A Body to die for

with reflections of myself. Every wall, even in the inside corridor, was mirrored. It was a three-quarters view nightmare. No wonder the clients were obsessed with their bodies. The next thing I noticed were the smells of chlorine, baby powder and the slightest notes of Ben-Gay. For an ex-smoker, my olfactory sense was remarkably keen. It’s helped solve a few jobs for me, in particular, the Case of the Cheating Boyfriend and the Litter Box Caper. Jack smiled and said, “You get used to the smell. It’s refreshing though, isn’t it?”
    If refreshing smelled like moldy menthol, then yeah, sure. We walked along the mirrored corridor. I stared straight ahead the whole time. Along the way, Jack and I passed the pro shop, called Cut Me. Sporting goods, health food and supplements were for sale. Jack waved at the people behind the counters. They waved back. Everyone wore workout clothes. A woman walked by in a pink leotard G-string and shiny orange tights. Another passed in a green body stocking that hugged her sinew so tightly I wondered if Lycra could fall in love.
    We reached the reception desk. An early twentyish woman in a spotted workout getup smiled from behind the console. She had one ponytail on the top of her head. Strands of blond hair streamed down her shoulders. She had some knockers. “Hi, Jack,” she said and smiled brightly while stretching her leg muscles. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” I noticed that there wasn’t a chair behind her desk. Jack said, “Change of plans. Ameleth around?” She eyed me suspiciously. “She’s isn’t here. Should I call her?”
    “No.” Jack waved her off. “I just have to run upstairs. I left something in the suite. Janey, this is my new friend, Wanda Mallory.” I nodded. She nodded and checked me out.
    “Mark from Cut Me needs to talk to you,” Janey said. “Like, right away.” Must be another sports bra emergency.
    Jack sighed and said, “He probably wants to ask about the sneakers shipment. Wanda, wait right here?” I shrugged affirmative, and he left.
    Janey smiled at me. I smiled back. She said, “I guess you’ll be joining the club.”
    I nearly laughed out loud.
    “It’s really the right decision,” she said all-confidential-like. “It’s never too late to start exercising. How old are you? Like, thirty-two?” I was, like, twenty-nine. I ignored her, not caring if I was rude. “No wedding ring,” she observed. “Our singles memberships are on sale this month.” She shifted legs, and stretched with vigor. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her examine my head. Finally, she asked, “Is that your real hair color?”
    “Are those real silicone implants?” I asked. “Maybe I should just ask Jack when he comes back. I’m sure he’ll have an opinion. Unless that would embarrass you, of course.” Finally, that ended our conversation.
    Jack returned moments later and we walked past Janey toward the elevators. I turned to look at her butt and caught her checking a load of mine. Satisfied that my butt couldn’t be more genuine, she turned back around with a smirk on her face.
    “You fucked Janey,” I said to Jack.
    He seemed shocked. “I’ve been completely faithful to Ameleth.”
    “Except for that time you screwed Janey,” I prodded.
    We stepped into one of the two elevators. Most brownstones don’t have them. Ameleth must have spent a million pretty pennies installing these. The elevator car had a spongy floor, like a gym mat, and the walls and ceiling were mirrored. The buttons were big rectangles with words on them. From the top down, the buttons read: aerobics; free-weights, nautilus; racketball, tennis; lobby, shops, restaurant (where we were); pool, spa, locker rooms. Five floors. Only one seemed remotely tempting to me: the spa. Maybe Jack could get me a free massage.
    Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a key chain. He fit a cylindrically shaped key into a slot on the elevator control panel. He turned it, and the car took off. We zoomed like a vertical express train past the tennis and nautilus levels to a floor not listed on the panel. The car’s stop nearly flattened me. The mirrored doors slid open with a kerchunk. Jack stepped off. I followed. We walked into the first room of a suite. Behind, the elevator doors whooshed closed, the car dropped with a whistle. I was trapped. Just me and Jack and a CyberRun treadmill in the center of the room. A well-stocked silver and glass bar was built into