Maggie was running late. It was so unlike her to be late, she was usually punctual to a fault, but not today. Today everything had gone wrong.
It had started the night before, really. When the discreet cardboard box had arrived on her porch, Maggie knew that her TV plans that evening were going to change. She had been long overdue for an upgrade, and the sleek teal silicone toy with its flared head and clitoral stimulation had been oh, so worth it. She had gone down a dark rabbit hole of porn, staying up late as she dove deep into the dominant/submissive fantasies she had been increasingly turning to. They reminded her of the kind of wild, wanton sex she used to have long ago, before even Derrick.
When she finally got up out of bed in the morning, groaning after the fifth or sixth snooze, it was a framed wedding picture of her and Derrick that greeted her from the bedside table, exuding happiness. She winced, wondering what her late husband would think of her crazed masturbatory marathon.
She knew what he'd say. He'd say,
get out there Maggie girl. It's time already. Find a good man, not a good vibrator.
She'd been on a whopping two dates since Derrick died nearly three years ago. The first year had been a haze of grief, dating hadn't even been an option. His illness had come on so suddenly, and so soon after they were married that her whole life had been caring for him. After the second year her sister had urged her to date, setting her up with a couple friends of friends, but it had been excruciating. Sure, they were nice enough guys, but the sheer effort of prettying herself up, going out into the loud bar or dinner scene, and telling every mundane fact about herself all over as if she was in any way interesting or different had been too much. The mere idea of having to start all over with someone new was exhausting. But she was 27, not 87. She had all the time in the world.
But time was not on her side this morning, it seemed. After oversleeping, she had burned her eggs black enough to set off the smoke detector, forgot her lunch, and spent a good 15 minutes in unexpected traffic. Instead of a quiet cup of coffee in the break room as she looked over her daily roster of clients, she was changing frantically into her scrubs and shoving crackers into her mouth as she snuck into her room a few minutes after the hour.
"Hi, Mr. Harris. My name is Maggie, and I'll be your massage therapist today."
"Hi Maggie, you can just call me John. Nice to meet you."
She glanced briefly at the man lying face down on her table. Youngish, nice figure, tousled brown hair. Standard towel over his lower half. Her gaze was caught by his clenching toes, and she smiled.
He's nervous.
"Alright, John it is. So, do you get a lot of massages? Any style you prefer?"
"Uh, no. This is actually my first massage. It was a gift certificate I won at work."
She moved about the room, setting the timer, turning the thermostat up a bit, the lights down a little more.
"That's nice of your work. What do you do?"
"I'm a banker. Thrilling stuff," he laughed, shifting on the table. Yeah, he was a newbie. He probably thought she was going to give him a happy ending.
"Hey, it's the best job in Monopoly," she joked. "Would some music or incense bother you?"
"Have at it."
She turned on some light piano music and lit a stick of jasmine incense, waiting a second for it to catch and get herself in the zone. She was supposed to radiate calm, not pent up energy.
Maggie approached the table, coating her hands in some unscented massage oil and rubbing them together. "I've got some oil on my hands, just to warn you. I'm going to take it easy here at first so you can get a sense of the pressure. We can always go up from there. If you work an office job you've likely got a lot of tension in your neck and shoulders. I'll focus there, if that sounds good to you."
She waited for his affirmative, her hands poised over his shoulders, but it took him a moment.
"Sure thing, Maggie," he said softly, and she felt a ripple of awareness in the familiar way he said her name.
She started in, feeling the little jolt of pleasure at touching a human body again after the long weekend alone. His skin was warm and slippery under her oiled hands. She was right about that tension, she could already feel the bundled muscles of his shoulders. She could spend the whole hour just working these out.
He let out an involuntary sound, like a little moan of pleasure as she deepened the massage, testing him for signs of discomfort as she went.
"Ok to go a bit harder?" she murmured, not wanting to startle him.
"Definitely," he groaned. "Man, this feels great."
"Glad to hear it," she replied in a low voice, rubbing her thumbs under the curve of his shoulder blade, feeling the knots bump underneath her touch like little dense balls. She set in on one in a gentle circling motion.
"So, how long have you been a masseuse?"
She bit back a small laugh. She could have bet he was a talker.
"Not too long actually," she replied. "I got my license a while back, at the same time I was in cosmetology school. But I only started working here last year. I used to do hair at a place downtown."
He was suddenly propping himself up on the table and Maggie stepped back, alarmed.
"Maggie?" his voice asked somewhat cautiously, and she saw his face for the first time.
She was suddenly transported six years back, to that face with its chiseled jaw, always with a bit of stubble, sharp aquiline nose, hooded eyes, dark, full brows. That face smiling at her. Lifting a frosted glass to his lips. Tracking her movements with his slow, burning gaze. That face looking up at her, mouth plucking gently at her nipple. That face triumphant between her trembling thighs. Wet, from her.
"JT?" she stammered, feeling her jaw slacken as she took another step back.
There it was, that steady gaze, drifting down her body appreciatively. He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes back up to hers, and ran a hand over his jaw. The awkwardness was palpable.
"I'm sorry, Maggie," he said finally, and she could hear the sincerity in his flustered voice. "I wasn't trying to spring up on you. I just... I remembered your voice."
When she said nothing, still staring openly at him in surprise, he went on. "I swear I didn't know it'd be you. I didn't even know you were a masseuse. The confirmation email just said M. Kilpatrick."
"That's my married name," she said faintly. She could see his chest, the sprinkling of hair she'd always loved. God, he was still so fit. Was he naked?
Of course he was
, she cursed inwardly.
He was here for a fucking massage.
He said nothing now, looking at her a bit strangely. He cleared his throat again.
"Look, I can go. You definitely don't have to do this," he insisted, shifting his weight on the table and she rushed forward, her arms outstretched as if to prevent him from revealing more of his naked body to her.
"No!" she cried out and he froze, looking at her in alarm.
"I mean, I'm... I'm a professional. I see people I know all the time," she stammered, lying easily. "I'm fine to continue, but I can certainly step out and check the other schedules if you want to switch. It would just take a minute." She made the offer brightly, perhaps too brightly, but her feet stayed firmly planted.
He hesitated a moment. "If you're okay with it..."
"Definitely," she stated. "No problem. Just uh... just lie back down for me."
God, she could hear herself like a pathetic little schoolgirl.
He slowly lowered himself down, that beautiful face disappearing in the cushioned headrest. She could smell the tension in the room. Or, dear god, was she smelling herself? She felt a distinct slickness between her legs. What the
fuck
was JT Harris doing here?
As if he could read her mind, he popped his head up and turned to her.
"The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable, Maggie," he persisted.
"It's fine," she insisted, walking over to him and placing her hand on his bare back, applying some pressure to get him to lay back down. He did, and she took a deep breath before touching him again and resuming the massage. What had been before just pleasant, warm flesh felt utterly different now. How on earth had she not recognized his body? This was a body she had known intimately. Every inch had been pressed against her. She had loved this body once.
For the longest time they were quiet, and Maggie sensed that he wouldn't speak now, not unless she did first. So she fell back into the familiarity of her work, feeling his tension all over now, reversing the benefits of her earlier efforts. Eventually though, her curiosity won.
"You're back in town, then?" Maggie said a silent prayer of thanks at the steady nonchalance of her voice.
"Yeah, I moved back a few months ago for a new job in the business district. But I used to live just over in Cresson."
Cresson, she thought. Not even an hour's drive from her these past six years?
"I, uh, I thought you were going to travel. Didn't you have a job lined up in France?"
They had talked about France in bed, she remembered suddenly. He had gone on a week's trip to Paris at the expense of the company scouting him. The night he had returned he had kissed her, murmuring in her ear in that seductive, scratchy voice of his of the smell of pastries wafting as far as the metro stations, the chic shopping districts, a boulevard he had strolled down lined with perfectly manicured trees. At the time she had wondered if he was priming her, if he might ask her to come along, and her heart had thrilled at the idea of such a reckless adventure with a new love. Later, she had cursed herself for such fanciful, stupid thinking.
Suddenly she realized her hands had stilled, and he hadn't said anything. Maggie felt a flush of crimson creep up through her neck onto her face, embarrassed that she had remembered such a detail, and concentrated again on her work.
"Yeah, I did," he said finally. "But I had to turn it down."
She wasn't going to speak any more, or else she'd humiliate herself.
"It's actually all related," he went on after a moment's pause. "You probably don't remember this, but when we started seeing each other I had just gotten out of a long thing with a girl named Courtney."
