“Oh, okay.” She sounds disappointed. “Is everyone staying? I mean, is there a way you can tell him you’re needed here?”
Just as I suspected. She’s only concerned about the extra night because I won’t be home to help her out. She doesn’t miss me. She missed the extra set of hands.
Hurt by the fact that she’s only worried about the kids, I quickly ask to speak to them. I talk to them both, imagining their puffy, sleep-eyes and messy bed-heads. One more day away won’t kill them. The reason for it might, though.
I hear the cordless phone exchanging hands and Mia is back. “‘kay, babe, kick ass in your meeting. I love you.”
I can’t bear to say the three words back. Not when my intentions with Samantha are at the forefront of my mind. “Me too. I’ll call you later.” I hang up, before I have the chance to confess my forthcoming sins.
The whole morning, I stare at the PowerPoint presentation I created, thinking about what’s behind the door of room 401. I yo-yo back and forth between going through with it and ignoring it. On my way to grab lunch I’ll just toss the room key in the trash can and forget last night ever happened. But the curiosity looming within me is what keeps my grip tight on the piece of dangerous plastic inside my jacket pocket.
She said she wanted to hang out. Maybe she just wants a lunch buddy, someone to make her laugh. I’m jumping to conclusions. This doesn’t have to be what it seems like.
Only when I knock on the door, just before inserting the key into the slot, the vision of a barely clothed masseuse almost makes me run the other way.
Operative word here being ‘almost.’
“I want to practice on you. Come on in.”
The scent of lavender candles and eucalyptus oil and the serene melody of Soundscapes calm my jumpy nerves. Samantha, dressed in a skimpy, fitted t-shirt printed with the logo of her spa, places her deft hands at my shoulders, removing my suit jacket.
“I’ll step into the bathroom while you take all your clothes off. I want to show you a few things I learned today.”
I don’t object. I don’t speak. I barely breathe.
She disappears into the bathroom and I strip. I assume my position, face down and ass up, on the massage table and drape the thin, cotton sheet over my bare backside before alerting her with a shy, “Ready.” I’m far from fucking ready for any of this, but my mind keeps telling me that maybe this is just a massage. Maybe she just needs a break from the refrigerator repair man and a young, attractive prototype to test her skill.
I hear the faint thud of her graceful footsteps, before I feel her soft hands on my back. “Ooh, you work out.” I hear the smile as she speaks, but she quickly gets on with business. “Get a good night’s sleep, Declan?”
“Mmmhmmm.” The delightful pressure of her delicate but powerful hands on my lower back is sinful in and of itself.
“Not me. Too much on my mind.”
Do I dare to prompt an explanation? Nah, I’m gonna leave it alone.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night. I wondered if you would come.”
Oh, sweetie, your hands might make me do just that right here on your table.
“You’re tense, Declan. Relax.” Her hands slither from the nape of my neck to the arch of my ass, threatening to remove the sheet to reveal my buck-nakedness. Maybe I should have kept my underwear on. Stupid!
Her hands stop their wicked decent and she speaks, “Time to flip over.”
I hesitate. Doesn’t my tense back need more attention? But when she doesn’t say a word, I start to rotate.
“God, Declan. You must spend a lot of time at the gym.” She smoothes her oil greased hands over my pectorals, tracing an invisible line down my happy trail. Happy doesn’t even cover it right now…it’s fucking ecstatic.
“Samantha…” I try to stop her with something, anything, but nothing’s interrupting her now, as she pulls the t-shirt over her head, revealing a perky set of pierced nipples.
Shit! Mother-fucking, bitch-ass shit!
I lay here like a scared little boy, not having a single clue what to do with all the flesh available to me. My brain prompts my hands to reach out and touch, but the better part of me wards me off as if I will be burned by touching the tempting flame.
I sit up, using my elbows for support. Samantha takes this as an invitation to pounce. The massage table creaks with the added weight and my dick jerks traitorously underneath her straddling. I resist the urge to feel, with my hands, with my heart, but she leans in. Our faces are inches apart and it would take a fucking repellant force field to stop me from diving into this pool of lust.