Furtive glances give way to lingering eye contact between them during the pauses in conversation. They have been talking for quite a while in the waiting room of the hospital waiting for word on the newborn baby of a mutual friend. The discussion inevitably turns to sex, as it seemed to always do, whether they were alone with each other or with the group of neighbors talking late into the night over frozen margaritas and cigarettes.
The sexual tension mounts between them as their conversation continues. They each wonder silently, yet in unison, if the other is thinking the same thing.
"I have an idea" he says suddenly, almost out of nowhere, giving voice to her thoughts.
"Oh really? And what would that be?" she replies, her own mind not daring to hope that he is about to confirm her desire.
"Are you up for some fun?" he asks, flashing a mischievous grin.
"I am always up for fun. What did you have in mind?" (surely he is not thinking the same thing I am.) she thinks to herself. His grin makes her body flush with the prospect.
"Follow me" he stands, taking her hand in his "and close your eyes."
He leads her out the door of the waiting room and she lets out a little giggle. In her darkness she can sense that she is being guided down the corridor, turning a corner, and then down another corridor.
"Don't you peak now. This will be more fun if you don't open your eyes at all."
Her body tingles with anticipation of what is in store. Her mind was racing with the possibilities. Another corner, a few more steps, a door latch sounds and a door creaks open. The carpet underfoot turns too hard tile. She can feel that the room is small by a slight change in air pressure and it smells clean and slightly antiseptic, but not unpleasant. She can briefly see bright light through her closed eyelids, hears him close and lock the door, a quick click of the light switch and she sees nothing but blackness.
"Now, feel free to back out at anytime, okay? I don't want you to do this unless you really want to. Are you alright?" he says, now tentative and sounding a little nervous.
"Well, we haven't actually done anything yet." She says, now a little nervous herself, but starting to shiver with anticipation of what he has in mind.
Then, without speaking, he moves himself behind her, taking her shoulders in his strong hands. He begins to gently but firmly knead the muscles there. He feels her relax under his hands, head thrown back. Applying pressure with his thumbs and fingertips, digging gently to the outermost muscles of her shoulders. Alternating fingertips and palms, he can hear her moan almost inaudibly through parted lips. He judges that he is having the desired affect.
She opens her eyes now, but it makes no difference. The room is in utter darkness. Her only sensory perceptions are his hands on her, the sounds of each of their breathing echoing in the small room and the rhythmic beating of her own heart.
Applying pressure to her shoulder muscles now, neck muscles, running both thumbs simultaneously down her spine, moving down her back. Down her sides, taking care not to tickle her ribs, massaging only. He bends her slightly forward and she places her hands on the countertop to counter-balance as his pressure increases.
"Okay, I am going to raise your shirt- it will feel much better on your skin that way."