I blew out my knee and lost the only future I had. Then I walked into Foundry before dawn, and Dana Boyd put her hands on my hips, fixed my lift, and told me to give her one more.

She is forty-one. She owns the box. She was the real thing once, an elite competitor, before her own knee ended it, and she runs the place like the drill nobody argues with. She coaches me on trade because I cannot pay, which means she owns my mornings, my job, and every rep I take.

She is the one who lowered the blinds. She is the one who locked the door.

If a member talks, if her business partner connects the dots, if one look lands wrong, she loses the box and I lose the last shot I have left.

She keeps calling it a mistake. She has never once meant it.

A fully explicit age gap breeding erotic romance novella.

Part 1 of 3