Magic Fingers

When Matthew gave her the gift certificate, Jan looked at it with skepticism. A day at the spa? It was something she would just never do, something too "Yuppy" for her. But Matthew insisted that she would love it, and he wanted her to use it. He had even set up the appointment for Monday, her day off.

Jan spent most of the morning doing her errands, all the things she didn't have time to do during the work week. Then she went into their bedroom, arranging her pillow nest and pulling up the quilt, settling down to nap. She reached for Matthew's pillow, holding it against her body, his scent floating around her, and fell asleep.

She woke with a start. It took her a minute to remember what day it was, what time it was. She then remembered the damn appointment at the spa and thought about cancelling. But it was only a few hours away and she feared that Matthew would lose all the money he had paid. Then she thought how happy he was to have given her this gift, and she decided to suffer through it. She supposed there was something worse than being pampered for hours by someone being paid to be nice to you.

She showered quickly, trying to wake up. She wasn't sure of the etiquette of massage parlors, but felt it would not be necessary to be well-dressed for the appointment. She dressed in lacy red panties and a matching bra, then a Mickey Mouse t-shirt and denim shorts. She slipped into her beloved flip flops and pulled her hair into a pony tail. Grabbing her gift certificate, she headed out the door.

Her certificate was for a facial, plus a hand and foot massage, complete with hot paraffin soaks. Arriving at the establishment, it was just as she expected. New Age music filled the air, the strong scent of incense was heady. She expected a character with long, flowing robes to approach her as she stood in the lobby. A water fountain trickled in the corner, the lighting was dim, the mood hushed. She took a seat on the bamboo furniture and waited to be greeted. When the office door swung open, she was surprised to see a tiny blond woman coming toward her. Nothing ethereal about her. She was pretty, maybe in her early thirties, and very energetic. She wore the smallest of shorts, just barely covering her butt cheeks and a tight, tiny shirt. Her nipples poked against the fabric, Jan was sure that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her long pony tail bobbed as she talked, waving her tanned fingers as she explained the afternoon schedule to Jan. She then led Jan to a room, and told her to remove her outer clothing, leaving on her undies, just lowering the bra straps. The massage table was covered with a crisp white sheet. There was a large pillow roll under the sheet near the base and another white sheet was folded across the bottom of the table. Jan was instructed to get comfortable, bringing the pillow roll beneath her knees and cover up to her chest with the extra sheet.

Harp music was being piped into the room, relaxing Jan. She stripped to her red lingerie and climbed onto the table, getting situated as instructed. There was a small, perfect pillow for her head and she felt totally cradled in softness. The door opened and Roxanne, the therapist, entered. Immediately, she began working on Jan's face. She spread one liquid after another, softly massaging her skin. Roxanne's fingers flew over her cheeks and chin, her eyes and forehead. She had the lightest touch, yet Jan felt her skin tingle from the invigorating massage. The scents mingled in her nostrils, sweet, tart, tangy. She could feel coolness, then heat, then tingling peppermint. All the while, those fingers moved with precision and skill. Jan was nearly asleep, in that middle place where her mind just ran free. She imagined those fingers touching her forever, touching her intimately. She could feel her inner pink throbbing at the sensations. She found herself imagining the little blond woman touching her nipples, her tummy, her damp pussy. She imagined those flying fingers on her nipples, teasing them into hardness, making them ache. Or those fingers dancing on her clit, which was beginning to throb. Hmmmm, she was truly enjoying this part of the massage. Maybe Yuppies knew what they were doing!

Finally, she felt the fingers slowing. Roxanne was explaining that this was the final step as she applied a mask to Jan's face. The pack was heavy, musky-smelling. She could feel it tightening on her face almost immediately. Then Roxanne placed icy cold packs on Jan's eyes. They were so incredibly cold that Jan considered asking her to remove them, sure that the cold was too intense. She wrapped Jan's face in a warm towel, patting it in place. Jan felt the eye packs lose some of the iciness and began to enjoy the sensations passing through her. Cold, hot, heavy, light, and always, darkness. So incredibly dark. Jan felt herself sinking into the sensuous world of sensation, where there is no sight, just enjoyment.

Roxanne whispered that she would be right back and Jan heard the heavy door open and close. She felt herself drifting off, lulled by the music and the soft aroma of the facial mask. Hearing the door open again, she was disappointed. She was so afraid that the massage was over and she would have to move to the next phase. She waited for Roxanne to say something, to tell her what to expect next, but no one spoke.

Instead, she felt the sheet being lowered to her waist. Her pretty, lacy bra fastened with two clasps between her breasts. She felt fingers there, unhooking her bra and pulling it apart. It fell from her body, and the fragrant air was nearly tangible on her skin. The flying fingers began to massage her breasts. Starting at the outer edges, she felt the lotion being stroked into her skin, quickly and lightly. Her nipples began to ache, hardening and tightening, longing to be touched. But the fingers did not touch them. They massaged and stroked and painted all the rest of her full breasts, deliberately avoiding the tight brown crowns.

Jan felt pretty sure she should say something, but how could she stop something so incredibly delicious? One by one, she felt the various lotions and creams massaged into her breasts, the fingers moving so close to her achy nipples, but never quite touching them. Jan arched her back, to encourage the fingers to move closer, to touch and manipulate the aching center. The room was so hushed. Only the continuous harp music could be heard. No voices spoke. Jan wondered if it was Roxanne, and wondered at the meaning of that. Then she decided she didn't really care who it was. At this point, all she wanted was some sort of release. She felt the mask being applied liberally to her sensitive skin, felt her breasts encased in the quickly hardening shell. Then, oh, then....the icy cold packs were placed on both nipples at once. It sent a jolt through her body, made her cry out loud and arch off the table. She felt the warm towels being wrapped around her, covering her breasts and sending the heat deep into her skin.

All movement stopped. Jan tried to relax, to lie back and just enjoy this surprising addition to her scheduled pampering. She tried to take deep breaths, and enjoy the sensations she was experiencing. Just as she was reaching that place, where she could actually drift off to sleep, she felt the fingers again. Lightly, skillfully, they danced on her bare tummy, nearly flying over her exposed skin, the fleetest of touches, the gentlest of caresses. At one point, she felt sure it was Matthew, and that he had arranged this entire massage just so he could surprise her like this. But the fingers felt too light, too trained to belong to Matthew. She wondered again if it was Roxanne. She pictured her tiny body standing nearby, her lips wet and shiny, her delicate fingers covered with oil and touching her so intimately. Jan thought perhaps she should say something, protest this intimacy or reach out and stop the flying fingers, but she couldn't. To be honest, she didn't care if the postman had wandered into this room, she never wanted those hands to stop touching her.

When she felt the hands on her hips, the fingers slipping into the band of her panties, Jan did not protest. She lifted her hips, feeling her silky panties sliding down her thighs, and over her feet. The sheet was non-existent now, and the cool air bathed her entire body. Again, she wondered if it was Matthew, teasing her, tempting her. He HAD been adamant about this gift, this appointment. If it was him, Jan was sure this was the sexiest thing he had ever done. But what if it wasn't him? What if tiny, golden Roxanne was standing beside her now, licking her lips and looking at her naked body? Jan wondered if she should be offended or upset, but could not manage either reaction. Honestly, if it was Roxanne, all Jan wanted was for her to continue the massage.

As if reading her mind, the fingers continued, growing bolder. They softly massaged her tummy, stroking lightly across the skin, carefully tracing the triangle of curlies there. Creams were being used, soft caresses on all her tanned skin. The fingers teased, Jan's hips started to respond. She felt herself moving her hips slightly, thrusting up to meet the fingers. She wanted them to reach into her curlies, comb them, and touch her inner pink. She even considered asking aloud for that, but stopped herself. The incredible darkness surrounded her, and the absolute silence.

Perhaps that was making this experience even more erotic. The fingers moved to her thighs, stroking them and massaging the tingling skin. As she felt the cool air on her inner thighs, Jan realized that the hands had carefully pushed her legs apart, exposing her to...Someone. Ah, the fingers moved up her groin, outlining even further the soft triangle. She felt herself swelling open, felt the wetness gathering inside her and actually spilling onto her thighs. One finger, one small, skillful finger, moved into her curlies. She felt the fingertip, tracing her open slit, lightly running up and down, gently caressing her pink lips, moving deeper and deeper with each stroke.

Finally, she felt the finger massaging her clit, her aching clit. Aaaaah, she moaned aloud, thrusting her hips off the table. God, she needed this. Her entire body was alert and excited, she wanted to feel her clit massaged, wanted to feel those fingers probing deep into her pinkness. She couldn't tell the size of the hand or fingers, just knew that she was more excited than she could ever remember being. Her clit throbbed, looking for release. Her pussy was happily milking the finger, her muscles wrapped tightly around, pulling it deeper. She felt the finger pull out, then return, thicker and deeper. She knew it was several fingers, deep inside her, stretching her, filling her.

Now the massage was firmer, faster. The fingertips raced up and down her slit, circling her clit, making it jump and throb. Then the finger plunged into her wet depths, meeting the thrusts of her wanton hips with thrusts of its own. Over and over, the hand, the finger, moved. She could hear a sound, and was amazed it was her own voice in her ears, begging for release, asking for the massage to continue forever. She felt the heat in her legs building, moving up. Her thighs were spread far apart now. Who was here? How many people were standing in the room? WHO was it, driving her wild with desire and need? It didn't matter, all that matter was the pinnacle she would soon reach, the pleasure that would tear through her now. Her legs locked open, her hips stopped their dance. Even her breathing ceased for what seemed like forever. She felt her heart pounding, felt her clit throbbing with delight. Then the heat. The heat poured through her. A primal cry tore from her throat, and her body began to spasm. The fingers were thrust inside her again, deep and hard. Her bucking body sucked them into her hottest depths. It seemed she would never stop coming. over and over the tremors racked her body. her breath was short and shallow. even her moans continued. The fingers slowly pulled from her cunt, lightly touching and massaging her clit, just stroking her pink velvet. Then the hand caressed her mound, holding her as she returned to consciousness.

She felt the warmth of that palm resting on her curlies. She felt the wave of satisfaction flowing through her exhausted body. In the darkness and silence and afterglow, Jan fell asleep.

She woke when the door opened. Roxanne was apologizing for being gone so long, there had been a crisis in another room. Jan reached down and found her naked body modestly covered with the sheet. Roxanne continued chattering as she removed the now cool towel from her face and rinsed off the mask.

"My goodness, your face is glowing. You should have a facial more often," she said.