Текст книги "The Rub Down"
Автор книги: Gina Sheldon
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
Chapter Two
Alexa
When Jeff told me I needed to see his buddy for massages at a place called The Rub Down, I thought it was going to be some dump in Chinatown. The name sounded like a cheesy, dirty hole in the wall.
I was way off.
The Rub Down was a huge slice of serenity in the middle of one of the nicest areas in Boston. The moment I walked in, the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders. The place was magnificent with a soothing palette of ivories and soft pinks. Behind the reception desk was a water wall, and the sound of a rushing stream added to the calming environment.
Since it was my first time there, the receptionist, Jessica, gave me a quick tour, sharing her knowledge of the spa and the treatments they offered. Once she showed me how to work the complicated locks in the locker room, she left me to get ready for my massage. I stored my clothes and slipped on the most decadent ivory bathrobe with The Rub Down logo threaded in pink. The outer shell was microfiber, and the softest terry cloth cotton lining the inside caressed my skin. Saying a prayer that I would remember how to open the locker when I was finished, I walked into the Zen room to wait for my therapist.
If I thought the lobby was amazing, this room was heaven on Newbury Street. It hosted plush couches with fluffy throw pillows, and dim lighting blended the décor. A small stone table just inside the door held an urn of fruit infused water. Soft pan flute music played in the background. I could’ve stayed in this room all day. Zen was a perfect name for it.
Since I was early, I sat on the couch and relaxed to the point where I actually drifted off to sleep. When I heard my name, I blinked, and looking to where the voice came from, sucked in a breath. The man standing in the doorway was smoking hot. He should be a model, not a masseuse. And he was going to run his hands all over my body.
“Hello, Alexa. I’m Luke, your therapist, and I also own the place.”
He continued speaking, but I blanked out, entranced by his full lips. I couldn’t believe this man was going to be touching my body while I was practically naked.
“Sound good?”
I had no idea what he just asked, but I nodded in agreement.
When I saw Jeff this week, I was so going to hug him. The one time I had had a massage, my therapist was an older man who was talented, but not even close to being hot. Luke, on the other hand, was sex on legs. He stood at about six-foot-three and was all man. His light blue eyes were a soft, subtle color that made me want to stare at them all day. If he didn’t cover mine during the treatment, I was going to make a total fool of myself by gazing at him non-stop. A black t-shirt, with the spa logo over his left pec, hugged his biceps and chest. Peeking out from under the sleeve of his shirt was a little bit of ink. Curiosity piqued, I wondered what it was, and if more were hidden in other places. A man with tattoos was a huge turn on as long as the ink wasn’t huge, or a dumb one gotten during a drunken stupor. Desperate to see this man in all his glory, I wished the lights were brighter. His hair was shaved almost bare, and I wanted to rub my palms all over his head.
As I followed Luke to a room, I caught a glimpse of his tight ass in the black scrubs. The uniform looked as though it was tailored for his body, like the bespoke suit worn by every man in the Financial District. His firm ass begged me to bounce quarters off it. Since I put more stock in personality than looks, this instant attraction was not typical for me, but something about his body and his voice left me feeling a little dizzy. I wouldn’t be surprised if the attraction became more intense when he finally touched me.
After discussing my training with Luke, which included at least one sexual innuendo by me, it was finally time to get on the massage table. He made me nervous in a good, silly schoolgirl way. When he left the room, my nerves kicked into high gear. As much as I looked forward to the massage, having someone’s hands—male or female—all over your body, was such an intimate thing. My figure was a result of dancing my entire life, and now running. I was proud of it, and it was only natural that I hoped Luke appreciated what he saw.
I slipped out of my robe, crawled under the fresh sheet on the platform, and rested on my back as Luke had instructed. The heated table felt so good against my naked skin. My muscles immediately settled in. I heard a soft knock on the door. “I’m ready for you.” I slammed the heel of my hand to my forehead after realizing how suggestive my words sounded.
“Are you comfortable?” Luke asked softly as he closed the door behind him. The slight smirk on his face reached his eyes. He must have picked up on my subconscious flirting. “Let me slide this roll under your knees to alleviate some of the strain this position will cause.”
“Thank you, and yes, I’m very comfortable. I hope I don’t fall asleep and start to snore,” I said with a nervous giggle. Even though I was a confident woman, Luke made me ramble and sound stupid. I needed to stop talking and take a deep breath.
“I want you to relax as much as possible, so if you fall asleep, I promise I’ll wake you if you start to snore. But something tells me your snores would be adorable.”
A blush tinged my cheeks at his words. I was suddenly happy for the low lighting. His flirting helped me relax a little more.
“Okay, let’s begin. I need you to communicate with me about the pressure. If I’m pressing too hard, please, tell me. I don’t want you in more pain than when you came in. Same goes for if I’m too light,” he whispered in my ear. His low therapist's voice was even sexier than his regular one.
Goosebumps spread all over my body. He needed to stop talking, or my panties would soon be very wet.
Behind me, I heard him preparing his oils and moving the stool out of the way. Then I felt him standing right above my head.
“Today’s session will be more about relaxing your muscles, and in a few days, I want you to come in again, and we’ll do more of a deep tissue, sports massage. I want my hands to get used to the feel of your body, and you used to them,” Luke said. When his fingers finally made contact with my skin, I felt warm all over. “We will keep communication to a minimum, so you can lay there and just relax.”
“That sounds perfect,” I whispered. The sounds quieted me, and the smell of lavender and vanilla, two of my favorite scents, invaded my senses. Thank goodness, the music wasn’t typical nature noises. That stuff drove me crazy and most definitely was not relaxing. I always wanted to smash the damn crickets with my shoe. Instead, Sade seduced me with her honey voice while Luke seduced me with his hands.
I wanted to ask him questions – Why did he become a therapist? How long has The Rub Down been open? Does he run? – But forming a cohesive thought was impossible.
Soft, firm fingers soothed as he worked the top of my chest near my collarbone. A sweeping motion down to the top of my breasts drained all the tension from my body. Long, strong fingers kneaded and massaged my muscles, and it felt incredible. His fingers brushed the top of my cleavage, and I sucked in a short breath. The rhythmic motion of his hands sweeping down my chest, grazing my breasts, and then up and around the back of my neck, moved my long hair to the top of my head each time. As he worked my neck, a moan slipped out. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. It felt too good. I decided to enjoy Luke and pray I didn’t orgasm right there on the table.
*****
Luke
When I walked in and saw Alexa stretched out on my table, she looked so serene, like an angel in the dim lighting. I caught her little innuendo when I knocked, but needed to keep my head in the game. But her beauty was astonishing. Noticing her closed eyes, I walked around the table, taking her all in, ghosting my fingers along the table inches away from her body.
Ten minutes into the session, and I knew having Alexa as my client was going to be one of my biggest challenges in this business. Being a professional was something I always prided myself on. As I looked at Alexa, I needed to stay focused and not become caught up in her.
Once my hands were oiled up, I touched her skin for the first time. The finest silks in all of Asia didn’t feel this good. My hands swept down her upper chest, and my fingers grazed the top of her breasts. The sheet clung to them, creating an image that would star in my dreams tonight. They were bigger than a handful, and I had to fight not to linger too long. I didn’t usually start my clients facing up, but I knew if I worked her back first, I would be a goner. There was no way this beauty’s back was ugly.
I continued the sweeping motion of my hands down her upper chest, over her collarbone, and up her neck, to hold on to the pressure points right at the hairline. My cock stirred to life. Alexa’s neck was long and elegant. Her hair was as soft as her skin. As I listened to Sade, I heard something I’d hoped to, yet prayed I wouldn’t. Her moans. Many women over the years moaned while I gave them a massage–hell, some even orgasmed–but Alexa’s soft noises shook me more than anyone’s before her did.
I’m a professional damn it. Why is she affecting me like this?
After I worked her arms, I moved to her hands. They were delicate, long, and skinny as a pianist’s. Her dark purple nails, the color a stark contrast to her pale skin, looked like she had them done recently. The fact that she took such great care of herself was a sign of confidence and pride, an incredibly sexy trait in a woman. My hands dwarfed her small one, thumbs kneading the pressure points in her palm. It scared me how much I wanted to lace our fingers together and bring hers to my mouth for a soft kiss.
Shaking the image out of my head, I moved down her body. Lifting the sheet and blanket to reveal her left leg, I tucked them up to the V. I typically made sure the entire thigh was exposed, but I couldn’t with her. With the way my mind was wandering toward sex, the temptation was too much. I had never been inappropriate with my clients, and I didn’t want to start with Alexa.
Her legs were as muscular as they looked, and her calves perfectly shaped for her figure. They were smooth like they were freshly waxed. Why couldn’t she be one of the crunchy Cambridge types who refused to shave? Needing to get in the correct frame of mind, I asked softly, “How is the pressure?”
“It’s perfect,” she said in a quiet, sleepy voice.
Fuck, she sounded so sexy when she was relaxed. Okay, so conversation was not going to help me. I started thinking about Celtics stats and rejoiced in the renewed contract for David Ortiz.
My hands roamed her legs, and I applied a bit more pressure where I knew she was feeling some tightness. They kept a slow, steady motion up and down her muscles. Every time I reached the inside of her thigh, she released a soft moan. With each whimper, my cock got harder and longer. Thank God, she couldn’t see how turned on I was by her sounds.
I moved to her right side to finish her leg and arm. It was time to have her turn over onto her stomach. I inserted the headrest and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder before speaking close to her ear. “Alexa, it’s time to turn over.”
When I lifted the covers a little, she quickly rolled. No matter how much I wanted a glimpse of her breasts, I turned my head to give her privacy. Once she settled on her stomach, I lifted the covers and tucked them into her dark purple panties. If I had to guess, purple was her favorite color. As my gaze traveled down her exposed flesh to the small of her back, I sucked in a huge, audible breath. Not only did she have the sexy curve, but also two dimples—one over each ass cheek. Right above them was a small, beautifully scripted quote. This was not a tramp stamp. It was art.
“Is everything okay?” Alexa asked in response to my loud, unprofessional gasp.
I felt her body tense up, and immediately felt horrible. I laid a comforting hand on her shoulder to reassure her nothing was wrong.
“Yes, I’m sorry. Your tattoo is gorgeous. I wasn’t expecting to see ink on your body. What does it say?” I should have apologized and moved on, but I couldn’t resist asking.
“It says j'aime qui je suis. It’s French for I like myself,” she whispered in a perfect French accent.
My fingers ghosted over the beautiful words, and I wondered why she chose that quote to permanently grace her flawless skin.
I added more oil and started on her extensor muscles. They were firm and long, and felt wonderful to my touch. I ran my hands down her back and dragged them slowly up the sides of her torso, unintentionally skimming her breasts as I reached the top. Every time I caressed her sensitive skin, Alexa let out a little puff of air. With every breath, my heart thumped a little faster.
For the rest of the massage, my mind wandered while my hands moved on autopilot.
Our time was coming to an end for the day, and I was ready to step away from her to get some space and gain some perspective. Between Sade in my ear and the smells of lavender and vanilla on her skin, my head was spinning. The weeks ahead of us were sure to be difficult. The thought of passing her off to Danny or any of the other guys crossed my mind, but I became irrationally angry at the thought of their hands all over her perfect body.
“Alexa, we’re finished for today. Take your time getting up. I’m going to step out and grab you a cup of water. I’ll be waiting outside the room when you come out,” I said as I drew the covers up, and rubbed her back one last time over the blanket.
“Thank you,” Alexa mumbled as I walked out.
When I shut the door behind me, I rushed to the water station, needing as much distance between us as possible. I chugged the first cup, filled it again, and took my time with this one as I remembered the feel of her skin. What I needed was a cold shower, but fancy, infused water would have to do. As much as I wanted to hang out, I needed to get back to Alexa and follow up on how she was feeling. I grabbed her a cup and walked to the room.
I waited outside the treatment room for a few minutes and grew worried since it was taking a while for her to emerge. Just as I was about to knock, the door opened. Alexa looked stunning. Her smile was sheepish, probably feeling self-conscious from the little noises she made, her skin glowed, and her body relaxed. She looked beyond satisfied, and all I could imagine was that this was what her face looked like after an incredible night of sex.
“How do you feel?”
“I’ve never felt this relaxed in my life,” Alexa replied. “Thank you so much. I’m complete mush right now. Your hands are seriously magical.” Her blue eyes sparkled as bright as the Caribbean Sea. Paired with her smile, they were mesmerizing.
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Next time might not be as relaxing since I’m going to get down to business on your legs and feet. But I promise I’ll add in some pleasure each time.” I lowered my voice on the last line without even thinking.
Luke, you’re not in a club hitting on a chick. You’re at your place of business, and you’re a fucking professional.
Pink colored her cheeks, and I quickly changed the subject.
“Here’s your water.”
“Thank you. When do you want to see me again? My work schedule is pretty open this week. I’d love to set up standing appointments, especially after the last hour.” She winked at me, and her smile lit up her face again. God, she was adorably sexy. “I’ll set that up with Jessica on my way out.”
“I want to see you in a few days. How does Friday at four o’clock sound?” I had no idea if I was available at four on Friday, but I would rearrange whoever was in that spot. Well, Jessica would. She would yell at me and get all whiny, but I’d ignore her, leave a bottle of her favorite wine on her desk, and all would be forgiven. I kept a case of it for such occasions. “Have Jess put you down for then, and set up whatever works best for you for a schedule.”
“Friday’s great. I’ll see you then.” With that, she walked into the women’s locker room.
I headed to the office to dive into paperwork, in hopes of getting the image of Alexa out of my head.
Chapter Three
Luke
The office was empty after Alexa’s appointment. Danny was with a client, so it gave me at least an hour of peace. What happened with Alexa surprised me, because never in my career had I felt so drawn to a client. And that was saying a lot, since gorgeous women gracing my table, was an ordinary, everyday thing for the last ten years.
Something about her made me want more. And not just her incredible body. What did she do for a living that allowed her schedule to be flexible? Did she sleep on the right side of the bed or the left? I wanted to get inside her head and know every one of her thoughts. That alone scared the shit out of me.
I had had many monogamous relationships over the years. I was not a one-night stand kind of guy. The uncomfortable scene in the morning was just not my thing. Living drama free was a goal of mine. In some relationships, it was more about pleasure than conversation. My desire bent toward getting in their pants, not their head. Some of those women, I would have loved to get to know and have a meaningful relationship. But like Jennie, their jealousy got the best of them, and we parted ways. I refused to change my career for a woman. I wasn’t a gigolo and didn’t have sex with my clients. There were no happy endings at The Rub Down.
The phone rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Yes, Jessica?” I answered. I forced as much happiness as I could into my voice, since I knew exactly why she was calling.
“You realize I need to move Angela’s Friday appointment for Alexa, right?” Jess bitched in my ear. “I will not call that woman and tell her. That raging bitch hates me. I’ve no idea what the hell I ever did to her, but she couldn’t get any ruder if she tried.”
“Ask Elle if she’ll do it. Angela likes her, right? I mean, who doesn’t love her. She’s the nice one, after all,” I retorted, giving Jessica a hard time.
Elle and Jessica were super close, but Elle was definitely the sweeter of the two. She was more of a kill them with kindness type, whereas Jess was a just kill them type.
“Fine. I’ll ask Elle, but you still owe me,” Jessica said before slamming down the phone.
“Why do I still owe you?” I replied to no one as I hung up the receiver.
Jessica always thought I owed her just for being her brother. Didn’t I sign her paychecks? That should have counted for something.
I joked about what a pain in the ass my sisters were, but honestly, I loved them to death. They were the most remarkable women I knew, and Danny and I were honored to have them work with us.
A buzz came from the phone, letting me know it was time to make another client moan. I just wished it was Alexa again, and not Mrs. Wilson.
*****
Alexa
I walked out of The Rub Down with the biggest smile on my face. Nothing could have gotten to me after my massage, not even the parking ticket on my car. The meter maids on Newbury Street were ruthless. If you missed by one minute, they nailed you with a bright orange envelope everyone could recognize from a block away.
As I ripped the damn thing out from under my windshield wiper, I checked my phone for messages. The Rub Down policy was no cell phones, but I was sure they used a blocker, because once I walked past the lobby, my reception disappeared.
Texts from Addison, my best friend and business partner, pinged through on my phone. She and I attended MassArt, Massachusetts College of Art and Design for Fashion Design, together. After graduating, we designed our own fashion line. Since that didn’t keep the lights on and food in our stomachs, we started Dress Me Up, a personal shopping company, and it took right off. Our clients were scattered all over the Boston Area. The wealthy women and men utilized our company for all their fashion needs. Several times, we were even flown out to Martha’s Vineyard to shop with clients visiting their vacation homes.
Addison: so how was your massage?
Addison: did you have a butchy woman rubbin’ you down?
Addison: did you fart?
I laughed out loud, startling several people walking down the street. What the hell was wrong with my best friend? Her weird sense of humor never ceased to amaze me.
Me: massage was AMAZING. My therapist was hot as hell. No, I didn’t fart.
Seconds later, my phone rang. It was Addison.
“Hello, my dear.” I chuckled as I tried to back out of my parking spot. Thank heavens for my car’s built-in Bluetooth.
“Hey, slut, tell me about your hot ass therapist and how a-may-zing he was.” Addison laughed as she exaggerated ‘amazing’.
“Addison, you have to go to this spa. It was seriously heaven.” I moaned in delight. “Even the robes were incredible.”
“Screw the robes, Alexa. Tell me about the therapist,” Addison said in a whiny, high-pitched voice over my skimping on the juicy details. She was still boy crazy, even at twenty-eight.
“I met with the owner, Luke. He’s ridiculously hot. I swear I was close to coming right there on the table.” Shivers traveled down my spine, and I made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a laugh. “I sure as hell moaned more than was appropriate.” Just remembering Luke’s touch made me smile and feel lightheaded.
“That good, huh? Maybe I should go see this Luke,” Addison responded with a little too much enthusiasm.
Imagining Luke’s hands on Addison, I was silent for a second. The thought made me uneasy. “Yeah, you should book a massage there. I have an appointment at four o’clock on Friday. You should totally see if you can get one at the same time.” I wasn’t sure why the idea of Luke and Addison filled me with jealousy, but it did. Maybe it was because men loved Addison and fawned over her as though I didn’t exist. Luke was mine, and I didn’t want to share.
And now I sound like a toddler not wanting to share my toys.
“YAY! Spa day on Friday. I need to double check, but I’m pretty sure the schedule is clear since Mrs. Duffy switched to the morning.” Addison’s headset microphone rubbed against her shirt, letting me know she was dancing around the house. It always created the worst noises in my ear.
“Call and book as soon as you can. I’ll see you in a few. I’m almost there, and I need to find a parking space.” I circled the block for the third time. “Can our next apartment have a designated spot? This hunting thing is way past getting wicked old,” I whined. Parallel parking was not my favorite thing, but it was all Boston offered unless someone paid over five hundred dollars a month for a garage spot. A car the size of a golf cart would make the task easier, but no way was I buying one.
Addison and I shared an amazing two-bedroom apartment in the South End. We loved the young, hipster neighborhood with restaurants, bars, and cute shops all within seconds from our front door. Boston public transportation was easy and efficient, but when we needed to lug around shopping and garment bags, the T was not an option. A car was necessary to hit up the malls in the suburbs that had the staples—Bloomingdale’s and Nordstrom. Thankfully, some of the other high-end department stores were located at the Copley Mall, smack dab in the heart of Boston.
After twenty minutes of searching, a car pulled out, and I nabbed a spot only three blocks from our apartment. Where the ticket failed to interrupt my post massage bliss, driving around the block over and over irritated me.
“Honey, I’m home!” Walking into our living room, I threw my purse and keys on the end table. I loved the open concept with high ceilings, and the beautiful spiral staircase leading up to our bedrooms. Off the living room was our dining room, which also functioned as an office. Addison was sitting at the large table from Ikea, papers spread in front of her. Always the better designer of the two of us, she still sketched originals, where I kind of let that portion of my passion die.
“Hey, sexpot, I’m working on some new stuff. I was feeling inspired. Oh, and bored.” She huffed. “How cool would it be if we were able to outfit our clients with original pieces?” Longing laced her voice.
Addison was beyond talented and could have worked for any top designer in New York. I never asked her to stay in Boston, but she knew I had no desire to move to New York City. She chose to stay here with me, and now Dress Me Up was her dream. She hoped to style at least one of our clients with an original Addison design one day.
“Those are gorgeous, Addison. Your designs are incredible.” I looked over her shoulder at her sketches. “I’m grabbing a drink. Do you need anything?” Our kitchen was tucked in the corner behind the staircase. It was small, but did the job for two single women. “I swear I’m going to drown from the inside out one of these days.”
“No, I’m good. Tell me more about this Luke character.” She wiggled her brows and threw me a sly grin.
I knew Addison wouldn’t let up, but there was nothing really to share. He was hot. I wanted him to touch my body, all day, every day. But other than that, I didn’t know anything. I shrugged off her question with the truth.
“Not much to tell except he’s ridiculously hot and has unbelievable hands.” I sighed, remembering the feel of them on my bare skin, spreading warmth throughout my body. “I’m going to grab my mat, loosen up for a bit in my room, and then shower. Be down in a few.”
This winter was a particularly cold and snowy one, and as I headed upstairs, I wished the weather would warm up. My favorite place to stretch, the large private deck overlooking the Back Bay neighborhood, was covered in snow. Today, more than anything, I needed fresh air to help clear my head.
While I stretched in the middle of the floor, my mind drifted to how Luke was so down to earth and approachable, making it easy to talk to him. He didn’t act as if his shit didn’t stink because he was good looking. I hated men who felt like they were God’s gift to women, and we should be thankful they even spoke to us.
Over the years, I thought I was in love with two serious boyfriends, but at the end of the day, they were more into themselves than me. And more than anything, I just wanted to be loved. The guys weren’t awful to me. They actually treated me very well, but what we had wasn’t epic love. It wasn’t the kind I dreamt of. When the relationships ended, I grabbed a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Half-Baked ice cream, and by the time the carton was empty, I was ready to move on to other things.
Reaching for my toes, I wondered what kind of boyfriend Luke would be. The thought was silly, since Luke probably had girls lined up, but I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to know the seemingly stupid shit about him. Did he like to watch television shows or movies? What kind of workout did he do to keep his body in such great shape? Did he prefer blondes or brunettes?
I tortured myself with ridiculous questions until my phone rang. It was my mom. She was the perfect person to pull me out of my daydreaming.
“Hey, mom. How are you? To what do I owe this pleasure?” I asked, greeting one of the best people I knew.
“Can’t a mom call her child just to shoot the shit?” Out of my group of friends growing up, my mom was the cool one. She took my friends and me to see ‘N Sync and sang along with all the songs. She even drooled over Justin Timberlake with the rest of us.
“You can always call me, mom. I love talking to you.” It was better than my thoughts at the moment. We chatted about my training and my newest clients. As I continued to half ass stretch, she told me how my father was driving her crazy by working too much. She was a remarkable woman, and I wanted to be her when I grew up. I also wanted the love she and my dad shared. Theirs was the epic kind. Married for almost thirty years, they still held hands and kissed every time one of them left the room.
By the time I hung up, my stretches were complete, and my thoughts of Luke were behind me. I just needed to keep it that way. At least until I saw him again on Friday.
