Alec Henson walked through his restaurant, turning off lights as he headed to the front door. He was tired, but in a few days his dream would become reality—he would officially open his own restaurant. It had been a long time getting here but the eighteen-hour days had been worth it.
Locking the door behind him, he headed down the street to where his car was parked. This area of town was currently in flux with trendy new eateries and boutiques springing up to jostle side-by-side with working-class bars and the occasional massage parlor. A flashing neon sign on the opposite side of the street proclaimed "Therapeutic Massage - 24 Hours Daily." Yeah, right...he knew exactly the sort of massage they provided. Sure, you could get hands-on treatment for muscular aches but the last muscle they took care of was your cock.
However, he had to admit the thought of a woman's hands on his dick was arousing. Getting a new restaurant up-and-running didn't leave much time for dating and he could use a good fuck. He was almost at his car when he did an about-face. Screw it, he thought, heading back in the direction of the massage parlor; normally, he never paid for sex—didn't have to—but tonight he was tired, horny and could use a good orgasm before heading home to sleep.
Entering the shop, he almost cringed at the neon pink walls and cheesy artwork. An older man, with a big gut and unshaved face, sat behind a gaudy gold counter. He looked up as the door opened. "Hey there...looking for a massage?"
Did he really want to do this? His brain was giving an emphatic 'no' but his dick was saying 'yes, yes, yes.' He nodded. "Sure, why not?"
The man pressed a button and a few seconds later, a line of girls trailed in through an open doorway. "You're in luck; a new shift just came on so you got lots of choices."
From what Alec could see, there wasn't much choice at all. Most of the girls had a hard look, like they'd stroked thousands of cocks in their lifetime and weren't too excited at the prospect of doing his.
He was about to tell the manager he'd changed his mind when the last girl strolled in. She was different from the others—younger for one—appearing to be in her mid-twenties with a pretty, girl-next-door look and a willowy build. Dark hair flowed down her back and her breasts were the perfect size—not too big, not too small; they'd fit his hand nicely.
"Her," he said, pointing.
"This way, sir," said Annie, glancing quickly at him. "I'm Scarlett, your masseuse for the night." She'd been instructed to use a fake name when hired yesterday because some customers, especially the lonely ones, tried to find out where you lived in hopes of hooking up outside the parlor.
It was hard to believe this guy was lonely though. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and was movie star handsome with thick blond hair and a muscular body; women must throw themselves at him all the time so why come here to get his rocks off?
She'd never done anything like this before—wouldn't be doing it now except she was desperate for money. Divorced a year ago, things hadn't gone exactly to plan. First, her parents believed all of her ex-husband's lies about their relationship and what a crappy wife she was, to the point where it became clear they loved him more than they loved her...loved his confidence and the way he tossed money around—especially when it came hurtling their way. When she told her mom how bad things had gotten—the fights, the verbal abuse, the rough, painful sex—she'd been told to stop whining because she had a Mercedes and a nice house—as though that made all the rest acceptable.
It didn't.
So, she'd left, walking away from her marriage and her family, moving across the country to start anew—only with no real work experience, getting a decent paying job hadn't been easy. She'd never been on her own before and didn't realize how much a single room apartment cost, not to mention all the additional expenses like utilities, insurance and car payments. She'd run through her savings pretty quickly, forced to move into a sleazy motel room that rented weekly. She'd been laid off her last job, and, with no money coming in, had been forced to apply for work here.
The manager had assured her she didn't have to do anything she didn't want so she had taken the job, planning to give nothing more than hand jobs. The other girls had looked on her doubtfully when she told them.
"Honey, if you ain't got a dick in your mouth or cooch at the end of the job," declared one, "you ain't gonna be here very long."
With those words reverberating in her head, she opened the door to a small room with a massage table placed in the center of it. "In here, please," waiting for the man to enter before closing the door and locking it.
Glancing around, Alec was relieved to find the room a soothing shade of blue instead of the garish pink of the entry. He smiled at the girl. "This is my first time at a massage parlor," not sure if he was supposed to strip or if she helped him out of his clothes.
"Oh, it's your first time too?" It made her feel more comfortable to know he was as inexperienced as she was.
Alec's eyebrows rose. "You've never given a massage before?" wondering what her story was. Hard up for cash? Putting herself through college? He was intrigued, yet oddly concerned too, and that surprised him. He couldn't imagine her doing this day-after-day with the sort of people that more typically flowed through the doors.
Annie gave a start. "No...I mean, my first one of the night...not my first ever," hoping he bought her explanation because she didn't want him to ask for a more experienced masseuse; she really needed the money.
He didn't believe her; could even see the nervousness on her face at the prospect of doing this. If he was less horny, he'd have done the right thing and left but his dick wasn't having it. It wanted her hands on him—and hopefully, more than just her hands.
"You can strip behind the privacy screen and hang your clothes on the wall hook. Once you get up on the massage table, I can give you a towel to cover your...your privates," said Annie, blushing.
"That's okay," he said, crooking a smile at her, "I don't need the screen." He pulled his t-shirt over his head, tossing it on a chair at the side of the room, before kicking off his shoes and stripping off his socks and slacks. His briefs were last. As soon as he pulled them down, his cock popped free, already hard. Just talking to this girl had gotten him aroused.
Annie's eyes widened when she saw his body. Watching him strip was like having a front row seat at a Chippendale's review; his body was that smoking hot. Built like a rugby player, he had lean, hard muscles and washboard abs—and then there was his cock. It wasn't so much the length—which was a good eight inches—that made her eyes widen, but the thickness. The head was the size of a large plum and looked like it could do some serious damage—or offer serious pleasure; she wasn't sure which.
Alec got on the table and lay on his back. "I'm not sure that cloth is going to hide much...might just look like a terry cloth hat," he said, chuckling, because his cock was pointing to the ceiling and the towel wasn't going to hide that fact. "I'd like you naked while you do this," not caring if it cost more—the additional expense would be worth seeing her body.
Feeling slightly shy, Annie stripped off her blue cotton dress and undies, surprised by how comfortable she was standing naked in front of him. She was even slightly aroused at the thought of laying her hands on his body, wondering if the other girls felt this way about their customers.
"If you'll lay on your stomach, I'll do your back first."
