Abi moved away from the home we shared for almost a year. I was heart-broken. Although she promised she'd send me her new contact details, day after day went by with no sign of her carrying out that promise. I was awake early each day, waiting for the postman to deliver the mail, but each day he delivered disappointment in the absence of any news from my first love.
After a week or so, I was chatting to one of the carers at the home I still lived in. She was explaining, as gently as she could, that I was eighteen years old and would have to find a place of my own soon. This felt like a knife in my back. It was so far in, that it touched the knife in my heart that Abi's departure left. She added that I should try to find a way to relax and take stock of my life. Kind words, but it seemed like she was asking me to do the impossible.
A couple of days after that, the idea started to seem more realistic, and I set about looking for common ways people relaxed. I went to a meeting organised for people in my position and got talking to a few friendly, albeit equally anxious eighteen year olds. One of them said she had a regular massage once a month, hinting that I should try it too. Although I didn't reply in words, I felt my eyebrows raise slightly, and she passed me a business card with a name and number on it. I didn't look too closely and stuffed it in my pocket, thanking her for the token.
That evening when I got back to my room, I slumped on my bed and switched on the TV habitually. The same old shit was being shown and my mind wandered to the meeting earlier. Then I remembered the card. I retrieved it from my pocket and studied it more closely now. The business was called "Lloyd's massage." Not very inventive! The phone number was local so I knew I could get there anytime I liked without having to beg a lift. I put the card on the table next to my bed and spent some time staring at the screen while trying to work out how I felt about a massage from a man.
The next morning I woke at the usual time and was about to start looking out of the window for the postman, when I remembered the card on the table. I glanced at it and felt a twinge of excitement that was equal to that brought about by the thought of communication from Abi. I decided to wait for the postman and then call "Lloyd" the masseur. It turned out that waiting for the postman wasn't exciting anymore. I just wanted his visit to be over for today, so that I could get on with my new curiosity, namely, booking a massage.
At last, the postman came and the disappointment of no news from Abi was considerably less as I reached for the business card and my jacket. I walked quicker than I had for weeks, all the way to the public phone on the corner.
"Hello?" said a deep voice on the other end of the phone. I imagined a tall, muscular guy and felt a little nervous.
"Erm, is this the massage?" I stammered, and felt totally stupid as soon as I'd said it.
The guy at the other end laughed slightly under his breath, and I now felt like he was completely in control of my feelings.
"My name's Lloyd," he explained, "I'm a fully qualified masseuse and have 5 years experience helping everyone, from sports professionals all the way to people who have little, niggling complaints that doctors can't seem to diagnose. May I ask what kind of issue you have that requires attention?"
Of course I didn't want to say my partner has left town and my pussy is very hungry, even though he sounded like he would know how to help me with that complaint too!
"Erm, it's my back." I replied, in an attempt to sound genuine.
"Yeah," Lloyd came back, "the lumber is a particularly complex part of the musculo-skeletal system and has to be treated very gently. May I ask, is it the shoulders around the top of the back or further down?"
"Further down." I blurted out, and almost laughed at the irony of my rapid response.
"I see," concluded Lloyd, as if he had just read my mind and was considering his options, "Let me look in my diary. Have you got any time in mind?"
"I'm free all day." I said, perhaps sounding a bit too eager.
"How about 2pm?" he suggested
"Ok. I'll see you then." I said very quickly.
I was about to hang up, when I heard him ask, "Do you want to know where the studio is? And how long do you require?"
"Oh yes," I giggled, embarrassed again.
"So I'm at Main Street Studios, number 12. Most people have an hour of therapy. On the first visit, there's also an initial consultation and a contract to sign. This only takes about 10 minutes. I charge twenty for the hour, the consultation is free."
"OK," I agreed, "See you at 2."
"See you at 2"
I had a shower and took some time shaving my little pussy. It was so sensitive after over a week of not being touched, and I almost brought myself off with my fingers a few times. But I managed to resist rubbing my pretty little quim and rinsed the soap off to reveal it's tidy shape. Even just pointing the shower head at it nearly resulted in an orgasm, and I had to rinse it in stages. I dried myself delicately and wore shorts and a tshirt. No underwear. By 1:30 I was ready and gave myself one final look in the mirror before heading off for Lloyd's studio.
I buzzed the buzzer at the side of door 12 and was greeted moments later by a tall, slim but muscular guy. He had shortish, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He smiled a warm, friendly smile and invited me in. I avoided eye contact as I entered the room.
It was warm in the studio and Lloyd told me to take a seat, before asking me more details about my back. Obviously my answers were very vague as in reality, there was nothing wrong with my back. Eventually, he passed me a contract to read and sign, along with a pen. I couldn't concentrate on the words and merely pretended to read it through, considering it as I went, then signed on the dotted line.
"Great," he enthused, as I handed the signed copy back to him, "Let's get started. Please take off your clothes, but leave your underwear on, and lay face down on the couch."
"Oh," I explained, hesitantly, "I'm not wearing any underwear." and as I said it, I felt a rush go through me.
"Ok." he replied, and then I thought he hesitated himself, before adding, "just strip off and lie face down. On the massage table."
I did as he asked and he covered me, from my ass down to my ankles, with a soft, white towel. Then he squirted some oil into his hand and rubbed both hands together. It smelt delicious and felt warm as he gently placed his hands on the back of my shoulders. Now he moved his hands slowly and firmly up and down my spine and released the tension form the muscles there.
