This is my first time publishing but its a story that has a lot of time and effort behind it. My hope is that it goes on for a long time. More chapters to come but hopefully the they will come more regularly as I hone my writing and technique.
I also to not have an editor and rely on my own re-reads and a free web grammar tool. So don't be too harsh on my grammar, huh?
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The world was bland, black, and white; it seemed the universe had punished him. At 28 years old, he felt about 10 more years of miles on his mind and body, but maybe that was to be expected. It had been 1 year, 11 months, and 6 days since two inexplicable events fell upon him. He had come home to find that his wife of 4 years, his high school sweetheart, was gone. Her most prized possessions were missing, suitcases disappeared, and a manila envelope that contained divorce papers was sitting on the kitchen island.
Hank never got the opportunity to talk to her again; lawyers had kept him away, and it was a quick split. On her instructions, which he had gathered, she had made it clear it was over; she only wanted what was hers and none of the money in the joint account. He was visited by friends, coworkers, and all generations of family that offered what they could. Even her parents had turned up, which nearly shocked him more than the divorce. She had not even contacted them, and they apologized for what he was going through. Their visit had actually done a lot for him; how could he have seen what was coming if they didn't even know?
Then, a mere three weeks after discovering she was gone, Hank pulled out of his apartment complex parking lot and was t-boned by a semi-truck. The doctors said the only reason he was alive was that the truck had been breaking and hit his passenger side. The cherry on top was a police investigation that found the driver of the truck, who had died on impact, was on drugs to stay awake on hauls. The man had essentially been forced to do whatever was possible to meet shipping deadlines, and more probing by investigators revealed that the entire trucking company knew about drug use among drivers. Perhaps his recent divorce made him bitter, but from his hospital bed, he started a civil lawsuit against the company. After joining forces with the truck driver's widow and a couple of company drivers, the business itself was brought down.
When the dust cleared, a settlement was awarded to those who had joined forces, and suddenly, money was no longer an object for Hank. He gave notice to his job, focused on rehab, and began to make a clean start in a new town. With a new apartment, investments, and a brand new truck (his only impulse purchase), Hank had nothing but time to think about the big question: what next?
On the brighter side, he was now in the best shape of his life. He was no bodybuilder, but he had put 20 pounds of muscle on his 6-foot frame. Though he never went all out to get full washboard abs and be "chiseled" from head to toe, Hank was happy with his new physical features. Mentally, he had accepted his loss, but he had no clue if he could ever have another relationship. Having never dated outside of high school, he couldn't think of a place where he would feel comfortable meeting someone new outside of an online dating app, which he flat-out refused.
His family was a big help to him in overcoming the initial anxiety and depression he felt after his divorce. Recently, he had gone with his grandmother and mother on an "antique run," as his mother called it. Basically, they drove around his hometown looking for garage sales, looking at the wares of the local citizens, and finding treasure amongst the junk. He had fun but made only one purchase: a wooden box about 15 inches by 8 inches. Strangely, when he asked how to open it, he never got a straight answer. For a mere 5 dollars, Hank thought that he would surely be able to get it open and was planning to load it up with the remaining photos of him and his ex-wife to burn it. A little dramatic, sure, but effective. He was really looking forward to it, and the thought always gave him a grin.
That outing was last weekend, and Hank was finally sitting down to pry open the box. He grabbed his trusty toolbox and set to work looking over the box; it felt heavy but made no noise when he shook it. Placing it down again, he thought about just ripping the top, but he would rather not resort to that. Reaching for a small crowbar, a soft click came from the box, as he had been absent-mindedly rubbing the top of the box. Grabbing the lid, it popped open, and Hank stared at five stark white cards sitting on a black velvet liner.
The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as the cards seemed to pulse for a moment, and then, in a flash, they were gone. Rubbing his fingers, he reached out to pick up the card in the center of the box, and when his skin met the card's surface, he nearly jumped.
"Whew!" He let out a chuckle as the feeling passed and pulled it out of the box.
It felt like a canvas stretched over something solid and heavy, like a stone or something similar. The back and front were pure white, and he nearly felt himself squinting at the card. It was curious, and he decided to do a little internet sleuthing. Closing the lid of the box, he turned it over to see if there were any marks. He noted a marking on the bottom right corner of the box. Holding both the phone and the card in his hand, he started to search for the symbol when he noticed the time. He quickly put his phone in his pocket and strode over to the keys to his truck.
A smile hit his lips. A ray of sunshine over the last year was when he visited a local chiropractor's office. After rehab, he placed himself on a rigorous gym routine and had to go get adjustments from time to time. There, he met the receptionist and massage therapist, Madison. Anyone who ever heard his story seemed to treat him either with pity, like he would explode at any minute, or downright horror and then silence. But not Madison; sure, her eyes teared up when she finally heard his whole tale, but from that point on, they just talked like normal people when he came in for appointments.
They told childhood stories, daily anecdotes, and even some personal details, like how he was doing when it was a bad day or if her husband had gone and pissed her off... again. She was quite the sight when she got mad, but they turned into some of the best massage appointments he had ever had. Something had been bugging her for a while now, but he figured it was none of his business, and if he should know, she would tell him. He trusted her. He didn't know what he would do without their time together.
~ ~ ~
Madison was nervous and tapping her desk with her pen as fast as her fingers could go. She bit her lip slightly but stopped herself when she noticed the pressure was getting too much. It was not a good sign; when she bit her lip, it was a dead giveaway to her husband that she was in the mood. The problem was, it wasn't her husband she had been pining for; he hadn't been interested in her lately, and it had soured their home lives.
She saw this coming, but when he came into the office time and time again, slowly she saw muscles building and hardening. The unhappy irony of the whole mess was that she was "forced" to use her hands and feel every inch of his growing physique. Hank. She remembered his first few appointments and how defeated he had looked. But slowly, they shared stories and many laughs together. However, when he started to fill it out, she couldn't help but notice. She was no stranger to seeing a fit body; she had the odd client come in with a set of muscles, but something about him was different.
Madison couldn't put her finger on it, but their last session had made up her mind; he had to find someone else. She had been doing okay with her regular procedure of working his neck and arms, but when Hank rolled over, the sheet rose up a couple of extra inches. His entire chest down to his hips was on display, and it was absolutely gorgeous; she had let out a little "yip", and she could feel her whole body heat up. Between her thighs, she felt as if they burned, and the only cure was to spread them away from each other and around his hard body.
The image burned into her mind when she arrived home to find her husband gone. Most likely to go to the local bar to watch a game on the big screen. She found herself in the bath with two fingers plunged between her legs, gasping out one of the best orgasms of her life. So after a restless night, she decided to let Hank go. Just then, the door came open to reveal the man in question, right on time.
"So punctual as usual," Madison chimed as she walked around the desk.
Hank took a moment to take in Madison; having a massage from a sexy woman was never a bad thing. With her brunette hair pulled up into a bun, she had a heart-shaped, soft face with striking blue eyes and full lips. Her body was a bit of a mystery because she always wore a loose scrub shirt. He was sure that she had at least C-cups and a full figure.
He knew she didn't work out, so he imagined a curvy hourglass figure, soft to the touch. The curves would lead to the juiciest ass he had ever seen. Thank God for tight leggings!
"Well, I'd never want to throw off your schedule," Hank bantered back as they walked back to the room she had in the back of the office.
"Oh, anything for you, Hank," Madison replied.
He grinned as he followed through the doorway, and she closed it behind him. Stripping down to his black boxers, he laid out face-up on the table under the sheet.
Knocking on the door, she called out, "Ready?"
"Ready!" he called back.
Stepping back into the room, Madison went about turning on her music and starting the well-practiced routine they had worked out together. Paying special attention to his neck to begin, she moved on to his arms and then had him roll over to work on his back. As the time ticked down, she both loved and hated how fast the session was going. On one hand, she savored every inch of his skin, and on the other, she wanted everything to be done and over. Soon, the time came for the end of the session.
"Ah, thanks again, Madison." Hank, now on his stomach, stretched out his arms.
Madison responded by clearing her throat and standing so he could see her as he pulled his head up.
"Well, I'm glad I have been able to help you, Hank," she started, and her voice shook. "I really have enjoyed getting to know you, but... But I'm afraid that this will be our last session."
"What?!" Hank's head shot up, and he leaned over the bed a bit.
"Well... I decided to cut back a bit, and you will have to find someone else." Madison tried to keep it together.
Hank couldn't believe that he was hearing this. Why? It didn't make any sense.
