A warm thank you to my volunteer editor, Asylum Seeker, for his time and patience producing a polished version. I apologize for any errors I might have made during my final revisions.
"Welcome to Eastern-Western Spa Massage. How can we help you?"
Paul knew that announcing his true intentions would get him thrown out or arrested. He looked at the stunning receptionist behind the glass window. A bulletin board displayed the same options as his last visit, with some allowance for inflation over several years.
"Sixty minute massage," he answered.
"Very good, sir. Please fill out the medical form."
She handed him a clipboard with a familiar form. The important and scary part was at the top. Writing his real name and address had been nerve-wracking the first time, but now it gave him a sense of security. They must have had some amazing database to screen clients, since they'd never had trouble with local police departments. The rest of the form required consenting to medical treatment and a statement of risks.
After he handed the clipboard back under the glass, the receptionist said "Please wait for a moment while I file this." She returned in less than a minute with a more relaxed smile. "Do you happen to recall your last appointment and who your therapist was?"
Paul answered "About six years ago. It was with Jordan." That knowledge was used as a password to confirm that he was indeed a return client. He was sure they used photos as well, but couldn't see an obvious camera.
The receptionist handed him the returning client flyer and had a much more relaxed and cheery tone. "Here is our list of options."
The list was quite similar to his last visit, again with somewhat increased prices. Paul decided to pass on the hot tub and other exotica. In the second section was listed the options for therapist attire.
"Full nude," he announced, and handed the paper back to the attendant. He removed several large bills from his wallet and passed them under the glass as well.
"We should be able to take you in just a minute," she replied, and he sat down to peruse the collection of magazines on the table. Moments later, the receptionist opened the door with the stock phrase, "Right this way, sir."
She led him to the interior waiting room, where four women in white medical coats waited. Aside from looking far better than ordinary medical assistants, they had their coats unbuttoned a bit further than proper for a doctor's office.
He was disappointed to see that Jordan was not among them. He immediately ruled out the one that was as thin as a runway model with obviously bleached hair. Another two, one tall, one petite, seemed to have the unnaturally precise cleavage of implants. The remaining woman was just his type; brunette, very pretty, and with an honest face. She moved as though she had an athletic body with very nice, completely natural curves.
"Hi, I'm Paul," he said, stepping forward to shake hands with this classic 'girl next door.'
"I'm Cindy, pleased to meet you," she answered in a pleasant voice. "Please step this way, you'll be in Room 4." As they entered the room, she continued in a lower voice, "Jordan is a very good friend of mine. She decided to move nearer to her family in Colorado, but we still e-mail each other, and she's doing well. If you'd like, I'll tell her you said hello."
"Thanks, I'd like that."
"Please take off all your clothes and lie down on the table. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Despite the background check, he knew nothing more would be discussed until he was naked. It was an additional, customary, but ineffective precaution against undercover cops. He complied, looking around the room as he undressed. The wallpaper was a calm, green jungle print that coordinated well with the wicker furniture. A speaker in the ceiling piped in gentle rainforest sounds. Aside from a chair and clothes rack in the corner, the only furniture was a sturdy massage table in the center of the room covered with a white sheet.
After hanging his clothes, Paul stretched out on his stomach. He used the next minute to enjoy the calm and relaxed atmosphere until Cindy knocked on the door and re-entered.
"I just need to confirm some details of our session. You've paid for a 60-minute, full nude massage. You are aware, I presume, that all of our massages start with a table shampoo? Are there any other details we should discuss before starting?"
"Well," he replied, "As the session progresses, I might want to extend the time by a half-hour or so."
"That would be fine with my schedule, sir. If you wish, you may put on this robe to walk to the shower room. I'll notify the office and be back in a minute."
Paul climbed off the table and into the comfortable white robe. With a smile, he noted that the quality had improved from terrycloth to the type of square-knitted cotton found in exclusive hotels. He sat in the chair and waited. He could feel his accelerated heartbeat as the adrenaline of temptation won out over the lingering doubts in his mind.
Again, a knock on the door sounded before Cindy re-entered. "Right this way," she said, leading him down the corridor to the shower room.
The room had a very different appearance, still peaceful, but more masculine in colors. The tile on the walls was almost Moorish or African and gave the appearance of a courtyard rather than a modern shower room. There was an elegant teak grate covering the entire floor, and while Paul could see the telephone-style shower head on its flexible hose, the rest of the plumbing was out of sight.
"After you take off your robe, you should lie on the table on your stomach."
Paul hung the robe on an elegant teak hangar, climbed up on the padded vinyl table, and positioned his dick so he would be prepared for the inevitable erection.
Cindy stood casually to one side of the table and began unbuttoning her white lab smock. Paul had always loved this phase of the experience. Watching women undress with a sense of innocent openness was much more arousing to him than a brazen strip tease. Cindy finished removing her outer garment, revealing a petite, athletic silhouette.
