Hardcore Goddess
First of all, let me say!hola! To all the people at Literotica. I know it has been a while since I've been back, but life has been an almost constant surprise since my last entry.
Robert wakes up with a throbbing headache from the previous night's birthday blowout for his best friend at the Bounce Lounge. His head is telling him to go back to sleep; his bladder is saying hit the "head"; and his stomach is telling him to dip his head in the toilet and reacquaint himself with last night's late dinner.
Seconds later, with his head on the cool porcelain and his boxers wet with urine he considers crawling back into bed and calling it a day. Unfortunately, this is his first day at the trendy high-paying massage company. The lure of $125-bucks-an-hour takes the edge from his headache and kicks his ass into gear.
In only twenty minutes Robert has transformed from a hung-over vomit-stained blood-shot eyed sack of piss-wet shit to a groomed and tuned go-getter. Though his headache is still working him over as the aspirin begins to take effect, he can't help but to loudly rev the engine of his pampered Trans Am, the pushrod V-8 eagerly growling out a response.
"This day just may be worth getting shit-faced for,"he thinks as he pulls into traffic for the twenty minute trip to his new profession.
A quick highway trip later, Robert is pulling into the parking garage of the office building that houses In Touch, Inc., the most sought after massage therapy company in the city that caters to any and all whom have the time and money to get a professional massage in their homes, office, or anywhere the customer wants.
After clocking in, Robert checks his company vehicle, a brand-new Chevy Equinox that still has that new-car scent to it, and stocks it with everything he needs. Finally, all he has to do is sit in the break/ready room and wait for a call.
"Hey, rookie!" an mature Asian woman announces from the adjoining office. "Got your first roll."
She hands him a Post-it with the company logo on it with an address not far from the company.
"This is the Deuce Club, an body-building gym that often caters our services," she explains. "You have to be strong cause they like those deep tissue rub-downs after a workout."
"Guy or girl?" Robert asks a bit concerned.
"Dunno, kid. It was the manager calling on behalf of someone. Doesn't matter, though. We work both sides of the fence."
"I don't," Robert mutters as he picks up his gym bag and tosses it into his company car.
As he pulls up to the job, though, he is relieved to see that today, at least, the patrons are mostly female hardbody babes wearing nearly nothing but provocative workout attire. Most of the women look like the occaisional client whom come in three times a week. The others, though, are huge forms that look like extras on an Conan movie.
He enters the lobby to see a huge mass of muscle and square jaw manning the desk.
"Uh...did someone call for a massage?" Robert asks, hoping that the thick-necked dude wasn't the client.
"You da massager?" the human muscle inquires.
"Yeah."
The lug reads a list (surprising the hell out of Robert that there was room in this guy's thick skull for a functioning brain) and then cocks a sausage-sized thumb to a set of doors behind him.
"Woom 208."
As Robert enters the doors (wondering what the hell was a "woom") he begins to fear that soon he will be oiling up some thick-muscled lughead in a two-sizes-too-small biker pants whom "likes it rough".
At Room (Woom) 208, he pauses to put his mind in a happy place (the Juggs Palace on East Street) and enters the room...
...and comes face-to-face with a goddess. His mind quickly assesses the woman.: an Latina with thick black curls that falls halfway to her tight ass, brown eyes, huge tits just held back by an stretched muscle tee with no bra, tight abs and thighs that while muscled weren't grossly overmuscled, and the largest set of nipples he had ever seen making definite imprints in the shirt, all encased in a deep golden caramel skin-tone.
"Uh..."
"Just give me a couple of minutes," she says in a lightly-accented voice. "Let me shower first. I've sweated like hell today."
Robert can attest to that, as he feels the heat seeming to roll off her tight, thick ass as she heads for the shower in the next room. After thanking God for answering his prayers he begins to set up for the job, unfolding the massage table and setting up the various massage oils and devices. As he finish the running water stops in the background. He straightens himself up and puts the most professional expression on his face as he waits for the client to enter. And what an entrance she makes! The small woman (she couldn't be more than 5-foot-1)has a white terry towel wrapped around her still steaming body. Her long hair has been pulled into a single thick ponytail that trails erotically behind her. The tanned tops of her breasts push out at the top of the towel and her legs and most of her thighs peek from below.
After getting a quick eyeful, Robert plants a smile on his face and motions towards the massage table.
"What would you like today, Mrs...?"
"Miss. Just call me Amanda. What do you have to offer?"
The way the question leaves her lush lips causes Robert's "little man" to take notice. Even so, he is able to give her a verbal list of the services offered and their hourly rate.
