by Jaye Peaches
Tania greatly admired her father. From him she had learned about banking, investments and how the financial markets worked. At the tender age of twelve, she had read out the latest stock prices over the breakfast table while her father had munched on his heavily buttered toast. He’d told her which were good investments and which were not to be touched, as if Tania had a ready source of income to invest. She had her pocket money and she played at banks in her bedroom, until her father finally had let her use some of it to buy her first shares using his account. They had been a good investment and the dividends had bought her some extra clothes.
As she’d approached adulthood, she’d loved the thrill of watching the digits change on the stocks and shares websites, allowing her to keep tabs on trends. It had been an easy choice when it came to university. She had taken an economics degree and had specialized in the financial markets. Her father had been very proud of his girl as she’d headed off to university and she’d looked forward to the day she would graduate and have her photograph taken with him. He hadn’t lived to see her graduation day. The phone call from her brother had interrupted her thoughts one day as she’d been writing an essay. Her father had died at his desk, surrounded by telephones and computer screens, his heart clogged up with butter.
Now, Tania had her own career as an investment analyst. Starting as a junior for an investment firm, she had put all of her father’s knowledge and expertise to good use and impressed her bosses into an early promotion to associate grade, skipping out on having to obtain extra qualifications. If there were pangs of regret that her father wasn’t around to witness her success, Tania buried them deep and remembered not to butter her toast too thickly.
The jogging machine was a futile attempt to keep herself in shape. Rather like her father, she never had the time to look after herself. However, the lack of social life and, in particular, sex, did plague Tania’s daydreams.
Tania’s one and only remaining school friend believed she had the solution to Tania’s problem as they’d talked on the phone the week before her massage appointment.
“Get married,” Melanie had suggested.
Tania had been able to see why that opinion was appealing to Melanie. She was married and had two kids and a dog. Her husband was attentive, well paid and home in the evenings. The kids did as they were told, for the most part, and the dog didn’t chew the furniture. Melanie, who spent the day cooking elaborate dishes, was more than happy with life.
“Mel, I can’t even find the time to meet you, so where am I going to find the man of my dreams?” The idea had not appealed to Tania one bit. Regular sex with a man, no problem. She could see the advantages, but then when Melanie had told her one of the kids still slept in their bed every night, Tania had laughed off the whole marriage thing as preposterous.
“You can be the breadwinner,” Melanie had pointed out. “He could be the home dad.”
“Mel, I don’t want kids. Not yet. In fact, not for a long while. It just isn’t me. I’m doing brilliantly at work. Why screw it up with commitments?”
“You don’t sound fulfilled or happy to me.”
“I just need to get laid. That’s all.”
The line had gone silent. They had drifted into the awkward territory of different lifestyles and upbringings. Melanie was a regular churchgoer, brought up to believe in marriage as a worthy institute and one to be admired. Tania, though not from a broken family, had rarely seen her parents in the same room at the same time. They had performed different functions.
Tania had sighed and moved the conversation back to safer waters of discussion. What had brought the two women together were their tastes in music, films and good books. The latter hobby Tania barely had the inclination to register as an interest anymore. What she did read had become the quick, popular digests rather than the weighty tomes of a classic novels. The divergence of the two friends had been tough on Tania.
On the big day of Tania’s new adventure into sensual pleasure, she was constantly distracted at work by the idea of a stranger laying hands on her. Images flashed through her mind of some ugly fat-handed man who would do nothing but make her feel ashamed and small. Somehow, she survived and made her way, on automatic pilot, to the side street and the unassuming façade of the erotic parlor.
The building housing the clandestine business was old, perhaps Georgian in origins. From the outside, the exterior was plain and unadorned with no advertising or signage. It appeared to be a typical domestic house—a three-story, red brick town house with thick blinds or drapes hiding the onlooker. Blinds allowed the light to permeate into the rooms, but nothing could be seen from outside. Whether the bright sun shone or not, the interior of the building was shuttered and hidden. What the neighbors thought of the comings and goings was a mystery, though most of the surrounding houses were also businesses—an architect, accountants, a design company and other small private companies. The cost of living in the houses was far too great for most locals.
Stepping inside, Tania noted the covings around the ceilings were deep curves of cream, the walls covered in blue and white thinly striped wallpaper. In the waiting area, the fireplace remained in situ but unused. Instead of a hearth with coals, a large bouquet of silk flowers had been arranged in ceramic vase. The advantages of the architecture were there. A spatial room with thick, soundproof walls and an ambience of a bygone era. Within the remnants of Regency etiquette, a different scenario was enacted—a modern approach to sexual pleasure.
She had no idea what to expect.
“You’ve nothing to be nervous about, Miss Havers,” the receptionist said. “We’ve received all the paperwork and you will need to sign here.” The woman pointed her bright red, elongated fingernail at the dotted line.
Tania’s hand trembled fractionally as she made her signature. Her own fingernails were smart but not like painted talons. The signature didn’t look like her regular one, more like a scrawl. She handed the pen back and the receptionist smiled again with white teeth that were immaculately straight and polished. Tania ran her tongue along her own front teeth and reminded herself of the spearmint mouthwash she had used earlier in the day. She had nothing to be ashamed of and she tossed her hair back over her shoulder. The strands let loose the aroma of roses and juniper essence. She was determined to feel good about herself.
“Take a seat,” the receptionist instructed, looking down at her glossy magazine, a glazed expression returning to her face.
Solitary seats furnished the waiting area each with their own little tables. Four in total and all angled in such a fashion that nobody faced anyone else when seated. The spaces were unoccupied, and Tania the only client. The magazines were from the top end of the market and on a sideboard, there was a jug of iced water and glasses. Crossing and uncrossing her stockinged legs, Tania wanted to bolt out of the door.
Tania was screwed tight inside. How anyone would open her up, she did not know. Tania tried hard to look inconspicuous and normal. She did not want to appear like some freak of nature—an unattached, sexually incompetent woman. Re-crossing her legs neatly and keeping her shoulders square, Tania decided to go for the sophisticated executive look—a woman with the money to treat herself to a little erotic relaxation.
The nervousness irritated her. She worked in a highly paid job. A small team of investment analysts operated under her as well as a respectable portfolio of clients. Having toiled long hours, weekends and avoiding holidays to impress those about her, Tania had been made an associate at a ridiculously young age of twenty-five.
A door opened and a woman dressed in a white skirt and short-sleeved blouse beckoned to Tania. Inhaling deeply, Tania stood and followed her through into the treatment area.
The assistant politely asked Tania to undress—to take off everything. A soft white robe had been laid out for Tania to put on and she could have a shower. Left alone, Tania went into automatic mode and did as she had been told. Blistering hot water sprayed out of the showerhead when she switche
d it on. After turning it down, she rubbed her skin under the splashes with the unscented liquid soap provided.
For the first time, her belly stirred and arousal kindled in her sex. She shook her head, as though in denial, feeling the water cascading over her naked body, tracking her natural contours. A stream of water fell between her modest breasts, slipping down her flat belly and onto her curved thighs.
It did not feel like a morning shower—no refreshing wake-up call to energize her. It was more perfunctory, as if it were a prelude to some medical procedure. Tania dismissed from her mind an image of a masked surgeon with terrible devices in his hands. This was about pleasure, nothing else.
The door opened while Tania was still in the shower. She whipped around to face the tiles and fumbled around for the shower controls.
“No hurry but once you’re ready, you can perch on this bench and I will shave you.” The tone was laced with polite disinterest.
The woman held out a towel to Tania and the white-garbed woman with delicate, slanting eyes indicated toward a long, padded bench by the wall.
Tania tried hard not to be humiliated by the shaving. The lathering of her hairs into a foam and the slow, clinical movements of the razor did not relax her apprehension. However, her embarrassment had been saved by the calm nature of the woman, who seemed detached from her actions. Instructed to stand in the shower and wash away the rogue shavings, Tania held her nerves at bay.
“Put the robe on, please, and come next door. Room Two.”
Alone, Tania caught sight of her naked body in a full-length mirror. Between her legs, she saw a clear reflection of unadulterated sexual embodiment. She felt sexy—at long last the right emotion for the occasion. Wrapping the toweling robe about her body, she went down the corridor to find Room Two.
The room was dimly lit with candles every few paces on the floor by the walls. The scent permeated the air. A sweet, yet spicy smell of the orient. Tania inhaled its potency and hoped it would have medicinal effect on her nerves. In the middle of the room, similar in size to a church altar, was a wide, padded table—the treatment table, complete with a hole in which to place her face and towels to cover her body.
“Slip off your robe, then please lie down.” The woman had appeared without making a sound. “On your tummy and I will cover you up. Adam will be here any minute.”
Gentle oriental muzak drifted out of the speakers. The shadows cast by the candles danced about the walls. The other furniture was a trolley containing bottles and folded towels and a vanity unit with a glistening white sink. The room had an understated ambience to it. Tania made a decision. She had nothing to lose by seeing things through.
She handed the robe to the assistant and lay down on the table. The towel covered her buttocks. Nothing else was necessary. The room was wonderfully warm. Tania blinked at the floor through the hole, settled her head about its rim and anchored herself to the table. The anticipation was almost unbearable. The moment the masseur stepped in, her edginess would be on display.
The door clicked shut behind him and his footfalls came across the space toward her.
Tania lifted her face out of the safe nook of the head hole. Glancing up, she saw his back. He had turned toward the trolley to fetch something. It was her first glimpse of her masseur and she noticed his hair. Short, dark, almost curly strands tucked neatly about his ears. Her gaze dropped a little lower to his shoulders, which were broad in girth and straight. Tania swallowed, hard. She had an instant rush of blood about her face and it accompanied her innate attraction to men with sturdy frames. There would be no hiding her arousal from him and she couldn’t bring herself to back out of the appointment. Her pride wouldn’t let her reverse out of the door.
Tania ducked her head back down just as he began to pivot around to face her. If his virile physique fired her up, she couldn’t risk seeing his face. She crossed her ankles, pressing her legs closer together.
She heard him squirt oil onto his hands before he rubbed his palms together. “I’m Adam Talbot, Tania,” he said softly in a calm, deep voice. “This is about you, not me. I can do what you wish. I want you to relax and let the tension fly out of your body. Empty your mind and don’t be ashamed. If you feel the need to orgasm, let it happen. Don’t hold back. You can come as much as you want and I will take care of you each time.”
Tania relished the sound of the masseur’s voice. It was masculine, strong and clear. Even before his hands touched her, he had made an impact on her body. Goosebumps pricked up all over her exposed skin and she grasped the edge of the table with both hands.
It began like a normal massage, like many Tania had experienced at traditional spas. Her back and shoulders were molded by sturdy, flat palms and the oil was spread across her skin to ease the passage of his roving hands. Fingers pivoted around the knots in her back, circling and testing her tender spots and judging her physique.
The oily coating was viscous and she envisaged her skin glowing and shiny. Immediately, the encasing oil warmed her body. He repositioned himself, shifting quietly on his feet to stand by her head. Leaning forward, he spread his fingers on her skin and pushed his hands down, all the way to her covered buttocks. The towel slipped a fraction. A waft of cool air drifted down her exposed cleft.
Again, he repeated the process and each time she inhaled deeply.
“Well done,” he said gently.
The towel disappeared and a coolness descended over her bared cheeks. Tania gasped and her insides fluttered with anticipation. Adam rolled the towel up into a cylinder.
“Lift your hips,” he instructed.
Tania felt the rolled-up towel being inserted under her pelvis. Her bottom was lifted. Now her pussy was on full view. The idea sparked a wave of tingles in her clitoris, the kind she struggled to control.
“Part your legs,” he said.
Tania complied as if he were plugged directly into her nervous system. It amazed her as she’d expected to be locked down with embarrassment.
“I’m going to massage your labia, buttocks and anus.”
“I understand,” whispered Tania, curling her fingers over the table edge.
“Then, as you requested, when you’re ready, I will begin an internal vaginal massage and stimulate your clitoris. Then I shall penetrate your anus and massage your sphincter muscle.” Adam lowered his head to her ear. “We’ve got over an hour and plenty of time for you to enjoy this and relax. If you want me to stop, you say stop and I will. If you want my assistant Lee to take over, you ask.”
“Okay,” she said into the hole. “I’m happy with you.”
“Very good, Tania. Let’s start with your buttocks.”
If there was a place as divine as sensual heaven, Tania had gone to it. Adam worked magic on her flesh, teasing out her tension and releasing it, as if butterflies were flying out of their cocoons. There was no rush, as he from time to time simply rested his hands on her back and let her breathe out her stress. He slipped his smooth, oiled fingers inside her and drew her energy into a focal point.
Her first orgasm built from a tiny sparkle to a blaze of pulsating nerve endings. Adam, with two fingers inserted in her soaked pussy, became trapped by the spasms and clenching. Then her breathing subsided and her body began to replenish. It had taken only twenty minutes to bring her to a climax. He hadn’t driven her there. She’d arrived at the destination as if she had carried a pile of stress and worries, depositing them all on the doorstep.
“Turn over,” he instructed.
Tania caught sight of her masseur again. Clothed in white like his assistant, he looked the part professionally. Clean-shaven, with fine black hair and a soft bronze tone to his skin, he had a magnificent lean build, which she had started to appreciate when she had first seen his shoulders. Somebody probably massaged his toned muscles. The mental image blossomed in her mind and fired up her libido.
Lying on her back with her bosom exposed, her firm breasts rose and fell as she battled to control her breathing.
He teased her nipples, the pink buds nesting on her darker areolae, and gently massaged around them. Then he poured oil into her belly button and dragged the sheen down toward her labia. With her legs spread, he stretched out the lips of her sex and rubbed them between the ends of his finger and thumb, not quite a pinch or a tickle.
Tania drifted in a haze of carnal replenishment. With each plunge of his fingers, she regained her lust and sexual reawakening. Tiny murmurs escaped her lips and she kept her eyes tightly shut. The vulnerability remained. Having a virtual stranger pry orgasms from a tense body took courage on her part. The second orgasm caused her to lift her buttocks off the table and push down on his fingers.
“So responsive,” he said calmly. “This is a body craving for sexual release.”
“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly.
The third wave of massages focused on her anus and Adam worked his fingers into her, stretching her sensitive entrance until it opened naturally before him.
“Oh, beautiful,” he acknowledged. “You must let your body take its pleasures unhindered. Anal sex will be your passion if you respond like this.”
“Who will teach me?” she muttered aloud unintentionally.
The final orgasm struck as she imagined a huge cock plunging into her and she arched her back as if it were a reality and not a daydream. She slumped exhausted and spent while Adam brought her back to the room with a gentle, all-over, traditional massage.
“Stay there. Lee will bring you water and help you dress. You may be shaky for a while and I would suggest you lie in our relaxation room until you are fully recovered.”
Tania remembered little of Lee’s subtle hands as the assistant had bathed away the excess oils, washed her most private parts and helped Tania dress. Led to a warm room with reclining loungers and an air thick with a different scent, Tania lay on her back and tried to assemble her shattered thoughts.
It had not been what she’d expected. Physically he had done what she’d envisaged, but she hadn’t anticipated the extent of her emotional release. The constraints about her had been invisible, a tightly wound coil of tension holding her in place. She hadn’t thought about work once during the massage—an unusual state of mind for Tania. It took much to empty her head of figures and charts. Even the lingering disputes with a few of her more difficult team members had been dismissed as unworthy of attention.
