This is my first attempt at writing erotica, and is based on a true story.
All characters are above the age of 18.
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It was on one late, lazy weekend afternoon when my mother suggested that my family all get massages at home. My mother was an ardent lover of receiving massages, and ever since my family had moved to Manila, she has been frequenting different spas and massage establishments to determine which gave the best bang for the buck. The professional massage market in Manila was competitive, and the options branched out into different services, such as Thai massage, Japanese shiatsu, Swedish, Filipino hilot massage, and much, much more. There were attempts to differentiate with different promos and drink services, but the massages were generally the same at the end of the day, and the quality of the massages ultimately depended on the skill and experience of the individual masseur.
One service that aimed to increase its client count was the massage service that you could order through phone and avail at home. Essentially a 'massage delivery' service, this was aimed at wealthier clients who lived in walled off village subdivisions who had the financial power to cover the transport costs of the masseuses who had to make their own commutes. My mother who was often came home late from work was delighted with the service and was a repeat user, often calling in masseuses at the dead of night.
Like mother, like son, I was a fan of massages from early on. My mother often brought me out with her to get massages, and while I was extremely ticklish with certain areas at first, I grew to appreciate the occasional massage. The masseurs were almost always women, and while at first I was a bit unnerved at having my body out on display in front of an older woman I had just met, I eased in on the idea and accepted the procedure of the service. Having had also used the home massage service once before when I was feeling absolutely sore after a basketball game, I appreciated the incomparable accessibility and convenience of it.
When my mother came up with the suggestion that afternoon, out of having no other better alternative to do, I cheerfully obliged. Because of my university applications which I had just completed, it had been a while since my last massage, and I felt that a relaxation session was well deserved. I watched TV in the living in the living room, giddy with anticipation for my massage, just like how a child would be excited about an expected treat.
My mother was just as excited as me, and her mood was instantly lifted despite the TV program she wasn't interested in. My father on the other hand, wasn't too interested in receiving massages, and said that he would stay with us until the masseuses came before heading out to the driving range to work on his golf swing before dinner. Your loss, I thought to myself. It was cool late afternoon with birds chirping outside, and the atmosphere inexplicably felt just right for a massage.
Soon enough I heard the low hum of a car engine approaching and the subsequent ring of the doorbell. Getting up from the living room couch, I rushed outside to the front gate to let the masseuses inside the house. Sure enough, there were two young Filipina women who were dressed in the traditional masseuse uniform, a sterile looking light green attire, waiting outside the large black gate of our fenced property.
I didn't pay their appearance much attention at first, ushering them inside the house where they would be met with my parents. My mother was delighted to meet them, asking them if they wanted something to drink. They both politely declined, however my mother insisted, getting a Filipina maid to get them both a glass of water. My mother was like that. You treat others the way you want to be treated. If you want to be treated well, you have to treat others the same way. I didn't know it then, but this was the secret to her success as a charismatic, influential businesswoman.
"So, which one of you is the more experienced one?" my mother piped up cheerfully. Someone was clearly eager. The two masseuses briefly exchanged confused glances, before the smaller, leaner one of them raised her hand somewhat timidly.
Upon seeing her smaller frame, I laughed awkwardly. I gave my mother massages before, and I was completely floored with how strong she preferred her massages. Even with all my weight put into the thumbs that were pressing into her back, she still wanted her massages harder. My hands were sore by the end of it, and since then, I had promised myself to only offer her massages only when I absolutely had to. My mother assessed the smaller woman who was smiling awkwardly back at her for a few moments before she seemed to be satisfied with what she saw.
"Excellent! You're going to be coming with me. Today, we'll be having the ninety-minute oil massage. Did they tell you that?" she said as she went off and headed to her room, the masseuse in pursuit of her. That poor woman was going to be worked hard, and she probably knew it. My father chuckled softly as he watched the scene unfolded, put away his newspaper, headed for the garage.
"I'll be back by 7. You enjoy yourselves," he called out to my mother through the hall.
"Yes dear!"
Glancing at the wall clock hanging by the bookshelves, it was slightly past five. The late afternoon rays of summer sunshine pierced through the curtains and illuminated the indoors to a dazzling degree, and while it was hot outside, the indoors were beginning to cool to an easy room temperature. It was a perfect afternoon; I had my life set out for me, my family was happy, and I was about to receive a massage within the comfort of my home.
"So, with you?" asked the remaining masseuse. She had a moderate Filipino accent, indicating that while she was able to speak basic English, she most probably couldn't get a decent conversation going. It usually wasn't a problem, so long as they knew enough to understand basic instructions.
