Getting Laid Off

Sandra was very proud of herself for holding it together for so long. She didn't cry when her boss asked her to come into his office and told her that after six years, she was being laid off. Her voice didn't crack over dinner when she explained to her eight-year-old daughter that Mommy needed to find a new job.

It wasn't until the kids were asleep and Sandra was alone in the bedroom she shared with her husband Gabe that she began to weep.

"It's gonna be okay, sweetie." Gabe sat down on the bed next to her and put his arms around his wife. "You'll find a new job soon."

"I worked at Panthea for six years," Sandra sobbed. "Six years. Who's going to want me, coming from a failed start-up?"

Her husband sighed. "I know, sweetie, I know. But you have great experience aside from Panthea. And you have lots of transferable skills. Tomorrow, we'll sit down and look at your resume, look at LinkedIn. In the meantime, can I give you a massage? It might take your mind off things, help you feel better."

Sandra sniffled. "Okay, thanks." She reached down to pull her shirt over her head, then stopped. "Actually...can we do something else?"

"Something else?" Gabe repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"You haven't put me under in a while," she said wistfully.

Sandra had been working so many late nights, trying so hard to save the company. By the time she'd crawl into bed, Gabe would be fast asleep. Well, she wouldn't need to worry about working late nights for a while, she thought bitterly.

"No, I haven't," her husband acknowledged. "Would that make you feel better?"

"Yeah." Sandra nodded decisively. She paused. "I think I'd like to be senseless while I'm being screwed."

Gabe burst into laughter. She began laughing, too. For the first time all day, she felt okay.

"So, how do you want to do this?" her husband asked.

Sandra paused to consider the question. After a few moments, she responded.

"Well," she said slowly. "I like the idea of a massage. How about you're my very sexy masseuse, and I'm so grateful for all your hard work that I reward you afterwards." She emphasized the word hard.

Gabe tried to keep his expression neutral, although his lips couldn't help but curve into a smile. "Sounds good to me. How about you take off your clothes while I get the massage oil?"

"Done."

Sandra began taking off her clothes. With every layer that came off, her mood improved. She didn't realize Gabe had been watching her for a few moments.

"You like what you see?" she asked flirtatiously.

"I'll like it more when you're in a trance." His tone was low, almost a growl.

"Well, you'd better hurry up then, hadn't you?"

Gabe nodded, grinning at the challenge. He sat down on the bed next to his naked wife.

"Look into my eyes," he commanded.

When Gabe said those words, Sandra could never disobey. She looked into her husband's dark eyes. They were almost black. Yet, there were always other colors, other patterns she could pick out. A fleck of brown here, a lighter shade of chocolate there...

Gabe was talking, but Sandra wasn't listening. She knew she didn't need to. Her subconscious would remember what was important. She could close her eyes and relax.

The next thing she knew, she was at a massage parlor, lying on a table. Her heartbeat sped up a bit -- Gabe was her masseuse. Lucky her -- he was the hottest employee here. She tried to schedule massages with him whenever she could, but he wasn't always available.

She moaned as his strong arms kneaded her back. "Oh, Gabe, you're the best."

"Thanks. How does this feel, ma'am?"

Sandra groaned inwardly. The relationship between her and the masseuse was always professional. Irritatingly so. She wanted to get to know the sexy masseuse better. Much better.

"It's very good, Gabe. And you can call me Sandra."

He chuckled. Sandra loved the sound of his deep, rich voice.

"I'm glad you're enjoying, Sandra. I'm going to move further down your back."

"That would be wonderful." She tried not to moan.

It was difficult not to make noises that sounded like she was experiencing the peak of sexual ecstasy, because Gabe was very talented. Sandra wondered idly if he did home visits.

"Can I take off the towel?" the masseuse asked.

"Yes, please." A thought came to Sandra. "Um, you know, there's a lot of tension right between my legs."

"Like, in your hips?" Gabe asked.

"Um, no. Like, right between my hips."

"Between your hips," Gabe repeated.

Sandra felt his fingers slide inside of her.

"Right where my fingers are?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Sandra moaned. "Ah, right there."

"Okay. Would it help if I moved my fingers around?" Gabe asked.

"Yes." Her voice rose a few octaves. "Oh, yes."

What Gabe was doing was very helpful, and he was removing a lot of the tension by gently moving his fingers in a come-hither motion. Sandra let out another moan.

"I'm not sure I'm getting the spot." The masseuse sounded frustrated. "Should I add another finger?"

"Yes!" Sandra nearly shouted. "Yes, please!"

"Okay. Maybe another finger will hit the spot and reduce that tension for you."

Gabe was right -- the addition of a third finger reduced the tension marvelously. It caused another effect, though: the build up of enormous pressure.

"Keep going," Sandra moaned. "Oh, keep, ah, keep going!"

"To release the tension, right?" Gabe's voice sounded a little strained.

"Yes!" Sandra nearly shouted again.

The pressure was building up, higher and higher. A little more, Gabe, she thought. Just a little more... And then, the pressure released in the most satisfying of ways. Her body shuddered, and she moaned again.

"Did I get the spot?" Gabe asked solicitously.

"Uh huh," Sandra panted. "You did. You did a good job," she said between breaths.

With enormous effort, she rolled onto her back. The massage and the ensuing orgasm left her limp.

"I wanted to say thank you," Sandra said. She hoped she sounded sultry and not out of breath. Her legs opened invitingly.

Gabe's eyes widened. "We're not supposed to have sex with clients, ma'am."

"Call me Sandra. And I think you've got some tension that needs relieving, too." She eyed his crotch.

"I could get fired." His voice was strained.

"How about you come work for me?" Sandra asked. "You could be my personal masseuse."

Gabe grinned. "I would love that."

Sandra smiled too as she watched the masseuse quickly remove his clothes. In a moment, he was on top of her, kissing her, his hands roving over her breasts, then over the rest of her body.

"You're beautiful, darling, you know that?" he said between kisses. "So beautiful, especially when you're under."

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing. I mean, I love giving you massages."

Sandra decided not to think about the odd comment. Instead, she focused on how good Gabe's skin felt against her own, how good it felt when he slid inside of her, how good it felt as he thrust. It felt even better to wrap her legs around his lean waist and thrust in time with him.

"Oh, if you do that, I'm going to come," Gabe panted.

"Wasn't that the idea?" Sandra asked mischievously. "That's your reward for a job well done."

The masseuse moaned and buried his face in her shoulder. They lay together, Gabe on top of her, Sandra's legs wrapped around him, for a few moments. She hoped no one had heard them. She hoped her favorite masseuse wouldn't get fired after all. She wasn't sure she could actually afford to hire him as her personal masseuse.

"You leave the massage parlor," Gabe said, panting slightly.

Sandra blinked. She was no longer in a massage parlor. She was at home, in their bedroom, underneath her husband's warm, solid body. She kissed his shoulder.

"That was wonderful, thank you."

Gabe rolled over, pulling her with him so they were face to face. "You're welcome." He grinned. "So, you want to hire me as your personal masseuse?"

"You're very good at what you do, my dear." Sandra kissed his chest. "I can't afford you until I get a new job, though."

"I'll help you look tomorrow." Her husband yawned. "You'll find something soon. I know it."

Sandra snuggled closer to Gabe. For the first time all day, she felt a glimmer of hope.