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Chapter 8
***
It's fair to say that my relationship with Laura had suffered a little with the pressure of my new business. Not that I didn't love her dearly, of course, it was just that, as you can imagine, I was pretty knackered at the end of day. Massage is strenuous work and on some days I'd also had several orgasms and plenty of randy play. So it wasn't that I wasn't willing to have sex with Laura - it was simply that I didn't need to. That sounds a little selfish but it's just how my body works. Consequently she was getting increasingly annoyed at my lack of, shall we say, 'enthusiasm' for her sexual needs.
I arrived home one Friday afternoon to find her perched on the sofa, looking sullen.
"Hello sweetheart," I chirped. "Haven't seen you for a bit."
"We need to talk," she said firmly. Words that send a spasm of dread through any man's soul.
My heart sank a little. Oh dear, I thought. I walked over and sat next to her, bracing myself for the worst, and waited for her to speak.
"Look, I know you're working hard," she started. "And yes, I know it was my idea. But I feel it's just getting a bit out of hand."
"I'm making really good money," I said, trying to think of other positives, but failing to come up with any. There was a momentary pause.
"Is that all you've got?" She said. I didn't want to admit it, but it really was. Lots of other, er, 'benefits' for me. But nothing she would appreciate.
"I'm sorry if I've been ignoring you," I mumbled, trying to sound as contrite as possible. "It's pretty hard work giving massages all day. How about we head out for a nice meal tonight?" I was desperately trying to deflect. She ignored the question and looked me straight in the eye.
"How many women have you fucked this week? Be honest with me."
There was a pregnant pause, although not because I planned to fib, but simply because I needed a few seconds to tot them up in my head. I'd got as far as Thursday morning when she continued.
"See what I mean! You don't even know!"
"It's only..." I stuttered, without really knowing how I was going to finish the sentence. Thinking better of it, I changed tack. "What can I do to make things better between us?" I continued meekly. I was trying my sad eyes, hoping it wasn't too obvious, and Laura softened a little. She sighed.
"You could start by doing me a little favour. I need you to come and stay at my place for a few days."
I'd been over to Laura's apartment on and off, although never for more than a night. But it seemed a reasonable request and I nodded enthusiastically. No problemo, I mused.
"You see..." she continued, pausing and looking increasingly guilty. "My mother's coming to stay. She thinks I have a boyfriend... a proper boyfriend... who I live with."
I stared at her for a second taking in her confession, then laughed. Now who was telling little white lies, I thought.
"Does she know what your 'boyfriend' does for a living?" I said, grinning.
"Graphic Designer."
I laughed again. I had resigned from the company over a month ago to focus on the increasingly lucrative massage practice.
"Sounds like someone's been telling a few porkies," I chortled. Laura hung her head, shamefaced. I decided to put her out of her misery and put my arms around her.
"No worries," I murmured reassuringly. "Happy to stay at yours. Happy to be your boyfriend, which is kind of true anyway. And I'm sure I can talk all about design work over the dinner table."
I slid my hands under her jumper and kissed her. She shivered.
"How about a nice relaxing massage," I whispered as she melted into my arms.
***
Laura's apartment is in a nice part of town. Two bedrooms, a small galley kitchen and reasonable open plan lounge/diner. Not exactly spacious but bearable for a few days. I decided to leave all my massage equipment at my place and simply pick it up each morning as required. So I just transferred a suitcase of clothes and a few toiletries and, hey presto, one live-in boyfriend!
Annie arrived on Saturday afternoon. For a lady in her mid-fifties she was strikingly attractive. Slim, well dressed and manicured. She had bright blue eyes and wisps of grey in her blonde hair. Mature but rather sexy with it, I thought. I kept these thoughts to myself, of course, under strict instructions to behave.
We chatted over dinner, getting to know each other. I was subjected to the usual round of questions. What did I do? Prospects and plans for the future? etc, etc. Not exactly "what are your intentions with my daughter!" but close enough. It was far less daunting than I had imagined and it turned out Annie was quite fun to be around. She was visiting old friends over a couple of days so apologised that she might be in and out. Laura just gave her a key and told her not to worry.
Sunday came and went and then Laura headed off to work early Monday morning. My first appointment wasn't until 10 so I pottered around for a bit, checking messages and social media. Annie wandered out of her room around 9.
"Not at work?" she questioned. I hesitated, getting our story straight in my head.
"Late start on Mondays," I said smoothly. "We work flexi hours."
"Oh that must be nice," she chirped. "A lie-in." She was fumbling with her dress. "Would you mind zipping me up, Rick? I have a rather nice lunch date with some old school friends."
"Sure, no problem," I chirped. Reaching up I placed a hand on her bare shoulder and slid the zip down with my other hand. Annie shivered.
"Oh my," she murmured, squirming slightly. "What nice warm hands you have." Oops, I thought, quickly removing my hand from her bare skin, mumbling an apology.
She turned and gazed at me. "No need to apologize," she purred. "I can see that Laura has good taste in men." And with that she winked, grabbed her bag and headed out. I gave myself a sharp rebuke: 'Don't touch Annie again!' and then put the uncomfortable moment out my head.
