My willowy, red headed companion marched me down the hallway and straight into the black marbled shower stall. The warm water came at me from all angles. Rita's hands felt like velvet on my skin. She washed away all the remnants of the evening's sexual activities, leaving my skin tinkling from the needle sharp spray of the shower. We stepped out of the shower and toweled each other dry.
Rita opened a double door, which led into a small salon off the large bathroom. The salon was equipped with a massage table, a reclining stylists chair and a complete array of beauty and hair styling paraphernalia. She spread a towel out on the massage table and had me lie on my front. She opened a bottle of aromatic oil and poured a liberal amount on my back.
"Okay, Cowboy," Rita cooed, "I'm going to rub some oil into your skin and tuck you in bed. Tomorrow morning, I'm coming back and give you the 'Full Meal Deal'. So get a good nights sleep."
Her sensuous hands roamed over my entire body carefully covering me with the fragrant oil. She even made sure to get between my toes and behind my ears. She paid special attention to my buns and the area under my balls. When she finished, she walked with me to the bed, kissed me lightly on the nose and covered me with the soft satin sheet. I was asleep before she turned out the light.
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The smell of coffee invaded my olfactory senses and drew me up out of a deep sleep. I opened one eye and surveyed what I could see of the room without moving my head. I was alone in the dim light of a candle flickering on the nightstand, illuminating a stone mug full of steaming coffee. I sat up on the edge of the bed and sipped cautiously of the potent brew. I'd learned from experiences at home with Louise that hot coffee would stand you straight up if you were not careful. This was one of two lessons all parents should make a part of early training for every child. The other rule is don't eat yellow snow.
There were candles flickering in the bathroom and the little salon as well so, I decided to sprint for the john and have my morning quiet time before I was forced to make any other decisions.
I was still alone in the room when I came out, so I found a brightly colored silk robe and wandered out into the hallway and toward the kitchen. I crossed through the great dungeon room and noted that all vestiges of last night's orgy had been carefully cleaned and the faint scent of pine cleaner hung in the air. Dianne must have quite a crew behind the scenes here, because I had neither heard nor seen a soul with a mop or a bucket or any other cleaning supplies since I had been here, and the place was always immaculate.
I glanced at the big clock sitting on the mantle over the fireplace. It struck 7:00 AM as I stood in the center of the bizarre room. I turned and continued into the kitchen. The twins and Rita were in the breakfast nook and she appeared to be having an argument with the boys. She was shaking her finger in one of their faces, I couldn't tell them apart so I didn't know which it was, and explained that it was none of their business. She saw me as I entered the room and stopped her tirade. She swept into the room, red faced due to her embarrassment over being caught chastising the boys.
"Morning, Mr. Cool, what can I get for you?" asked Rita.
I held my cup up on my finger and said, "Point me to the coffee pot and I'm a happy man."
She giggled and reached for the cup. "Here, let me," she said. "Have a seat at the table and I'll be right there. The twins disappeared as she returned with the cup.
"I'm sorry if I interrupted anything," I said.
"Oh, it's not really a problem. Those two just piss me off sometimes. They think I'm supposed to jump into the middle of all the crazy stuff that goes on around here. I just get the creeps when it gets like it did last night with that Casey and her two cohorts. They only come a couple of times a year but it's nuts when they are around. It's been three nights this week and Casey pisses all over the place. The cleaning ladies even complained this morning about the furniture in the big room." Rita was spilling her frustrations.
"Sorry, Hon, I added to that mess I'm afraid," I interrupted as she took a breath and reached for a smoke.
"Oh, it doesn't really matter, it's just not my scene. I like to be a little more laid back than some of Dianne's friends," she continued. "I like men, much more than I like women."
Her fingers stretched across the table and touched the back of my hand. She moved them in a small circular motion over the back of my big hand. Her nails were immaculately manicured. Not extremely long, but flawless and colored dark red, nearly black.
Rita got quiet. Her eyes welled but no tears flowed. I sipped my coffee and waited for her emotion to pass. She pulled her hand away and it was as if you turned something off on the back of my hand. A feeling was no longer there. She puffed on her cigarette and mashed the butt out in an ashtray. She stood and gathered her robe around her and extended her hand to me.
"I promised you something last night, before I sent you to bed. Today, you get Rita's special," she said, smiling broadly.
I walked with her back to my bedroom. She closed the hall door and the door to Lisa's room, snapping the locks on both doors. "You are mine for the next few hours, and we don't need anybody bothering us," she announced as she shrugged out of her robe and laid it over the end of my bed, which had mysteriously been made up since I went to the kitchen.
Rita ran a tub of hot water and instructed me to sit and soak for a while. I did as prescribed and watched as she readied her tools to work on me. She laid out her shears and combs, nail and cuticle items and arranged a selection of lotions and powders on a small counter near the salon chair and massage table. Towels and tissues were also situated here and there. I felt like a lamb being readied for slaughter.
Rita kneeled next to the tub and used a huge sponge to cleanse my entire body, leaving my hair dry. I mentioned that and she told me that would come later. After drying me, she ushered me to the salon chair. After spreading a huge towel over it, I sat. She moved her tray of exotic implements to a small table and positioned a stool at my feet. She poured a big dollop of pink lotion in her hand and started rubbing my left foot. She rested it on her knee and massaged each toe and each bone and every muscle and tendon in my whole foot. My feet bother me most of the time anyway, so what she was doing felt marvelous. After spending ten or more minutes on my left foot, she moved over and did likewise on the right.
"You are hired," I said through the wonderful sensations. "That feels fantastic."
"Do your feet ache?" she asked.
"As a matter of fact, my feet do hurt sometimes. Especially if I'm standing for a long time playing music," I answered.
"You have flat feet," she said. "Shoes with special arches will help you a lot. You need to see a foot doctor and get a prescription for special inserts for your shoes."
"I'll do that if you promise to rub my feet again tomorrow morning," I said.
"I'm your slave," she giggled.
After the foot massage, she proceeded with a pedicure and while she was filing on my toes I asked, "Do you do this for Dianne?"
