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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might bring their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home could not exercise. He disliked 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 prefer a lady or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he preferred a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a lady, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he usually said. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his unusual reaction over the phone until now, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to find her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the reality that she kept herself in shape. 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, excited 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 excellent and that he had excellent skin, she was delighted. And when she shook his strong hand and looked 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 slipped away into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make certain. The scent 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 heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't envision but help 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 satisfaction that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually started in his loins), she discovered she might smell him. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands worked as her eyes. Getting rid of a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she attracted her mind. Later on, as her thumbs dug into his hamstrings, calves, and inner-thighs, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. On the other hand, Alan tried to envision a more total image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced supplied an unrefined kind 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 warmth. 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. He might evaluate the length of her upper arm, and he envisioned the perky breasts that hung simply above his spinal column. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He pictured 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 moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan saw it at the very same time. Alan was totally put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to state. 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 circumstances like these. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their method from her chest down to the place 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 actually been sufficient preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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