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Alan had gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might carry their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress 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 guy or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a female, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he normally 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 come from? he wondered. After work, he struck the fitness center, 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, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to find her; petite 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 stated.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his personal hygiene appeared to be excellent and that he had excellent skin, she was thankful. 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 space, providing him privacy to disrobe and crawl 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 aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its sensations. He found it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat quicker. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not be sure. The aroma was moderate and sweet. 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 envisioned her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't assist but picture Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming satisfaction that straight contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she saw she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely 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 excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Meanwhile, Alan tried to envision a more total picture of the body attached to the hands that dealt with him. The heat Ally emitted provided an unrefined type of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of heat when she took a step towards the front or back of the table. He visualized 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 could evaluate the length of her arm, and he envisioned the perky breasts that hung simply above his spine. He envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck. He envisioned her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, but 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. Therefore it went this way 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 actually moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan discovered it at the same time. Alan was fully put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's response. 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 pile of towels on a client's groin in circumstances like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest to the place below her navel. She wanted 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 thirty minutes had actually been more than enough preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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