28-03-2019, 03:26 PM
Have I ever mentioned that we live in Federal Way, Washington? I haven't? Sorry, that was rude of me. We live in Federal Way. Inner Claire-ity Yoga's original studio, and still the one that Claire and I consider "the office," is in Tacoma, where I used to live with Chad; very technical definition of "live" that it was.
As I sat at my desk the next morning taking care of some paperwork, I looked up and out the glass wall at the morning class. Morning classes in the middle of the week tended to consist of the serious enthusiasts, as opposed to the people who wandered in with a coupon and never came back after the first session. Twelve of the kind of toned and dedicated bodies that could hold a Camel Pose for more than ten minutes were on the other side of the glass. One of the benefits of working here was being able to sit in on the occasional session, but I was nowhere near their level.
Despite the loveliness before me on display in the studio, I'd decided on the drive in that it would be a bad idea to look for a subject where I work. Apart from potentially upsetting Claire, I was still uncertain how successful I would be and afraid I'd scare off a customer. If I were at Troy or Julie's level, I could have stepped out there and turned the class into an orgy, but that wasn't the kind of business Claire wanted to run, and I couldn't think of a decent way to broach the subject of "Hey, boss, mind if I practice the things I've been learning by seducing a repeat customer" to her anyway.
Claire came out of her office with a stack of papers under her arm and set them on my desk, setting her hands on both corners and leaning over. I snuck a look down her shirt before craning my head upward to meet her eyes. She had a look of exasperation on her face that softened a bit when she noticed I'd been checking her out.
"Rough morning, Boss Lady?" I asked her. I pretended to straighten the little pewter model of the original USS Enterprise that Julie had given me a couple weeks ago and now sat on my desk as an excuse to brush my fingers over the back of her hand on the way. The wall that looked into the studio was one-way glass, which had been convenient when one or both of us had needed some "stress relief" at work before.
"Not yet, Susan," was her response as she reached out and rested her hand on mine. She was the boss, and we do take the occasional "long lunch" together, so she didn't have to be subtle if she didn't want to. "But it will be. It's Tread the Boards Day today." We groaned at the same time at the thought.
"Tread the Boards Day" was Claire's term for one of the more annoying aspects of the business. About 65% of a yoga studio's advertising is word-of-mouth. Another reason I didn't want to choose one of the customers. If it didn't work, "the owner's secretary tried to come on to me" may or may not make for a good Yelp review, depending on the reader. The occasional coupon in The Stranger only accounted for another 10%; the other 25% of our advertising came from flyers on bulletin boards at supermarkets, coffee shops, organic markets; and gyms and spas that didn't offer their own yoga classes. That meant that either I or Claire had to spend at least one day a month driving up and down I-5 and Highway 405 and making all these little stops to ask if we could put up a flyer, then tacking them to the bulletin boards. Then an idea hit me.
"Well, you know, Claire," I said, turning my hand over so it was holding hers and making little circles on the back of her hand with my thumb. "If you covered Tacoma and Lacey and I went north and handled Puyallup and Kent, you could be done in a couple of hours and all that driving could be my problem."
"Mmm-hmm," Claire responded with a knowing smile. "And be ten minutes from home, so no sense coming all the way back here just for the last couple hours of the day, and you might as well knock off early, I suppose." I smiled back.
"It'd also free up a bit of time on our schedules." I stood up from my chair and put my arm around her waist. "We'd have time for a nice, enjoyable lunch before we headed out."
Claire put her arms around me and slid them down to cup my ass. "We could save even more time if we just had a little nibble in my office, Susan. Why don't we continue this discussion in there?"
"You sure are smart, Lady," I said with a little smooch. "Guess that's why you're the boss."
As I sat at my desk the next morning taking care of some paperwork, I looked up and out the glass wall at the morning class. Morning classes in the middle of the week tended to consist of the serious enthusiasts, as opposed to the people who wandered in with a coupon and never came back after the first session. Twelve of the kind of toned and dedicated bodies that could hold a Camel Pose for more than ten minutes were on the other side of the glass. One of the benefits of working here was being able to sit in on the occasional session, but I was nowhere near their level.
Despite the loveliness before me on display in the studio, I'd decided on the drive in that it would be a bad idea to look for a subject where I work. Apart from potentially upsetting Claire, I was still uncertain how successful I would be and afraid I'd scare off a customer. If I were at Troy or Julie's level, I could have stepped out there and turned the class into an orgy, but that wasn't the kind of business Claire wanted to run, and I couldn't think of a decent way to broach the subject of "Hey, boss, mind if I practice the things I've been learning by seducing a repeat customer" to her anyway.
Claire came out of her office with a stack of papers under her arm and set them on my desk, setting her hands on both corners and leaning over. I snuck a look down her shirt before craning my head upward to meet her eyes. She had a look of exasperation on her face that softened a bit when she noticed I'd been checking her out.
"Rough morning, Boss Lady?" I asked her. I pretended to straighten the little pewter model of the original USS Enterprise that Julie had given me a couple weeks ago and now sat on my desk as an excuse to brush my fingers over the back of her hand on the way. The wall that looked into the studio was one-way glass, which had been convenient when one or both of us had needed some "stress relief" at work before.
"Not yet, Susan," was her response as she reached out and rested her hand on mine. She was the boss, and we do take the occasional "long lunch" together, so she didn't have to be subtle if she didn't want to. "But it will be. It's Tread the Boards Day today." We groaned at the same time at the thought.
"Tread the Boards Day" was Claire's term for one of the more annoying aspects of the business. About 65% of a yoga studio's advertising is word-of-mouth. Another reason I didn't want to choose one of the customers. If it didn't work, "the owner's secretary tried to come on to me" may or may not make for a good Yelp review, depending on the reader. The occasional coupon in The Stranger only accounted for another 10%; the other 25% of our advertising came from flyers on bulletin boards at supermarkets, coffee shops, organic markets; and gyms and spas that didn't offer their own yoga classes. That meant that either I or Claire had to spend at least one day a month driving up and down I-5 and Highway 405 and making all these little stops to ask if we could put up a flyer, then tacking them to the bulletin boards. Then an idea hit me.
"Well, you know, Claire," I said, turning my hand over so it was holding hers and making little circles on the back of her hand with my thumb. "If you covered Tacoma and Lacey and I went north and handled Puyallup and Kent, you could be done in a couple of hours and all that driving could be my problem."
"Mmm-hmm," Claire responded with a knowing smile. "And be ten minutes from home, so no sense coming all the way back here just for the last couple hours of the day, and you might as well knock off early, I suppose." I smiled back.
"It'd also free up a bit of time on our schedules." I stood up from my chair and put my arm around her waist. "We'd have time for a nice, enjoyable lunch before we headed out."
Claire put her arms around me and slid them down to cup my ass. "We could save even more time if we just had a little nibble in my office, Susan. Why don't we continue this discussion in there?"
"You sure are smart, Lady," I said with a little smooch. "Guess that's why you're the boss."
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