Chapter 26 SINFUL CLAIM
SINFUL CLAIM 1
MY YOGA INSTRUCTOR
BLAIR SINCLAIR (FL) — 23YRS
GIDEON YATES (ML) — 37YRS
GIDEON
Coming back to an empty apartment after a long, punishing day of work had become my normal. The quiet wasn’t comforting anymore—it was hollow. Since the divorce, I’d gotten used to it. Used to the silence, the takeout dinners, the nights with nothing but my own company.
What I hadn’t gotten used to was the lack of touch. The absence of physical intimacy gnawed at me. It wasn’t just about sex—it was about that slow burn of connection, the feeling of someone’s skin against mine. But after the divorce, that part of my life had shut down completely.
Leah—my kid sister—had been bugging me for months to try one of her yoga classes. She worked part-time as an instructor, balancing it with her college classes. I’d laughed it off at first, but she kept insisting. Finally, I agreed to give it a try.
I could only make the late sessions three nights a week, which meant I didn’t get Leah as my instructor. Instead, I walked into the studio one evening and saw her friend, Blair, standing at the front. I’d met Blair before, briefly—she and Leah had been close for years. Back then, I was married, so I never looked twice.
Now I did.
She was young, full of energy, with a body that was all smooth lines and toned curves. Her smile was bright, but there was something in her eyes—playful, maybe even a little daring—that pulled me in.
“You must be Gideon,” she said as she walked over, hand extended. “Nice to meet you again. I’m Blair—your instructor, and Leah’s friend.”
Her grip was warm, soft, lingering just long enough to make me wonder if I imagined it. “Pleasure’s mine,” I said, matching her smile.
She turned, motioning for me to follow. And I did—like a damn puppy.
Inside the mirrored studio, people of all ages were settling on their mats. I picked a spot in the back, unrolled my mat, and stood beside it. I’d seen Leah do yoga plenty of times, but being here, doing it myself, felt strange.
“We’ll start with basic stretches,” Blair announced.
The stretches felt good—my muscles had been locked tight from hours at a desk. But when we moved into the more complex poses, that’s when my body betrayed me. The tree pose? Forget it. My balance was shot.
I was mid-struggle when I felt her behind me. Her hands—light but sure—pressed against my back, adjusting my stance. I inhaled, catching the faint scent of her perfume, warm and faintly floral. Her touch sent a subtle jolt through me.
She moved around the class, helping others, but somehow her hands found me more often than anyone else.
By the end of that first session, I was surprised by how much I’d enjoyed it. Not just the stretching—but her. The closeness, the way she lingered.
Weeks passed, and I didn’t miss a single session.
And somewhere along the way, I started picking up on little things. Her gaze holding mine a beat too long in the mirror. The way she’d bend down in front of me, her top hanging just enough to show the swell of her breasts. The sly smiles. The way her hand would rest on my shoulder longer than necessary.
At first, I brushed it off. Maybe she was just naturally friendly. But the signs kept piling up.
Then came the innuendos. The playful double meanings that pulled my focus away from whatever pose we were doing. My control was wearing thin.
What I didn’t know then was that she’d been wanting me too—badly. I’d later learn she’d been getting herself off to thoughts of me, and the idea of being with her best friend’s older brother only made her want it more.
That night, I found out just how badly.
“Hey,” I greeted after class. “Thanks for the help back there. Those poses were tougher than I thought.”
She smiled. “No problem, Gideon. It’s my job.”
I hesitated, the thought in my head feeling both reckless and overdue. “Blair, you got plans tonight? I mean… I know you’re a busy college student…”
She shrugged, playful. “Nope. Not a big partier. I’d rather spend the night reading than at some loud club.”
The answer gave me just enough courage. “How about we grab a drink then?”
Her smile widened. “Sure. Let me freshen up, and maybe we can head out.”
We agreed I’d pick her up at her dorm at nine.
I drove home with a knot of anticipation low in my gut. It had been a long time since I’d felt this way before a date.
When she walked out to my SUV that night, I forgot how to breathe for a second. Her red dress clung to her in all the ways that made me think about peeling it off.
We spent hours drinking, talking, dancing. The alcohol loosened our words, and somewhere between our last round and the music still ringing in my head, she leaned in and said, “Did you know I had a crush on you?”
I laughed, certain she was joking. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Why would I lie? You’re hot, stable, smart, funny… responsible. What else does a girl want?”
Her words stirred something deep in me—both in my chest and lower. I looked at her curves in that dress and felt my restraint slipping.
“So… should we carry on this party at my place?”
Her answer was instant. “Yes.”
Back in the car, her hand slid onto my thigh. Her nails grazed the fabric, then moved higher. She cupped me through my pants, and my cock stirred instantly under her touch.
I caught her wrist gently. “Let’s save that for the bed,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
She bit her lip and nodded.
We didn’t keep our hands to ourselves once we were in my apartment. I shut the door and pressed her back against it, locking it with one hand while my other pulled her closer.
I dropped to my knees in front of her, my hands parting her legs. She gasped softly as I slid my palms up her thighs, feeling the heat between them, my pulse hammering in sync with the way she breathed my name.
And I knew—tonight, I wasn’t just going to get what I’d been imagining. I was
going to taste her, claim her, and make sure she never thought of yoga the same way again.