It's not that Steve Thomson wasn't appreciative of the birthday present he got from his wife Sara, it's just that when he opened it he was surrounded by a gang of his best buds, all of whom were whooping it up and ogling his new Callaway Diablo driver, courtesy the fellas at work.
"I'll be banging some monster shots down number 8 at Fairoaks this weekend, I can tell you that," Steve snorted, to nobody in particular, as he polished off his 6th beer of the young evening.
Amidst the snorting and imbibing and talking to himself, he was handed a small envelope from his wife, who had been watching the festivities while enjoying the companionship of the other wives, who were huddled as usual in the kitchen in their small enclave around the breakfast nook table.
"Aww, for me?" Steve grinned sheepishly and cocked his head at his wife. She literally had him in the palm of her hand. Had been that way since they met. Steve had finally won her away from another potential suitor, Danny Royce, when they were all in college together. Steve had worked very hard to get and keep Sara. Danny had hung around, somewhat in the picture, for months and months. But in the end, Steve won when Danny didn't make his grades and had to leave his sophomore year, mid-semester, to enroll in a junior college.
That was the last he heard of Danny Royce, although from time to time Sara mentioned an offhand communication from him. Seems they were Facebook friends, although Sara said they rarely spoke, if ever. Steve hated Facebook and refused to be a part of the pack when it came to such marketing schemes. He was proud of his moralistic high ground on that one. He belched impressively to punctuate that thought.
'What? A salon? Did you get me a haircut?" Steve tried to focus his drunken eyes on the contents of the envelope.
"No silly, look again. Harder. With your eyes open this time." Sara giggled.
"Oh uhhh...a massage?" Steve wondered if he had said that out loud. A quick check of his buddies, swinging away with the Diablo and just missing the ceiling fan each time, confirmed they hadn't heard a thing. "a m-a-s-s-a-g-e?" He mouthed to Sara.
"Y-E-S," she mouthed back. Steve momentarily was speechless, just because it was the last thing he had expected, but then recovered to smile and tell his wife thanks, he would really put that to good use.
Like hell, he thought. I'm not letting some ugly chick or, worse yet, a dude, rub my back. I'll see if I can trade it at work with one of the secretaries in the motor pool at work for something. Karen, the one with the big rack, is married to the lead caddie at Fairoaks -- maybe I can get a free round at the club.
Sara gave a quick smile and a nod, wheeled about and returned to her gaggle of wives in the kitchen. Steve went back to boozing it up with the fellas.
Fast forward a couple of weeks. Steve was really taking that new driver to town. He was driving nearly 200 yards on most holes. The new driver, plus the extra practice, was really paying off. Now he had to focus on his short game.
He was in the garage, absent mindedly trying to find his golf glove and scheming to come up with a way to buy a new putter and not tell Sara when he remembered the gift certificate for the massage. Oh shit, he thought: I need to see if I can get this traded for some cash at work. He headed upstairs, found the envelope on his work desk right where he had left it, and started down the hallway. Sara came out of the spare bedroom and they almost bumped into one another.
"Ah, I see you are going to get your massage?" she asked.
"Uh, yeah, no, well, not right now. I was just putting this on my dresser so I don't forget it."
"I see. Well, I hope you will go get your massage. You deserve it. And I think you will really enjoy it -- this place gets a lot of raves."
"What -- from your girlfriends? I don't want to go to some hoity toidy girls shop, Sara. It makes me feel...well...uncomfortable."
"Fer chrissakes Steve, man up. I thought all guys liked to be touched by a woman? Or do you prefer a guy?" At this last comment, Sara took off running for the bedroom and leapt in the bed, pillow raised, ready to defend herself.
Steve pursued and cornered her at the bedpost. He didn't say a word. Expertly, he removed her t-shirt, bra, shorts and panties, seemingly in a few deft moves. Making steady eye contact with him, Sara slowly spread her legs apart, showing her tender hairless labia and a good-sized clit that Steve's tongue couldn't resist. He got busy in a hurry lapping up that gorgeous pussy, and Sara had two orgasms before Steve got to do his thing with, well, his Thing. His strainings and groanings reached a crescendo as he emptied himself into his wife, who immediately was in the mood for further discussion.
Rather impatiently, Steve thought, after such good sex, Sara piped up. "Listen baby, I want you to get your massage. But there is something else I need to tell you about. Gina."
"Gina your divorced Latina friend?"
"Yes that one."
"Go on." His remaining semi-chub and any hope of sloppy seconds were quickly doused.
"She works at this salon and I bought this certificate for her. Before you get all indignant, because I know how you feel about her, hear me out. She is new at this salon, just got her LMT a few months back. She has not had many clients and in order for her to get hired at bigger salons, she needs to get her client hours and billings up. This is one way I...we...can help her."
"I don't have anything against her -- other than she gets drunk too easily and then starts talking about your crazy past or our current disagreements at parties and dinner events."
Sara stuck her tongue out at him. "But what is really weird is that your friend will be touching me and seeing me naked -- are you ok with that?"
Steve didn't say it but he also didn't like Gina because she had known Sara before he did. They were double dating buds back when Sara was fucking, er, dating, Danny in college. She suspected Gina of keeping that flame alive somehow, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He didn't hate Gina, but he sure didn't trust her.
"Honey, there are rules about nudity and being covered up. You'll see. Will you just trust me and do me this favor?"
"It depends," he said.
"On what?"
"On what you are going to do with that tongue you stuck out. It looks to me like it hasn't had enough of this right here," he said, jostling his package with her hand.
"I see. Well, you could be right." She slid down and slipped her lips slowly over the head of Steve's penis, reaching up to tweak his left nipple as she took him all the way in.
"Now you're talking," he sighed. So where is this massage place?
Steve arrived at Barriga's Salon at 1:58 pm on Saturday. His appointment was at 2:00. He sized up the situation and although he was nervous, he had resigned himself to the massage.
After talking with a couple of his trusted buddies, who told him it was a great experience, especially if there was some "hand release" at the end, he was forming a new opinion. If only it wasn't Gina. And of course since it was Gina there would be no hand release. Steve took solace in knowing that he would get a solid fucking later from Sara for doing this favor.
He pushed open the door, the door alert bell rang, and he stood alone in the entry of Barriga's Salon and Massage. It was empty and quiet.
"Hello," he called, rather softly. The place was dark and he couldn't see too much yet as his eyes were adjusting. He detected motion in the hallway, and suddenly Gina appeared, wearing a red sarong and Barriga's t-shirt, smiling warmly, and approaching rapidly.
Even in these loose garments Steve could see her tight rack sitting high as it always did. And a cute curvy little figure. She was short, with small hands and small feet, and curves in all the right places. A little plump in a good way.. Not beautiful, but sexy, yes. Ahh, Latinas.
Steve managed a half smile, and stuck his hand out to greet her, saying as warmly as he could, "Hey Gina!" She passed his outstretched hand and engulfed him in a bear hug, from the chest down due to her height deficiency, but a bear hug nonetheless. Steve returned the hug but didn't bend over or anything. He could feel her breasts pushing into his ribcage.
"How the hell are ya Stevie!" She had always called him Stevie. Another thing he didn't like.
"Oh, you know, doing the same. It's all work work wo..."
She cut him off. "Well let's get started. I'm the only one here right now, so let's take advantage of the quiet while we can. We may get a rush and then I will be hopping around here."
It didn't look like there was ever a rush in this place, but Steve played along. She took off down the hallway, her loose skirt flapping behind her.
He followed Gina, past the signs that read "ALL CLIENTS MUST BE DRAPED WITH A TOWEL OR SHEET DURING MASSAGE -- NO EXCEPTIONS" and "ANY REQUEST OF A SEXUAL NATURE WILL BE REPORTED TO THE AUTHORITIES". Wow, he thought, this place is really strict. Good for them.
However, any last remaining hope for hand release, as silly as he knew it was, vanished. She stopped at room 3, opened the door and motioned for him to enter.
As he walked in, his eyes adjusting to the dim light from candles, he noticed the soft music playing and the aroma of potpourri -- he wasn't sure what it was but it smelled like some lotion Sara used sometimes. He noticed the massage table, a chair, and two bottles on a side table. One was water, and the other was, presumably, oil. It looked like a mustard squirt bottle, only it was clear not yellow.
