by Kris Calvert
“Wait up,” Danielle heard over her shoulder as she hurried down the long steps of the courthouse. “Ms. Trask?”
Seth bounded down the steps quickly with a great deal of grace for a man of his size and Danielle was impressed, although she’d never admit it.
“I wanted to apologize for interrupting your part of the meeting,” he said as she stopped. “I feel like you had more to report on and after I barged in you didn’t get a chance to—” he paused as he was taken by her flawless beauty and blue eyes in the sunlight. “Ah…finish.”
“No.” Danielle quipped.
“No?” he asked, widening his smile.
“No.” she repeated and began to walk again. Seth quickly followed.
Dr. Newman matched her pace and stride as she made her way back to the town square where her office was located.
“So you’re not from around here either?” he asked, following her into her office marked Trask, Inc. to stand in the beautifully appointed lobby.
“No.”
“Do you always say no?” Seth asked as he removed his sunglasses in the same suave fashion he’d done before, ultimately causing her to lose her train of thought. This time she was prepared for the move.
“No,” she smiled.
Seth was taken by her sheer beauty and he loved that he could look her in the eye without looking down on her. “How have we both lived here for three years and not met?”
“I’ve been here a year, and I don’t know,” Danielle said. “I work. A lot.”
“Me too.”
“I’ll bet,” she continued as she made her way behind the lobby desk and tucked her bag away. “It can’t be easy being an ER doctor. I’m sure you deal with lots of unpleasant things.”
“It’s not too bad,” he smiled. “It’s what I was trained to do. Like you. Where did you train?”
“Chicago. University of,” Danielle replied.
“No way,” he exclaimed.
“Yes way,” Danielle replied.
“We’ve been in two cities together and we’ve never met. I did my residency at the University of Chicago.”
Danielle nodded but didn’t speak.
“Well then,” Seth uttered, filling the silence. “I’d better be on my way.”
“It was nice to meet you, Dr. Newman.”
“It was nice to meet you too, Ms. Trask, and please call me Seth.”
“It’s Danielle,” she replied as moved toward him to open the door and say goodbye. Instead she shuffled her feet and tripped into his tall body, instinctively placing her left hand on his chest and grabbing for balance. His hard body flinched under the overly sterilized thin material at her touch.
“Holy – Whoa – It was nice to meet you too,” she said, cracking a smile and regaining her balance.
Seth looked down at the hand still on his chest with a smile.
Quickly she recoiled her touch and shook her head. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, revealing her embarrassment. “I don’t know why I did that. Fell into you, I mean. And then…stayed there.”
Dr. Seth Newman put his dark sunglasses on and gave her a nod, unsuccessfully concealing his excitement. “No problem.”
She nodded and backed away, not knowing how to properly contain her embarrassment.
Seth stood in the doorway to leave. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked.
“We’ve lived in the same cities at the same time and never met before today.”
“So?”
“Don’t you believe in fate?”
“Not really,” Danielle shrugged. She was trying desperately to get back to the cold place she was before she fell into his arms and stroked his chest. The hard pec beneath his blue hospital scrub shirt had made her lose the ability to reason.
“Just don’t go anywhere,” he said.
“What?” Danielle asked. “Why?”
“I’d hate to have to follow you to a new town.”
June 21st
Matt Trask gave a deep sigh as he caught his reflection in the mirror and checked his watch. It was one forty-five in the afternoon, and his two o’clock would be arriving soon. The other masseuse he shared the space with, Belinda, had called in sick. He knew from the schedule it was a gift certificate appointment and was thankful there would be no need to take money. In fact, Matt didn’t like being paid to work out the kinks in people’s muscles. He did it because he enjoyed it. He did it because he thought it helped people.
A trained and licensed masseuse, Matt Trask also had a Ph.D. in literature and had taught for several years at an Ivy League school. As fate would have it on a wintry night in Boston, he stopped for a pack of cigarettes at the FastMart and bought a winning lottery ticket. The six numbers he matched afforded him the opportunity to do whatever he wanted with the rest of his life. He chose to quit smoking and learn massage.
The spa room was already set up for the appointment and Matt took a quick inventory of the room to make sure the hot towels, stones and relaxing music were all ready to go.
“Hello?”
Matt walked out of the dark room and into the waiting area to find a tiny redhead with her back to him.
“You must be Grace,” he said.
Grace turned with a gasp and stood stunned as she looked upon the trim, sandy-blonde haired man with enormous biceps. His gigantic hands seemed to dangle from his arms like weapons.
“You’re not Belinda,” she stated as she swallowed hard. “Are you?”
Matt’s laugh was deep and rumbled with a sexy timbre. “Not hardly. I’m Matt. I’m afraid Belinda is sick.”
Grace nodded and fiddled with her big purse, unsure of her next move.
“She said she tried to get in touch with you,” Matt explained. “When she couldn’t, she gave me a ring.”
“I see,” Grace nodded.
“You can absolutely reschedule,” Matt continued as she walked closer. “I promise it won’t hurt my feelings in the slightest.”
Grace was taken by the hard body that showed through the Lululemon polo he wore. The green shirt matched his eyes and gripped his muscular arms in all the right places. She didn’t want to be rude, and yet she didn’t know if she could take all her clothes off for a strange man – albeit a hot and sexy strange man.
As she looked up his six foot four frame towering above her, she threw caution to the wind and decided to go for it. “Ah,” she paused as she caught another glimpse of his huge hands and wondered what that meant. “I mean, no.”
“No, you’re leaving?” he asked with a smile.
Grace took a deep breath to reassure herself of the decision. “No. I’m staying.”
“Great,” Matt nodded. “I’ll just show you back to the room where you can get undressed.”
Grace followed him and the sound of tranquil music down the darkened hallway like a timid cat, peeking into each room as they made their way to the last door.
“Is this your first massage?” Matt asked as he pushed open the door. The smell of lavender wafted out along with the hollow sound of spa music.
“Yes,” Grace confessed. The darkened room was illuminated only by a small lamp and dozens of candles. “Wow.”
“Everything okay?” he asked as he gave the sheet a final straighten and turned to her again.
“Sure.”
“You’re scheduled for a ninety minute massage. Is there anything that’s giving you trouble or pain?”
For the briefest of moments Grace thought to say, My soul. My soul is in pain. I’m tired of struggling. I’m ready to give up. I want to throw in the towel. Call it quits. Grace wanted to say a lot. Instead she took a deep breath and exhaled. “No.”
She hadn’t let down in over three years. She couldn’t. But being strong all the time had its pitfalls. Her reserve energy and instinctive fight to live and love was completely depleted. She was, for a lack of a better term, spent.
“Okay then,” Matt continued. “There’s a place behi
nd the door to hang your clothes. Get undressed. I’ll start with your shoulders and back so lie face down and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
After the door was closed, Grace quickly pulled the blue sundress from over her head and kicked off the matching flats. Hanging the dress on the back of the door, she hustled to unhook her bra and drop her matching panties to get under the sheet before Matt returned. She couldn’t think of anything worse than getting caught mid stride, completely nude and climbing on a massage table.
She caught her reflection in the mirror across from the table and stared at the scar that ran from her sternum to her belly button in a ragged, haphazard fashion and hoped that her stomach wouldn’t be exposed.
She slid under the white sheet and positioned her head down in the face rest and fidgeted a few times before becoming as comfortable as she was going to get.
Matt knocked at the door. “Ready?”
“Yes,” Grace murmured into the table.
The door opened and closed quickly and suddenly Grace was alone with a handsome man she didn’t know and completely naked under a sheet. There had been plenty of nights she’d longed for that very scenario. It just didn’t include the massage table and a man who was being paid two hundred dollars.
“Is it warm enough in here for you?” Matt asked softly, matching the volume of the music.
“Yes,” Grace mumbled again as she tried to move her red hair away from her face by shaking her head side to side.
“Let me,” Matt offered as he pulled a ponytail holder from a drawer next to the dark wall.
“Hmm?” Grace asked as she awkwardly lifted her head to find him.
“I keep these around for clients with long hair who forget,” Matt explained as he gently pulled the red hair from Grace’s face and swiftly tied the holder around it.
“Wow,” she remarked as she dropped her head back into the face rest lined with thin tissue-like paper. “That’s impressive.”
“I’ve done it a few times. So what do you do, Miss Bartel?”
“Grace,” she corrected as she spoke to the floor. “I own a wine shop.”
“Which one?”
“The Seller,” she mumbled through her mashed cheeks.
Matt was astonished. He knew of Grace’s store. He also knew that she had a reputation for feeding hungry people late at night, and helping starving artists display, read and talk about their projects every Friday night.
“I know the place. And you’re the owner?” Matt asked.
“Mmmhmm,” she answered with an awkward tone.
“Don’t you have author readings there?”
“Mmmhmm. Why, are you an author and a masseuse?”
Matt Trask had two options. He could answer her truthfully, or he could simply get on with her massage. He chose the latter. She was here to relax, not for a literature lecture.
Grace did her best to unwind into the table but couldn’t find the courage to close her eyes. Instead she watched Matt’s large feet move around the table quietly as she heard him pump lotion into his hands and listened to the sound of him rubbing his massive hands together to warm them.
Grace could see his feet facing her as he gently stroked her neck and shoulders and pushed his way down her spine. Grace wondered what could possibly go through the mind of a man while he was rubbing down the naked body of a woman. She told herself that he was probably gay and then secretly hoped that he wasn’t. It would be the first time in a long time any man had laid his hands on her bare body.
As the pan flute played in the background, Grace found herself relaxing deeper and deeper as Matt’s hands worked their magic.
Working his way down her body, she noticed how his touch never left one part of her until it received the next.
Matt pulled the sheet from one leg and tucked it into the other in a fluid motion. It was then that Grace became aware that part of her bare ass was on display and she was thankful for the squats she did every day in the back of the store while shelving and stocking cases of vino.
Matt pumped the lotion into his hands and began at her calf, working his way up the back of her thigh. A chill ran down Grace’s body and she was helpless to prevent it.
As the goose bumps formed on her tight leg, Matt kept his mind on business and pushed the attraction he felt away as best he could. She was toned and a redhead and was kind to people and struggling writers in her wine shop. Matt Trask thought Grace Bartel was adorable. He thought she might even be perfect.
Matt continued to massage her leg using his forearm to stretch her hamstring all the way into her gluteus maximus. And what a beautiful gluteus maximus it was.
With each stroke, he could feel and hear Grace exhale, releasing the air in her lungs and falling deeper and deeper into a relaxed state. He was certain it was a place she’d not been in a really long time.
“You’ve got a lot of tension in your body,” Matt remarked.
“Yes,” Grace replied.
As he pulled her arm from under the sheet he noticed how tiny her palm was in his massive hand. Carefully he caressed each finger, working his way into her palm. It was part of the routine, and yet with Grace it was more.
He felt her quiver slightly as he kneaded her palm, and it sent a shock of electricity through his arm. He found himself surprisingly aroused.
Her fingers, now relaxed, curled around his thumbs and he lingered in the moment, confused as to what he was feeling. His instinct was to lean in and kiss her delicate hand. He fought it off.
She moved her feet under the sheet and Matt became aware of his actions and quickly finished with her arm, placing it under the sheet and touching her shoulder as he moved to her other side.
With each graze of his hand across her skin, Grace felt a longing deep within awaken. This man was merely stroking her body, but it felt as if he was resuscitating her – bringing her back to life. She was lost in each touch, each moment his fingers came in contact with her skin and without warning, her release of tension turned into fear and tears. Grace’s anxiety churned in her head as she contemplated screaming Stop!
Matt paused and placed his hand at the nape of her neck and quietly spoke.
“How are you doing?”
“Fine,” Grace’s voice trembled.
“I’m going to lift the sheet. Turn away from me and lie on your back.”
Before Grace had a chance to utter another word, Matt lifted the white sheet and held it above his eyes as she struggled to turn in the right direction and wipe the tears from her cheeks at the same time.
The sheet washed over her body as she settled in. “Move down for me,” Matt requested as he stood at the head of the table, securing the sheet around her shoulders.
Grace scooted down the table, finally resting her head at the end. She listened as Matt removed the face rest – the soft landing area that had no doubt left her with a sheet marked face.
Grace took a deep breath and exhaled.
“Everything okay?” Matt asked, noticing the tears around her eyes. “I’ve not been too hard on you, have I?”
“No,” Grace murmured. “I’m fine.”
Grace knew it was just a job this man with the big hands had, but to her it felt almost sensual. But what did she know of sensuality? She’d not even come close to a man in what seemed like forever. Why would she?
“Are you sure I’m not using too much pressure?” Matt asked as he moved over her shoulders with each hand and slid down her arms, stopping at her wrists.
“No,” Grace managed. The gentle touch of his hands was sending her through the roof and yet she knew it wasn’t real.
“Would you like your abdominals done?” Matt asked.
“What?” Grace said with a start. “No. Why? I mean, I’m sorry.”
Matt was taken aback by her aversion to his question and sudden apology, but kept his quiet and relaxed tone. “It is part of the Swedish massage and I always ask. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
&n
bsp; Grace took her right hand and placed it almost protectively over her belly. “No. It’s fine.”
Matt gave her a reassuring smile and went from the tiny touch on her arm to pushing the sheet over her leg and quickly tucking it in. Clearly Grace was a modest woman, but she was a modest woman with a big heart. He could tell she was embarrassed by her outburst.
He continued down each leg, unable to curb his feelings each time he touched her body, and as he finished with her feet and covered them with the sheet giving them a squeeze, he was sad that the nearly two hours they’d spent together in the quiet space was coming to a close.
“Grace?” He spoke soft and low. “We’re all finished. Take your time getting up and I’ve left a cold bottle of water for you on the dresser. You’ll need to drink lots and lots of water today to help flush the toxins out of your system.”
“Okay,” Grace’s voice cracked as she matched his tone. “Thank you.”
Matt waited for Grace in the reception area and pulled her chart, committing her home address to memory. As she walked out, glassy-eyed and half asleep from the dark room and nearly two hours of massage, she looked beautiful and real to Matt.
Her long red hair had been repositioned into a better ponytail than the one he created for her. Her blue sundress matched her eyes and her casual and cool nature intrigued him. He’d explored most of her body in the last hour, but really wanted to delve into her mind. Who was Grace Bartel?
Grace mustered a smile. “Thank you again.”
“It was my pleasure.” Matt nodded. He hoped she’d stick around for some small talk, but figured she would be gone out of his life as quickly as she’d entered. “Remember to drink lots of water today.”
“I’ve never done this before. I don’t really know what I’m doing here,” Grace confessed. “My brother bought this gift certificate for me over a year ago and I’m just now using it. But I want to tip you. I mean,” Grace fumbled. “I know I’m supposed to tip you.”
Matt Trask dropped his large and muscular shoulders. She wanted to give him money. “No, Grace,” he refused as he held up his hand. “It is my understanding the owner of The Seller is very kind to artists and vagabonds. Would you let me pay it forward this one time? Keep your tip. Keep your gift certificate. It was my pleasure.”
