Lacuna

"Ms Bellamy?" Caitlin flinched slightly in involuntary surprise; she would have sworn just moments ago that she was alone in the room, but the Korean woman in the long white smock stood close enough to her to make that impossible. She must have come in quietly while Caitlin was staring out the window at the falling snow and losing herself in thought, and padded across the plush carpet so silently that Caitlin hadn't noticed her despite the reflection in the window. Which didn't exactly speak well to Caitlin's state of mind at the moment, but she already knew she was a little bit frazzled after a tense day of negotiations. This only confirmed her suspicions about herself.

She turned away from the window and rubbed her forehead, trying to clear the cobwebs from her brain. "Yes, sorry, yes?" she stammered out, hoping she didn't sound hostile--it wasn't the household staff's fault that their boss was a fucking pain in the ass. Caitlin wished she'd listened to her instincts and gotten a hotel for the duration, but it was hard to turn down the gracious offer of a full suite of rooms all to herself. Ellsworth Drake was known for his gracious offers; the problem was, he was also known for the poison pills he hid inside every cup. She'd spent almost three hours going over his latest proposal, now... at least according to the clock. By this point she was so fried she wouldn't have been surprised to discover someone was moving it ahead when she wasn't looking.

Caitlin suddenly realized she'd accidentally lost almost half of what the other woman was saying while she was distracted. "I'm sorry," she replied, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. "Can, um, can you repeat that? It's been kind of a long day." God, this poor woman probably thought she was dealing with an imbecile.

If she did, she didn't show it behind her blandly pleasant smile. "I said that my name is Jasbee, and I'm the house masseuse. Mister Drake asked me to offer my services to you, since your stay ran a little longer than expected. Would you like a massage, or perhaps some acupressure therapy? I also do acupuncture, exfoliation, manicures and pedicures, facials, herbal wraps, aromatherapy... I can even do ashiatsu, if you're interested." She gave Caitlin a carefully concerned look. "All very relaxing."

Caitlin glanced over to the window, scarcely even recognizing the harried woman who looked back at her. Her skin looked wan and winter pale, and her long dark hair stuck up where she'd been absent-mindedly rubbing her head while she pored over the latest clause in the acquisition contract Drake had drawn up. She had deep dark circles under her hazel eyes, and she looked like she needed about twelve hours of sleep to get back to normal, not just a massage.

Of course Drake would pick now to send his private, personal masseuse in. Of course he'd pick this moment to remind her that the man she was selling her business to could afford his own private masseuse as part of the extensive personal staff at his luxuriant mansion in upstate New York. And of course she couldn't really say no, not with her every muscle knotted up in tension and her brain a foggy, frazzled mess. "Um, I... um, a massage, I guess?" she mumbled, knowing she sounded less like a visionary and savvy executive and more like someone who just stumbled out of a car crash.

"Of course, ma'am." Jasbee turned and walked away, and Caitlin followed her blearily with her eyes as she set up a portable massage table in the middle of the room. The executive knew full well what this was about--Drake was trying to butter her up, get her in a nice and amiable frame of mind for tomorrow's round of negotiations while reminding her along the way just what kind of perks came along with including herself in the deal. She understood that he was frankly desperate to have her expertise and experience on board when he took over the company, but as far as Caitlin was concerned that was non-negotiable--the whole reason she was selling was to walk away from the stress of her daily grind. If she was going to keep running Amber's Friends, she'd do it for herself and not some smooth-talking CEO who thought he could get some synergy out of adding a line of toys to his portfolio--

"Whenever you're ready, ma'am," Jasbee said politely. Caitlin blinked. Somehow she'd lost the last few minutes entirely, slipping away into a fugue with her eyes open and unseeing while the other woman had set everything up. Caitlin didn't remember watching. God, was she really this tired? She stumbled to her feet, even her clumsy movements betraying her complete and utter exhaustion. For a moment she thought about simply falling over into bed and telling Jasbee to go away, but maybe a massage would give her some energy back. She didn't want to walk into tomorrow's meeting unprepared, not with Drake ready to eat her alive over every clause and sub-clause.

She slipped off her jacket and lay down on the soft pad--Jasbee was probably used to her clients taking off more of their clothing for their massages, but Caitlin wouldn't put it past Drake to drop by for a little 'late-night visit' and use her exhaustion to his advantage in trying to persuade her for staying on as his employee after the deal concluded. If he did, the last thing she wanted was for him to find her half-naked and oiled up. He was a handsome man, sure, but that wasn't exactly the spirit Caitlin wanted to approach their negotiations in.

"There we go, ma'am," Jasbee cooed gently, as Caitlin settled her head into the little padded hole at the front of the table. "Just getting all nice and relaxed for me. Here, let me get you a scented towel." She rummaged around for a moment in her bag, bringing out a towel that felt deliciously warm against the back of Caitlin's neck and filled the air around her with the aroma of lavender and jasmine. It was the same scent that clung to her bedding, Caitlin noticed, and the one they used for all the soaps and the hand towels and even the tablecloth on her improvised desk. Did Ellsworth Drake have a signature fragrance? She wouldn't put it past him.

Caitlin gave another tiny little jerk when she felt Jasbee's hands pressing down on her shoulders--somehow she'd managed to forget for a moment that the other woman was even in the room, making the sudden touch seem to come entirely out of nowhere. "It's okay, ma'am," Jasbee purred, her voice soft and silky and almost as soothing as her rubbing fingers. "It's okay to relax and let go for a little while. Just let me guide you into peace and pleasure, taking you to a warm, happy place where nothing can touch you but the sound of my voice. It's going to feel so good, I promise."

Caitlin exhaled a long, ragged breath, releasing tension she didn't even realize she had as her body responded to the soft, soothing touch of the masseuse. She felt her whole body twitching, muscles letting go of strain so rapidly that they tugged against each other in their haste to dump out all of the stress they were holding onto. When she inhaled, the lavender came in with it, bringing a relaxation that she didn't know she needed until the floral scent hit her nostrils and she experienced a wave of almost giddy drowsiness. God, she needed this so bad. She wished she'd known about Jasbee hours ago. She would have given her right arm for something like this when she first walked out of the meeting with Drake.

Her vision swam, the patterned carpet becoming a blur in front of her face as the massage relaxed every muscle in Caitlin's body. Her jaw went embarrassingly slack, a tiny trickle of drool escaping her lips before she could swallow it away, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Nobody would notice, and the cleaning staff would no doubt stop by in the morning to give the whole place a top-to-bottom scrub. Jasbee was preoccupied with wringing all the tension out of her knotted shoulders, and she could give in to a little vulnerability. She could let go. She could drift into peace and pleasure and for a moment... just for a little moment... she could let her eyelids finally, blissfully close.

And then her blouse was gone.

There was no moment where she remembered Jasbee's fingers tugging it out from the waistband of her sober blue skirt, no moment where she recalled fabric sliding over her skin. Caitlin simply closed her eyes for a moment, letting the other woman's voice become a soothing murmur in her ears, and then she was naked from the waist up. "Uhhh?" she grunted, trying to find words to describe not just her feelings about the liberties Jasbee was taking with her body but also about the fact that Caitlin didn't stop her when it happened.

"It's okay, ma'am," Jasbee reassured her, massaging warm oil into the supine woman's skin as she spoke. "You were becoming uncomfortable, that was all. Everything we're doing together is for your peace and comfort and relaxation. You don't need to worry. You can let go and enjoy everything that's happening to you." Something about the cadence of her speech struck Caitlin as familiar, sounding almost like Drake when he started describing his vision for their company--never hers, never his, always theirs--and used those low, soft, coaxing tones to paint a picture of Caitlin as one of his happy, fulfilled subordinates. It was odd that his masseuse would have picked it up from him, but maybe they talked a lot while he was getting his back rubbed or something.

"...all that tension melting away," Jasbee murmured gently, and Caitlin realized that she'd once again tuned out about half of what the other woman had said to her--it was just so hard to maintain her focus and concentration when she was so tired like this and the warm scented oil felt so good against her skin. Everything kept falling into the little gaps into her consciousness, the world around her skipping like an old record while she lost herself woolgathering. Exhaustion didn't usually do this to her. Neither did stress. This felt more like she'd gotten stoned on cold medicine by accident or something.

Had she... had she taken something? Caitlin closed her eyes again, trying to go back through the day's routine in an effort to recall any medication she might have used for her sinuses or her stomach or her allergies. Nothing came to mind; the flight was easy and mercifully short, and she didn't need anything for nausea or the change in air pressure. Her anti-anxiety medicines, a common traveling partner on trips to the West Coast, lay unused in her bag. She couldn't think of a single thing that might have caused this kind of effect--

"There we go, ma'am," Jasbee cooed, her slick fingers kneading and rubbing Caitlin's soft, pale breasts. "Just sinking into that feeling, letting all those worries and cares float away on a warm, drifting tide of pleasure." Caitlin's eyes fluttered open again, blank bewilderment written all over her face--she didn't remember turning over, any more than she remembered wriggling out of her blouse and bra earlier. But she was on her back, her muscles turned to jello, and now this complete stranger had oiled up her tits and was working them over with her strong hands as if determined to wring every last ounce of arousal out of them.

"...I, uhhhh...." Caitlin couldn't believe her response was so tepid and hesitant. Normally, she was accustomed to being the one in charge, the strong-willed CEO who told everyone else what to do. But her head felt so muzzy, and her limbs felt so weak and wobbly, and her nipples were throbbing so hard that she couldn't even think. She tried to sit up, but it didn't even seem like Jasbee noticed the effort--her hands pressed down on Caitlin's oily tits, holding her down with an almost casual ease. There wasn't a hint of malice on her face, only that same mask of placid resolution.

"Please, ma'am, don't feel embarrassed. It's natural to enjoy your massage. Some people simply respond to it more strongly than others, that's all. I'm not upset, I promise." Caitlin stared up at her in absolute confusion, unable even to parse the other woman's words--it wasn't Jasbee who was supposed to be upset, it was Caitlin. Wasn't it? Wasn't she the one who was... who had her nipples, and her tits, and oh god, why did it have to feel so fucking good? She couldn't tell Jasbee to stop when she was the one lying there and whimpering in obvious sexual arousal. It... she had to be confusing the poor woman, that was all. Sending out mixed signals. It wasn't Jasbee's fault she was....

Horny. Caitlin was so fucking horny now, on top of everything else. She couldn't think straight, not with her cunt throbbing and her nipples tingling and her whole body filled with the warm and pleasant ache of sexual arousal. Her brain felt so muzzy, exhausted and overworked and now absolutely pulsing with slick, hot lust. Caitlin squirmed on the table, watching her thighs squeeze together around her needy clit and only belatedly realizing her skirt had vanished during one of those long, foggy gaps in her memory. She didn't care. She didn't miss it. It was easier to masturbate without it on.

"...such a sleepy girl, such a needy girl, such a relaxed and open and comfortable girl," Caitlin heard Jasbee say, and she realized she'd lost track of the masseuse's words yet again. They kept slipping into the back of her brain, drifting in during those sensual voids in her awareness where her mind was focused on nothing but the endless throbbing need between her legs. She tried to focus on them and found to her bemused dismay that she simply couldn't. Her thoughts were simply too loose and mazy with confusion to concentrate for any length of time. All she wanted to do was cum, and somehow she felt too tired to do it herself.

Her eyes closed again, and when they opened her arms were pinned to her sides by a clinging plastic film. "There we go," Jasbee cooed, "all wrapped up nice and snug and ready to relax for me, sweetie, isn't that so nice?" Caitlin tried to mumble out a 'no', but just then she discovered that the masseuse had left a strategic gap in the plastic where she could slip her fingers in and rub Caitlin's aching cunt. She didn't have panties on anymore either, but she didn't really want them. Not when the other woman's strong, precise touch felt so good inside her. "Of course it is. Nice and wet and getting wetter all the time, pretty girl." The masseuse slid Caitlin halfway off the table, leaving her legs dangling down and her pussy fully exposed. Caitlin tried to wonder what it might be for, but her groggy brain was simply too exhausted to process questions and she slipped back into the fog of oblivion.

When she came back, Jasbee was standing in front of her, unwrapping Caitlin's breasts just enough to allow the masseuse to knead and grope them some more. The smock was gone, leaving Jasbee entirely naked save for a strap-on harness and a jutting silicone phallus that made Caitlin's mouth water just looking at it. "...um... please?" she whimpered, privately shocked by the abject desperation in her own voice but unable to pretend, even to herself, that she didn't need a good hard fucking so bad she would sell her goddamn soul for it. She stared at the fake penis, almost disassociating in her desire to be fucked.

And then she heard a voice behind her, and felt warm hands gripping her hips as a long, thick cock slid into her soaking pussy. "Of course, sweetie," Drake growled, his voice coaxing and commanding and lulling Caitlin into blissful blankness all at the same time. "All you need to do is ask. All you need to do is want what I offer, and I promise you, you'll have it." She felt his balls smack against her dripping labia. Everything went white.

The gaps in her awareness widened, swallowing up whole sequences of events. Caitlin emerged from her fugue state to find her lips wrapped around Jasbee's dildo, her cunt audibly squishing around Drake's cock as he angled his thrusts to send orgasm after orgasm washing through her dazed and befuddled mind. She came back to herself already lying in bed, getting fucked by Jasbee's strap-on while Drake rubbed his balls all over her face and told her what a good girl she was. Sentences came and went in disjointed fragments, sometimes even her own. Each time, the fog inside her head got thicker and deeper. Each time, she emerged with a little less of herself present in the moment.

Caitlin surfaced one last time, just long enough to hear Drake saying to her, "That's my good, sleepy girl," in an irresistibly soothing voice. She looked over to see a needle sticking out of her shoulder, and watched the plunger sink home. "Don't worry, by tomorrow you'll know just what to say to my very generous offer." She had just enough time to feel something cool going into her veins before the final gap in her memory swallowed her whole.

THE END