I'd arrive and you'd leave me for a few minutes to compose myself, a chance to take a few deep breaths to curtail the longing that twisted my insides from the moment you messaged me to now, this moment where I stand in your room, soft music playing in the background, lights dimmed and warmth enough for me to ease my jacket off without further ado.
I'd be lulled, no false sense of security this one. This one, an all knowing, all accepting task - to star in my own fantasy. I wonder how you'd react if you knew the rest of my fantasies, but those are for some other time. For now, the sensuous assault the music was having on my mind, was enough.
There was a gown on the table, a hospital gown with ties on the sides. It was cream... at least I wouldn't look 30 years older than I was. Cream would be kind to me.
I slipped out of my shoes, aching feet feeling the cool floor as a blessing, lifted my top over my head and half folded it laying it across the chair. My skirt joined it, then my bra and panties. I looked around, very self conscious. I might be living my ultimate fantasy, but it didn't mean it wouldn't have moments where uncertainty would run rampant through my mind. Cameras? Peep holes? Two way mirror windows? I couldn't see any.
Cursed with an over-active imagination that I'd thought of as a gift until now, I quickly pulled the gown over my head and took more deep breaths. I am meant to be relaxed, meant to enjoy this fantasy. Meant to live it, bring it into reality, and love it.
I pushed my clothes aside and sat on the edge of the chair. Within moments he came into the room, looking deliciously tanned, sexy and ready to rumple my rolls. Well, not quite rumple them. More like addle my few remaining brain cells and cause my toes to curl. I felt my insides melting and wondered if I'd burst into flames before he'd even touch me.
"Hi, you look ready for this. Climb on up," he patted the table.
"You're sure I won't break it? It doesn't look too strong." Could he hear the shaking in my voice?
"You'll be fine," he laughed. "It'll take the weight of 3 of you. Up you get."
There was something kind in his smile and so I took him at his word and climbed up. His hands briefly caressed my back. Deftly, he undid the top ties of the gown leaving it draping low on my back. His hands, warm and strong left me while he poured oil onto his palms and then from his palms, onto my back. He worked his way from the centre of my back to my shoulders, gently kneading away the stress knots, desensitizing my body to his hands. I closed my eyes, letting the music and his touch take me wherever he wanted me to go. Where I went was completely out of my own control. It was up to him.
Gently, firmly, he kneaded my back, up the centre of my backbone, thumbs either side, sliding smoothly. Over my shoulders, cupping his palms on them and letting the warmth seep through me. I sighed, inaudible I thought until he whispered "Good girl. Just relax and let me do the work." I took him at his word, sinking deeper into a pleasant, not-quite-there, drifting dream.
His hands moved back down my back. It felt excruciatingly slow and I almost arched my back as he went lower and lower and finally slowed to a halt on my bottom. I held my breath waiting for what might come next. His hands worked their way back up and I didn't know whether to be disappointed, or relieved at the stay of execution. So much for relaxing.
On their next trajectory down, they stayed there, right on my bottom, gently kneading one cheek, then the other, and then both at the same time. It was heaven. No one had ever done that. Considering it was only my second massage in my life, I could say that this one had already superseded anything I'd ever felt. I wondered idly, how much he'd charge for doing this once a week every week. I didn't think I'd get sick of it any time soon.
One finger slipped between my buttocks and then was back kneading before I could form a coherent thought. Maybe I'd imagined it. Surely he hadn't touched me there. I concentrated harder, tried to block out the music, the floral scent of the oil, concentrated only on his touch. I tried to flex my cheeks, to feel if there was oil down there, but couldn't feel anything. I'd probably imagined it. I know I'd been promised an extra special massage, but I doubt it would involve anything like that.
Breathing normally again and forgetting to concentrate on anything except the soothing loosening of muscle, I dozed. He moved down, worked on one foot, pushing and holding the push firmly to loosen the muscle along the sole of my foot. Maybe he knew I usually wore heels and that my feet needed extra care and attention. Whatever his reasoning, I almost purred as his fingers went between my toes, massaging each one until I could not help but sigh in pleasure.
"You like that?" His quiet voice rode the waves of music with me.
