George had been honing his sprinting skills in the comfort of his own home for some time now—thank God, he had the foresight to call in some construction to help renovate his spacious basement—but he had been itching to run for a while now. He hadn't seen the outside world in a while due to... unfortunate circumstances, but now that things were getting back to normal, he was itching to go outside and stretch his legs. And now the day had finally come; he'd gathered all of his usual gear, including music, water, and other miscellaneous items, and was on his way to Rectory Park, his favorite place to run in the mornings.
The park was incredibly open, with few urban renovations to leave it as a time capsule for the vast expanse of nature it once was, and was the ideal open space to perfect short and long distance running. It was also close to his house. Arriving at his usual spot near the entrance, he took out his water bottle, unscrewed the top, and drank a deep swig of the refreshing elixir of life itself—"Hey!"
He swung around. A towering pillar of muscle of a woman stood behind him, close to the park's entrance. She was dressed in casual running gear, a tank top that could barely restrain ample cleavage, and shorts. Her hair was a fiery red, her eyes were determined green, and she had an athletic build with broad shoulders and toned arms. "Race me."
"I'm sorry?" George said, putting down his water bottle. He had never seen this woman before in his life. Was this some kind of weird dream, and he was still stuck in his house?
She walked up to him slowly, smiling seductively. "You heard me. Race me," she repeated in a manner somehow more confident. "To that other bench on the other side of the park."
At first, he thought to deny her request, but on further rumination concluded that she wouldn't let him go easily otherwise, and acquiesced.
She smirked, continuing. "Get ready, the loser has to do whatever the winner says."
Now she sparked his interest. While not overly confident in his own ability, George knew he wasn't a slouch; this kinda challenge was the sort of thing he trained to do, and with such an interesting forfeit thrown into the mix, he would be giving this race his all. He hoped she knew what she was getting into. She had to, right?
With a few quick stretches form both parties and the count of three, the race began, and even sooner than this mystery woman could've expected, it was over. George was the victor by a considerable margin; he hadn't even broken a sweat by the time he reached the formerly distant bench, and was checking his watch with a smug smirk by the time she lumbered past him. Any spectator could see her mistake: She had underestimated him; big time.
George couldn't help but chuckle as he watched her hulking form collapse onto the bench, panting heavily. "So, what was that about 'loser does whatever the winner wants'?
The woman's eyes widened, her form tensing. "U-Uh..." As much as she wanted to object to the condition she herself set, it died in her throat—on general principle, there was nothing more she could do but let it happen. "Fine. What do you want?"
He made a show of thinking on it, scratching his chin and furrowing his brow, before saying, "First, I want