“Well, I changed my mind,” he said with a shrug. “What are they going to do? Sue me?”
“Genevieve might,” I said seriously. “Of course, you would have a fantastic lawyer to represent you. At a very reasonable rate.”
He squeezed my hand again and smiled. “Actually, Yonas is fully trained and will be named Paradiso’s official Yoni Master at the orientation dinner tonight. I will present him as my successor, along with the others who have been trained and named—” he made air quotes with his long fingers “—Yoni Apprentices.”
I bit my lip and resisted the urge to scream. In my best lawyerly fashion, I calmly asked, “You don’t think there’ll be a demand for mass refunds?”
He flashed his perfect teeth and held up his glass. “I do not. You see, to reward our guests for their understanding, every woman here this weekend will get a Yoni Massage from Yonas and his capable apprentices.”
“Really? Wow… Lulu picked the wrong weekend not to come.”
“She certainly did,” he said, tapping his glass to mine. “So, all I have to do is attend the dinner long enough to pass the baton to Yonas, then I will be back here and we can have dinner brought up just for the two of us and have a lovely weekend.”
“I have a better idea,” I said, leaning in to kiss his lips. “You go to the dinner, then hurry back because I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise? For me?” He gave me a suspicious look. “What kind of surprise?”
“If I told you that it wouldn’t be a surprise,” I said. I stood up and tugged him to his feet. He opened his arms and I melted into him.
“I love you, counselor,” he said, pressing his lips to my forehead.
“I love you, too, Mr. Walker.”
I pulled back and patted my hands to his chest. “Now, go to your dinner and do your duty. Your surprise will be waiting when you get back.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Devin
The orientation dinner and passing of the baton (the passing of a tube of oil would have been more appropriate) went off without a hitch. Ben had orchestrated things with just the right amount of drama and pageantry, enough to make guests wiggle in their seats. When I stepped up to the microphone and announced that I was taking a sabbatical to pursue my own spiritual journey, a wave of gasps and disappointed groans washed across the crowd. But when introduced Yonas as my heir apparent, the groans turned to sighs.
Yonas Swenson was six-foot-three, blond, blue eyed, a native Swede, and so goddamn good looking I wanted to just punch him in the nose. It was purely coincidental that is name was Yonas, which I joked meant more than one Yoni. He was chosen to be the Yoni Master based on his time working for me, his talent for massage, and his looks; not necessarily in that order.
Duh.
As Genevieve so aptly pointed out during one of our planning meetings, directing the question at Cassandra, the only other woman in the room, “Would you rather have Brad Pitt’s hands caressing your body or Danny DeVito’s? What woman is going to pay $2,000 to have an unattractive man massage her Yoni? Certainly, not me!”
It was a matter of simple economics, folks.
Limited supply and inflated demand.
Give the customer what they wanted (hot guy, great hands, multiple orgasms) and no one was going to miss good old Devin McMasters, at least not for long. Besides, I’d still be around, being the face of the brand, hawking products, teaching, speaking, writing. Just no more dipping my hands in the clients’ cookie jars, so to speak. I was going to save a fortune in Purell…
After my brief farewell, the lights went down, Yonas stepped forward, and I anointed him as The One True Yoni Master by placing my hands on his cheeks and pressing my forehead to his, as if our minds were connecting so I could pass on my spiritual gift and healing touch to him through my thoughts.
It was all bullshit, of course.
Just smoke and mirrors.
All for show.
The only thing I was passing on to Yonas was the knowledge that if he fucked this up, I would personally hunt him down and gut him like a deer.
I pressed my lips to his forehead, then presented him to the audience amid a sea of applause and cheers. It was almost like being at a Chippendale’s show. When Yonas held out his magic hands and announced that every woman there would get her Yoni rubbed over the course of the weekend, the place went wild.
“Okay,” I said, pulling Ben close enough to whisper in his ear. “It’s all yours, partner.”
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I have a date,” I said, patting his shoulder before slipping out the door. I glanced back to see thirty women surrounding Yonas, all screaming and waving their hands in the air, hoping to be chosen as The One whose Yoni would christen the event. I smiled without a single regret. “Besides, you’re in good hands.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: Cassandra
I stood on the balcony wrapped in a blanket waiting for Devin to appear on the stairs below. The sky above was black as ink now, with a million stars twinkling brightly and the full moon on the rise. The night air was crisp and the blanket felt warm around my naked body. I let the blanket drop from my breasts so the cool air could kiss my nipples until they were hard. I wedged my right nipple in the crook of my fingers and gave it a little squeeze and a tug, just a preview of things to come.
I heard screams and applause and music and coming from the lodge below and knew the torch had been passed. Yonas was the Yoni Master now. Devin McMasters—Devin Walker—was now simply a man.
My man.
And no one else’s.
I spotted him coming across the stone patio, his white shirt aglow in the moonlight like fluttering angel’s wings. He started up the long staircase toward the villa, taking the steps two by two. I went back inside and made sure everything was ready for his surprise.
The candles were lit.
The air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and lilac.
The massage table was all set, covered in towels to absorb our mess.
Soft music drifted from the speakers hidden in the ceiling.
When Devin came in the door and saw me standing next to the massage table, naked, cupping my breasts, tugging gently on my hard nipples, juices flowing between my legs, he smiled.
“My surprise is that you get a massage?” he asked, peeling off the white shirt as he crossed the room. He kicked off his sandals and pushed his pants and underwear down his legs. His cock was already plump in anticipation of his hands and lips on my body.
Devin put his hands around my waist and slid them down to my ass. He clenched my ass cheeks and pulled me in to him. I could feel his cock getting hard as it pressed against my mound.
“Actually,” I said, putting my hands around his neck and pulling his face down to my lips. “The surprise is that you are getting the massage, not giving it.”
He pulled back and blinked at me, as if the concept of him being on the receiving end of a massage was something he’d never considered. “Me? Wow… Okay… What would you like me to do?”
“Lie down on your stomach,” I said, gesturing toward the table.
“Can I lie on my back?” he asked, glancing down at his cock, which was fully hard and sticking out like a third arm. “I’m not sure I can lie on my stomach with this going on.”
I wrapped my fingers around his cock and gave it a little squeeze. His eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned. “Fine, I can rub your back after this goes down.”
He shuddered out a breath and let me lead him to the table with his cock in hand, like a prized bull on a leash. “Now, lie down and get comfy while I warm the oil.”
“I’d rather have the oil that’s between your legs,” he said playfully as he slid on to the table and lay back with his hands behind his head. His cock stuck up strong and true like the mast of a great ship. I couldn’t resist pumping it with my hand a few times and pressing my lips to the tip just to say hello.
“Fuck, that feels good…” he said, smiling with his eyes closed. “Suck my cock, baby… You know what I like…”
“Patience,” I said quietly, my hand still sliding up and down the thick muscle, squeezing little drops of precum from the slit. I licked the salty juice away, then pulled back my hand.
“Hey… where are you going…”
“Close your eyes… Focus on your breathing… Shhh….”
As Devin did as commanded, I went to the warmer and filled my palms with the lavender-scented oil. I rubbed it between my hands and went to the end of the table and began massaging his size-thirteen feet.
“Mmmm… I have never had my feet rubbed…” he said, eyes still closed, sighing the words. “I had no idea what I’d been missing.”
“Just you wait,” I said, my hands sliding up the front of his legs, massaging the muscles along the sides, kneading them with my fingers and thumbs like thick cylinders of bread dough. My hands slid to his thighs, digging into the muscle, rubbing, carefully avoiding his hard cock and balls, which twitched when my fingers got close to it.
“Can we just forego the rest of the massage and fuck?” he asked.
“Shhh…. Breathe… And shut up…”
My hands went around the sides of his legs and up his hips, bypassing his cock, then meeting back at his curly patch. I massaged it gently with my thumbs, then let my hands travel up his flat stomach to his chest. I got more oil and rubbed it into his chest, lingering on his hard nipples, rolling them under my thumb, smiling at the juices oozing from the tip of his cock even without me touching it.