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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may bring their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house might not work out. He hated their concern almost as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a female or a guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a lady, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?
No choice, is what he usually said. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his weird response over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the truth that she kept herself fit. Her eyes were almond-shaped, her hair black, and her skin the colour of caramel. I'm Ally. I'll be your therapist today, she said. It sounded as if she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel. Her voice, alone, aroused him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his personal health appeared to be great and that he had excellent skin, she was happy. And when she shook his strong hand and gazed into his baby blue eyes, butterflies fluttered in her chest and the hair based on the back of her neck. Ally led Alan to Room 5. She asked him to undress and lay face-down on the table. She left the room, giving him privacy to disrobe and crawl under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses almost disappear, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat much faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The aroma was sweet and moderate. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan could feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he imagined her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't help but picture Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming pleasure that straight contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Getting rid of a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan attempted to picture a more complete image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off provided a crude type of finder in his pitch-black world.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might assess the length of her upper arm, and he envisioned the perky breasts that hung just above his spinal column. He imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck. He envisioned her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, however in a deep-necked top that hung off one shoulder, exposing the line of her clavicle. In his mind, he saw a bead of sweat meander down her neck prior to following the collar bone to her sternum. Scoot down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was completely put up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's response. He didn't understand what to say. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in situations like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their method from her chest down to the location listed below her navel. She desired Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last thirty minutes had been ample preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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