"Uh, hi, I have a 6 o'clock appointment." Jenny released the button on the intercom by the doorway, consulted her watch, laughing nervously at the resounding lack of response. "Sorry, I'm a little late. This place was really difficult to find".
While this was true, Jenny also was failing to mention that she had been "unavoidably detained" at an office party that had started with a liquid lunch and had gone steadily downhill from there. The afternoon had disappeared in a mist of champagne and despite a warm referral for the place; her massage appointment had become an unnecessary inconvenience.
A man's voice replied testily. "Yes, come on up"
The buzzer broke the silence of the early autumn evening and Jenny took one last look over her shoulder before reaching out to open the door. This was an unfamiliar area of town, and the deserted streets and dilapidated fronts of empty shops were not exactly inspiring her with confidence. She tried to remember exactly who it was that had talked so enthusiastically about this particular massage salon, (A colleague? A friend of her husband?), but her alcohol-addled brain was uncooperative.
She pushed through the entrance of what seemed to be another in a long line of disused office units and was presented with a series of darkly lighted stairs. Steeling herself, she tucked her designer handbag under her arm, pushed her blonde hair behind her ear, and slowly began the unsteady journey upwards, silently cursing her stiletto heels and tight black pencil skirt.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Jenny found herself in what she assumed was the reception area of the massage studio. Sparsely furnished, an office desk stood opposite her and a beaten-up looking sofa featuring turn-of-the-century issues of Marie Claire adorned the wall to her right. She reached instinctively to her mobile phone, always a source of comfort, before making a hasty retreat to the long staircase and the awkward journey downstairs to the real world." Mrs. Jensson was it?"
Startled, Jenny aborted her exit, and replied to the voice behind her without turning her head. "Who wants to know?"
No response. She sighed impatiently and turned around, looking back up towards the dilapidated entrance area. "Who wants to know indeed", came the reply and even in the dim light Jenny found her breath taken temporarily away by the sight of what she assumed was the voice from the intercom. He stood well over six feet tall, and even in a plain white physiotherapist uniform Jenny found it difficult to let her eyes roam over his muscular form. At 42 years old Jenny could have given birth to this man but motherly thoughts were the furthest from her mind as she drank in the younger mans athletic figure.
He smiled disarmingly back at Jenny. "Listen, I apologize about the state of the place. I've just started a new business venture here and haven't gotten around to redecorating. Please, come back up and let me show you to the massage room."
Placated for the time being, Jenny found herself walking back up the stairs, stocking-clad thighs rubbing past one another in the tight confines of her skirt. Standing face to face with him, Jenny was no less impressed with the man's chiselled facial features than she had been with his athletic build. "If my muscles weren't so tight I would be on my way home to my family by now, but I guess it's worth a shot" Jenny was training for a marathon and yesterday's session of 30km had taken its toll on her legs.
"Well, that's a relief Mrs. Jensson" he replied ironically. "Please, follow me". He gesticulated towards a doorway at the back of the reception area, and despite her better judgement Jenny followed obediently after, doing her best not to let her eyes sink down to take in the man's muscular backside.
He led the way, unaware of the show he was putting on, Jenny teetering behind on her high heels, finally stopping alongside an open doorway leading to another dimly lit room. He turned around, and ushered Jenny in. "In here, take all your clothes off and wait for me on the bed. There's a towel on the table over there, you can cover yourself up with that"
"I suppose you're going to tell me you can't afford a lamp for this place either", she challenged, eyebrows raised, and soft red lips pursed in a playful smile.
He raised his shoulders, returning the smile. "Mood lighting?"
In an instant he was gone again, leaving her alone, shivering from the cold and feeling increasingly alarmed at the situation she found herself in. Despite nagging feelings of doubt, she decided to follow the man's instructions and began to strip. She removed her jacket and unbuttoned her satin blouse, revealing an expensive white lace bra which enclosed her firm 34C breasts. Shaking off her high heeled shoes, she allowed her skirt to slip to the floor and was left in just her stockings and lace underwear. Surely she wasn't supposed to remove all her clothes? It had been a long time since she had had a massage, but it seemed unprofessional to do so.
Nevertheless, Jenny reached down and peeled her silky stockings first from her thighs and then over her calf muscles, feet, and finally, her well-pedicured red toenails. Feeling like a naughty schoolgirl, she grabbed the towel and lay down on the massage bed face up and awaited the return of the stranger in the white uniform, only a thin layer of material to hide her dignity.
Lying face up, Jenny's head was swimming with a thousand thoughts. This was not her first massage and she was sure that being instructed to strip naked was not normal procedure. Yet here she was, protected by nothing more than a flimsy towel, shivering, painfully aware of her sexuality, in a strange place awaiting a strange man. There was no going back from here, she told herself.
The door finally opened, and the masseur smiled appreciatively at the sight of Jenny laid out on the table. His eyes began at her pretty face, followed down her shapely neck framed by well-defined collarbones, pausing momentarily at her natural breasts and southwards to her pubic mound, standing prominent between broad, slim hipbones. Feeling the man's eyes roaming over her, Jenny awkwardly shifted her hips from the couch and tried to pull the towel further down her slim thighs, hoping that she was not displaying too much of her womanly figure.
"So you did take all your clothes off. Normally the girls I have in here aren't so willing", he said playfully, but before Jenny could offer any protest, he continued, "What kind of fragrance do you like? Something fresh? Citrus? Something a little earthier?"
Jenny was still trying to process his previous comment about her willingness to strip naked. Was he flirting with her? Did she want him to find her attractive? How far was she willing to let him go? Still woozy from her afternoon in the pub, Mrs. Jensson, the married woman, wasn't sure if she could answer any of these questions.
"Earthy it is then!" He took the lead and began to light some candles, squirting a little oil onto his hand and moved past Jenny's head, body, and finally ending up at the bottom of the table beside Jenny's feet. He moved slowly and deliberately, letting the anticipation of his touch on Jenny's skin build to fever pitch.
What is he doing down there, she thought to herself. Shit, shit, how much can he see? Is he just staring up the towel? "Hold on just a minute!" She raised her voice this time, as the strange man stood at the foot of the bed, drinking in the view in front of him.
Any hopes at continuing her hopeless protests disappeared as the stranger took firm but careful hold of Jenny's left foot and began the job of massaging it. Her eyes rolled slowly back in their sockets as strong hands enveloped her shapely foot, rubbing from the heel out towards her toes. Trying, and failing, to hold on to whatever dignity she had left, moans of pleasure emanated from deep in her belly and between her slightly parted lips.
The stranger was diligent in his work, his hand enveloping first Jenny's left foot and then moving slowly and firmly up Jenny's calf muscles. She was in heaven. She raised her left leg in order to give him better access to the backs of her calf muscles, painfully aware that the towel that was already riding high on her thighs was now directly level with her exposed labia. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment as a draught of cold air rolled across her body, and she became aware of a wetness leaking out from the inner folds of vagina. "No... going... back" was the only thought going through her mind, suppressing her embarrassment, and instead giving herself slowly but surely over to the stranger, the first man to ever give her this feeling of desire.
As if in reply to her gradual surrender, the man moved Jenny's leg further out towards the side of the bed, exposing her crotch even more to his view. He noticed her pink labia were cleanly shaved, only a thin strip of pubic hair leading up from her clitoris and towards her flat stomach.