Liz slid between the cool immaculately white sheets. Her soft raven hair damp and clinging to her neck, and her body still hot from the run in from the car. Her heart still pounded and her breath came in short gasps from the stresses of her day and the mad dash to the spa. She had been very late. Her weekly massage appointment was on the far side of town from her office, and Liz was a very busy woman.
Liz was an entrepreneur. Several years ago, she had decided to add a new depth to her life by creating a business from the ground floor. For a while, that business was really more of a sideline to her life -- as most startups are. But through commanding intelligence, extreme dedication, and incredible hard work and long hours, Liz had made something of her fledgling company. "Martha's Joyous Situations" (named after Liz's mother, Martha) had become a wonderful reflection of its founder; a person who had created not only a thriving business, but a beautifully strong woman at the same time.
Besides running her rapidly growing business and tending to its clientele, Liz was also a mom. Her teenage boys were of course not home during the days. But she nonetheless had driving duties to deliver them to their various activities, meals to make, their undone chores to complete (for who else would?), and a myriad of other tasks to make sure that her family was well taken care of.
A weekly visit to the quiet solace of the spa's massage therapy room, and the bodily relaxation that it offered, were not too much to ask.
Yet this was not the first time Liz had been late for her appointment. In fact, her long time masseuse Marcus had had to scold her on numerous occasions. "My time is valuable too, missy" he would intone. "I have other clients, and other duties beyond sitting and waiting for you to catch up to your clock."
So when she burst through the door of the salon, already 33 minutes late for her massage, it was not a complete shock when the receptionist informed her that Marcus had left the building. Liz would be seeing Sam today instead, and if Liz didn't like it the receptionist would be happy to collect Liz's fee for missing the appointment and reschedule her for another day.
Liz knew that she would rather have the greenest newbie masseuse rub her down than nothing at all, so she acquiesced. The receptionist suggested Liz find her normal room and get on the table and Sam would meet her there. So off Liz ran -- the normal pace of her life.
As the sheets settled upon Liz's naked body, she began already to feel her breath slow. The simple act of unwrapping her now naked body, and moving into that face down position on the table, gave her brain the signals to slow her body. The sheets lightly cleaved to Liz's skin in places where the sweat from the strain of the day still lingered. But Liz was relaxing now and anticipating the sensations of the massage that was to come.
As Liz lay face down in on the table, her face entombed in the ring at the top, she began to drift. Only the slight sound of the door as it clicked open kept her in the present. Sam had finally arrived.
The "music" was already playing from the small radio in the corner (if you could call the green and lush forest sounds "music"). And Sam dimmed the lights to add a relaxing ambiance to the scene. Sam's hands adjusted the sheet that covered Liz so as to be able to begin the work of relaxation.
The first thing Liz noticed about Sam was the small hands of her new masseuse; much different than Marcus' large muscular fingers, yet just as strong. And as Sam approached, Liz also caught a scent -- lightly redolent of patchouli and vanilla -- that somehow intrigued her.
As Sam began the ministrations to Liz's neck and shoulders, Liz let out a small sigh. Those first few touches were always the most intense for Liz as they signaled the beginning of a link between therapist and client. Liz nearly lived for those moments. And though she knew somehow it was wrong, that first touch also often aroused her.
True to form, and in keeping with the fact that she was a highly sexual woman, Liz's body began to respond. Her nipples began to harden slightly. And then a bit more as the feel of the soft sheet manipulated her as a lover's fingers. Liz tried to think of other things as she knew no good would come in the direction her body was trying to take her. This was a massage, one she was paying for and not one given by her lover. Her body flushed as she experienced a mild embarrassment over her body's mutiny.
Sam's solid hands continued to minister to the temple that was Liz's body. Liz made sure she was always in fantastic shape. Her incredible female curves were normally only found on girls who had seen less of the world. She was in all ways a gorgeous and desirable feminine vision. And it seemed that Sam was exploring the view with every cell of those well trained fingers.
Liz's quiet moans seemed to belie the fact that his was meant to be a "therapeutic" massage. It was obvious that she was falling into the trap laid by her libido. And yet Sam's hands continued their course. As Sam's skilled limbs made their way to Liz's legs, she began to note that comforting familiar tingle between her legs. Her pussy began to slowly warm and moisten. "My god", thought Liz, "this is going to be a problem!"
