I clear my throat. ‘She couldn’t make it. I’m here to take her place.’
He nods. ‘Ok,’ and going to the massage table lies on it face down.
I gaze at the splendid body, the muscles, gleaming in the dim room and think of Stella. God, I’m not surprised she’s all in love. I am vaguely aware of a kind of animal attraction. I want to touch him. The sexual desire is so strong, it is as unsettling as a fingernail on a blackboard. It sets my teeth on edge. It’s almost like making love. I take a deep breath. Right. Swedish. Make it hard, Stella is saying in my head.
There is a strange feeling inside my belly. I feel hot and excited. A light sheen of sweat starts on my body. I wipe my brow with the back of my forearm. I flex my fingers and move forward.
I pick up the oil that has been warming in the hot water. Jesus, suddenly the smell of oil feels too musky and erotic. I gaze at his sinewy neck and feel the hair at the back of my own rise. He is like an animal, a big cat. Sleek and dangerous. I put musky oil back down and pick up a random bottle.
I pour the warm, lemon scented oil on the plateau at the base of his spine. I watch it pool. Then I take a deep breath and open the massage with a long, slow stroke. He doesn’t react. I shift my hands down to the two mounds of the gluteal muscles. They are firm strong and tight … and bulging insolently.
Make it hard. He likes it hard.
I dig down and get to work, careful not to make the mistakes that amateurs make – work too fast. My breathing rate increases, but the man does nothing. Just lies there silently. I move to the front of him, grab his shoulders and push down his back with my thumbs and finger pads..
Smooth and sensuous.
My hands roll back. It is almost hypnotic to feel my palms sliding down the tatted skin, and feel the muscles underneath move. By now sweat is running down my back. I have been so caught up in the job I do not see his hands move, but they are without warning cupping my buttocks. For a few second I freeze, more in shock than anything else.
The inert body moved!
Then I jump back in horror. ‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’
He lifts his head and looks at me with those wicked eyes. ‘I figured since you are not a real masseuse you were a hooker.’
‘What gave you that crazy impression?’ I demand outraged. How dare he?
His eyes slide down to my breasts. I look down and the scarf is dislodged and my breasts are practically spilling out of my uniform. My ears burn as I pull the scarf upwards and clutch it against my chest.
‘Well, I’m not a prostitute,’ I deny hotly.
His reaction is swift and smooth. He rolls to his side and lands lightly on his feet like a cat or someone with some kind of stealth training. He straightens. Naked and utter unashamed of his body he takes a step towards me. Shocked and a little frightened I take a step back, but the wall pulls me up short. He stops a foot away from me. His palms land on either side of me.
I gaze at him with wide eyes.
‘Then why did you massage me like that?’ he asks hoarsely,
The breath escapes me in a rush. ‘Like what?’ I whisper.
‘Like you want to taste my cock.’
‘I didn’t. I don’t,’ I stutter.
‘Then why are you fucking wet?’ he asks softly. His eyes drop to my mouth.
‘I’m not,’ I say clearly.
His hands leave the wall and grab my hips. ‘Do you want me to make a liar of out of you?’ he asks.
‘Don’t touch me,’ I spit.
He pulls me towards his naked body until his rock hard cock twitches against my belly.
A strange languor overtakes me, and I am suddenly struck by the desire to submit. To let him have his way. To let him fuck me hard. Because I know it will be a hard fuck. Yes, I’d be just a nameless fuck, and yes, there will be the walk of shame afterwards, but I can live with all of that. The thing that stops me is the thought of facing Stella.
‘How dare you?’ I gasp, outraged.
He laughs, a humorless, cold laugh. ‘Is that a challenge or a fucking invitation?’
‘It’s a fucking warning,’ I say furiously.
Ignoring my fury, he runs his fingers along my inner thigh.
I draw in a sharp breath. ‘Let go of me or I’ll scream.’
His eyes light up. They are like the underside of certain fish, slivery blue. He lets go of my hips. One of his hands comes up to my face. He drags his thumb along my lower lip while I stare up at him, mesmerized by the naked lust in his eyes. The fingers of his other hand arrive at the apex of my thighs.
‘Don’t,’ I whisper.
He brushes his fingers along the crotch of my panties. There is no expression at all in his face when he finds them soaking wet. Without a word he pushes the material aside and inserts a long finger into me.