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Alan had 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 brought his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house might not work out. He disliked their concern almost as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a male or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?
No choice, is what he normally said. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that originated 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, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal the fact 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 hygiene appeared to be good and that he had good skin, she was pleased. 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 space, giving him personal 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 aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. 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. Unusual, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make certain. The scent was mild and sweet. 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 pictured her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not picture but help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing satisfaction that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually started in his loins), she observed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Ally was highly drawn in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she discharged a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something scrumptious. 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. Eliminating a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his hamstrings, calves, and inner-thighs, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to think of a more total picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off provided a crude type of sonar in his pitch-black world.
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 started to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. 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 lifted the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was fully put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to make out Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Possibly 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 moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest down to the place below her navel. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the 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, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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