The Facialist

It started with a simple offer at a beauty counter in an upscale department store: free five-minute facial. It was a simple, yet effective way for a beauty brand to promote their skincare line and sell plenty of product to the well-heeled ladies of the community. Mischa stared at the sign for a moment and weighed her options. She had been wandering around the cosmetic counters for nearly a half hour without seeing anything that struck her fancy. It had been a very unproductive shopping trip. In the end, she thought, why not?

Mischa circled the counter in search of the aesthetician. She was so preoccupied with looking in every direction that she failed to look ahead of her. She was stopped short when she ran into a man's chest. Feeling foolish, Mischa looked up. She was greeted by a devastatingly handsome face smiling broadly at her. His eyes were London blue topazes, sparkling with kindness. His dark brown hair was thick and wavy. His chiseled jawline and cleft chin beautifully framed his high cheekbones and full, kissable lips. He was wearing a name tag: Grant. Mischa stared for what seemed like an eternity before she managed to squeak out a few words.

"I-I am h-here about the free facial," she stuttered.

"Alright. Let me get set up. We'll get you in the chair, and I'll show you what our skincare line has to offer," he replied.

"You?" Mischa stared in disbelief.

"Yes, me," Grant replied with a wink, "I mean, it's my first day, but I am sure it'll be fine."

Mischa continued to stare, her mouth agape.

"I was kidding about it being my first day. I've been doing this for years. Don't worry," Grant reassured her.

Grant helped Mischa get settled into a reclining salon-style chair with a head rest. He draped a towel over her chest to protect her clothing and wrapped her hair to keep it away from her face. He methodically laid out the products he would be using for the facial: cleanser, exfoliator, toner, moisturizer.

"Are you ready?" Grant asked.

"Yeah," Mischa replied.

With each step, Grant would explain the benefits and proper use of each product. The whole process seemed fairly routine until he reached the final moisturizing step.

"I am going to massage this moisturizer into your face with my fingers. I think you will really enjoy this," he said.

As if by some act of magic, Grant's fingers gliding over her face became instruments of sexual arousal. His fingers were long and slender; his hands were soft. She longed to suck his fingertips, to feel them stroking her neck, sliding down over her breasts, then her belly, and into her delicate cleft below. She wanted to feel those long fingers penetrating her cavernous depths, plunging into wetness, bringing her to ecstasy. Mischa squirmed in her seat. She could feel heated blood pumping to her most intimate regions.

"All done," Grant announced, causing Mischa to snap out of her fantasy, "How do you feel?"

Mischa stroked her face as she tried to collect herself. Her skin definitely felt smoother, and a glance in the mirror on the counter confirmed that she was glowing. Whether or not that was from the treatment or her thoughts was up for debate.

"That was wonderful," Mischa finally managed, "Thank you."

"I book private sessions out of my home. Would you like my card?" Grant offered.

"Yes, please," Mischa replied, almost in a whisper.

On several occasions, Mischa picked up her phone to call Grant for an appointment, but she lost her nerve each time. Her nights were consumed by erotic dreams of him exploring every inch of her body with those magical fingers, his tongue, and finally ravaging her with his cock. Eventually, desire won out, and she called the number on his business card.

"Hello?" A familiar voice inquired.

"Hi," Mischa began, "My name is Mischa. You gave me a free facial recently, and I'd like to book an appointment.

"I remember you," Grant replied, "I can get you in as early as this afternoon. Otherwise, I have a couple of openings tomorrow."

Did she dare go this afternoon? Mischa swallowed a hard lump forming in her throat. She wondered if she could really follow through on what she intended to do.

"This afternoon is fine," she finally said.

Mischa's heart was pounding wildly in her chest when she arrived at the address Grant gave her over the phone. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door of the unassuming apartment. She was ready to run back to her car when Grant answered the door in a black silk shirt that revealed a thatch of chest hair and tight black jeans.

"Come on in," Grant said, "Everything is ready when you are."

Mischa walked into the simply decorated, yet spacious apartment. A section of the living room was cordoned off to act as a space for Grant's services. Beyond the curtain was a large spa table, a towel warmer, carts containing a variety of skincare products and massage oils, and stacks upon stacks of fresh towels and sheets.

Mischa turned and looked at Grant, who was in turn looking at her expectantly. She knew it was time to make her move.

"I have to be honest," she began, "I didn't come here for a facial. I came here for this."

She reached for Grant's right hand and took it in hers. He stared at her in confusion as she brought his hand closer to her face. Slowly, she brought his pointer finger to her lips and kissed the tip. Mischa then encircled his finger with her mouth and sucked at it hungrily. Withdrawing Grant's finger from her mouth, Mischa stroked her cheek with the back of Grant's hand.

"Since that day at the beauty counter, I have done nothing but fantasize about these hands all over my body," she moaned.

Grant seized both her hands in his and drew her tightly into his arms. He pressed his lips to Mischa's with such force of passion that her knees started to buckle. Still, he held her firmly against his chest. She slid her tongue between his teeth, entwined it with his, and nibbled his lower lip. She was nearly breathless as Grant traced his fingers over her neck, following his path with soft, moist kisses. Mischa tore at his silk shirt, encircling her fingers in his chest hair and caressing his stomach.

With a flourish, Grant literally swept Mischa off her feet and into his arms. He carried her into the "spa" area of his living room. Laying her out on the spa table, he began to methodically undress her. Piece by piece, her clothing dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap. To Mischa, it felt a little strange to be the only one completely naked, but the way Grant smiled at her made her feel at ease.

Mischa watched in curiosity as Grant reached over to the cart behind him and dispensed several pumps of oil into his hands. He rubbed his palms together, leaving them glistening in the low light and smelling vaguely of coconut. Starting at the top of her chest, Grant drew agonizingly slow circles around Mischa's breasts with his lubricated palms, intentionally avoiding the nipples. Mischa squirmed and groaned in a mixture of pleasure and frustration at this teasing maneuver. When Grant finally grasped her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, she nearly bucked off the table. Nevertheless, Grant continued his exploration of Mischa's body. As he planted a smattering of kisses and licks over the areas previously explored, he traced his palms over her stomach and thighs, again avoiding her most sensitive spots. Instead, he had her turn over, so he could knead her buttocks. Mischa continued to wriggle impatiently. She wanted him so badly, she could not stand it. She gasped when Grant traced a single finger over the cleft between her buttocks, and she cried out when that finger along with another plunged inside her sopping pussy.

In response to Grant's instructions, Mischa bent her knees and raised her hips. She needn't wonder why for long when Grant's tongue found her most sensitive spot. Mischa gripped the sides of the spa table and lolled her head to the side as the first waves of orgasm overtook her.

Panting, flushed, and filmed in sweat, Mischa got down from the spa table to a kneeling position before Grant. She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and released his throbbing cock. She marveled at its beauty, at its musky smell, and how it felt in her hand as she grasped it to bring it to her awaiting mouth. Grant leaned back against the spa table and sighed as Mischa's lips and tongue slid up and down his shaft.

After several minutes of furious suction, Grant could wait no longer. Bringing Mischa to her feet, he helped her back onto the spa table. With her legs draped over his shoulders, he took her standing. From this position, he could see and touch the full length of her body as he desired. As he thrust in and out of her, he stroked her clitoris with his right thumb. As if through some silent understanding, Mischa took over stroking her clitoris, leaving Grant's hands free to caress her elsewhere. The sight of Mischa touching herself inflamed Grant's passion, and he redoubled his thrusts inside her.

In the same moment that Mischa felt herself being overtaken by a second orgasm, Grant was also coming undone. As their cries of ecstasy filled the apartment, Grant slid his jerking cock between her breasts, leaving spurts of his seed covering her face and neck. Sweaty and spent, they both collapsed on the spa table.

"I guess I came for a facial after all..."