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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others may 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 in the house might not exercise. He hated their concern almost 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 woman or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a woman, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he typically stated. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed 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 unusual reaction over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to find her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the reality 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 client of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal hygiene appeared to be good and that he had good skin. 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 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 element of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. But 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, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan could not imagine however assist Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face simply as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing enjoyment that directly contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she discovered she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was strongly brought in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she discharged a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something delicious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Removing a little the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Later, as her thumbs went into his calves, inner-thighs, and hamstrings, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan tried to imagine a more complete image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced offered an unrefined type of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a mild wave of warmth when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. He pictured her hips, her smooth tummy 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 started to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Run 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 fully set up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's response. He didn't know what to say. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in situations like these. Perhaps that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this minute, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex.
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