I've only ever won one fight with my parents, when I was 16 and saw the sign at Issac's Books: Help Wanted afternoons. 16+. Inquire Within
Momma didn't like the idea of me working at a secular bookstore, but Daddy had gone to high school with Issac and said at least he was a member of the church and respectable enough. He said maybe it'd do me good to have a little leeway. I'd been acting out and their attempts to hold me tighter had only backfired. I'd started wearing big camo fatigues from the thrift store instead of the long denim skirts Momma and Anna bought for me, and when they tried to take those away I'd shaved my hair into a halo of soft ginger fuzz.
Two years later I still loved working at the book store. I'd grown my hair back into a more styled pixie cut and started wearing plaid schoolgirl skirts in with my combat boots. I could tell my parents were still afraid I'd become a lesbian or a Democrat or something, but my grades were back up and I didn't talk back so much, so long as I got to spend a few hours after school at the shop. Issac always treated me with a kind of bemused generosity, letting me do my homework behind the register, rounding up my paychecks so I could buy my own clothes and still put a little away to move away for college.
On my 18
th
birthday, I bought myself a pack of cigarettes but forgot to throw away the wrapper hidden in my pocket. Daddy said I was getting too independent and said maybe I should quit my job and come right home from school everyday. Momma agreed, but Anna, Daddy's first wife, said they should cool down and think about it for a couple days. I ran straight to the bookstore and told Issac everything. He nodded and smiled, eyes kind, dimples showing through his trim salt-and-pepper beard. "Don't worry. No one's gonna stop you being here." and gave me a hug.
A few weeks later, we were closing up the shop. He'd locked the doors after the last customer left and was counting down the register. I was unloading the cases of books that had arrived earlier that afternoon, laying them out on a well-worn waist-high glossy brown bookcase in the back room that we used as a work table. He breezed through to drop the money in the safe as I stopped to rub a knot in my shoulder. The left side of his mouth ticked up into a smile.
"Wait till you're old like me, you'll need your own assistant to lift these things" he said gliding over behind me. His expert fingers pressed into the knot, easing out the tension with a medical precision. I'd been fishing for just that response. Issac had been a physical therapist before he met his wife--a younger, high-powered surgeon who was always traveling. He'd opened the shop as a way to stay grounded and relaxed while she worked enough for both of them, but he'd retained enough practice to help me fix my shoulder after I hurt it playing volleyball at the stupid camp my parents had sent me to summer before Junior year. His massages were magnificent, he had a sort of avuncular bedside manner and the pain just melted away.
I went limp standing up as he pressed into my left shoulder, enough that he wrapped his big right arm over my collarbone to hold me in place as he ground out the tension from my body. I let out a satisfied moan and let my head flop forward. He pulled me back upright a little harder than usual, pressing my body into the point of his knuckles as much as he pressed his knuckles into my flesh. His chest brushed against my back, but he was careful to leave an couple inch gap between my ass and the front of his pants. Still, I felt myself blush a little from the closeness. I could feel his body warmth in the cool of the autumn late afternoon. It was starting to get dark out, and I hadn't really dressed for the weather to turn cold--my legs were bare from my knee socks to my schoolgirl skirt. My big leather jacket hung nearby but it wasn't long enough to cover the gap. I wasn't looking forward to the bike ride home. Heck, I just wanted this massage to go on as long as possible.
"Ugh that feels SO GOOD" I murmured, my neck still slack.
"That means it's working. Just relax." But Issac sounded a little...distracted? Pained? Nervous? I didn't get to think about it for long, because he used the arm one my shoulder to pull me back further, so he could work the stringy muscles of my neck, pressing my back more fully against his chest. Even with my combat boots on he was a full head taller than me, so his chin rested gently atop my head. He wasn't a large man--5'10, slender, bookish, with olive skin, wavy hair and a tidy beard--but I was tiny, skinny, and despite Momma's assurances I was just a late bloomer, losing hope of a last-minute growth spurt of either height or curves. His left hand cupped the back of my neck and kept gently working the muscles, but his right arm squeezed me in, hand on my clavicle, the V of his elbow pressing into my chest. The fingers of his right hand started working the shoulder muscles from the front. It felt heavenly. I trusted him completely.
As he worked though, I felt a little...embarrassed? I was flushed all over. Not just warmed by the steady mass of his body, but now radiating a heat of my own, from my cheeks and neck but also from between my legs. His grip around me tightened as his right hand worked down my left arm, pinning me gently and dragging his forearm ever-so-casually across my nipple, which stiffened under my thin thrift-shop t-shirt. I tried to relax but I felt self-conscious about my breathing, suddenly too hard. His fingertips spider-walked back up my arm, pushing out stored stress even as he created new tension in my body by squeezing the inside of his forearm more firmly across my tits. Momma always said I didn't need a bra,--my boobs were too small, it'd be a waste of money--and I hated how they felt. But now I wondered if he'd notice I wasn't wearing one, and think I was immature.
The hand on my back dropped down to dig a thumb into the dimple above my butt, the thumbprint-sized indentation where the muscle threads into the bone. Issac's hand wrapped around to get leverage, spreading his fingers across the crest of my hip. My breath caught, audibly, because my top had ridden up a little and my skirt had somehow ridden down while he'd rubbed my lower back, so his fingers squeezed into burning bare skin.
"Tell me if this hurts too much and I'll stop" He sounded a little out of breath too somehow.
Issac kept massaging me for what felt like hours, his hands darting a little closer to my ass, a little further around my front to my tummy or my breasts, trailing over the ticklish nape of my neck, but then always flitting away just before I could be sure it was intentional. I fell into a sort of trance, aching for more touch and rocking gently back towards him every time he let up pressure.
That was, until I realized his hands were not just incidentally brushing my breasts. He was massaging deep circles up my side with one hand and bracing my sternum with the other, but somehow his hands kept moving from the flat expanses of my body to, one finger at a time, cupping the small curve of my tit. I froze, but he didn't seem to notice, he just kept pressing, rubbing, moving, until his fingertips were circling my nipples on one side. Then the other.
Of course I knew I wasn't supposed to let boys touch me like this, but no one had ever mentioned that it'd feel so good if they tried. I was terrified he'd stop if I did anything to break the spell, so I didn't move. I barely breathed.
I could hear his breathing, though--harder and closer as he pulled me tighter against his body. I thought I might feel his cock against my ass. Then I was almost sure of it as he shifted forward against me.
His right hand dropped back to my hip, back to the dimple of my back, and the left crossed my chest to tease my right nipple. He tugged the waistband of my skirt, which pulled the fabric of my panties, jolting my clit as they shifted slightly. They stuck, wet against the smooth bare skin of my labia, and then skipped forward suddenly. I rocked my hips forward, then back, to squeeze the fabric deeper into my slit. My face burned, I was sure I was so flushed my freckles disappeared.
