his scrawny arms weren't enough of a hint that he definitely wasn't a contestant, the clip on his suit saying "Manager" clinched the deal.

"Yeah," Chuck said. "My name is—"

"Names schmames." With a slap, the man fastened a sticky number to the front of Chuck's shirt. "You're number 143 now. There'll still be time for names if you get in the top ten. Now get your ass over to the registration office!"

And he was gone again.

"That was friendly," I commented.

"I don't think he's paid to be friendly. Come on, baby. The fun is about to start." He extended a free arm to me, as if this were a formal dinner date, and he wasn't carrying two full gym bags in the other hand.

With a little curtsy, I took the proffered arm.

"Why, thank you. Such good manners."

The smile he gave me made my knees weak.

"Just for you."

❤☠❤☠❤☠❤☠❤

"Chuck Benson... fourteen points. Karl Wood... fourteen points!"

"Damn!"

I punched the bench I was sitting on and glared at the judges. So far, two of the three contests had passed, and Chuck was tied for first place with this guy from Montesano called Wood. Tied! Honestly!

After shaking his opponent's hand—without breaking it, which I thought showed admirable restraint—Chuck strode off the podium and towards me. He had a shame-faced grin on his face.

"Disappointed?" he asked.

"Mad!" I shot another glare at the judges. "All right, I get that you both lifted the same amount of weights in the strength contest, so you got the same amount of points. But both of you getting seven points on physical appearance? Ridiculous!" I gestured to Chuck's opponent, who took this opportunity to stretch himself, displaying vast bushes of hair in his armpits. "The Montesano guy has a neck like an ox, and his face looks as if he had run into a brick wall!"

"Does it, now?" Chuck's smile widened.

"Yes," I sniffed. "But then, all of the judges are men."

"That matters?"

"Oh yes." In the face of his broad grin, I couldn't keep my own lips from twitching. Stepping closer, I ran my hands up his sweaty body. "There are things which only women can appreciate properly."

Leaning forward, I ran my tongue along the corner of his mouth, licking a tiny, tasty bead of sweat off his neck.

"Oh yes..." He groaned. "You do have good taste. I absolutely approve."

"Glad to hear it."

"Speaking of women's tastes," he said, cocking his head, "while the judges set up the next contest, why don't we have a look at the other side?"

"The fitness competition of the dead?"

"No, silly! The women's competition! It's just through that doorway there."

Pointing to a large double-door, he pulled me over, and I let him. I had to admit, he had piqued my interest. How big would the weights be that the women lifted? How big would the women be?

Quite big, as it turned out. My mouth dropped open when we stepped through the door and saw the women arrayed along one wall of the hall behind it, flexing their muscles and smiling at the judges, waiting for the announcement of the points.

"Holy headbanging Jesus Christ!"

Chuck burst out laughing. "What kind of curse is that?"

"The appropriate kind! Have you ever seen anything like that?" I demanded, pointing at the musclebound figures batting their eyelashes at the judges.

"Yes. Every day at work."

"True, still..." I shook my head. "Seeing one or two of them is one thing. But seeing them like that, all together in a pack, is slightly frightening."

Chuck laughed again.

"You know," he whispered into my ear, snaking his arms around me from behind, "I'm really glad we came in here. I've only just realized how scrawny you are. It's high time you built up a bit of muscle."

"Ha! In your dreams! Wet, perverted dreams!"

"Seriously." Playfully, he pinched my biceps. "Are those arms, or spaghetti attached to your shoulders?"

Half laughing, half growling, I tried to twist in his embrace. "Just let me get my hands on you, and I'll show you what those spaghetti are capable off, you bastard!"

But just at that moment, a bell rang from the other room.

"Saved by the bell," Chuck sighed in fake relief. "Thank you, God! I'll survive for another few hours!"

"I'll kill you later," I whispered into his ear. "Slowly and sweetly."

"I'll hold you to that." Pressing a kiss on my cheek, Chuck pulled me back into the other room.

"The last contest," the judge was just announcing through a megaphone, "will be about endurance and stamina. The rules are simple: Both contestants will be running laps around this track. The one who collapses or gives in first loses. Mister Chuck Benson and Mister Karl Wood, please step forward."

"Well, that sounds simple," I commented.

"You think so, do you?" Chuck gave me a weak grin, and took a deep breath. "Well... let's see." With a last squeeze of my hand, he let go, and marched towards the track in the center in the room.

❤☠❤☠❤☠❤☠❤

"Cassy? Cassy, wake up!"

"Nnnn..." I mumbled. "Go 'way..."

"Cassy... I...pfft... I think we should go."

With effort, I opened one eyelid. It was dark around me. For a moment, I didn't know where I was. Then I felt the bench underneath me and saw the dark outline of Chuck's face above me. Behind him stood a man in a guard's uniform with a flashlight in his hand, the only source of illumination in the entire hall, except for the moonlight falling in through the windows.

"So... I guess the run lasted a little longer than I expected?" I murmured.

"Yeah... it... did," he panted, grinning.

"Did you win?"

"No."

"Shit!"

"Don't worry. I did give... a good showing of myself." Chuck grinned broadly – a bit more broadly than was sane. He was swaying slightly.

"Chuck, are you drunk?"

"Yep." He nodded happily. "On adrenaline. I ran... and ran... and ran..." He grinned gain. "Lasted... almost until midnight."

It took a moment for the meaning for his words to sink in.

"Midnight?" I sat bolt upright, all sleepiness gone. "You ran circles until it was midnight? Are you nuts? How long was it? How many blasted hours?"

His grin broadened. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Holy shit!" I grabbed his arm. "Let's get you home before you collapse!"

"He already did," the guard supplied, helpfully. "Twice, in fact. Once on the track, and once after he tried to get up against the doctor's strict instructions. But don't worry, the floors here are very soft."

I rolled my eyes. Men! "Well, that's such a relief! Let's get you home, before you collapse a third time, then, okay? Into the car with you!"

"On the seat or in the trunk?" he asked, curious, while I tried to drag him along, supporting part of his enormous muscled weight.

"On the seat!"

"I love you, Cassy! You take such good cadlyaddle... cariariokee... care of me."

"I love you too! But I'll love you a lot more once you're in the car and stop trying to crush my back!"

"Yup! That is true love!"

❤☠❤☠❤☠❤☠❤

Usually, no matter what they do, people get bored sooner or later. Of their work, of the world, of each other. But how could anyone get bored of being blissfully happy? Sure, Chuck and I had our ups and downs like other couples. But unlike other couples, we could take it out on each other not only in bed, but also in gym. I highly recommend any woman who has trouble with her boyfriend to start taking karate lessons, or maybe boxing. A few right hooks in his face, and you'll feel much less frustrated.

"Ouch!" Grinning, Chuck stumbled back. "That hurt! Good one!"

"There are a lot more where that one came from," I told him, ducked his strike and rammed my elbow into his stomach. He doubled over, wheezing.

The best thing was that even now that he wasn't exhausted from working out twenty-four hours a day anymore, I still managed to hold my own against him.

"Wow!" Lashing out, my foot found its mark and propelled him off the mat. Storming forward, I jumped, and landed on his chest, forcing all the air out of him, holding him down. "I'm getting good at this!"

"You've always been good." His hand came up towards me, but in a way that told me he wasn't about to punch. Snaking his fingers around my neck, he gently pulled me down towards him until the tips of my hair tickled his face. His warm, chocolate-brown eyes shone up at me. "You're amazing."

"Am I, now?" Smiling, I leaned down further, until my lips brushed his. "Why don't you show me how amazing, exactly?"

"Deal!"

Quick as a flash, he rolled over, slamming me into the ground. I just managed to get out one excited giggle, then I was cut off by his mouth covering mine.

Most people, I think, count time by days. With Chuck, I counted time by the amount of bruises I received. In October, my belly and arms were still both covered with purplish blotches, making me look as if I had one of my grandma's patchwork quilts for skin. By the beginning of November, most of the bruises had faded into yellow, with only a few new additions. And by the start of December... well, let's just say that I starting to decorate my boyfriend in a nice patchwork-theme of my own design.

We were relaxing, lying on the mat on our backs after our latest bout of reciprocal violence, when Chuck said: "Cassy?"

Oh... the way he said my name. I closed my eyes, savoring the sound of it. "Yes?"

"I've got good news."

A grin tugged at the corners of my lips. "Better news than me having just kicked your ass?"

He chuckled. "My ass thinks so, yes."

"Ha! Well, I really, really like your ass. Maybe I'll listen to him."

"Please do." I heard the mat squeak, and opened my eyes to see him turning towards me. I half rolled over, facing him. We were only inches apart. "Seriously, Cassy. I've got great news."

I could see the excited glint in his eyes. There really was something good coming. But what could it be? Maybe... maybe we would go on a Christmas holiday together! A vision flashed in front of my eyes of me and Chuck, skiing in the snowy mountains of Wyoming, or maybe relaxing on a beach somewhere in Australia, watching a Santa in a red and white pelt costume trying not to sweat himself to death. Or the best of all possibilities: just Chuck and me, in a snowbound mountain cabin, where we would need to huddle together for two weeks to preserve body heat. Very, very, closely together...

"What? Is there another competition coming up?" I teased, but didn't manage to entirely keep the excitement out of my voice. "The best Fitness Santa of New York?"

"Ha! No. Much better than that." Reaching out, he stroked the side of my face, and a shiver went down my back. We'd been together for months now, but still, I reacted every time he touched me as if it were the very first time.

"What?" I demanded again, poking his ribs.

"Do you remember me telling you that someday, I'd introduce you to all my family?"

"Yes..." I said, cautiously. I did remember – but I failed to see how this could possibly relate to good news of any kind.

He grinned, his adorable puppy dog eyes shining at me with excitement. "Well, it's time!" he announced, pulling a battered, colorful Christmas card from the pocket of his sweatpants. "I just got this from my mom. She and my dad are back in town. The whole family is going to be at their house for the holidays. All my brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins and all of their kids, and we are both invited! What do you say, isn't that wonderful?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hi, my fellow homicidal maniacs! :-)

Pray tell, what color do you think a black widow's wedding dress should be? White, black, or a nice black and white chequered pattern? I'm not completely certain at the moment, myself... ;-)

Oh, and incidentally, thank you very much, all of you, for your fantabulous suggestions of movie quotes in reply to my recent request! I've gotten big boatloads full of suggestions - everything from fiery expletives to entire exorcisms in the original Latin! ;-) Thanks so much for your wonderful help! :-)

Cheers

Sir Rob