Just a Number (Downtown #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

fingertips to the floor…” I was back in the zone, guiding my class through each step, every breath. I loved the calmness that encompassed my being.
    Ironic that I was concentrating on driving a woman from my mind. My induction into the practice of yoga was due, in part, to another woman. A woman that I had been dating casually surprised me with a three-day weekend spa getaway. I didn’t usually make a habit of going away with women, but I was shanghaied. It worked out to my advantage. It was a real life changer.
    At the end of our first day at the resort, my female friend was called away by a family emergency—her husband came home early from a business trip. Seeing as I had no plans for the weekend, other than a paid-in-advance mini vacation, I decided what the hell?—I can try this out, and decided to stay. Besides, there was no sense in me leaving, not after all the pussy I saw, positioned in downward dog, in my face. Not to mention, I really enjoyed the meditation as well as the constant movement of parts. It was invigorating. I felt amazing after just one class. Better than I had ever felt doing other exercise regimens that seemed to beat the hell out of my body and left me feeling less than great.
    Returning from the retreat, I searched out places for yoga in my area. Attending various types of yoga classes, I learned a great deal. I found the sessions were better than bars to get laid by nicely, toned and—not to be forgotten—flexible women. Other than social benefits , yoga practice gave my body long, lean, firm muscles. They were the best results I’d ever gotten from working out. After attending a variety of classes, I found power yoga was my favorite technique style.
    Frequenting the same yoga center all the time, I got to know the instructors and eventually the owner. He asked me if I’d be interested in teaching a few classes. Why not? I was already bringing in several new people and chanting to anyone who would listen to me how passionate I was about it. So, I began training faithfully and became a certified yogi. Though my own preference was the intense continuous motion of power yoga, I wanted to gain knowledge about all aspects of the art. I immersed myself into the philosophy, discovering the benefits of a variety of practices and methods.
    Once comfortable with my techniques and teaching ability, I decided to expand my reach. I had the desire to branch out after being asked to make few guest appearances, rather than teach routine classes in one certain location. Besides accepting invitations to lead retreats, I thought it might be nice to take yoga to the outdoors. Needing to advertise my own yoga classes, with my public relations experience and the help of my graphic design friend, we set up a website.
    Next thing I knew, I was in front of hundreds of women a week wherever I held class. The numbers never stopped. I did not prey on women. No. They actually threw themselves at me like panties thrown at rock musicians. Yoga groupies. When I told my buddies stories about some of these enthusiastic females, they teased me that I was treated like a fucking yoga rockstar.
    At first, younger and horny, it was great, but as I got more in tuned with my psyche. Seeing some of the same women coming to my events, I avoided them. When I hooked up with women from a class, I was discreet. No repeats. Up front about the situation, I had no intention of anything permanent. I didn’t wish to offend pupils, either.
    Eventually, I stopped doing regular appearances. Resorts, retreats, or exclusive classes were all that I did. The chance to travel to distant cities and countries was a great way of getting an all-inclusive paid vacation and experiencing new cultures.
    It was perfect for unwinding from my regular daily schedule.
    It was perfect for flings, too.
    It was perfect that I had my bags packed, ready to escape.
    “Good job, everyone. Let’s take it way down. One more downward dog. Hold for five counts. Focus