This story is dedicated to C, who probably never expected to become a muse.
*
Surprised? Just a little.
I could barely believe what stood before me. Clad a simple black dress, two straps which started between the neckline and the cleavage, and ended just above the knee. Lithe and statuesque was the only way of describing her that I could think of. Slightly curled blonde hair which was cut just below her shoulders, framing a gentle smile that was accentuated by red lipstick. Bright blue eyes complimented her caucasian Eastern European features - I guessed that she was from somewhere like Poland or the Czech Republic.
"Body to Body?" she asked, in slightly hesitant English. Definitely Polish.
-----
The past couple of years had been rough for me. Now in my mid thirties, life hadn't quite turned out how I expected. It hadn't always been that way though. When I was 25 I met who I thought was going to be the love of my life. Her name was April and I thought she was beautiful, but at the time both of us were in relationships, so there was no subsequent contact. Two years later we both happened to be at a social gathering arranged by mutual friends. In the obligatory catch up conversation both of us found common ground as two people who were newly single and exchanged numbers at the end of the night. Six months later she asked if it was possible to crash at mine so that she could go to a party we were both invited to (April lived 2 hours drive outside of London near the coast). Being the generous soul I am, I said she was welcome, and at the end of the night, we were in bed together, cuddling and kissing like teenagers.
The next few years passed like a dream. April left the sticks and moved in with me after three months - we had so many common interests that it didn't take us long to fall in love. I had also started a new job working at a major news agency, which had been a life-long ambition of mine. The pay was bloody good for a journalist, and the work was even better, as I was assigned to cover sports. April would often tag along with me, and we travelled the world together, having amazing moments in every country that we could get to.
There was the physical chemistry too. She was by far the most beautiful woman I had ever been in a relationship. Despite only standing at around 5'2", April had an amazing body - a generous 32C bust that was incredibly sensitive to touch, and a physically toned body thanks to regular gym sessions. I wasn't bad myself - at the time I was playing for two different football teams and was very physically fit, albeit a bit chubby due to my love of cooking and eating. Our sex sessions were frequent and energetic - both of us had great stamina and were often horny thanks to the constant exercising.
Marriage had started to become a real possibility, but slowly things changed. I damaged my knee in a match after falling awkwardly - two surgeries sidelined me for close to a year and a half. About six months after my injury April started suffering from eczema around her groin, which made it painful for her to have sex. Due to her condition, we stopped having sex completely, but what could I do? We were soulmates, totally in love, and destined to spend the rest of our lives together.
----
Another two years passed. We still weren't having sex, despite her eczema clearing up - there had been some slight scarring which caused April to lose confidence in her appearance. She didn't want to be naked around me, and was totally unresponsive to anything I tried. Thanks to my now ravaged knee I had put on a significant amount of weight, so my own self esteem was also fragile. The sexual frustration was causing a lot of stress as well; I had taken to masturbating frequently when she was either out or asleep. The intimacy had completely gone from our relationship and we had become more like close friends who shared a house. I was carrying a lot of guilt over my libido - I knew the lack of sex was a problem but I felt like a bastard for letting it affect our relationship, as I loved her and I didn't want that to be the reason for ending a relationship.
Truthfully, it had been over for a while. I had fully supported her throughout her health problems, so much so that she eventually started taking me for granted. She made very little effort to make me feel wanted or loved, and I was facing the harsh reality that our relationship was over. It took me a year to face the facts and tell her that I wanted to end it, but then she gave me a glimmer of hope when she begged me not to end it, and that she would try harder.
So we gave it another go, and it seemed like April was trying - we even managed a couple of sex sessions over the next month and I thought there was hope. Until she decided that I was right, and told me that it was definitely over.
----
It only took her a couple of evenings to move out. I was devastated, and for a week I stayed at my best friend Brian's house just so that I wouldn't be alone. Even though it had been a long time coming, the pain of ending that relationship was traumatic. Brian was a trooper throughout the whole thing, keeping me distracted with gaming, sports on TV and plenty of alcohol and food. I'm amazed he lasted the whole week.
Then I got hit by another blow a month later; April posted a picture of herself on Facebook with a new boyfriend, happy and smiling, and I realised that she'd been cheating on me for a while. Begging for a stay of execution from our relationship was a way of giving herself time to develop an exit strategy, and fall straight into the arms of another man.
Afterwards, I sank into a dark depression, becoming a loner, staying at home, eating, smoking, and drinking myself into oblivion most nights. I was an emotional wreck, piling on weight, and since I had alienated my friends, I couldn't see what was happening to me.
---
The pattern continued for half a year. My weight was starting to get out of control - when I started to socialise again, many of my friends were shocked by the huge gut I was carrying and how haggard I looked. Dating was out of the question - my self esteem was at an all time low, and I felt unattractive and overweight.
The lack of sex over the past few years had badly affected me. I was badly in need of release, but the guilt over my previous relationship had affected my confidence and ability to perform, leading to difficulties with my erection. The doctor prescribed Viagra to help me with this, but since I wasn't dating, I had no one to actually try it with.
So there I was, sexally frustrated, emotionally and physically broken. My life had fallen apart in what seemed like no time at all, and I needed something to push me back up.
---
One day I was browsing on the internet, looking for a decent masseuse. My physiotherapist had recommended regular massages while I was recovering from surgery - the muscles in my body had weakened and tightened up due to lack of exercise. Rehabilitation had finally started, but it was going to be a long process, and my estimated recovery to full fitness was a minimum of a year.
Not knowing where to go, I decided to look at advertisements on Gumtree, a website which specialises in listing for just about anything. When I did a search for my local area, about 10 ads popped up, all giving various experience, and types of massage, with prices. It was a bit confusing, so I decided to see if I could find some information or reviews to help narrow down my choices.
Googling turned up a number of links, but one caught my eye. "Full Body Massage Forum" or FBMF for short, seemed to have a lot of posters and topics. So I signed up, and spent a bit of time looking through it. The sections were divided up by different categories, starting with area. Clicking on "London", I looked at the next categories available, which were "Non Sensuall", and "Sensual". Sensual?
Obviously curiosity got the better of this cat, and I clicked on the Sensual section. It was further divided into "Independents", and "Massage Shops". Digging deeper, what I learned was a big surprise. It seems that there was a thriving scene for masseuses who would offer extra sexual services, ranging from handjobs, body to body massages, or even full on sex. On FBMF there were long threads discussion the merits of certain masseuses and establishments, with prices, services, and attractiveness of providers discussed fully. I was intrigued by this, and spent the next few hours reading up to get more information on how this scene worked.
----
Despite the problems I was having sexually, I had never considered seeing an escort. Without trying to sound arrogant, I was a decent looking guy, and a good conversationalist, which meant that I rarely had to deal with a dry spell. There was also the usual concerns over sexually transmitted diseases, and my own pride. Should I really have to pay a woman to have sex with me? However this new revelation offered another option - I could still have a sexual experience without having to run the risk of STDs, and also get a massage at the same time. The regular posters on the FBMF forum seemed to enjoy it, many of them saying that it was a relaxing environment which wasn't as pressure or intense as seeing an escort.
With all this in mind, I decided to give it a try. What did I have to lose? My needs as a man were over-riding any concerns my brain might have. So I went about researching different providers, trying to find one that I thought I could take a chance with.
The one that caught my eye was "Soft Body Massage". It wasn't too far from my house, and had received some good reviews. Posters had commented that there were two women working there who were both attractive, and provided a good service at a reasonable cost. They had a professional looking website, and the photos of the masseuses, while having the faces blanked out, were quite sexy. I wasn't stupid enough to think that they could be real pictures, but the opinions of the forum users were enough to convince me. So I called up and made an appointment.
---
The location was a flat in a vaguely modern apartment block, situated on a quiet suburb road just a 10 minute drive from my house. It was a gentle spring evening, sunlight leaking through fluffy white clouds as it prepared for it's descent beyond the horizon. I was apprehensive as I approached the apartment, with numerous questions running through my head. Would there be a 300lb beefcake ready to avail me of my personal belongings the minute I walked through the door? Would the women working there actually look anything like their pictures, or would I get a grumpy old bag trying to make ends meet by jacking off horny men? The doubts were piling up, but I resolved that it was too late. I was committed to seeing it through, no matter what happened.
The grumpy, middle aged woman who let me in to the apartment did little to ease my fears, however she then led me through another door, and commanded me to wait. Even though I've had massages before, I had never seen a room like this. Thick curtains covered the window, and a gentle glow emanated from a dim lamp placed on an top of a small bookcase; instead of storing books the shelves carried a variety of massage aids: oils, lit candles, and towels. A massage table was the centrepiece of the room, wooden with adjustable heights on each end, and a hole where a head could fit if one was laying face down. Two small sofas and a coffee table added another sense of comfort, with the walls painted a deep shade of what looked like purple. I could hear music playing in the background, some sort of spiritual soft music that one would usually hear in a spa. Despite this, I was nervous - what would my masseuse look like?
---
"Body to Body?"
"Yes," I just about spluttered out. My mind was still trying to process the beauty of what stood before me, and I blessed the day that my curiosity got the better of me.
