He heard the soft chime of the bell from outside the house as he waited at the side door to be let in. Nikki was the best masseuse he'd ever worked with, but their lives and schedules had diverged and he hadn't seen her in a couple of years. Still, even though they'd never socialized, they considered each other friends. And the gift certificate his wife had given him for his birthday was a welcome chance both to relax and to reconnect.
"The Full 90-Minute Experience," it said. Ninety minutes! He rarely indulged in a massage that long. This was going to be glorious. "I want you so relaxed you feel like rubber when you come out of there," his wife said as he left.
The door opened, and Nikki smiled to see him. "Come in! It's been too long. How have you been? Your shoulders are way too tight." She got all of that out just as he stepped in the doorway, and he laughed -- that was Nikki, high energy, same as always. He gave her a light hug.
"That's why I'm here -- my wife said the same thing," he smiled. "Good to see you; how have you been?"
They sat in her consultation room for a few minutes and caught each other up on their lives. She was only doing massage as a side gig now, out of her house, having picked up a full-time job with the state after her divorce. "Can't beat the benefits," she said.
And yet she still had time for -- what was it she was into? A martial art, maybe, or was it triathlons? Something intense. She was athletic, and very strong. A wonderful quality in a masseuse.
"Let's get right to it," she said. "Shoulders and legs need attention, same as always?" She led him next door to the treatment room. The massage table, draped with cotton sheets, filled the dim room. New Age music played from a speaker in the corner. "I'll step out while you get ready. And I'll start you on your back this time."
"That's different," he said. "You change up your technique?"
"Sometimes," she replied. "A new pattern I'd like to try."
Nikki closed the door and left him alone to undress. He made sure his phone was off, then put it on the sideboard with his wallet, keys, and the gift certificate. His clothes he folded neatly on the chair. Some people leave their underwear on for a massage, but he liked to be fully naked. He didn't really consider any part of himself off limits, at least not anything he didn't feel the masseuse would consider off limits.
On his back in the near-dark, with the flute music playing, he started untensing right away. Oh, how he needed this.
Nikki knocked on the door and came in. "Temperature feel all right to you?" she asked quietly. "Just fine," he answered.
She began by cradling his head from behind, her strong fingers circling the base of his skull. It was simple, but it touched nerve endings that signaled release. After a few minutes her fingers traced up into his scalp, then down his neck, repositioning his shoulders. It wasn't long before he drifted away, letting her work his arms and hands, followed by legs and feet. Getting him pliant enough for the big work on his back.
"Time to turn over," she said after a while, and she held the sheet up for his privacy. She worked his upper back and shoulders hard -- that had to be her elbow planted in his back, he thought more than once - but that was how he liked it. She was muscular, wiry even, very different from his wife, who was all curves and softness. He found her energy attractive, but hadn't let himself spend much time thinking about it. He drifted off to the ethereal music as she worked his lower back, then his calves, knowing he'd come out of it pummeled but new.
Her voice brought him a little ways back toward the surface. "Your legs are so stiff," she murmured. "Been running a lot?"
"Yes," he answered. "5K training."
"You have nice firm thighs," she said. "This muscle here -- " she traced it with a finger -- "it's really well defined."
"Thanks," he said. He wasn't really sure whether that was the right reply. A part of Nikki's sentence had sounded like a question. She traced that muscle along to his inner thigh, which was a little distracting. Then she moved his legs a little bit apart, which was even more distracting.
Her hands went to his calves, and he tried to shake off the feeling. He'd just misread a moment, that was all.
On his calves she alternated deep strokes with a lighter touch, cycling every few passes back up to his thighs and the curve of his ass. These touches were fingertips, not pressure, not at all relaxing. But very appealing. His body was tuned in to her touch, and his mind indulged in picturing her stroking his warm flesh.
After a while she reached higher. "Can I move this out of the way?" she asked, tugging at the drape covering his ass.
"Sure," he said, his mouth a little dry.
