The room is timber panelled and well appointed. Mirrors line two walls. A giant-sized spa bath occupies a corner and half one wall, a shower cubicle taking up the rest of the wall space. In the middle of the floor is a massage table covered by fluffy salmon coloured towels. Another towel is arranged like a serviette on top. The light level is low, supplied by discreet, indirect lamps.
Waiting nervously, sitting on the only chair, you hear a soft tap on the door, then in walks a tall brunette made even taller by high heels. She wears flimsy black bra and panties and nothing else. Her hair is clipped short and she has a nice smile. By the upright posture, silky way she walks, long legs and small breasts you can see she's a dancer in her other life: "Hi, I'm Brandy, pleased to meet you." She shakes your hand. She's careful to give you a special smile with eye contact before she leaves again.
But before you can evaluate your impressions of her there's another girl in the doorway. Like Brandy she's in her 20s or early 30s. Going by the name of Blaze she has a mane of flaming red hair that reaches down her back. Her green lingerie has a plunging neckline and you find your eyes drawn to her spectacular cleavage. Another handshake, another smile and she's gone. The next girl introduces herself as Sheena. Big, busty and bottle blonde, she wears a kind of leopard skin bikini and has a big smile that could swallow Africa. She speaks with an American accent as she assures us she loves men and women. The moment she's gone you're certain of your reaction; it won't be Sheena.
Jade slips into the room without knocking. Thai or perhaps Malaysian Chinese, she slim, petite and very pretty. You like her immediately, imagining what her slender body is like beneath the white satin teddy. Maybe Jade is the one?
Venus is a statuesque, dark chocolate goddess who speak with a Liverpudlian accent. She grins and jokes like you're old mates. You respond to her warmth and cheeky charm. You've never considered a black girl but why not?
When Venus has gone there's an hiatus. Is that all there are? And then you hear a belated tap at the door, and a girl in satin pyjamas comes in. She slender - boyish even - and of medium height. But it's her bobbed, fine blonde hair and fairly severe expression you react to. "Hello,"she says, "I'm Monique. What's your name?" She's the first of them to ask. Before she shakes hands she pops on her glasses to get a good look at you. As she leaves she remarks that she's actually a trained masseuse if that's important.
Left alone you pretend to consider all the options but your heart is set on the severe Monique.
When the manager returns to the room you tell her your choice, "Monique, please." The woman looks a little surprised, but nods, begins running the spa tub, takes your credit card, instructs you to take a shower, then disappears. You undress quickly then shower quickly but thoroughly, soaping all your crevices and holes. Afterwards you get straight into the filling spa tub and adjust the temperature. When the water reaches your breasts you turn off the tap.
Monique returns with a tray carrying mineral water and a wine and offers you the choice. She explains she was a bit brusque before as she's has never massaged a girl before and wasn't sure how to handle it. She didn't expect you to choose her, but now you have she's determined to make it a memorable experience. She smiles for the first time and you see her even white teeth. The first thing she removes are her heels. This she does by resting her feet on the edge of the tub to unbuckle them, giving you a close view. Then she unbuttons her pyjama jacket and slides it off her shoulders. Your gaze travels all over her quickly .... Shoulders, breasts, waist, belly, back up to her breasts. She's not quite as big as you but her orbs are exquisitely shaped, like the classic champagne glasses, and her pale nipples are like champagne corks. She pinches them to make them stand out even further.
Next she turns her back, unbuttons her pants, drops them and steps out of them. She wears nothing underneath. Her bottom is smooth, flawless, perfect. She slowly bends over to pick up her discarded pyjamas, affording you a rear view of her mound, split vertically and covered with blonde fuzz, rather like a peach. You gasp softly - it's the first time you've seen a naked girl, and a girl's sex, in decades. Concealed by the spa water you plunge your two favourite fingers into yourself for a quick moment of self-gratification.
Monique folds her pyjamas neatly on the chair then gestures for you to make room for her. She steps into the tub and settles. You talk about nothing for a while. Making no big deal about it, she places your hand on her breast. You enjoy the feeling of her prominent, stiff nipple against your palm. Emboldened, you even risk trailing your hand to the back of her smooth neck and stroking it softly.
Monique's knees sag open - an invitation you can't ignore or resist. Your hand starts on her lower thighs and slowly travels towards her crotch. There's bubble bath in the water but it's still clear enough to see your hand stroking her inner thighs. "No fingers inside, that's the house rule," she murmurs. Chastened, you brush your fingers over her soft pubic curls, making do.
There's colour in your cheeks and your breathing is slightly uneven; this is what you wanted.
