I pressed the floor in the elevator. I had had massages before, but they were all after marathons – never at a private studio. Naturally, I was a bit nervous. After knocking on the door and waiting a few seconds, it opened and there she stood. She was in a fairly conservative black skirt suit, except the skirt was a bit of a mini-skirt. She looked immaculate. Her hair was brown and about shoulder length and her features slightly European; she was by any measure quite stunning. She stood about 5'7". I wanted to photograph her and were it not for the situation I probably would have asked. I assumed at the time that she was the receptionist and that the masseuse was still busy.
She introduced herself as Pamela and led me to a small shower room, instructing me to take a shower. Pointing to the next room, she told me to wait for her when I was done. I followed her instructions, carefully washing myself and drying myself with one of the plush towels on the rack. I wrapped it around myself and entered the next room. I didn't see a massage table, but the bed looked firm and so I lay on it, still a little nervous.
About a minute later, Pamela entered the room looking the same except her suit jacket was removed. She wore a white blouse, with the top three buttons undone. I could just see her ample cleavage where the material separated. She smiled and asked if I was ready. I made the rather weak reply that I was as ready as I would get – I was trying to be funny. She gave a little laugh. If I would have laughed it would have been a nervous one, so I simply smiled.
She asked if I wanted her to use oil and I said sure. Better than sand I was thinking. Always a smart ass. Pamela began a bit of light conversation asking if this was my first time at a masseuse and I told her yes. She was rubbing the oil into my shoulders and working her way down my back. She worked it in deep at my lower back and I moaned slightly – everyone has a bad back and this is usually where it is, she said. Her hand began to edge just beneath my towel and onto my rear when she suddenly said, "shit." I asked her what was wrong and she said she didn't want to get oil on her clothing. She asked if I could help unbutton her blouse as she had oil all over her hands. Understanding her quandary, I agreed and rose to help remove her top.
I trembled slightly as I realized I would see her in her bra. I slowly unbuttoned her blouse, not wanted to wrinkle the material. Her breasts were semi-covered, but large enough to be pushing up out of her bra. I was trying not to stare but they looked so perfect. She didn't seem to notice, but asked if I really wouldn't mind helping with her skirt as well. I told her it wasn't a problem. There, of course, was one problem. I was becoming extremely aroused and was having difficulty hiding it under the towel. I adjusted the towel a few times to make sure it wouldn't betray me by falling.
She said, "the zipper's in the back." Since she didn't turn, I reached around her waist and slid the zipper down. My face was just in front of her chest, but again, she didn't seem to notice. I held the top of the skirt and slid it down. But the way I was holding it, my hands caressed her ass on the way down. It was so smooth and felt amazing – she was so perfect. Her thong was a string thong and the material in the front was small enough to appear it was barely holding it all in. I thought she would say something about my touching her, but she just smiled. "Ready?" she asked. Her words snapped me out of my awkwardness.
I lay back on the bed and she began to massage my lower legs. She straddled my body, facing my feet, and began to move up my legs. When she got to the towel, she simply raised it so it was just covering most of my ass. Her hands lightly caressed my bag a few times and I almost gasped. I thought surely it was an accident. I could see in the adjacent mirror that her ass was right above my head and it grazed my head a few times slightly.
