Sensual Touch

Doctor Samantha Ewing sat back at her kitchen chair enjoying a cup of steaming peppermint tea. She had just brought her morning newspaper inside to unwrap and enjoy her daily routine. Life was routine after all and to invite a divergence from routine would simply breed discontent and disappointment in her life. Samantha learnt many years ago to keep it simple in her life. After attending university and applying herself to becoming a plastic surgeon, she had earned a lucrative salary and a prestigious place in society. But she eked out her existence in modest ways in order to prevent discouraging failings of the other people in her life. She could only rely on herself, thus she lived alone, making for herself a life that was comfortable, practical, and uncomplicated.

Last week, she had strained her lower back muscles while trying to lift a heavy box up into her attic. Her back ached as she sat at her straight backed wooden kitchen chair. Leafing through the paper past all the current contemporary news, the distastefully avaricious advertisements, and the burgeoning social commentaries ever present in our media, she found the classifieds. The medical section caught her curious, wavering eyes. One particularly succinct and inviting ad captured Samantha's attention.

Sore Back? Muscles Tight? All Stressed Out?

Delight Yourself With Touch. Pamper Yourself With My Magic Hands.

Contact Sherry Everett at 555-6678. Women Only Please.

Feeling the nagging agony of her tight gnarled muscles now leaning against the wooden chair, she decided that perhaps one sinful indulgence was in order. Samantha wouldn't normally treat herself to such luxuries, but in this case she could resist the simple temptation no longer. The pain in her back was worsening and she needed to see someone about this soon. Besides, Sherry's ad was mysteriously inviting.

Picking up the nearby telephone, she rang the phone number in the ad. A soft voice was heard at the other end of the line.

Sherry -- "Hello there. It's pretty early for a Saturday morning."

Samantha -- "Oh I'm sorry. I didn't believe 10AM on a weekend was all that early. Shall I call back later or perhaps another day?"

Sherry -- "I'm awake now, sunshine. How can I help you?"

Samantha -- "I strained my back trying to bite off more than I could chew when I was packing some mementoes away in my attic. I'm afraid I really need a good massage."

Sherry -- "What kind of mementoes?"

Samantha -- "Pardon?"

Sherry -- "Heavy mementoes it seems. Were they photographs? Old diaries? Snow Globes perhaps?"

Samantha -- Giggles softly, a bit amused. "Maybe they were old pulp romance novels. Or old wine corks from the bottles of wine consumed in my bitter loneliness. Could be my old porcelain dolls or my widget collection? Maybe it's the many prescription bottles I've had to take to put out of my mind the ramblings of insistently, hyper curious nosy parkers."

Sherry -- "I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect or to be overly invasive. I just think a person's mementoes are very telling of a person's character."

Samantha -- "I'm not mad, sweetie. They were actually patient registries from ten years ago when I first became a doctor."

Sherry -- "You're a doctor? I don't think I've ever had a doctor before."

Samantha -- "Well, I don't think I've ever had a massage therapist before either."

Sherry -- "A first for both of thus then. What kind of medicine do you practice?"

Samantha -- "I'm a plastic surgeon, Sherry. What kind of medicine do you practice?"

Sherry -- "Oh I practice the art of sensual touch and aromatherapy. I encourage women of all ages to indulge for themselves the wonders and magic of my adept hands. The atmosphere of my discreet, relaxing home will leave you spellbound. My fingertips will deliver euphoria to your aching muscles. Your stresses and worries will be swept away in the wake of ever moving tides of pleasure surfing through your wanting body. You will awaken the next morning with a new raison d'aitre and a new perspective on the refreshing ways we can entreat our bodies to what they truly deserve."

Samantha -- "Sounds rehearsed, sweetie. Say that three times fast."

Sherry -- "You're very witty. I look forward to getting my mitts on you, sunshine."

Samantha -- "Strangely enough, I look forward to that too. Shall we discuss rates and availability?"

Sherry -- "Don't normally work on the weekend. It's sacred. But I'll make an exception. And the first visit is free. The first taste is free then you're hooked. And I guarantee you'll be back."

Samantha -- "Like a drug dealer. *Giggles* You're very confident in your abilities, Sherry. I admire that in a woman. Could I come over today?"

Sherry -- "How about now? You live in town?"

The women discuss their neighborhoods and Samantha hangs up the phone after making an appointment for a half hour from then. Samantha wanted to find out how long she would be there, as she intended to run her routine errands, but Sherry replied that she would be there "as long as it takes and as long as you want to accept me as your guide to your own body."

Samantha hopped into a warm shower rubbing lavender oils over her soft, supple skin. After five minutes of sudsy pleasure, she turned off the shower reaching for a fluffy towel. She carefully patted her body dry. Looking in the mirror, she saw herself naked. "Yes", she thought, "this will be good for me. Sherry seems adorable and fun and I think I've deserved a little pampering for some time. If she's half as good as she has convinced herself she is, she will at least allay the pain in my back."

Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw a young woman of thirty five staring back. Her long mane of blonde hair draped wet clinging to her neck and down her back. Her ample breasts, untouched by her own augmenting surgeries, still drew the attention of others, but Samantha rarely allowed herself to flaunt her body. She was an athletic lady, with a basement full of exercise equipment, and often coerced her body at the end of a long day at the office on a sojourn along the river's edge. She still was a woman that could attract the world, couldn't she? She wasn't yet over the point of no return, was she?

Dismissing that thought without a direct answer, she blew dry her hair and let it curl on its own. For a rare exception, she donned a few conservative pieces of jewelry, actually used makeup, pulled on frilly undergarments of black Venetian lace, and slipped into a beautiful yellow sarong. She had never worn this particular garment which was a gift a few years back from a happy patient. There never really was a chance. But Samantha felt capricious all of a sudden. So here she was.

Picking up a small clutch bag with her wallet and keys safely placed inside, she locked up her condominium heading to the underground garage. Getting to her car, she had second thoughts. She sat there for a full minute debating with herself over the merits of giving in to this temptation. She very nearly got out of the car and went upstairs to call Sherry back to cancel. But all of a sudden, she reached for the key in the ignition. And off she was to see the woman that would change her life forever.

***

Samantha drove the short distance down the tree lined boulevard towards her destination. Sherry's residence and den of iniquity was merely blocks away from her comfortable home. Samantha secretly wondered if she had met the mysterious massage therapist in her wanderings of day to day life. At a grocery store or the mall innocently picking up the necessities of life. Waiting in line at the banking tellers. Perhaps they knew each other from afar, at least to see and recognize each others face, and especially since they lived virtually in the same neighborhood.

Samantha mused about how this might be good for her and also marveled on Sherry's guarantee that she would gladly return to her after the first taste of her sultry offerings of pleasure. She reached to turn off the radio in her console as her mind continued to wander. She had never been to a massage therapist before. She didn't know what to expect. Would she be naked during her session? What covert secrets did Sherry have that ensured her confidence in her abilities to draw her like a moth back to raging flame?

Samantha took a deep breath letting it out slowly. She pulled onto Sherry's avenue and looked down the block at the address numbers on each of the houses. She soon found the rightful number. Sherry's home was modest at first glance. The front yard was impeccably groomed. In the centre of the yard was a small pond, merely a meter deep or so, filled with colorful fish and floating lily pads. Rocks of different sizes, shapes, and colors adorned a small path around the pond. There was a little bench fashioned in red mahogany placed for comfortable afternoons of enjoying the soft breezes of nature and the pleasant surroundings Sherry afforded herself and her guests. The foliage of the front yard was flamboyant and of vibrant pastels.

Samantha pulled up the cobble stoned driveway beside the '67 Corvette Stingray (a convertible at that). Her mind quickly descended to visions of a beautiful young woman zooming down the freeways with her long hair blowing in the wind. In that vision, she saw the woman look over from her seat probing deeply at her voyeur.....lowering her dark glasses and winking at her with wanton and playful lust. Samantha giggled to herself as she shook herself from that daydream.

Turning off the ignition of her car, she got out of her vehicle taking with her the clutch bag she had brought. She slowly meandered up to the front door. As she reached the door and was about to press the door bell, she noticed a note on the door. It was a small envelope with her name written in calligraphy. Opening the screen door, she opened the envelope with her fast moving fingers desperate to read the message inside. Flipping open the note inside, made of the woven material often used in wedding invitations, she read the contents.

Sunshine,

Inside this envelope, you will find two keys. The larger of the two will let you in the back yard. Go there now and let yourself inside. Are you there yet? Close the gate behind you please. We don't want any intrusions on our frolicking, do we?

As you can see, I have a pool and a hot tub. I've done pretty well in life, eh? Perhaps you might consider yourself to be in the wrong gig. And my line of work has its benefits, Samantha, as I get to surround myself with stunningly beautiful women that simply want to unleash the pleasure in their own bodies. I am their guide.

So let me guide you to the little shed off to your right. The same key that let you inside the gate will let you in this little cabana. Inside, you will find a robe laying over a chair for you.

Remove all your clothes. Leave all your belongings there. Rest assured, they are safe inside. Naked as the day you were born? Yummy. Throw on the robe please. It's so very soft and fluffy and smells like spring!

There is a glass of freshly poured bubbly in the fridge to your left. Indulge yourself as you go and take a nice soak in the hot tub.

The high trees of my yard will prevent any naughty peeping Tom or Jane's from seeing your stunning body that I will soon be entreated to what it truly deserves. There is a clock radio built into the tub. Once inside, press the red button. Close your eyes. Dismiss all thoughts. Relax. Take a deep breath. Let every muscle in your body unwind. And enjoy your tasty beverage. Let it loosen your inhibitions a bit. Make my job a little easier and your day a little brighter..

When the timer rings in a half hour, take a few laps in the pool. Let the cool waters lower the throbbing temperature in your body. Once you have swum a few laps of the breast stroke, a towel has been placed beside the pool. Pat down your body of the cool droplets of water running down your skin. Don your robe.

The second key lets you inside my home. Close the sliding glass door behind you. Once again, we don't want any unexpected visitors, do we?

Go up the stairs and it will lead you to your destination. Disrobe. Lay down on the table. Enjoy the music. Close your eyes. And wait for me. When I'm ready, you had better be too. Or Else.

Sherry

Samantha began to follow the directions of Sherry word for word. Something drew her to follow her instructions to the letter of the law. She let herself into the gate with the key found inside. Closing the gate behind her, she turned around to see through the eyes of Eve the panoramic visions of a garden of paradise.

Samantha was speechless and everlastingly happy she came.

***

Samantha let herself into the back gate and securely closed it behind her listening for click of the lock. Indeed, she didn't want anyone following her into the backyard either. As she turned around to take a gander at the surroundings, she found out that her first look of the "modest" residence was an optical illusion. It was a huge back yard that stretched back all the way into an excavated tract of land bounded by dense forest. The fences were tall, nearly ten feet, surrounding the perimeter of this little paradise on Earth.

Along the back edge of the property, Samantha could see a trail composed of chips of wood bark ascending the hill up to a gate at the edge of the forest. That trail ran up the middle of two terraced gardens in marble. The gardens were full of lush colorful plants and exotic flowers, of the likes Samantha had never before seen, and waterfalls on each side emptied into troughs running along the edges of the terraces and seemed to sustain and feed the beautiful vegetation. Bird feeders scattered the grounds hence the sound of songbirds filled the air.

Samantha saw the large pool and hot tub mentioned in Samantha's note, and a raised patio at the sliding glass door, but she immediately sauntered over to the cabana to her right. She was eager to follow her instructions, drawn to the impending surprises that Sherry undoubtedly had in store for her. Samantha was already set aback at the grounds of Sherry's private paradise, and did not expect anything this extravagant in her visit, so she hastily let herself inside.

The cabana was well decorated. She found a little closet full of clothes of varying sizes and styles. She spotted a little love seat. But the most notable feature of the cabana was the presence of full sized mirrors on most of the surfaces of the walls. Every direction she looked, she saw reflections of herself. Samantha wondered if Sherry was vain. Or perhaps it was her clientele that was vain....and if so, did that include her?

She spotted the fluffy robe laid over the chair, like Sherry had told her, and looked at herself taking one last deep breath.

"Ok self. Show time. No backing out now. Do yourself a favor and relax." "Easier said than done, self. I'm on pins and needles here. Feels like I'm doing something racy."

Realizing she was talking to herself, Samantha shook her head out of her little trance and giggled madly. Then her expression on her face became much more serious. It was a shame, she thought, that she couldn't show off the outfit she had put on for this special occasion. It was so out of character for her to dress herself in such an ostentatious way. Sighing, she let the sarong fall off her slender body onto the ground. Looking at herself in the mirror, she had to smile when it came to mind that she was still a very sexy woman. She turned in all directions looking at the mirrors that seemed to almost enhance her curves and contours. For nearly a minute she was enjoying this little self indulgence then she reached behind to unclasp her black lace bra. Samantha remembered when she bought this lingerie in Venice on her last trip to Europe. She remembered the delightful little Italian saleswoman and just how much she wanted to see her naked. She remembered her dream of later that night.

Purring softly, as her bra fell down onto the floor too. She moved to look and take a profile view of herself playfully posing like a model in front of an ever clickity clacking camera. When her fingertips grazed her own nipples, she found they were hard and very sensitive. Samantha muttered a sharp little moan feeling a pulse of energy rushing through her upper body. She was a little turned on!

Reaching down, Samantha eased her matching panties over her hips letting them fall to the ground as she kicked them into the growing pile of her clothes. Again, she twisted around on the spot to pose for herself. Looking back at her pale alabaster skin, she knew it was time to indulge in tanning. She had never indulged in that, but this visit today was changing her mind already about how she had been denying herself what she likely deserved.

Throwing her clutch bag onto the pile of the clothes on the floor, she reached for the fluffy robe. Putting it on, she smelt the wonderful aroma in it. Whatever that smell was, it was intoxicating. She took one last look around, letting herself out of the cabana. Closing the door behind her, hearing the lock click tight, she proceeded to the hot tub. She hadn't been in a hot tub for many years.

Samantha suddenly felt a pang of bashfulness. She looked around and had to convince herself nobody was watching her. After a moment, she let the robe fall onto the wooden deck alongside the tub. Stepping down into the pool, she felt the intense heat run up her legs. Slowly, she eased her whole body inside the tub. Then, she remembered the radio. Pressing the red button, some soft jazz filled the air. The wails of the trombone and the trumpet softly seeped into her. Sipping at her champagne (and finishing it quickly with a little buzz in her head), the heat permeated her body and Samantha's eyes unwittingly closed. She actually for the remaining thirty or so minutes, laid in that cauldron of steaming water, utterly relaxed. Every muscle in her body was loose. She reclined in the tub, laying her head against the edge of the tub, lost in a moment that stood still. Her day dreams were vivid.

When the alarm rang out thirty minutes later, Samantha didn't even want to get out. She needed a tub just like this for her home. But she reluctantly emerged. She brought her robe to the edge of the pool. Now looking closer, she saw the bottom of the pool was decorated in a tiled mosaic of a stunningly gorgeous woman. Clothed in what appeared to a half-toga, Samantha wondered if the illustration was a rendition of Aphrodite.

Finding the diving board at the edge of the pool, she dived into the water. The sudden cold of the pool woke her from the stupor of earlier....and her whole body shivered if only for a moment. But the feeling of extremes in temperature rushed through her body. She stretched her arms and legs as she exerted those relaxed muscles in a few laps of the large pool. A few minutes later, she emerged from the pool completely refreshed. Her hair straightened when it was wet and it draped and clung to her back. She found the towel Sherry had promised would be there and Samantha wiped down the excess droplets of water running down her body. She put her robe back on looking back over at the house. Taking the key from the envelope, she proceeded to the glass door.

Opening the locked door, she let herself inside. Curtains were strung up in front of one hallway, and strings of beads in front of the other, preventing her from observing the undoubtedly unique décor of the home. Sighing to herself, she found the carpeted staircase and proceeded upstairs. Still no sign of Sherry, Samantha mused, wondering for a blink of a second if she was even here.

But Samantha was willing to test that theory. She proceeded upstairs and entered into the one room with an open door. The room was lit with very somber lighting -- merely about ten candles all with the mixed scents of field berries -- and the walls of the room were again adorned with mirrors. A couple of chairs were on the edge of the room, and a little cabinet, but apart from those furnishings only the massage table remained. A silken sheet was draped over top of the cushion topped table. Samantha approached it, after dropping her robe over one of the chairs, and climbed up on the table. Laying down on top of the table, on her tummy, she raised her hands up and under the pillow she was resting her head on. She closed her eyes.