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She had heard about Taylor from a friend. A “relaxation therapist,” her friend had called him in an email. He gave unique massages that carried you far away and seemed to know exactly what felt best, Madison had said. “Just call him and make an appointment. And would you believe, he makes house calls!” Shannon had saved his phone number for weeks before calling him one morning as she was deleting old emails whose useful life had expired.
After the expected introductions, she made an appointment for 5 p.m. the following Thursday and gave Taylor directions to her house. “Will there be anyone else home?” The question surprised her. Alerted, “Why?”
“It’s just that if it will be quiet I’ll be able to help you focus differently in relaxing.” Seemed sensible. “It will be just the two of us. My husband’s working late so I thought I’d treat myself and Madison said you were really good.” A shiver of guilt washed through Shannon, inviting a stranger at a time she knew her husband would be out. The shiver settled low inside her before disappearing. It felt good.
“Good.” “Here’s what I’d like you to do. Just before 5, I’d like you to take a shower or bath. When you’re finished, put on any underwear you like and a soft robe. Just wrap yourself in the robe and tie it snug, as I’ll need to roll it back in places as I work on you.”
“Okay, I’ll see you Thursday at 5,” said Shannon. She hung up. Jeez, now I’m going to be showering for a stranger I’ve never seen. He’s going to have his hands on me at home, alone, and my husband doesn’t know. Madison’d better be right about this. She realized it had been a long time since she had gotten ready for someone to touch her. What the hell, maybe I’ll wear that thong and bra I bought months ago. It’ll be under the robe so that’s okay. As she walked away from the phone, she didn’t realize she was smiling.
Shannon found herself watching the clock in her home office on Thursday. It seemed as though it were frozen on what turned out to be a slow day. That just made matters worse. She was surprised at herself. She wasn’t altogether comfortable with a man coming into her home to give her a massage. But she never seemed to find time to do bahis firmaları anything for herself. And he was recommended by Madison who can be pretty picky. Still, maybe it would have been better to go to a day spa somewhere.
At 4 o’clock Shannon decided she had stalled long enough that it was too late to cancel. She wrote one last email, hit “send,” and shut down the computer. She closed the door to her office, her cat asleep in his bed next to her desk chair. About the only time she locked up the cat used to be when she and her husband were planning a brief sex encounter. But that was a long time ago. So why was she locking up the cat now? That brief tingling sensation returned at the unanswered question. She decided not to take a stab at an answer, just not think about it. Put it in the too-hard-to-think-about box.
She turned and headed up the stairs to her bedroom where she had laid out her new underwear and a robe earlier that morning after her husband had left for work. Just putting them on the bed had produced another brief quiver. She opted for the shower. More time to get ready that way.
As Shannon stepped into the shower, Taylor checked the small, dark blue gym back he took on house calls. He unzipped it, reached in, and felt around. Everything he might need was there, including the freshly filled massage oil bottle. He hoped this next house call might turn into a regular client. He could use a few more. He opened the bag once more and checked again, to be sure. I should spend a little extra time with Shannon. Wouldn’t it be great if she became a weekly client? It would really be something if she were attractive and responsive. Taylor always preferred the clients who responded to his touch. It made his job a lot more pleasurable for everyone involved.
At the sound of the doorbell, Shannon nearly jumped off the couch. She opened the door slightly. Taylor was standing almost two steps back from the door. “Long” is the first word that came to Shannon’s mind. Everything about Taylor was long. His legs. His arms. Even his fingers. He had the build of a tennis player: long and lean masculine legs emerging from white shorts and tapering to trim ankles. There’s kaçak iddaa that quiver again.
After introductory pleasantries, Taylor asked where Shannon would like to receive her treatment. “Up there,” she said, nodding toward the stairs leading to her bedroom. “Stay here while I go up and get settled,” said Taylor. “I’ll call down in just a minute.” Shannon watched him walk up the staircase. He ascended the stairs soundlessly, the effortless glide of an athlete. She watched him until he turned to enter her bedroom.
“Okay, it’s time for your treatment!”
Shannon rose, climbed the stairs and walked into a darkened room, wobbling in the candlelight. Invisible music floated in a room she barely recognized. Taylor motioned her to the far side of the bed where he stood and to lie face down on the beach towels he had taken out of the bag and spread over the electric blanker he had turned on.
As she settled onto her stomach, he waited for her with his massage oil. The music, warm bed, candles, and anticipation tingled her. He slipped a sleeping mask over her eyes, rolled back her bathrobe, and drizzled some oil across her shoulders. Without saying a word, he began there. Lightly. An oiled rub, almost a caress—not a deep massage. He slowly moved from her shoulders to her spine to lower back, unhooking her bra along the way. Her body felt heavy against the heat yet she sparked at his touch.
Never losing contact with her body, he replenished a palm with oil as he turned his attention to her arm. He straightened it away from her body, placing her outstretched hand on his thigh so her arm remained gently locked as he massaged from wrist to shoulder. Her fingers stretched across the front of his thigh at the edge of his shorts as he leaned over her.
Taylor worked his way down her body, sliding his hands along the edges of her thong on his way toward her toes. Always rolling the robe away and then replacing it to keep her warm. Then it was time to roll over. She heard his breath catch when the robe partially separated. She wished her hand was still high on his thigh.
He began anew, working up her body, fingers strong and purposeful. He lingered near some spots kaçak bahis as she heard his breathing deepen. Blinded by the mask, she imagined for a moment that she felt the flicker of his tongue. She hoped so.
When Taylor reached her face, his fingertips traced lightly along her jaw, across her cheekbones, and onto her eyes. She felt his breath for half a second before his mouth joined with hers. His spread fingers ran up into her hair on either side of her face. She opened her mouth and they caressed one another before he finished with a lingering, whisper brush of his lips on hers. He made sure the robe was closed for warmth. It was hardly necessary.
Shannon had grown as hot as she was glued to her bed. A wisp of perspiration had appeared at her hairline. Her legs squeezed together on either side of growing dampness. During the kiss a thumb and forefinger had delicately rolled the tip of a breast. Shannon wasn’t sure if it had been her fingers or Taylor’s.
As Taylor gently pulled the sleeping mask up off Shannon’s face, she opened her eyes to a blurred world of glowing candle light and male musk.
She blinked into focusing on Taylor’s face as he put his massage oil into his gym bag. Good god, he’s leaving now? she wondered.
“Thank you,” she whispered, drained of pretense. “I, I’ve never had anything like this. Is this the standard treatment for all your clients?”
“Actually, I guess they vary a bit,” said Taylor. “When a woman responds to my touch, it tells me a lot about her state of mind, her desires. It’s connecting through a light touch that strips away the b.s. of other stuff. Just me and a woman who needs the relaxation of a man’s touch.”
Shannon couldn’t believe hearing herself ask, “So is that the extent of the services you offer?” She wasn’t sure what she might do with any of several possible answers.
“Pretty much,” said Taylor. “Sometimes my clients have special requests afterward.” The lingering pause belied Shannon’s reluctance to ask for examples. But by now Taylor had gotten to know his new client. He had felt her curiosity mount under his hands and didn’t mind stepping into her embarrassment by prodding just a little. “Is there anything you’ve wondered about when it comes to physical intimacy? Something you’ve been, maybe, curious about? Something you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell or ask your husband or a girl friend? You can tell me.”
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