She felt a breeze on her face and realised that he was wheeling her in the chair out of sight, out of the public part of the salon and into the back of the salon, away from prying eyes. He carefully lifted her out of the chair like a child, and sat her on the edge of a table the manicurists used. He carefully helped her to lie back so that she was fully supported on the table, with her legs hanging over the edge of the table. Then he undid her button fly, one button at a time, and removed her jeans, then her panties, leaving her naked from the waist down on the table, her bare legs just touching the cold tiles on the floor.
What Ann felt next was no massage
He separated her legs and lifted them up in the air, holding them there while he guided his erect cock into her moist pussy.
After one gentle thrust, he began to fuck her energetically, pounding her pussy like he wanted to pierce her with his cock. His body slapped into hers with a resounding slap, slap , slap, slap, slap, his cock thrusting deep inside her from below. She felt herself being lifted off the table with each thrust as he aimed up into her at 45 degrees, like he was pounding a hammer into a nail.
Ann surrendered to the experience. She felt herself shafted, fucked, screwed, taken. She lost all sensation to place or time, just the incessant rhythm of a man trying to fuck her off the table. Her eyes closed she could hear the echo of the legs of the table bouncing off the tiles, the thud of his groin against hers with each urgent thrust, the heavy panting as his physical exertion grew with the intense energy he was expending in shafting her,
Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, he beat out a rhythm like a metronome, neither slowing nor speeding up.
Then his breaths started to become more urgent, gasps not breaths, panting between thrusts, like he could no longer get enough oxygen to his lungs to keep pounding her. She was passed caring, had long since plateaued herself, and just wanted him to carry on the inner massage. But he began to pant more rapidly, his thrusts grew shorter until...
His grip on her legs tightened and he spiked her on his cock one final time and buried his groin deep within hers, calling out some half remembered name. He held her there for a moment, then became limp like a flower out of water. He gently lay her legs down, and caressed Ann's forehead with his soft hands. In contrast to his animal thrusts of a moment before, his touch now was gentle, like gossamer. He caressed her forehead, her cheek, touched her mouth. Ann felt a warm glow all over.
When she came too he had dressed himself and was whispering in her ear.
"She'll be back in a minute!"
Ann arose slowly, disoriented. He was smiling, holding her clothes out on his outstretched hand. She looked around the unfamiliar surroundings, and quickly stepped into her panties and jeans. No sooner had she buttoned up her jeans and put on her shoes than the door opened at the front of the shop.
"Darling? Is that woman still..."
The manicurist saw Ann emerge slightly guiltily from the back of the shop, followed a moment later by her lover, the manicurists boyfriend or husband?
Ann smiled inwardly, and hoped her glow did not tell the girl what she must have suspected. "I like scarlet for my nails," said Ann, "Like I'm a scarlet woman"
