Lisa opened the door silently. One of those annoying little bells that hang behind a door to announce a visitor's arrival jangled as she stepped into the small sparsely decorated room. A couple of modern art prints hung on the wall above the small simple desk, the only decorations to otherwise break up the monotony of the white walls. The desk had a small vase of tropical flowers, an appointments book and a telephone. Alongside was a small two-seater rattan couch – obviously people did not have to wait long!
A long and exhausting schedule of business calls and visits around Southern Africa had brought her here to Mombasa and this small hotel sandwiched between two major tourist hotels and almost hidden among a forest of palm trees. Business over, her company had offered to treat her to a couple of days R&R before she headed back to America and her family. She thought now about her children, how they would love to run and play in the white sands of the beach or in the blue waters of the hotel pool. Her husband would have loved it too, a chance to soak up some sun and get away from the monotonous dirge of life in the local machine shop. She was the lucky one, Lisa thought, a good job in educational marketing, gave her the chance to travel the world and get away from small town America; an opportunity she relished. But now she was feeling a little selfish; she was enjoying what her family would probably never be able to share with her - a luxury hotel in a far away location.
"Mrs. Williams?" a soft male voice with more than a hint of a South African accent broke her out of her thoughts.
"Err yes, that's me" she turned to face the man who had noiselessly entered the room through a side door and now offered her his hand.
"I apologise," he said, reaching out to take hers; his deep brown eyes looking at her fully. "We have you down as a male guest for some reason." He shook her hand firmly but gently, then turned to the desk to consult the left-hand page. "We tried to call your room when we realised the mistake but you must have already left."
She remembered her long stroll along the beach, the soft warm sand beneath her feet. "Is there a problem then with my massage appointment then?" She looked back into those brown eyes, questioning.
"Well it's late in the afternoon and our girls have all gone. I stayed on to give a sports massage to the last client." He looked up again at her "You are that client but you are clearly not a man or somebody who needs a sports massage." He paused. "What sort of treatment did you ask for?"
"Well," she looked once again into those eyes, "I need to unwind so a deep relaxing massage to free up some fairly tired and aching muscles." He broke the link and looked down.
"Well if you are happy for me to do it, I could give you a short massage now and book you in with one of the girls tomorrow morning?" He paused then the eyes returned to her face. "Of course we would only charge for the one treatment." He gave no clue to what may be going on his mind but he was looking at her for a response.
"Its fine with me – I really need some help to relax and two for the price of one seems a good deal to me." She smiled allowing him to enjoy the warmth of her smile, white teeth contrasting with her red lips and coffee coloured skin.
"OK come with me then" he turned and opened the door through which he had entered. Holding the door ajar for her, he led the way down a narrow corridor. She found herself looking at the figure ahead of her. Traces of grey in his hair gave the way the secret that he was probably the wrong side of 45, but his body looked well toned and fit beneath the white T shirt loose fitting cut offs. He wore no shoes and his arms and legs, like his face was tanned a deep reddish brown from his time here in east Africa.
He pointed to the last door, "If you would like to go in there and make yourself comfortable on the massage table?" He released the door catch and her senses were immediately filled with the smells and sounds of the sea. "I will go and get some towels and oils and be right with you."
The small room had walls of thin reeds, the exception being that which faced her from the doorway. This was largely open to the beach, a warm breeze blowing in from the sea through the glassless window, the far off sounds of the last people on the beach the only sound. Lisa felt herself relaxing. "If the guys could just see me now" she thought.
The massage table was a simple but sturdy trestle covered in soft white fluffy towels. She had been given no instructions – should she undress? She still wore her simple (but modest) bikini from her beach walk. She decided that to avoid embarrassment she should keep this on. She placed her beach robe on the only chair and laid, face down on the table. "To avoid embarrassment" - she was not sure who would be embarrassed her or this middle aged man who was about to provide her massage. Had he seen it all before? "Yes", probably, although in a hotel like this they would be careful not to offend anyone. Was she embarrassed? Well yes she thought, or least she should be, laying nearly naked in front of a stranger – a strange man.
Not that he was strange, he might be nearly old enough to be her father but he was quite good looking in a mature sophisticated way. As these thoughts occupied her mind, she did not hear him enter the room nor the soft click as he turned the little bolt which registered "Engaged" on the other side.
"I have some aromatic oils which I think will help you relax" the soft voice broke the tranquillity and her train of thought.
"Err Yes". "Thank you that sounds wonderful." She was aware that he was moving around the room. She felt the soft texture of the warm cotton towels that he now spread over her legs and lower back.
"This is the nicest massage room. I love to work in here especially at the end of the day. You can smell the warmth and freshness of the sea." She heard him inhale. "I sometimes think I should pay them to work here" she heard a little chuckle and she smiled. She knew what he must mean. "May I?" he added in a matter of fact way.
The unrelated question broke her relaxation slightly. She didn't answer; but felt his fingers untying the simple knot that held her bikini top together. She didn't object, of course he needed free access to her back she reasoned as she allowed herself to fall into a sort on languid state. "This is the life" she thought. She could not see the look in his eyes as he stared down at this beautiful negress who lay before him. He gently warmed the scented oils in his hands.
He had spent nearly all his life in Africa and had enjoyed the company of many African girls and women. Why, he had briefly been married to one, but that was all in the past and the modern horrors of aids and his advancing years – he would be 50 next birthday - meant that he was no longer a young rake. The East African girls he had loved all had such dark skin, almost a true chocolate whereas the West African girls he had known were all much darker – ebony in fact. He smiled to himself, "What did these Europeans know?" Black women were not all the same and it was that rich variety which had so absorbed him throughout his time as a mercenary in West Africa and now as a fitness instructor in Kenya. He had a small stake in the fitness company which operated at this hotel providing the gym and water sports facilities. Many of his young instructors and masseurs had fun with the clients and he prided himself in selecting good looking boys and girls who were also excellent workers.
But now, as he spread the first silky coat of aromatic oil over Lisa's shoulders he wondered again about the rich variety of the African woman. Not that Lisa probably thought of herself as African – what term was it now politically correct to use? Afro-American? Her skin was not black or even a true brown, more the colour of coffee and with all the subtle variations that this can conjure up in the mind. He wondered at how the oil changed the subtlety of the colour, much as a good polish heightened the colour of wooden furniture. He shook himself what was he thinking – he was not concentrating on the job in hand. His hands!
Lisa felt the small change in his hands. Those gentle fingers which seemed almost to stroke her skin now applied firmer pressure. His talented fingers gently pushed and pulled at her muscles, easing away the tension and tautness which had built up over these last 10 days of travelling. She could smell the scent of the oils – sandalwood perhaps? – which now mixed with that of the sea breezes. He manipulated her neck, easing the stresses; soft fingers moving into her hair to caress her scalp. They returned to her shoulders, then her arms, each in turn being gently twisted turned and stretched to relax the muscles. He was fighting hard to concentrate, as he massaged her arms he saw how she lifted slightly from the table, the swell of her breast remoulding. He was in no doubt that this client was a very handsome young woman and he yearned to be much younger.
An early liaison with a beautiful client had proved to be a mistake which had nearly cost him his first job. It had taught him not to mix business and pleasure. But, yet again his thoughts returned to the beautiful woman he saw before him. He knew nothing about her nor she about him. That was always the case. Treatments were always performed with the simple accompaniment of the surf and the wind for music. He had seen a ring so she was probably married. Was she here alone? Did she have a husband with her? Questions which would all remain unanswered.
He moved along her body, his hands moving now down her back, strong fingers firmly pushing against resisting muscles as he tried to relieve the tension he found there. What was she like as a lover? Conservative? Reckless? He shook his head; forcing himself to remove such thoughts from his head. He knew his penis was responding to the sight in front of him and his conjectures. He passed over the towel and started to work on her legs smoothing the backs of her thighs, kneading her flesh with a fresh supply of the scented oils. He was only vaguely aware of the small shift in her posture.