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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others might carry their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home might not exercise. He disliked their question almost as much as the expression 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 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 indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?

No preference, is what he generally said. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his strange response over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal 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. If she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel, it sounded as. Her voice, alone, aroused him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.

Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal hygiene seemed to be excellent which he had excellent skin. And when she shook his strong hand and looked into his baby blue eyes, butterflies fluttered in her chest and the hair based 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, offering him personal 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 disappear, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally returning in, his heart began to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

Alan could not be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan could not assist but imagine Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing satisfaction that straight contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she noticed she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously 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 gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan tried to imagine a more total picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally offered off offered an unrefined type of sonar in his pitch-black world.

When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might determine the length of her upper arm, and he pictured the perky breasts that hung just above his spinal column. He pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck. He envisioned 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 before following the collar bone to her breast bone. And so 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 lifted the sheet to make it easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was fully set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't know what to state. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. 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. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was all set to have sex.

 

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