"How does that feel, now, Ellen?"
"So much better. I know why I always ask for you to cure me."
Sam Talbot worked at the physiotherapy clinic that had been recommended by a friend, the modern building with its landscaped grounds set overlooking the floodplain that could just be seen through the trees from the consulting room that had become a familiar place over recent months. Even in winter, and after prolonged rains, the grounds never flooded, and the facilities were in great demand. For some, the costs were prohibitive, but sessions with Sam always left her feeling reinvigorated, even a little 'high' and, as she had heard one woman remark to a friend as they were leaving, 'unbearably aroused'.
She closed her eyes to blot out the image of the man whose hands delivered such wonderfully soothing touches as they drifted over her body and eased away the knots of tension in her muscles. His deep and encouraging voice made her relax and his job easier to perform.
"I haven't asked before and perhaps I should have. You sure get knotted up. Is something in your life that tenses you so much?"
Sam's slow kneading and easing strokes continued as he spoke, moved over her neck and shoulders as she lay down, on her front, and submissive to his every kneading and stroking touch.
Ellen turned her head and lay so that she could catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eyes. "I've been through a messy divorce and work three days a week. When it all gets too much, I arrange to see you."
She had gradually come to depend on these sessions with that tall, slender man dressed in his navy-blue scrubs, his strong arms and hands tanned, his lean and oval face so much sharper because of his closely cropped hair. Sam possessed a rugged attractiveness about him.
"It's become more than you can take, I guess?" he asked, his voice low and persuasive and coaxing her to talk. He had kept silent on his interest in her, his deepening engagement with the woman he now saw dressed in Lycra slacks and a lemon-green V-neck T-shirt with cropped sleeves that she had revealed after arriving in his consulting room and having taken off a baggy sweater. "I was beginning to guess as much, but...but didn't want to pry."
She felt herself relaxing under his touches; how they now spoke was different from other times and confiding in each other. His hands caressed the only skin that could be touched, clothed as she was, smoothing her bare arms, shoulders, and neck. She would also be asked to sit up and twist or raise her arms and stretch and reach up as far as she could.
Nothing was said at such moments, but she sensed, and saw in his approving look upon her, that Sam was holding back what the sight of her aroused in him and she had done little to encourage except to know, now, that how she was dressed affected him and that professional ethics prevented from speaking out on.
"Relax, you're all tensed up again, Ellen."
She kept from saying that it was his touch that had this effect upon her. She was holding back from saying anything about what he was doing. She is lying on her front, her breasts pressing into the unforgiving fabric of the massage table and with her arms outstretched, His hands are on the small of her back and move to knead the soft roll of skin at her waist and hips, to tease the skin of her stomach before returning to her back.
"You're my last client for the day," he tells her, "So there's time if you have any aches and pains that I haven't treated."
When she gets home a long, hot, shower awaits her, and she can bask in the sensations of relaxed muscles and warm water. The evening is her own, to do what she wants, as the divorce has left her with sharing custody of her two kids. She will have some time for herself again.
She's woken from a moment's dream-like trance by his voice, Sam leaning in to speak to her.
"If you loosen your bra, Ellen, I could massage your back and shoulders for a few moments and relax you some more."
The sporty-looking man with his closely cropped greying hair must be close to her age, about fifty, and he's tall and lanky. She knows from looking at the man during previous sessions that he's not married; there's no ring, and although he may be somewhat younger than she is it's a wonder that he hasn't suggested it before; his wish to massage parts of her body that have always been covered and what is underneath only to be shaped by loose-fitting clothes. The figure-hugging T-shirt, with its cropped sleeves and V-neck chosen for today, is a departure from normal.
"Yes, why not?" she finally agrees and reaches behind her back to unhook her bra, Sam's fingers soon pulling up the hem of her T-shirt. There was a pause as Sam oiled his hands and then they were on her, smoothing over her back just to warm her skin, then tugging down the rim of her Lycra leggings and she felt his fingers brush the hem of her panties, the touch of his fingertips as they trailed over her spine. They aroused the first cramps of longing, the first flush of moisture in her pussy. "You haven't touched me like that before, Sam!"
"No, I haven't, and I wondered if you wanted it to be different. I can stop if it's too much, but I want you to relax and feel that the session's been worth what the clinic charges."
"Go on!" she gasped and buried her face in the hollow of the pillow as his oiled hands teased over her back, up onto her shoulders under her T-shirt, and down along her sides, lightly brushing against the swell of her breasts. Sam was deliberately slow in his massaging of her skin, pretending to be unaware of the effect that his touches were having on her.
"Yes, do that for me," he murmured as she was coaxed to lift her hips off the table, and he tugged down her leggings until they were at her ankles. She did not resist as they were eased away and thrown onto a chair nearby. She quivered as he began to offer caresses over the backs of her legs, between her thighs, and up before they clamped and squeezed slowly and rhythmically on her fleshy buttocks. "Relax, I want everything I now want to do to relax you...to be different from how it's been before."
She heard it in his voice, then felt it in his caressing hands as they seemed to glide lightly over her skin before pausing and kneading parts more firmly. Restraint mingled with a palpable sense of desire for her.
"And I want to see you, and...yes do that too!"
