Sylvia's Spa Special

Rae is my oldest and best friend. We've been tight since grade school and have absolutely no secrets between us (including my little interaction with her father during our teen years). We remain incredibly close even though we've been separated over the years by way too many miles, boyfriends, lovers and even husbands. Recently she wrote me a birthday letter that included a gift certificate for a Spa.

"Use it on your next visit to Portland," she wrote. "It's good for a very special treat." She had underlined 'very special,' and knowing Rae as well as I do I immediately suspected there was more to it than met the eye.

"I've gone to this place in the past," she went on, "and it's always been really nice. But last time I went they had a new masseur named Jack and we really hit it off. I've arranged for you to have his "Rose City Bliss" treatment, and I'm certain you'll love it as much as I did."

I wasn't sure just what I'd be getting into, but knowing Rae I knew it could be pretty damn sexy, indeed. She was tight-lipped about any more information, no matter how hard I tried to pry it out of her. "You'll just have to trust me," was all she would say.

So, the first thing on my agenda when I got to Portland was setting up an appointment. I was really looking forward to finding out just what her definition of 'very special' was. On the appointed day I took a taxi to the address she'd sent me. The building was very modern and stood out from the older, more traditional ones in the popular Pearl District, and I was pleased to find it to be just as nice and hip inside as it was out. Everything seemed first-class and I was impressed at how complete their offerings were; a full range of co-ed services and facilities from facials, pedicures, hair cutting and treatments, nails, waxing, (including m/f Brazilians) saunas, steam baths, hot rock treatments, massage, couples get-a-ways, health food and drinks, yoga, and on and on.

The building had two floors, with co-ed facilities on the first floor and separate men's and women's spa areas on the second. Some of the most attractive employees you can imagine were working there and were obviously hired for their looks as well as for their expertise.

"They ain't cheap," Rae had told me, but she also assured me that she'd never heard a bad word about their service or discretion—and judging by the smiles and satisfied-looking faces on everyone I saw—that quickly became obvious.

The attractive woman at the front desk welcomed me warmly, took my gift-card and glanced at it before listing the options that were included with the 'special' package. "Since it's so cold and nasty out," she said, "you might enjoy a nice warming sauna first."

I slipped out of my heavy winter coat, agreeing that I couldn't have thought of a better idea. "Sounds wonderful to me," I responded.

She pressed a button and an attractive young dyke (I should say a young woman whom I suspected was a dyke) quickly appeared and took me to a private changing room with its own shower and locker. She handed me a silky white robe and slippers and showed me a cabinet where I could lock my clothes and purse.

"Have a shower—you've got lots of time," she said. "I'll be back in a few minutes and take you to the sauna." She handed me a huge, fluffy towel and hesitated and seemed disappointed that I didn't start undressing before she walked out. "My name's Holly, by the way."

After she left I quickly stripped and stepped into the shower, pleased to see how clean and sparkling everything was and enjoying the luxurious body wash, shampoo and cream rinse that was supplied. Before I was finished Holly re-appeared without knocking and handed me a towel and pretended to not watch while I quickly dried off. I thought about telling her she should knock in the future but since I thought she was kind of cute and I've never been too bashful with the girls, I didn't say anything. I just slipped into my robe and followed obediently as she led me to the women-only sauna.

"Most clients only wear a towel inside," she said, pointing to a series of hooks where two robes identical to mine hung. There was a showerhead next to the door and she reminded me to cool down every few minutes. "I'll be back when your masseur is ready for you." Again she seemed reluctant to leave and I got the definite feeling she was hoping to see me naked one more time.

This time I just figured 'what the hell, she's already seen me once,' so I shrugged off my robe and hung it up, wrapped the towel around myself and stepped inside the small room.

The light was dim and soft and the odor of hot cedar and faint perfume greeted me. I saw that I was joining two women, one sitting topless and the other laying on the bench with her towel draped casually over her. They smiled warmly and seemed totally relaxed as I sat down near them. We exchanged pleasantries and I enjoyed chatting for a few minutes, watching as they popped in and out to use the cold shower. They were soon led away by their attendant and I was left alone.

I spread my towel on the bench and stretched out totally nude, feeling my temperature blissfully rising as much from the anticipation of what was to come as from the intense dry heat. After I had showered with cold water 2 or 3 times, Holly walked into the sauna, again without knocking.

"Time for the main event," she grinned. As she held my robe open for me she made no pretense of not checking out my body, this time removing all suspicion in my mind about her sexual orientation.

She escorted me down the hall to a private treatment room and told me I was to lie on the table, face down under the sheet. She lowered the light's dimmer-switch and poured a glass of water for me. "I hope you enjoy your treatment" she said as she opened the door to leave. "Your masseur will be in shortly."

I hung my robe up behind the door and impulsively decided to feign ignorance about the sheet protocol. I climbed on the table and draped the towel loosely over my back and butt instead of getting under the sheet as she had instructed. I let my arms hang limply off the table and looked through the donut pillow down at the floor, snuggling my body into a nice, comfortable position.

The room was warm and highly perfumed, with new-age music softly playing from hidden speakers. There was a little shelf with squeeze-bottles of oils, some candy and mints, a pitcher of water, a couple of glasses and a box of Kleenex next to my table. There were paintings of romantic-looking Bali beach scenes on the walls and a tiny sink in the corner with a pile of plush towels and washcloths. All-in-all it had a very safe and inviting setting and my body felt like it was totally alive from the hot/cold sensations of the sauna and shower and, of course, from my naughty anticipation.

After a couple of minutes I drifted into a completely relaxed state and hardly heard a soft knock on the door. I lifted my head and said "come in" and was pleased to see a tall, thin and very handsome man enter. He discreetly locked the door behind himself and without disturbing the ambience walked directly to me and put his hand on my bare shoulder.

"Hi," he said. His voice was soft but deep and strong. "My name's Jack."

"I'm Sylvia, nice to meet you."

He asked if I had been to this spa before. When I said no but that he had been highly recommended to me by my very close friend Rae, he seemed pleased, mentioning that referrals were the highest form of compliment.

He was wearing a white tee-shirt and soft cotton, pajama-type pants that looked suspiciously like he had forgone his underwear. They were tied at the waist with an oversized drawstring that was hanging temptingly near my face and I fantasized momentarily about reaching out and pulling it to allow the pants to fall off. (Hey, can you think of a better place to fantasize?)

"I'm glad you have the two hour 'Bliss' package," he said. "It'll give us lots of time to get to really know each other. I always hate to feel rushed just when I start to have something special develop with my clients."

I could feel something 'special' developing already, but I just smiled and said I was really looking forward to that.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked. "You can slip under the sheet if you want."

"I'm just fine the way I am, if it's okay with you," I quickly answered.

He explained that he would not be doing deep-tissue work, that discomfort was definitely not part of what this particular session was about. "Pleasure, relaxing and stress-relief are what we'll be striving for today," he said softly.

I lifted my head and looked directly into his eyes, hesitated only a moment and answered. "That's exactly what I'm looking for," I purred.

He poured a glass of water and held it out to me, reminding me to drink anytime I wanted, that I should keep myself well hydrated after the sauna. I pulled myself up on my elbows and reached for the glass, knowing full-well that my breasts would be completely exposed to him. It was light enough for me to see his eyes dart to, and then quickly away from them as I took a long, slow drink, silently signaling that I was not exactly the bashful type.

He continued in his soft voice, telling me to remember that I was always in total charge—to let him know at any time if he was doing something I didn't care for, if I was too warm or too cold, if he was hurting me, if I was uncomfortable with his techniques or if I wanted more pressure or less. He asked if I had any tender or sensitive spots or areas I wanted special attention paid to. He never broke skin-to-skin contact with me as we talked and I complimented him about how well he was putting me completely at ease.

"As I told you, you've been highly recommended by my friend Rae." When he smiled knowingly, I continued. "Use whatever technique you feel best. I'm totally comfortable in your hands."

He was standing near my head and lightly rubbing my neck and shoulders all this time and about all I could see were his flip-flopped feet below my face, giving me a sense of safety and anonymity which I found quite erotic. He walked to the side of the table and began to let his talented hands work their way down from my neck. When he came in contact with the towel he hesitated.

"Are there any areas of your body you're embarrassed about or shy of?" he asked.

"No. Not in the least," I responded. I smiled to myself as I felt him immediately slide the towel lower. Way lower.

For what seemed like forever he caressed me with firm, loving strokes, his hands sliding from the base of my neck down to the crack of my ass. He then deftly folded the towel back to uncover my left buttock and the entire side of my hip. His fingers pushed rhythmically sideways against me as he kneaded my hip, causing my whole lower body to rock gently side to side, back and forth. Of course, this caused a delightful pressure between my pussy and the table and I was enjoying the erotic sensations immensely. As innocent as the technique seemed at first, I'm sure he knew exactly what it was causing and the reaction I was feeling. He kept the rhythm going until I let out a big, satisfied sigh and then he seemed to know it was time to move on and he started working his way down my right leg. When he reached my foot he lifted it and rested it firmly against his stomach, pulling gently on my leg. He started to run his oily fingers in between each toe, pulling and stroking them—something I found surprisingly sensual.

I couldn't contain myself from giggling. "I've never had a 'toe-job' before," I said. "I really like it."

"Good," he murmured. "That's what we want."

By now my knees had spread a few inches apart while he worked and I found myself trying to imagine exactly how much he could see if he looked up toward my pussy. It felt like the towel was still draped low enough so I couldn't tell for sure, but just not knowing whether he could see it was incredibly exciting. He began to work his way back up the same leg, his hands returning to my ass-cheek (after paying a much-too-brief visit to the inside of my thigh.) Kneading my buttock briefly and letting a finger slip a tiny bit into the crack this time, he returned the towel to where it was previously then undraped my right buttock and walked to the other side of the table. He began to repeat his downward ministrations on my leg but this time when he came back up and was stroking the inside of my thigh he came much closer to my cunt lips than he did before (but again, he didn't actually make contact.) He re-opened the towel and positioned it much lower this time, covering just my upper thighs and legs, but not my butt. He paused to spread more lotion on his hands.

"Still okay?" he asked. It was obvious he was giving me an opportunity to set boundaries since my ass was now completely uncovered.

I took a deep breath and moaned softly, then whispered, "Oh, yes. I'm just fine."

He began to massage my entire back again, this time letting his hands go all the way from my neck down to the tops of my thighs, his fingers sliding lightly into my ass crack with some of his strokes. He squeezed and kneaded both buttocks and occasionally came within a fraction of touching my anus. I moaned softly each time he came close to it, letting him know I was enjoying how much more intimate his touch had become. It was still 'innocent' in that he hadn't actually touched my anus but it was obvious I was getting turned on and there was no question we both knew exactly what was happening.

He had earlier positioned my arms down beside my body so that my hands were lightly touching my hips. When he walked around to start working on me from the other side I shifted my arm slightly, which brought my hand right to the edge of the table and when he moved into position his body momentarily came into contact with the backs of my fingers. He seemed to hesitate as if to see whether I would pull back, and when I didn't he increased the pressure between us slightly. Even though I couldn't see or tell what I was touching I knew it must be his thigh and if either of us shifted a bit it might be his cock. The sexual tension was definitely building between us and I was determined to keep signaling that I was not only enjoying myself but ready for more.

He pulled the towel back up, lifting and holding it tented over me. "Roll over onto your back," he whispered softly.

I did, awkwardly managing to preserve my 'modesty' at the same time. He put a pillow under my head and slipped a cushion under my knees, telling me to make myself as comfortable as I could.

"I think you should have a little more water," he said. As he handed me the glass, I sat up on one elbow to take the drink from him. I felt the towel slip to my waist completely exposing my breasts and watched as he made no pretense of not looking at them. I didn't flinch under his gaze, drinking the whole glass very slowly and handing it back to him without making any attempt to re-cover myself. Without taking his eyes off me he set the glass down and as I lay back on the table I left the towel crumpled around my waist, exactly where it had fallen. Stretching my arms over my head I took a slow, deep breath. I could feel my breasts flatten even smaller as they tightened into my chest, knowing how much the pose would emphasize the size and hardness of my nipples. They felt as hard as they ever get.

Looking directly at them he reached for the towel as if he was going to cover me up. "Are you cold?" he asked softly.

I grinned, knowing exactly what he was looking at. "No," I said, softly. I dropped my eyes down and looked deliberately from one nipple to the other. "That's from you," I added.

We both laughed and he moved the towel lower and dropped it over my hips. There was little reason for him to maintain any pretense after that. He immediately began to sensually smooth the lotion all over my chest, using his palms and the flats of his fingers. I still had my hands clasped over my head, making it easy for him to go from my neck and shoulders all the way down to the towel with long, smooth, strong strokes. He could almost have been doing my back if it wasn't for the hard bumps caused by my nipples. I was going crazy with pleasure and was aware that my breathing was getting very ragged. Even though he hadn't squeezed my nipples or touched them any differently than the rest of my chest, it was obvious from the amount of lotion he'd applied that he had more in mind.

"Put your arms down," he whispered.

Obediently, I moved them to my sides—feeling my tight, flat chest turn back into breasts again. His hands immediately changed their technique, slowing way down and beginning to knead both breasts at the same time, each stroke of his fingers drawing my flesh upward. He very gently pinched and lifted my nipples straight up and when I let out an open-mouthed moan he began to roll them silkily between his thumbs and forefingers. I was breathing heavily now and suspected he was turned on also and completely aware that my hands were clenching and unclenching in time to his squeezing of my breasts.

"This feels wonderful," I whispered.

I let my hand slide to the edge of the table again until it came into contact with him. He pulled away ever-so-slightly as though I might have touched him accidentally, but not far enough to break our contact. I began to rub his thigh with the backs of my fingers and he turned slightly, just enough that I knew he had done it deliberately and was giving me permission—making it easier for me to reach his cock.

I'd been right; Jack had forgotten his underwear that day.

He was hanging loose and free, half-hard and it felt very, very nice. I couldn't see his reaction since my eyes were closed, but I hoped he was watching my face because I could feel myself smile—very pleased with what I found. It felt about five or six inches long and of average girth and I could feel it pulsing firmly against my hand. Using the backs of my fingers I increased my pressure against it, running them up and down. I turned my hand so I could grasp him lightly just above the head and he pulled back slightly, causing my fingers to slip down over the ridge to find a disproportionately large head flaring in my fingers. Both his hands were still caressing my breasts but when I squeezed his cock harder he slid one down under the towel. It felt like he was still a little unsure, so with my free hand I deliberately pulled the towel to one side and let it slip to the floor, leaving me completely naked.

He raked his fingers softly through my well-trimmed pubic hair and stopped, his palm cupped above my pussy and his fingers just ever-so-lightly coming into contact with my waiting lips. Involuntarily I arched my hips upward, lifting my hungry cunt toward his hand. He resisted my obvious invitation to press deeper, maintaining the same tantalizing pressure between us. His teasing touch was driving me crazy, especially since his other hand was now squeezing and twisting my nipple with delightfully obvious intentions.

I knew I couldn't take much more.

I reached my free hand down and cupped it over the top of his, increasing our joint pressure. I pressed his palm firmly against me, making small, rhythmic circular motions that pulled and pushed the flesh tightly over my clit. He still held back, not putting his fingers into me even though it was obvious I craved for him to do so. We rotated around and around until I spread his fingers open and let mine slip between them and into my sopping lips, but he still wouldn't follow with his. I was moaning constantly now, right on the verge of cumming. His cock had grown harder and longer as I touched it and I started to pull it in time with my heaving hips. I reached up and fumbled with his drawstring, wanting to feel him naked in my hand.