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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might carry their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house might not exercise. He hated their concern nearly as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a male or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a woman, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he generally stated. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his odd reaction over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal the fact 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.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal hygiene seemed to be good which he had great skin. And when she shook his strong hand and gazed into his baby blue eyes, butterflies fluttered in her chest and the hair stood 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, providing him privacy to crawl and disrobe 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 an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He found 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 quicker. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The aroma was sweet and moderate. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan might feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he pictured her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not help but think of 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, relaxing pleasure that straight opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she observed she could smell him. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Removing a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan attempted to think of a more complete picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off provided an unrefined type of sonar in his pitch-black world. When she took an action towards the front or back of the table, he felt a mild wave of heat. He imagined her hips, her smooth stomach and her toned waist above.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Therefore it went in this manner for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She raised the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was completely erect. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's response. He didn't know what to say. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Maybe that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick 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 discovered their method from her chest to the place below her navel. She desired Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last half an hour had actually been ample preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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