Traci stretched. It had been a long tiring day and her back and head hurt from concentrating. The slight buzz of the florescent light only seemed to make her headache worse. The good news was that she was done. She felt like she'd been working this case forever, but now it was over. She just had to load the final report into the ECM system. She pressed the button. Done. Really done now.
"Hey Traci, you want to join us at the bar?" Ethan was peering at her over the top of her cubical. She had a kind of a thing for Ethan. There was something adorable about his messy, dirty blond hair. Any other night she would have been excited to have him ask.
"I'd love to, but I'm just too tired and my headaches."
"No worries," Ethan said, "Maybe next time."
"Yeah, maybe next time."
"Come on guys, Traci's not coming."
She listened as the last of the team left the office. Then she slowly packed her bag with some work she thought she might get to over the weekend and followed them out. It was cold and almost dark. She glanced at her phone, 4:30. She'd gotten out early. That was a first. She thought about turning around and heading for the bar, it seemed like such a waste not to go celebrate on a Friday night. But her head was throbbing and there was that sharp pain between her shoulder blades.
She stood at the bus stop imagining a hot bath and a shot of bourbon followed by bed and a long sleep. The bus arrived and she climbed on. There were no open seats so she was forced to stand. She kept trying to stretch her back to relieve the pain, but it didn't really help. What she needed was someone to rub her neck, a nice massage.
The thought of a massage reminded her that her friend Kayla had given her a gift certificate to a massage place in her neighborhood. That was like six months ago. She hadn't given it much thought, that wasn't her sort of thing. Where had she put it? She thought back. They'd been at a restaurant. She probably just folded it up and stuck it in her purse. She looped one arm around the poll she was holding and fished her purse out of her bag. She leafed through a few twenties and some old receipts until she came to a thick folded piece of paper. She opened it: Oonah's Massage Therapy. It was only two blocks from her apartment, and on her way home. She'd noticed it once, an unassuming door with a sign over it.
The bus reached her stop. Hurriedly she put her purse away, and still holding the gift certificate, followed the stream of people out onto the pavement. She walked quickly up the street until she reached the sign for Oonah's. The door led to a flight of stairs and a door at the top with another sign. Inside she found herself in a well-lit waiting room lined with empty chairs and a reception desk at one end. The room smelled good, like Eucalyptus or something. She couldn't quite place it. She closed the door and stood with her back to it. Now that she was here she wasn't sure she could go through with it. What if they wanted her to be naked? What if the therapist was a man?
"Can I help you?"
Traci looked up, the middle-aged receptionist was looking at her from behind her desk.
"IÉuhÉI was looking to get a massage," Traci said.
A young dark haired woman wearing a white coat came out from a door behind the receptionist and put something into a filing cabinet.
"You got an appointment, hon?" the receptionist asked looking at her computer.
"UhÉno. Do I need one?" Traci felt sort of stupid. Here she was on a Friday evening thinking she could just waltz in and get a massage. "Look, forget it. I'll call and make an appointment for next week."
"You want to set something up now?"
"Oh no," Traci was already backing toward the door. "I need to check my schedule."
"I can take you right now." It was the dark haired girl.
Traci stopped. "No, no, you don't have to. It was silly of me to think I could come in without an appointment."
"No, it's fine," the girl said.
"It's Friday," Traci said. She'd felt almost relieved when the receptionist had said she'd need an appointment.
"I've got time."
Traci looked at the receptionist.
"Shelly's really good," the woman said.
Traci looked at Shelly again. She was small, maybe five-five and 120 pounds, with a bright infectious smile. "If you're sure."
"Of course I'm sure.
"Um, o.k.," Traci said.
"I'll close up when I'm done Fran," Shelly said to the receptionist. Then turning back to Traci, she said, "Follow me."
A bit reluctantly, Traci followed her through a door, out of the waiting room and down a hall.
"Here's the changing room," Shelly said, opening a door off the hall. "Take everything off. You'll find a pair of cotton panties in the armoire and a robe. Put those on and then come across the hall."
"So just the panties?"
"Yeah, it makes for a better massage if I can oil you up and not have worry about your clothes. Don't worry, I'll cover you with a towel."
Traci nodded. Shelly smiled her infectious smile and closed the door. Alone in the changing room, Traci wished she'd never come; it was almost as bad as she'd imagined. At least Shelly wasn't a man.
Traci removed her shoes and rubbed her feet, she hadn't realized how much her heels had been hurting her. Then she slowly stripped off her clothes. When she was naked she paused and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She didn't have a bad body. Her breasts were too small, or a least smaller than she imagined most men would like. But they were high and well shaped. She thought her hips were a little too wide, but she was toned, not muscular, but toned. She looked in the armoire and found a stack of clean cotton panties and pulled a pair on. They were a bit snug, but not uncomfortable. There were several thick, white robes. She selected one, and taking a deep breath, opened the door and crossed the hall.
The room was dimly lit, warm and humid. Music was playing quietly in the background, something Asian and lilting. The room smelled strong of eucalyptus. There was a table in the middle.
"All set?" Shelly said. She was lying out some jars and things on a counter on the other side of the room.
"Yes."
"Good. Let's get that robe off."
Traci stood frozen.
"Don't worry, you can put this towel around you," Shelly said soothingly.
"Sorry, I'm not really a prude or anything," Traci said.
"Don't worry, it's perfectly normal. A lot of my clients are a bit shy at first. We've got such antiquated views about nudity in this country. You probably grew up thinking that nudity was bad."
Traci nodded. Now that she thought about it, she'd never seen her dad or brothers naked. Not that she could remember at least. In fact she hadn't seen a man fully naked until college. It wasn't that she hadn't had sex before that; it was just that it had always been fumbley, half-clothed sex.
Shelly had moved behind her and taken hold of the robe. Reluctantly, Traci let her slip it off, but she covered her breasts immediately.
"Here's a towel, you can wrap that around you."
Traci took the towel and wrapped it tightly around her chest.
"Ok, hop up on the table."
Traci slid more than hopped.
"So you're back is bothering you. Right between the shoulder blades, right?" Shelly asked.
