Relax Mrs. Vine

In the distant future, the environment is polluted and people have created societies inside of atmosphere-insulated bubbles. For socio-political reasons, the genders have completely separated and live in different societies.

I sat nervously in my chair as her eyes scanned over my charts. Yesterday I had undergone a series of examinations for my yearly checkup, as was required of all citizens. Her cool blue eyes flicked up to mine.

"Everything checks out well. You are very healthy, Mrs. Vine," she said.

"That's good to hear." I breathed out a sigh of relief, but there was something about her tone that kept me waiting. The doctor flipped the chart papers over and her brow creased. Finally, she put the chart down and steepled her fingers, considering me steadily.

"However, I am a little concerned about your psychological reports," her finger traced down my chart. "It indicated that you are...feeling a little stressed?" She looked at me questioningly.

I shrugged. "I'm fine," I replied tersely. I didn't want them giving me any weird drugs. Psychological and physical health was strictly regulated in Arnum, and a doctor's treatment plan was essentially law.

The doctor pursed her mouth. "Mrs. Vine, need I remind you that lying is highly discouraged in this community? The psychological tests do not lie. Now, if you wouldn't mind being a little more forthcoming, I would like to know about the source of your stress so that you may be accurately diagnosed. Is it work?"

I think I hated this woman. "No," I huffed, "my urban planning team has been excellent."

"Home?"

"Home is great. Christine is very loving."

She raised her eyebrows. "How often do you have sex?"

I tried to be evasive and play coy. "A typical amount," I answered.

She pursed her lips again and spun around in her chair, opening up her electronic frame. She seemed to be scanning records.

"Our records say, Mrs. Vine..." she paused as she looked more closely. "That Mrs. Christine Vine tested quite high on the sexual responses test. You, on the other hand," here her voice took on an admonishing quality, "tested quite low."

She pivoted back to me, a suppressed look of victory on her features. "Could it be that you do not show Mrs. Christine the amount of physical affection she would like? Is this straining your relationship?"

"We...cuddle and snuggle all the time," I protested lamely. I was a grown woman; I could not believe I was being interrogated in this way.

"Sex, Mrs. Vine. How often are you willing to engage in sexual activities with your life-mate?"

I felt myself snap. "Not often! Is that a crime? Is the peace team going to arrest me? Maybe my happiness levels would be better maintained if I weren't in a relationship. Or if I were paired with someone with a lower...libido," I ended my tirade, and the doctor did not look convinced.

She shook her head. "Mrs. Vine, sexually active relationships sustain physiological health. In the meantime, I am going to make you an appointment for a medical massage. It's located in the tenth district." She began writing out a form for me.

The tenth district? As an urban planner, I knew that the tenth district was on the very periphery of Arnum. That particular wall, the north wall, had an access point with another society called Sage. We knew nothing about Sage, except that we trade goods with them. A different race, called "men" lived there, and it was a source of great curiosity for all young Arnum citizens. However, our schooling impressed upon us how the intermingling of cities would only result in war and conflict. If we were to try to identify the citizens of Sage or spread rumors, we could greatly offend them. And, knowing how delicate the system of our city was, we could not risk this. In this case, it was only responsible to be ignorant. However, memories of whispers of monsters or strange looking beings still circulated in my mind. What did they look like? Were they human? I shook my head to get the questions out of my mind. It seemed strange that I would have to go all the way out there, but a massage was better than drugs.

"That will be all," she said, handing me my slip dismissively. I was glad to be leaving. I picked up my things and headed out the door, still feeling anger and frustration bubbling from feeling so judged.

When I got home, Christine was setting the table. When she saw me she straightened and came over to me, wrapping her arms around my waist as she brought me close. Christine and I had been friends growing up, so it had only seemed natural that we should partner up. However, it had only taken me a short while to realize my mistake. Christine felt strongly towards me in a way that I didn't feel towards her. I didn't feel that strongly about anyone, in fact. I had decided that I must be broken inside- I had no sexuality. I would sometimes touch myself, in the dark, until I reached my completion. However, no one else interested me.

"Hey baby," she whispered, kissing my lips gently.

I kissed her back, but when her tongue pressed against my closed lips I recoiled. Her look of hurt pained me. She seemed to try to shake off the rejection.

"How was your check-up?" she asked.

"Okay," I answered.

"Just okay?"

Our schedules were shared on our electronic frames, so I knew that she would know about the appointment as soon as she looked. "I'm overly stressed. From work," I lied.

"Oh," she looked concerned, and my heart crumpled at the deceit. "I didn't know that you were stressed at work. You didn't tell me that," her last words were pointed.

"I didn't want to worry you."

She had moved on. "What did she prescribe?"

"A medical massage," I showed her my slip.

Christine's face became ashen. "You can't go to that."

"Why not?" her reaction was bizarre.

"I've heard...horror stories. Everyone who goes there isn't allowed to talk about their experience according to an Arnum legal disclosure agreement. Some people go back all the time, and some people never go back but have their minds scarred."

She was pissing me off. "Cut the shit, Christine. That isn't funny."

She looked defensive and shook her head. "I'm only telling you because I you have to ask that doctor to prescribe something else."

"She definitely won't." That woman was like an immovable rock.

"I won't stand for this," she huffed, and marched to her office. I knew that she would be calling her friends in the law department. It was nice that Christine was going to bat for me, but I thought she was being a little over dramatic.

"And I'll have you sign this non-disclosure agreement." She slid a piece of paper across the desk. She was probably the most stunning secretary I had ever seen, with silky black hair and glowing, slightly flushed skin.

I picked up my pen, and then paused, panic sneaking into my bloodstream. "Sorry, what? Why do I need that?" Suddenly Christine's anxieties seemed well founded.

"We have very specific techniques that only a medical professional can practice," she replied smoothly in her husky voice.

I signed my signature with a shaking hand. I didn't really have a choice, did I? She took the form away and gave me another one.

"Our reports indicate that you and your partner are trying to conceive. It that correct?"

I was startled by this question. "Well, yes. How is that relevant?" I had secretly been a little relieved that we hadn't been able to conceive yet.

"We find that inseminations are sometimes more successful when the patient is in a deeply relaxed state," she said, reaching out to pat my hand. Her touch shifted as she ran her hand down the underside of my arm and wrist, tracing my pulse point.

I snatched my hand away. "Are we all done here?"

She frowned, disappointed. "Right back here." She got up and led me down a corridor, and then opened up a numbered room. I was expecting the space to be sterile and cold. However, the lights were dimmed and there were artificial candles flickering instead of lights. There was a massage table in the center of the room.

"Undress completely," she instructed, "and then lay face down on the massage table until the nurse comes in.

"Okay," I said as she left. I hated being nude. Was that really necessary? I tried to strip quickly so that I would be laying down when the nurse came in. I felt a little soothed by the warm atmosphere of the room. I had to remind myself that this wasn't a procedure, but a massage. Except for the insemination. How was that supposed to lower my stress?

I lay down on the massage table, which I expected to be cold but was warm against my skin. There was an opening for my face, and the leathery material pressed against my forehead and cheeks as I lay my face in it.

The door clicked open suddenly, and I looked up to greet the nurse. She was another petite, sexy looking woman like the secretary. These women were so different from the doctors, who usually wore no makeup and had their hair back in tightly controlled buns. This woman also had free flowing, blown out hair and blushed cheeks.

"Hello, Mrs. Vine. How are you today?" It was a standard greeting, but somehow she made it sound flirtatious.

"Okay, I guess. I'm a little nervous." For the first time, someone seemed to react to my feelings. She took both of my hands as I sat up.

"Oh honey," she said, squeezing my hands. "I know it's scary because it's new, but you'll love it. I get massages all the time," she reassured me.

"You do?"

"I do," she smiled sweetly. "That's why I work here. Because I love them so much."

That seemed a little weird. "Thanks," I replied.

"Okay," she was back to business, "I'm going to have you lay on your back."

I lay down on the table. There were separate areas for my hands and legs, like they were movable. She adjusted my arms into them, and I startled as I felt something press down onto my wrist. It was a...cuff?

"What is that for?" I was alarmed.

"Shh, not to worry hun, this is just so that the massage therapist doesn't have to tell you where to move your body parts, so you can just relax."

My nerves were at a high as she went down to my legs, strapping cuffs tightly around my ankles. Finally she came around and strapped down my wrist.

"There," she said, "that's not so bad."

"You really do this all the time?" I asked again, worried about why this was necessary.

"Oh yeah, hun, as often as I'm allowed." She moved my arms with the supports up so that they were all the way above my head. Now I was completely stretched out on the table, helpless to whatever massaging they would give me. The nurse brought a small rolling table with some devices on it and began attaching small electrodes to my chest.

"To check your pulse," she said. "It helps us to make sure that you are becoming relaxed." I looked over at the monitor. I wasn't sure if I was reading it correctly, but it looked like my heart was beating fast.

"Alright!" she said cheerily, "I hope you enjoy it." She then walked briskly out of the room.

My chest was rising and falling rapidly at this point with nerves. Being stretched out like this made me feel vulnerable. I wasn't sure how many minutes went by before the door opened up.

I think I screamed. It was the strangest person I had ever seen in my life. She...it? Had a hard, angular face with grizzle all over it and a muscular body.

"Please, Mrs. Vine, calm down. I know I look very different from what you are used to. I'm from Sage," the massage therapist said, hands up in defense.

It took a while for these word to sink in. From...Sage? It was like a child's story had suddenly intruded in on my daily life. This was crazy! So this was what man looked like?

"You don't look like monster," I blurted. The Sage citizen laughed. I had never heard a voice that deep in my life. It sent a strange feeling through me.

"I'm not a monster," the therapist said, "I'm a man."

"A man?" I replied stupidly.

"A man," he repeated, walking up to the table, "I, and all of my people, are referred to as "he" instead of "she."

"He?" I echoed him again.

"Yes," she...he, said, smiling. "Him instead of her. His instead of hers."

I still felt stunned. I had learned about these pronoun differences in school, and I had been fascinated. "Why are you here?"

"We are extremely skilled at medical messages," he replied. He was looking at my body. I felt myself flush, suddenly horrified. How cruel was it to make two different species meet while one is strapped down to a table?

"Look," I said sternly, "this is a little too much for me. No offence, but I didn't think that I was going to be massaged by a...a"

"Man," he finished. He paused and looked at me seriously. "Need I remind you, Mrs. Vine, that you are here as a representative of the city of Arnum? I am sure that your superiors would appreciate your showing your gracious attitude and open mindedness," he let his words sink in. "I know that mine would."

It was a thinly veiled threat. Now that I had gotten over my shock, the reality had sunk in: this alien being was going to touch me while I was naked.

"Now, once you've become more relaxed, you can forget that I'm a man instead of a woman. In fact, I have something to help you with that." He retrieved a rectangular sack that looked like it was filled with sand. He reached down and gripped my jaw, and I struggled in my restraints as he laid the sand bag over my eyes. "Be still," he ordered, and his low, foreign voice terrified me into cooperating. I suddenly noticed the smell of jasmine in the air. It was a scented bag, like the kind they used in yoga.

Gentle music began to play in the background, but I could barley hear it over the sound of my own quick breathes.

"Please, relax," he said, and I strained to hear him walking around the table. I bucked against my restraints as I felt something warm and slippery landing on my torso. Hands followed this feeling, and my skin broke out in Goosebumps as I felt the shape of them. They were large and calloused. They felt powerful and so different from a woman's delicate hands.

His hands slid gently over my soft belly, and I tried to slow my breathing down. "That's right," he said gently. "Relax. That's a good girl," he said. His low voice sent a strange feeling through me, and I felt hypersensitive to his touch.

He stayed on my belly for a long time before his hands began to massage my upper thighs. I felt another spark of sensation as I realized how close this strange being's hands were to my privates, and I began to breathe quickly again as I wondered whether or not he could see anything or if he would touch me there.

I breathed out a sigh of relief as his hands continued down my legs, kneading. When I forgot the insane circumstances, the message was actually excellent. I could feel my muscles relaxing under his touch. However, my nervousness peaked again when he stopped massaging my feet and came around near my face. Gently, I felt fingertips come to the sides of my temples and begin to massage in small circles.

"Are you feeling more relaxed?" his voice was husky.

"I'm trying," I said. I was becoming more relaxed, in fact, but when he spoke in his low voice I remembered the foreignness of the situation.

"Good. I'm glad that you are following my instructions. I want you to try to make your exhales longer than your inhales. Can you do that for me?" his voice was honeyed. Once again, I felt that it did strange things to me. With shock, I realized that I was becoming wet. Had some of the massage oil dripped down? How perverse could I be that I was becoming turned on by this whole other being, when I had never been attracted to my own race?

I focused on my breathing as he had instructed. Slowly, his hands slid down my neck and began to gently rub circles around my collar bone.

"Beautiful, Mrs. Vine," he said. "Now, I want you to hold onto this relaxation. Recall that this is a full body message, so I will be touching some of your erogenous zones. This is necessary in order for you to feel complete relaxation."

I panicked as his meaning hit home. "Wait," I struggled again at my restraints, "You can't do that!"

"I am obligated to do what ever is necessary for your health, Mrs. Vine," he replied smoothly, "and you are obligated to follow my instructions."

I continued to struggle, but he ignored me and his oil slicked hands slid up to the upper swell of my breasts, rubbing softly. I realized with humiliation that my nipples had hardened. I could feel his eyes looking at them, my chest becoming hot. His hands slid down to encompass both of my breasts, my nipples jutting into his large palms. He began kneading roughly. Sensation shot through me at this aggressive treatment, making me wetter. How could I be turned on by this?

He continued to knead. "That's right," he said. "Just let it all wash over you."

His hands grasped both breasts and kneaded upwards until his fingertips closed around my nipples, pulling lightly. I began to moan, and then I caught myself.

"Make any sounds you need, Mrs. Vine." He continued to tug and pull at my nipples. One hand left my breast and he lifted the bag off of my eyes. I blinked slowly as I took in his strange features again. He looked at me in a way I'd never seen before, with eyes like he...wanted to eat me.

I moaned again as both hands kneaded my sensitized breasts. "Are you feeling aroused, Mrs. Vine?" He was looking at me hard as he slowly twisted a well-oiled nipple.

"Oh!" I gasped, startled by his touch and his question. "No...No... I am..." He raised his eyebrows.

"You know," he said, circling my breast leisurely with a fingertip, "men can tell when you are lying by your physical response." He pinched a hard nipple for emphasis and I gasped. "I think you are lying. But I have to be sure."

My heart began beating double time as he came around to my feet, and used the movable table parts to separate my legs.

"Don't do that!" I cried, struggling to close my legs.

"Insemination is part of the program," he reminded me sternly. He stepped between my separated legs, his eyes looking at my private parts with...lust? I felt overwhelmed and confused as he began to firmly massage the inner part of my upper thighs, his finger getting dangerously close. I couldn't decide if I wanted him to touch me there or not.

I didn't have to decide, because his hands separated my labia as he sat down on a stool he had placed below the table. He reached over to the cart and retrieved something. I felt something cold and thick trickle down my folds, and I shuddered. Was it...lube?

His fingers gently parted my folds and he began to massage me firmly up and down, his hand dragging from my opening to my clit and back. I strained against my constraints as I struggled to get a breath, stunned by his intimate touch.

"Please relax, Mrs. Vine. I have heard that you have a demanding job and home life, where you need to stay in control. But you have no control here. Just accept the relaxation." His finger dipped into my opening and I clenched down around his thick finger. It was so much thicker and different from when Christine fingered me. He continued to pump gently as his other hand rubbed my clit in circular motions.

I could hear my breath in my ears and the slick sound of his hands manipulating me as the sensations enveloped me. His touch, my vulnerability, and my strange attraction to him overwhelmed me as I began to feel a familiar tightening in my belly.

"I want you to come on my fingers, Mrs. Vine. Release your stress," he said, adding a second thick finger, stretching me out. The feeling of being stretched put me over the edge, and I felt my insides pulsate around his fingers as heat flushed over my body, making me tingle as I strained against my cuffs and bucked against his hands. He continued to pump me, his other hand rubbing my lower belly.