Helpful neighbours can be a real nuisance. In our little cul-de-sac it is Vera, a middle-aged, stay-at-home housewife with just a bit too much time on her hands. She was very useful if the postman turned up with an expected parcel that she could take in for you or if a delivery needed to be signed for but her constant presence made it very difficult to have any secrets. I'd just pulled onto the drive when she came across to tell me she had a delivery for me but would need a hand to carry it across. I knew straightaway what it was and quietly prayed they had been discreet. As soon as I saw the large flat box propped inside her garage wall that hope was dashed. There right across it in letters so big they might as well have been written in fire were the words 'Professional Massage Table'.
"Well, Tom," she said with a conspiratorial smile. "You're a dark horse, aren't you? I never knew you were a masseur."
I should have laughed it off, made some sort of wisecrack and left it at that. But I didn't. Instead I started gabbling. "I'm not. Well not really. I don't have any training or anything. It's just a hobby. I just do it with friends. At the running club I mean." The longer I wittered on the more she smiled and the more flustered I became. I explained that people at the club got stiff because of all the training but regular massage was so expensive that we had decided to do it among ourselves and learn how to massage each other. We were not professional but it was better than nothing. With relief I finally stopped blathering.
"So you just do the boys from the club?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
"No, well not often, not the guys. It's more the women. You know what men are like. We get squeamish if we are asked to rub sun tan cream into each other's backs at the beach. The idea of your mate oiling your thighs is just too...well you know. So mainly it's just the women."
"I used to love a massage," said Vera. "But you're right, it is so expensive. I only used to get them as presents, spa days and pampering and all that. So if you need anyone to practise on...well just let me know."
By now we'd got the box into my garage so I said of course I would, thanked her for taking it in and gratefully escaped into the house. I'd no intention of massaging Vera. She was old enough to be my mum but at least in all my babbling I'd not told her why I'd really got the table. Everything I'd told her was true, just not the whole truth. The fact was that I'd bought the table to get laid. When we'd first talked about massages at the club it had been completely above board but within the few months we'd been doing it I'd found it was also the passport to some casual fun too.
I don't know how it works, whether the atmosphere of the massage room, the lighting, the nudity, the touching and, what had Vera called it? the pampering, made women horny or whether women looking for a bit of fun gravitated to massage as a way of getting down to business. It was not with everybody and nor every time but I'd had a few hand jobs (and given a few finger jobs) from it, as well as one or two blowjobs and even a couple of surprise fucks, both from married women. It may also have helped to pique their curiosity that I'm not badly hung. Not porn star hung, just an inch or so above average and I'm a shower rather than a grower so when I'm flaccid it looks reasonably impressive, so I'm told. It's not usually much help in picking up girls because it's a hidden asset. You can hardly go up to a girl in a bar and say: "Hi. I've got a big cock, Fancy a drink?" But when you're being massaged it is more apparent.
So I'd invested in the table.
And that's where it might have ended if I'd not bumped into Vera on my way back from the paper shop a couple of weeks later and she asked me how the 'massage business' was going. I was a bit frustrated, to be honest. I'd got the table set up in the spare bedroom (still with the handy bed in it) but for one reason and another had not given any massages so I told her I'd not had a chance to christen it yet.
Vera replied by reminding me of her offer and for some reason I said yes and asked when she'd like to come over. She seemed a bit taken aback but said that Billy, her husband, was out at darts match on Wednesday evening and somehow before we knew it everything was arranged. I think we were both a bit surprised and I immediately regretted it. As I said, Vera is old enough to be my mum. I'd guess she was early to mid-50s and I'm only 32. Still I'd agreed now so I'd have to go through with it.
When Wednesday came I watched through the front window at Billy went off to his match. He'd left the car at home so presumably was planning to make a night of it. A few minutes later Vera came across, looking a bit furtive and I was by the door ready to let her in. She was wearing a skirt, rather than her usual trousers and seemed to have a bit of extra make up on too. We both stood in the hallway looking and feeling a bit embarrassed. I asked her if she wanted a drink and she admitted she'd already had a glass of Dutch courage so probably better not.
I led her into the bedroom and she looked at the table. I'd also lit some candles and put on some soft music.
"This is all very professional, Tom," she said." What do I have to do?"
"Whatever you want," I replied. "It's entirely up to you. Do you want just a back massage, back and legs? Full body?"
"Oh, I think I'd like the full body if you don't mind? What do I wear? Different places seem to have different rules."
"Well one of the benefits of being at home is there are no rules. Just do whatever you want but if you want a full body massage ideally you need to take all your clothes off."
"Is that what the other women do?" she asked.
"Yes, mostly they just strip off and hop on the table."
"What? Starkers? Just like that?"
"Sportspeople, I suppose. You just get used to being naked in front of other people what with communal showers, changing rooms and everything. But it's up to you. The idea is for you to feel completely relaxed at the end of it. The less you wear the better I can massage you but it won't work if you're feeling uncomfortable."
"Well, I don't think I'm ready to just sprawl out naked in front of my neighbour..." she said.
"That's fine. I'll pop out and get changed myself otherwise I'll get too hot. The temperature is set for you to be comfortable so it will be a bit warm for me dressed like this. You just take off as much or as little as you want and get on the table face down. You can put this towel over you too."
With that I left, closing the door behind me and changed into a pair of running shorts and a tee shirt. I gave her a few more minutes and then knocked on the door. She called me in and I saw she was lying under the towel which stretched from her shoulders to her knees. Since her face was pressed into the cut out 'doughnut' and she could not see me I glanced across to her clothes on the chair. Her bra was hanging over it but no sign of her knickers so I guessed he had kept them on.
I eased the towel down her back to reveal the start of the swell of her buttocks and began to spread the warmed oil at the same time telling her that if at any time she was uncomfortable or wanted me to stop a particular movement she should do so.
Then I began to rub her back. I was surprised to find I enjoyed it. Her skin did not seem old and wrinkly, as I'd feared it might. It was smooth and silky. In fact if felt very feminine compared to the runners I was used to. Where they were all muscle and sinew she had a little more fat and felt soft and womanly. I began looking at her in a new light. I told her there was tension in her shoulders and I could feel a few knots in her back which I spent a bit of time working and easing out. She gave little sighs. Then I gave some long sweeps going up her spine and coming back down her rib cage. After the first couple I let my hand drift lower down her side and my finger ends brushed the side of her breasts. I felt her tense but she did not say anything so I did it again and this time she sighed. Interesting.
Not wanting to push my luck I covered her back with the towel, pulling it up a little and revealing a bit more her legs. Then I moved to her legs, folding the towel up a bit further. Probably more than Vera realised. As I spread the oil on her calves and thighs I made two interesting discoveries about Vera. The first was that wherever her knickers were, they were not on Vera. The second was that she was a natural red head. The sparse hairs covering her neat little slit were the perfect match for those on her head.
