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THE STRINGPOINT GROUP

'I raise my buttocks in defiance'

Thursday

My sister Frederique and I have agreed to meet at Roberto's, the Italian restaurant of the Hilton in Amsterdam. I am convinced that Mark will also be here, probably with my ex-colleague Pauline. “Nice tent,” says Frederique, looking around. I look with her, but I don't see Mark sitting anywhere. “Tell me, how do you envision that influencing?”

I'm saying that there are already some very successful "momfluencers", so mothers who post photos and videos of their children on social media and they get all kinds of free stuff, such as toys, car seats, trips and so on. “And money,” says my sister cynically. “What about money? Do they also earn something with it?" I say sharply that I am convinced that this is so, but I hear how hollow my words sound.

"I think it's a very bad plan. Apart from the fact that very few people can actually make a living off of this, again I don't think it's a good idea to exploit Ella in this way. Wait until she's about sixteen and can decide for herself. What are you doing sitting on your chair all the time anyway? Are you expecting someone or something?"

"Nope," I lie. “Shall we have coffee in the bar? At least it's nice and warm there." I let my sister pay without batting an eyelid, after all she earns much more than I do. With a beating heart I walk into the bar of the Hilton a little later. I am convinced that Mark is romantically sitting here with Pauline by the fireplace. But nothing is less true. Mark is sitting at a table with two unknown men in suits. He immediately sees me and walks towards me.

"What are you doing here?" His eyes are dark. "I hope it's not true what I think. You didn't believe I would be sitting here with a few business associates, so you came to check on me. However?" I shoot that I happen to be sitting here with my sister, but he walks away again. Frederique laughs, while I don't find it all that funny. Anyway, at least she won't realize that her husband and I still can't keep our hands off each other either.

A few hours later I can't sleep. I'm constantly worrying about how I'm going to make my money if I don't go back to work for a boss. If only I had learned a real trade instead of a communication course. On the other hand, Monica Geuze didn't even finish school and now earns an insane amount of money. Maybe I should make sure I look this good myself first. I haven't been to the gym in months.

I don't fall asleep until around twelve, only to be woken up a little later by the doorbell. I look through the window. At the door is a soaked Mark; it's raining cats and dogs. “I wanted to see you,” he says hoarsely. “Even though I sometimes find your behavior terrible, I always feel like you. Remember that.” He takes off his clothes, so that a moment later he is stark naked in front of me. Then he picks me up and carries me to the bedroom. He throws me on the bed. "I feel like taking you hard."

He sounds brutal and demanding. Hmm, how I like that. “Take off your clothes and turn around,” he says imperiously. I do exactly what he says. Defiantly I raise my buttocks and feel how he pats his hand first on one buttock and then on the other. He gently squeezes my nipples. Then he takes possession of me. "Yummy?" His voice sounds even hoarse than before. His tongue licks my neck, his hands are everywhere. Tasty is an understatement. It's unbelievably wonderful what he does. And all my worries about Pauline are completely gone.

Sunday

Unfortunately, nothing else has changed between Mark and me: on Sundays he is with his family. And since Ella is staying with Linda this weekend, there's nothing stopping me from visiting a gym that just opened near me. I have an intake at 11 am. A blonde God is waiting for me at the counter. “Hi, I'm Foppe,” he says with a light Frisian accent. "Your name is Laura, right?"

Foppe gives me a tour. “Here are the devices,” he points. “And above, the group lessons are given. Look, this is the yoga room and there's the spinning room. And here we give the boxing lessons.” We walk a little further. “Here is the sauna, here the steam room and the plunge pool and swimming pool. And you can have a nice bubble there. Pop winks. Suddenly I see us naked in the bubble bath together, Foppe and I. Not a wrong image.

Foppe mentions the prices of the various memberships and I turn a little pale. I have to live on unemployment benefits from January 1 and cannot afford an expensive gym at all. On the other hand, as an influencer, I do have an exemplary function. I swallow and say: “Give me an annual subscription right away. Then I don't have to pay a registration fee, do I?" I will be covered for at least a whole year.

To my horror, I have to do a fitness test and Foppe puts me on a scale that also measures my fat and muscle mass. The first is too high and the second is too low. I'm scared to death. The past few months I've only worked, replaced my bike with a car and drank way too much. “I can help you,” says Foppe. “I ask 65 euros per hour for personal training.” I look at him. I want this. But how am I ever going to pay for that?!

© The Stringpoint Group

 

bron: de Telegraaf

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