Stephanie Part 2 By Reulmcoy@aol.com Like I said, nothing can prevent me from thinking about her. It's possible that you're beginning to develop an understanding why. However, her flawless, perfect body is only the tip of the iceberg. Anyway, let me continue where I left off. From my continuous research on Stephanie, I eventually came to the realization that she had no signifigant other. Was she gay? More importantly, was it possible that she might take an interest in me? I had made every attempt to improve myself physically and mentally for such a beautiful woman. I had run track and field and hit the gym all throughout high school. In addition, I had an internship to lead towards a successful career as a union studio sound technician. I was capable of going around with several decent girls throughout school, yet Stephanie was in a different league.The crazy aspect to this was that everyone was truly clueless as to the level she was really on. It was the plateau of a goddess. Towards the Spring Semester of my senior year, my big break finally came. One of Stephanie's friends finally convinced her to come to the Spring Social. Thank God, I was the first one to notice her. Yet, she maintained her practice of concealing her divine body with a loose, non-revealing dress. I spoke with her casually on the sidelines of the dance floor. Fortunately, she seemed to be full of life and laughed at my jokes. I succeeded in holding her interest and she joined me for a slow dance. To my surprise, she claimed to have never danced before. It was amazing how fast she caught on! An unexpected turn took over when the D.J. played fast club music. Stephanie took over almost immediately. At first, I didn't take this seriously. I went with her and let her lead. After about fifteen minutes, I began an attempt to resume my lead. I exerted a slight amount of subtle force and was met with more than adequate resistance. I was initially intrigued. No girl had ever played a game like this before. I thought that she might be eager to see if I would bend to her will so easily. I again attempted to take the lead. This time, I would lift her arm and go for the spin maneuver. Still, I was met with more than adequate resistance. I normally would have been angered by such a stubburn girl, yet she was unique. In fact, that was when she whispered something extremely bizarre. She leaned to my ear, "Do you think you can overpower me?" The music was loud and I was certain that I misunderstood her. "Well, can you, Mr. track star?", she repeated. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I certainly am not the strongest guy in the world. However, I'm 6'1" and a lean 195. There should be no question of my ability to overpower a 5'8" 130 pound girl. "Are you serious?" I replied. She persisted, "You heard me." I nodded. This 'shy' girl was really playing games. I gradually began increasing the force to lift her arm. To my shock and dismay, it simply didn't move a fraction of an inch. I began to utilize my chest and shoulder muscles of my right arm to their maximum potential. Still, she reacted only with a smile. Out of sheer frustration, my left arm entered the picture. The combined force of my entire upper body proved insufficient in causing even the slightest nudge in her arm. She began to respond with a playful laugh. How could this be? I had worked out to nearly my full potential consistantly since junior high school and this girl was damaging my ego. Fortunately, we were emersed within the crowd and no one seemed to notice what was going on. That was when I received my first clue of the league Stephanie was in. It was about that time that she suggested we take a walk around the complex of the dance hall (also known as the auditorium). I had never seen her without a heavy garment, so I asked her if she was into lifting weights. Afterall, a woman with gigantic, manly muscles does not appeal to me in the slightest. She informed me that she had never done such a thing. Still, I was curious. She lifted the sleeve of her dress, revealing a petite, feminine arm. She was finely tanned with a slight amount of natural tone, yet she was not muscular by any stretch of the imagination. I tried to put the bizarre incident behind us as we went for an evening stroll around the campus. We talked for hours about our similar interests in literature and film. The conversation became increasingly elaborate as the night progressed. She began to speak of topics that went over my head. ( I wouldn't consider myself to be Shakespere or Einstein, but I still do not often encounter someone my age who can conceptualize life on a higher plateau! ) I was enamored by her ability to maintain solid, intellectual conversation. Yet, at the same time, I was intimidated by the possibility of a higher intelligence. After our untypical evening walk, we came across the football weight room. In his haste to leave early for the weekend, the janitor had left the door unlocked. Stephanie asked me if I wanted to make this an extremely untypical evening. I can't say that I had reason to argue with her. As we entered, I was reminded of familiar memories involving excruciating pain. The ' no pain, no gain ' slogan was all too familiar to me. I had always worked out in this very room with the other guys on both the track and football teams. Sometimes Leslie would work in with me. She was the only female I had known who had even come close to my physical ability. Even then, Leslie is almost a solid 150 pounds and her two brothers humble me with their incredible lifts. Yet, here I was with the young woman Leslie had fantasized about continuously. This also happened to be the same girl that had so effortlessly trampled my ego that evening in both mind and body. We approached the wide olympic bench. I had recently prided myself in lifting triple plates, or 315 pounds. This was truly an accomplishment, due to the fact that I was once barely capable of lifting single plates, or 135 pounds. Stephanie claimed to have never used any weight training equipment, so I explained to her the simple purpose of a spotter. She was kind enough to oblige as I began my warm up set. I felt especially full of energy that evening, so I thought it proper to attempt my max. I did not use strict form. To summarize, my goal was to simply prove the results of my training by cheating with the assistance of my arched back and shoulders. I succeeded in lifting 335 pounds one time( barely) and set the weight back on the rack. My rotator cuffs and lower back immediately informed me of the mistake I had made. Stephanie actually seemed to be impressed for several seconds, until she sat on the bench. She began to remove the upper portion of her dress,( which was not designed with weight training in mind) to reveal a white undershirt. It wasn't a transparent garment suggestive of sex, but a regular woman's collared undershirt. It was the first time I began to develop a more accurate picture of her body. She appeared to have an absolutely perfect hourglass figure. I could only imagine how incredible her tanned figure was in compliment with her softly subtle tone. She laid across the bench and gripped the bar. I developed an immediate concern. After all, most girls I have seen on the bench press ( with an exception to Leslie ) have struggled with 85 pounds, especially those whom had never attempted the exercise before. Before I could react, Stephanie had lifted the bar off the rack without the slightest effort! She asked me how far she should go down before beginning the initial repetition. I reacted prematurely and completely in shock, " I don't think it will make any difference! " I would have been certain that those weights were made of hollow cardboard if I had not just lifted them myself. To add insult, she instantly was capable of perfect balance! It had taken me six months just to learn the skill of exerting equal force from each arm. To really add amazement, I noticed that her slender, feminine arms still maintained their highly subtle tone without increasing in size. After she became bored with the repetitive motion, I suggested the possibility of more weight. I covered the olympic bar in plates completely. It was now loaded with a rediculous weight of 675. After a long hesitation, Stephanie lifted the weight twice before the bar bent and the weights violently crashed to the floor. "How in the hell do you do that!" I asked in disbelief, "You've never done this before!" "I suppose I am fairly alright at this," She noted casually, " Maybe I can tell you after I get to know you better."