Rub Me the Right Way(7)

Odder still was the fact that even though I had not had an orgasm—hadn’t even thought about having one—I had experienced something deeply sexual that touched me to my very core and left me just as warm and satisfied. Genevieve told me later it was because I had found my true calling and it did not involve giving sexual satisfaction for money. By the time I arrived home that morning I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I would accept Genevieve’s offer to mentor me, to teach me, to prepare me to become a true Yoni Master. She said I was The One. It was my destiny, my fate, my karma. To deny it would be a lie that would have disastrous results.

Ordinarily, I was a guy who didn’t believe in such things, but when she looked me in the eye and touched my cheek and said, “You are the one”, there was not a doubt in my mind that she was right.

I was The One.

* * *

As luck and irony would have it, I had a raging erection by the time I got home. It was nearly seven and Ben was still passed out in his room. I snuck in without him hearing me, ran a hot shower, and stepped into the tub with my cock in hand.

I grabbed the soap and lathered up my cock and balls and pumped the shaft until great ropes of white goo shot all over the wall. It didn’t take long, less than a minute. It was as if I had been holding back the orgasm for hours. My knees practically buckled as I came.

I sighed happily as I shot my load, grateful to relieve the pressure of the most intense erection I had ever had. When it was over I sank down to sit in the tub and let the hot water rain down upon me. I closed my eyes and imagined Genevieve whispering in my ear.

You are the one…

You are The One...

You are THE ONE...





CHAPTER FIVE: Cassandra


I stared into the eyes of the man in the photograph on the laptop screen and tried to remember where I had seen him before. I didn’t think we had ever met—him I would remember, probably. He looked vaguely familiar, yet completely foreign, like the long-lost twin of someone I used to know.

“That is Devin McMasters,” Lulu said with a dreamy sigh, like a love-struck girl talking about a boy who barely knew she was alive yet had taken the time to feel her up under the bleachers during a football game. “He is the owner of Paradiso Resort & Spa. He is the world’s foremost Yoni Master.”

I frowned at her. “Yoni? Like the guy who plays keyboards with John Tesh?”

“Not quite.” She steepled her fingers like she was praying, closed her eyes, and slowly rocked her head back and forth. “He is the master of Yoni massage. Those who have had the honor of feeling his healing touch call him, ‘The man with the magic hands’.”

“His healing touch?” I echoed, my voice oozing with sarcasm like sap from a tree. I rolled my eyes. “The man with the magic hands? Seriously, Lu? Wait a minute… Yoni Master… Yoni is Sanskrit. It means—“

“Vagina,” Lulu said with a smirk, her manicured eyebrows wiggling. “Vulva, womb, vagina, pussy, cunt, twat, furburger… you say tomato, I say toe-mah-toe.”

I gave her a thoughtful nod and rested my chin on my hands, looking at her with one eyebrow cocked. “So, he is a vagina master? Don’t all men lay that claim?”

Lulu grinned, though she was trying hard not to. “He is a Yoni Master,” she said. “A master of Yoni Massage.”

“A master of pussy massage, you mean. Now I’ve heard everything.”

I picked up the bottle of scotch from the desk and poured another inch into the tumbler. I picked up the tumbler, took a slow sip of scotch, and sighed as it burned its way down my throat. I narrowed my eyes at her and shook my head. “I’m calling bullshit on this one, old friend.”

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss it,” she said, turning the laptop screen back in her direction. “Yoni massage isn’t just about a hot guy rubbing your pussy. Christ, I can get that any night of the week. Yoni massage is a full body massage that ends with the spiritual touching of the yoni and a release of toxins, tensions, emotions...”

I rolled my eyes and snorted at her. “Spiritual touching of the yoni, i.e., rubbing of the clit and fingering of the hole till you cum like a banshee.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Lulu said. “Yes, there is touching and rubbing and fingering and cumming, but not like you think, not in a sexual way.”

“You cum, but not in a sexual way?” I leaned back in the chair and grinned at her. “I’d like to hear you argue that in court, counselor. ‘Yes, your honor, he had his hand in my cooch and I came all over it, but not in a sexual way.’” I brought the tumbler to my lips without taking a sip. “You sound like Bill Clinton back in the day, arguing that a blowjob didn’t constitute sex.”

“Depends on the blowjob,” she said with a smile. She sat back with her arms crossed. “Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Fine,” I said, leaning forward again, setting the tumbler on the desk and rolling it between my palms. “So, this guy, this Yoni Master, will rub your clit and finger your pussy, but not in a sexual way.”

“Correct.”

“Yet you still have an orgasm.”

“Yessss,” she hissed out the word like a snake, eyebrows arching, eyes going wide. “Multiple orgasms if you’re lucky.”

I frowned at her. “Wait a minute… How do you know all this?”

“Because the Yoni Master has massaged my yoni on more than one occasion over the last couple of years. And it was the most amazing sexual experience of my life.”

“Even better than the night you spent with those twin swim suit models from Milan?”

“They were from Venice,” Lulu said defensively. “But yes, even better than that.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “If this Yoni massage is so life-changing why haven’t you told me about it before? You share everything with me. Christ, Lu, you’ve called me from gangbangs to give me a review of the cocks in the room. Why have you kept this to yourself?”

“Because I didn’t think you needed it before,” she said with a shrug. “And somethings are private.”

“And you think I need it now.”

“I do.”

“Bullshit,” I said, my eyes rolling again. “I think I’ll stick with my vibrator, thank you very much.” I tipped the glass to drain the scotch, then reached for the bottle on the desk and poured myself another. I would take a car service home to my apartment, so I wasn’t too concerned about getting totally shitfaced before heading home.

“It’s not bullshit,” Lulu said seriously. She wasn’t arguing with me. She was stating it as fact whether I believed it or not. “It’s true. And it’s amazing. And if you don’t try it at least once it’s your loss.”

“Here’s to my loss then.” I sipped the scotch and watched her from the corner of my eyes. There was something about her expression, the softness of it, the dreamy look in her eye, the pout of her lip that made me want to know more.

I asked, “How many times have you been to Paradiso?”

She didn’t have to think about her answer. “Four times in two years.”

“Four times?”

She took a sip of her wine and slowly bobbed her head. “Yes, ever since we started turning a profit and pulling a regular paycheck, I reward myself with a weekend at Paradiso every time we win a big case.”

“Like the Mandalay case?”

“Exactly like the Mandalay case.”

“So, you’re going to book a weekend there.”

“I am.” She studied me with her eyes. “Do you want to come along? My treat?”

My brain started going through the reasons to say no. Money was always the big one for me so I started there. I was well on my way to becoming wealthy, but I still pinched every penny until it screamed. I asked, “How much does it cost?”

She waved at the question like it was a bad smell. “It’s six-grand for the three days and worth every penny.”

“Six-grand? As in six-thousand dollars? Jesus, Lulu, are you stealing money from our firm?”

She grinned. “If I was stealing money I’d be going to Milan for the weekend with the Italian models, not the mountains north of San Diego.”

“Six-grand is a lot of money,” I said.

She shrugged with the wine glass at her lips. “You’ve seen my place and my car. I live frugally. I spend money on things that make me happy.”

“Like a pussy massage.”

“Yes, smart ass, like a pussy massage.” She cocked an eyebrow at me. “And don’t try to pretend that you’re not interested because you are. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Fine,” I said, holding up the tumbler in consent. “Tell me about Paradiso and this Yoni Master.”

“Okay, so you arrive on Friday night and leave on Sunday night. The place is unreal, in the mountains north of the city. They have private villas, like cabins, and a main resort that’s like a luxury hotel.” She turned the laptop toward me again. “You can read all about it on their site.”

“I will,” I said with a dismissive wave. “Get to the pussy massaging.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes at me. “Fine. Okay. They offer all guests different options for massages. Full body, back and legs, neck and shoulders, body wraps, mud baths—whatever you need. They have a staff of highly-trained and certified masseuses who handle that. But if you want a Yoni Massage, Yoni Master Devin is the one who administers that.”