Office Romance Box Set

by J. M. Snyder

  He didn’t think Mitch would go for it. Guys built like him rarely liked to bottom, as Daryl had discovered. Men like Mitch were the take-charge kind, who wanted to dominate in the bedroom. That was why none of Daryl’s relationships ever seemed to work out. He wanted to call the shots. He wanted a big, hot, hairy bear of a man kneeling before him, succumbing to him, taking him in.

  To his surprise, he felt the muscles in Mitch’s ass clench around his finger, and Mitch’s eyes slipped shut in surrender. “Oh God, yes,” Mitch breathed.

  Daryl’s heart and cock swelled in response. Their first date wasn’t even over yet, and already he was in love.

  * * * *

  When Daryl moved in with Mitch, he started looking for a job closer to the townhouse Mitch owned in Short Pump. Something that wouldn’t require a daily commute; the interstate could be a bear, as Mitch complained when he spoke of work. After a few months, a new spa opened nearby, and Daryl was offered a position as a massage therapist. The pay was slightly less than what he earned as a physical therapist with the rehabilitation facility, but he wouldn’t have to spend so much time and money traveling. Plus, the average masseuse earned ten or twenty bucks more in gratuity for an hour’s worth of work. Not bad, considering.

  The physical therapy position Mitch hadn’t minded. He’d been to the rehabilitation facility himself—it was where they met—and he knew first hand that nothing suggestive or lewd went on in the large, open room where everyone underwent treatment. But the thought of a massage parlor called up in his mind a dark room where naked men rubbed oil onto each other’s bodies. A combination bath house and sweat lodge, where a simple massage could easily delve into sex. He’d never had a professional massage, but being with Daryl, he didn’t need one—many evenings when he came home tense from work, Daryl was there with warm, lubricated hands, ready to knead the muscles in his shoulders and back. Usually one thing led to another, and the two of them wound up in bed together, Mitch pressed against the mattress moaning with delight as his lover’s cock filled his ass.

  Daryl insisted all massages didn’t end like that. “Seriously, hon, think about it,” he said, cuddling into Mitch’s embrace as their bodies and previous ardor cooled. “Ninety percent of my clients are women. You know I’m not into that.”

  “They’re not the ones I’m worried about,” Mitch admitted. “It’s the ten percent who are men that bother me.”

  Daryl hugged him tighter. “Please. An hour massage is only eighty bucks. You yourself told me the hustlers downtown get twice that for half the time.”

  “So maybe you should be working the corner instead, is that what you’re telling me?” The thought amused Mitch, but he tried to keep a straight look on his face. “You’d make more money.”

  “I’m telling you book a massage yourself. You’ll see.” Daryl strummed a hand through the hair on Mitch’s abs. “Chelsea has an opening tomorrow. You could come on in, see what it’s all about.”

  “Chelsea?” Mitch wrinkled his nose. “If anyone’s going to rub me down, it’s going to be you.”

  Propping his chin on Mitch’s chest, Daryl leered up at him. “Sounds like one of us is ready for round two.”

  Daryl rolled Mitch over and straddled his hips to begin massaging his shoulders. As his lover’s hands worked their magic, Mitch found his cock stiffening again, and he savored the hard length of Daryl’s dick pressing into his lower back. His sphincter clenched in anticipation. Every massage he received at home devolved into lovemaking, so he knew how much of a turn-on it was to feel another’s hands so intimately all over his body. He trusted Daryl, he did, but it always seemed so easy to go from massaging one minute to fucking the next.

  How could he not be worried?

  * * * *

  Daryl knew Mitch had cause for worry. Even when he’d been in training for his certification as a massage therapist, he’d been hit on and propositioned by people who misread his careful ministrations on their muscles as something more. At the spa where he worked, there were three male masseuses, but he was the only one who was athletically trim and handsome. Brad was overweight by over a hundred pounds, a heavy man with a gentle touch but visually nothing to get worked up about, and Manny was a swarthy Latino man who looked like he spent his weekends cruising singles bars hoping to score.

  The clients who called and requested Daryl specifically fell into two groups—married, middle-aged women who thought he was sexy, and young gay men who thought he was hot. Surprisingly, it was the women Daryl had to watch out for. The male clients always asked if he was available, and when he said no, they resigned themselves to closing their eyes and savoring the hour or ninety minutes he spent on their massage. The women, though. Jeez, if Mitch knew about them, he’d force Daryl to quit.

  Maybe it was because they were married and they wanted a little excitement in their lives. Or maybe it was because they knew or sensed he was gay, and therefore “safe.” Whatever the reason, Daryl’s female clientele almost always stripped down buck-ass naked when he asked them to disrobe until they were comfortable. They were supposed to lie down face up on the massage table beneath the heated sheet, and he would knock gently to see if they were ready for him to enter.

  Many times he’d be told to come in only to find the client had only draped the sheet over her lower half. Large, bare breasts lolled invitingly, dark nipples pinched and tweaked erect. A faint smile would be on the woman’s face, her eyes shut, as if she knew how uncomfortable her nakedness was to Daryl and it pleased her. What did they think, that he’d throw away everything he had and everything he was for an hour’s romp with someone he didn’t know? Did they want him to say something, gasp or act surprised? Or lunge onto their breasts with hands and mouth, suckling and kneading until they were both satiated?

  He often wondered what one of these clients would say if he actually did fondle her breasts. He was pretty sure part of the thrill was knowing he wouldn’t do anything at all, not only because it was ethically wrong to abuse his position like that and could get him fired, but also because he simply wasn’t interested.

  And he wasn’t, so he didn’t take any chances. If he entered the room and found exposed boobs staring up at him, he discretely raised the sheet to cover them. Without saying a word, he’d then lower the lights and turn on the CD of ocean waves and lute music which he liked to work to, and set about massaging the client’s shoulders. He was careful to keep his hands far away from breasts or anything else that might get him into trouble.

  Of course, he laughed about clients’ brazen exhibitions with the other masseuses, who dealt with similar issues. A pretty young massage therapist named Erin had particular trouble with male clients who would rub their hips against the table when they were on their stomachs, using the weight of their bodies to stimulate their cocks. When they turned onto their backs, Erin sometimes found it hard not to snicker at the tell-tale bulge beneath the sheet.

  Hard dicks Daryl could ignore; he had the one he wanted at home, and nothing anyone else might pull out to show him would tempt him away from Mitch. But the boobs always seemed to throw him off-guard. These were women his mother’s age who were flashing him! Many were mothers themselves!

  Sometimes he wanted to share the experiences with Mitch. But he knew Mitch already viewed massage parlors as a step up from brothels and bath houses, and he didn’t want to say or do anything to make his lover doubt him. Yeah, Daryl could laugh about it later, but he didn’t think Mitch would find the situations quite as humorous.

  If only he’d schedule a real massage with a professional masseuse, he’d see what Daryl did on the clock was so far removed from what it was they did together in the bedroom that he wouldn’t worry about Daryl straying from him. Couldn’t Mitch see he was the catch of a lifetime? Daryl wasn’t going to let anything come between them, ever.

  * * * *

  Mitch finally got tired of Daryl’s pestering and scheduled a massage. He called from his office and booked an appointment, but not wit
h his lover. No, he wanted to give Daryl a taste of what he felt, and chose Erin instead. Daryl claimed he felt nothing for the women he massaged; Mitch would reverse that and see if it were true. If he came away unaroused after an hour-long session of intense, hands-on ministrations from a woman, then he would concede that maybe massages weren’t as sexual as he suspected. But if he got horny at the hands of a woman, he’d know he was right, and maybe then he could convince Daryl to return to physical therapy instead. Maybe he wouldn’t earn as much without his tips, but at least Mitch’s mind would be at ease.

  Thing was, Mitch didn’t want Daryl to know he’d scheduled a massage. He thought about calling a different spa, but he didn’t know anyone who worked at any others, and the last thing he wanted was to come across as a pervert when booking his appointment. “Um, yes, I’d like to see your prettiest, bustiest blond masseuse. She has to be a real knock-out. No, no, don’t call the police. It’s okay—I’m a cop.”

  Somehow, he didn’t think that would go over well.

  So he scheduled something at noon, when he thought Daryl might be at lunch. He took a personal day off work and tried to psych himself up for the massage. This isn’t cheating, he told himself, though he kind of thought it might be. This is seeing what Daryl does at work. It’s not with a guy so I won’t even get off on it.

  At least, he hoped he didn’t. If he did, they’d have a lot to discuss that evening when Daryl came home.

  The spa was an anchor store in a strip mall not far from their home. Mitch left his car at the opposite end of the parking lot to keep Daryl from seeing it. With his hands in his pockets, he tried to appear casual as he strode the length of the sidewalk towards the spa. Everyone he saw enter was female, and he had the strange feeling he was going undercover on a sting operation. His muscles felt tense, his nerves jittered, and he doubted an hour would be enough time to calm him. Many people enjoyed the treat of a massage, and here Mitch felt like he was going to meet his doom.

  Inside the spa, the air was moist and perfumed with an odd scent he couldn’t place. The women behind the counter greeted him with smiles, as if he weren’t the only man in the waiting area. “I’m here to see Erin,” he said, taking a quick look around. He didn’t see Daryl, which was good. He didn’t want to blow his cover.

  Thinking like a cop, he chastised silently. Gotta stop that and chill out, man. I’m paying eighty bucks to relax, so relax already!

  There was paperwork to fill out, and then the receptionist quizzed him on areas he wanted the massage to target. He didn’t know. “Just sort of an all-over kind of thing,” Mitch told her.

  She nodded as if she understood. “Great. Why don’t you go through that door there and have a seat in our quiet room? Take a moment to unwind, close your eyes, and when Erin’s ready, she’ll come get you.”

  The quiet room was a darkened room with soft music playing through recessed speakers and a giant, flat-screen TV showing crashing waves on a deserted beach. The sofas were too padded, and when Mitch sat down on one, he almost sank to the ground. After a few minutes, the ceaseless surf made him need to pee. The faint odor of incense filled the air, and if he breathed in too deep, he got a little dizzy. With difficulty, he extracted himself from the sofa and chose a sturdier chaise lounge instead. He sat on the edge of it, not willing to lay along its fur-covered length.

  He hadn’t even met his masseuse yet and already he was dreading the decision to come.

  * * * *

  Inside the employee break room, Erin peered around the door, then let it swing shut. Turning to her coworkers, she let out a little squeal. “Yay! Hot guy at noon for me,” she said, her voice low so it wouldn’t carry into the quiet room. “You should see him. Woo! Sexy.”

  Daryl and Manny were at the table, eating sandwiches Manny had picked up for the three of them. Erin’s was half-eaten nearby. The two men exchanged an amused glance. “I think you got my noon appointment by mistake,” Manny teased.

  “Let’s see this hottie,” Daryl said, pushing back his chair.

  As he passed, Erin grabbed his shirt. “You got a man, Dar. That one’s mine. Leave him alone.”

  “Just because I got a man doesn’t mean I can’t look.” Daryl eased open the swinging door and glanced into the quiet room. At first he thought it was empty, then he heard a quiet cough. Something about the sound was familiar, and he ducked his head out farther…

  Then the door swung shut with a slap. “Shit!” he cried, eyes wide. “That’s my Mitch!”

  “He’s mine today,” Erin countered. When she saw the look on Daryl’s face, she asked, “No, wait, for real? That’s your guy?”

  Daryl looked again, and this time Erin pushed in front of him to look, too. Manny’s chair scraped as he came over to look, as well. “That’s Mitch,” Daryl whispered. His lover looked so incongruous perched on the edge of the chaise lounge, obviously ill at ease. “I wonder why he’s here.”

  Erin elbowed him and he stepped back, letting the door swing shut again. “Well, duh,” she said. “He’s obviously here for a massage. With me, I might add.”

  Manny’s brows furrowed together and he asked Daryl, “You don’t give him private sessions at home? Man, if I had a guy like that in my bed, he wouldn’t have to ask—”

  “I do,” Daryl insisted. Mitch’s presence in his workplace bothered him slightly. What was Mitch doing there? And why hadn’t he requested Daryl as a masseuse? Unless…

  Daryl had it. A sly grin spread across his face. “I know what this is about,” he told his coworkers. “Mitch thinks all we do is dole out cheap thrills all day long.”

  “Cheap?” Erin cried, rolling her eyes. “Does he even know we expect a tip? Because if he stiffs me—”

  “No, let him stiff me,” Daryl said. At her frown, he quickly explained, “You know how it is when you’re massaging a lover. Mitch thinks that’s what we do all day long. He doesn’t realize the special treatment I give him at home is reserved for him alone.”

  Erin shook her head. “Well, if he thinks I’m getting freaky with him, he has another think coming.”

  “That’s just it,” Daryl said. “You take him back and get him set up. When you leave the room, dim the lights and tell him to undress. Then we’ll tag-team. I’ll go in and do the massage for you. He won’t know at first, and when things turn a little intimate—”

  “He’ll think he’s right.” Manny leered. “A taste of his own medicine, eh? I like it. Too bad we can’t watch.”

  Erin grimaced. “If you’re going to get like that, I’m leading him to your room. I don’t want to have to clean off the table when you’re done.”

  “That’s fine.” Daryl’s blood surged at the thought of stealing time alone with his lover on the clock.

  But Erin wasn’t finished. “And I want the tip. Make it double. It’s practically a couples massage.”

  “Without you having to do any of the work,” Daryl pointed out. But it would be worth the twenty bucks to keep her hands off his lover.

  * * * *

  Just when Mitch was beginning to wonder if everyone had forgotten about his appointment, a door he hadn’t noticed opened and out stepped a young, attractive woman. Her outfit looked like a pair of dark blue scrubs, much the same as the clothing Daryl wore when he left for work. Her blond hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she flashed Mitch a stunning smile. Without hesitation, she approached him, hand out to shake his. “Mitch, is it? I’m Erin. Nice to meet you.”

  He took her hand and stood. “Hi.”

  Her smile widened, if that were possible. “Is this your first time?” At his shy nod, she waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t be nervous. I don’t bite. Not unless you ask real nice.”

  A quick laugh negated the innuendo in her words, but it did little to alleviate Mitch’s discomfort. He thought maybe he’d made a big mistake, and if Daryl found out about it, then things might even get out of hand. How could he possibly hope to explain himself to his lover? Especially if no
thing untoward happened? He’d have to apologize profusely for his lack of trust, and he could already see Erin was too no-nonsense to make any real pass at him.

  He wondered if it were too late to cancel.

  But before he could ask, Erin was already heading down a darkened hallway. Over her shoulder, she called out, “Just follow me, please. Right this way. I’ll take care of you.”

  Mitch was afraid of that.

  He fell into step behind Erin, hoping he wouldn’t bump into Daryl accidentally. How would he ever explain himself?

  He needn’t have worried, though. Erin stopped at a door slightly ajar and pushed it open farther before stepping into a small room. She held the door open for Mitch to enter after her, then shut it gently. In a low voice, she told him, “All right, this is the way things work. You’ll disrobe—as much as you’re comfortable with, but at least your shirt and jeans, but you can keep on everything else if you want. Place your clothes on this stool here—” She indicated a small stool under a table in the corner. “—then climb up on the table. It’s been warming up for about five minutes now, so it should feel pretty nice, but if it’s too hot, then let me know. Lay on your back, the cushion goes under your knees, the sheet goes over top of your body. I’ll be just outside. Any questions?”

  Mitch looked around the room. In addition to the table and stool, a large table took up much of the space. A thin sheet was draped on top of it, and a bulge beneath the sheet hinted at the cushion she’d mentioned. It was as wide as the table, and wedge-shaped, obviously to raise the knees for comfort. Another stool was pushed up under one end of the table, probably for use by the masseuse. A chart on the wall showed a detailed description of the muscles in the human body.

  “None that I can think of,” he admitted.

  Erin reached for a switch by the door and dimmed the recessed lights. The room suddenly seemed even smaller than it already was. “Great. I’m just going to step out for a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll knock before I come back in.” She must have seen something in his face because she reached out and rubbed his arm. “Relax. This is your time. I’m here to focus on you.”