I knew if I didn’t get it together I was going to lose out on a steady client. Not only that, Axel was a huge name in the sports world.
“Not at all,” I responded as brightly as possible. “I’m sorry, I had a minor interruption over here, but please don’t be concerned. That doesn’t happen often!”
The man grumbled, but told me Axel would be by for his first appointment later on. The call ended abruptly, but I didn’t care. I dropped my arm to my side and glanced in the mirror again. Now I definitely had no trace of inner peace, not even the faintest glimpse. I looked like a wild-eyed crazy person. And, maybe it was my imagination, but my hair looked like it was standing on end.
The mere mention of Axel’s name catapulted me into the very state I did not want to be in. I needed peace, tranquility, calmness. I didn’t need to be in some frazzled panic.
I groaned and tugged at the ends of my curly hair in frustration. I needed to do something to expel the negative energy and I needed to do it quick. I considered calling Shellsea, but that idea was fleeting. She had a hot yoga class on Tuesdays and wouldn’t answer her phone anyway. My mind switched tracks and I briefly considered calling Zak, but honestly I couldn’t deal with his jocularity when I was in full on panic-mode. And the mere thought of having to deal with that when talking to him about Axel already made my stomach tie up in knots.
I was left with only thing to do.
It was completely straying away from ‘moderation’ and sprinting straight into the arms of ‘indulgence’, but I couldn’t bring myself to give a damn. I ran out of the office, headed to the bakery two stores down, and crammed six cookies into my mouth like they were a sugary lifeline in a sea of panic and stress.
“Moderation can go fuck itself,” I muttered as I stuffed another gooey bite into my mouth. I swallowed every last morsel. I felt better already.
After wiping my mouth off and rubbing some sanitizer on my hands, I hustled back to the office. I was a little sweaty and a little agitated and I probably smelled like buttercream frosting, but it didn’t matter.
I was going to see none other than Axel Montgomery.
I had to be professional just like I was with everyone else. I walked up just in time to see a massive man hulking over the door. He was rattling the door to my office with an iron grip on the handle.
Instantly, fear flooded over me and I opened my mouth to scream for help just as I shoved my hand into my purse and reached for my pepper spray. Just as my fingers found the canister the man turned to look at me with an angry scowl on his face.
"You're late..." his voice trailed off. His eyes widened slowly, "Randy? Is that you?" He took a step forward and muttered, “Oh shit.”
I sucked in a deep breath and did everything in my power to keep my cool. I was to focused on the job and the job alone. But the moment our eyes met I knew that would be much harder said than done. Still, I pulled myself up and tried to maintain dignity even though I worried I had cookie crumbs on my face.
“Miranda, Axel. My name is Miranda”
I stared at her for a moment. The sound of her voice was the same as I remembered, only it was more grown up. The wheels in my head were turning, trying to catch up with everything. One minute I was being annoyed by my manager on the phone, the next I was angry the door was locked, and now I was standing in front of someone that used to be such a big part of my life. If someone had asked me about her on my drive over to the place I would’ve told them I would never see her again. When it hit me, the full realization that I was peering into the face of an old friend made a smile spread across my face. It was a mix of happiness and disbelief.
"You're fucking kidding me, little Randy?"
I barely paid attention to her rolling eyes as I looked her up and down. She had that same angry blush across her cheeks when I called her that nickname. She had always hated it, and apparently still hated it. She even sounded like she used to, trying desperately to correct me. It was all in vain, she was still little Randy to me. That hadn’t changed one bit but, from the looks of it however, pretty much everything else about her had changed.
Mira wasn’t just a girl a few years younger than me. She was all grown up, blossomed into a beautiful young woman. I couldn’t help but notice how fit and strong she looked. She cleared her throat, making my gaze snap back to her face. I gave her a small smile.
“Let’s step inside,” she said. Her voice was slightly shaky and I knew she was trying her best to sound cool, mature, and professional. That hadn’t changed about her either. She was always a frazzled mess.
I nodded and followed her into the office, not wasting the chance to sneak a peek at her ass. I cocked my eyebrow as I noted that it is firm and high, clearly from whatever exercises she was doing to keep her body in such amazing shape. She looked good. But then I instantly felt shitty and a little incestuous.
She’s my old buddy's kid sister. I silently remind myself in disdain.
She turned to look at me. I was still smiling, but doubted she would think anything bad of it. I was remembering how pissed she used to get when I’d teasingly call her Randy and then pull at her curls. I admit, I probably teased her a little too much when we were kids. She must have hated me sometimes, but it was all in good fun. My eyes darted up to the top of her head and my smile grew after seeing that mop of curls was still there, wild as ever but perfectly suited for her. I had never seen anybody pull off her type of hair so effortlessly. She was one of a kind.
“I still remember you always tagging along with us Randy,” I joked.
Mira huffed and looked away from me briefly, clearly trying to collect herself. My smile widened even more as she turned to look me straight in the eyes. I was quickly reminded of her intense stare. Her big round amber eyes were just as striking as ever, only now they had a different kind of intensity—one that could only come with the years that had passed.
It wasn’t like I ever minded her trying to hang out with Zak and I. Maybe she even had a crush on me; the thought of that made my grin turn a bit more cocky. She hadn’t broken eye contact with her intense stare so I just shrugged. She finally reached up to push a stray curl off her forehead. I remembered the way I thought of her when we were younger. She was like my surrogate kid sister in a way, but looking at her now, I wasn’t sure if I felt the same way.
It’s been years anyway. I justified my thoughts in my mind. Sure, Zak and I used to tease her until tears filled her eyes, but we were all adults now. And looking at her as an adult, I realized that the once tough kid was now a totally tougher adult. I wondered if she was still ‘one of the guys’ in whatever circle of friends she hung out with. There was no argument, even though she was younger than us, she was a lot of fun. She must be a great friend to whoever she was friends with now.
That was when the question welled up in my throat and I didn’t think to stop it. It wasn’t a question about her, it was a question about Zak. After all, we were best friends and I hadn’t spoken to him since he left the UCLA team.
“How’s your brother?”
Mira seemed miffed at the question. "He's fine. Still annoying," she answered in a tone I couldn’t quite place. Could she maybe feel disappointed for some reason? I figured it was to be expected if I asked about Zak.
“Nah,” I told her in mild disbelief, “Zak was one of the good ones.”
"If you say so," she said curtly.
I watched her rub her hand on the back of her neck, eyes skimming around the office casually. I thought I should change the topic. "How are you? You've certainly grown up."
She turned to look at me again and I could almost hear her say—Well, you didn’t expect me to stay a kid forever, did you? But her mouth was closed. She scratched at her chin, just below her lip, before clearing her throat.
“I’m doing alright,” she answered in an unnaturally breathy voice. I picked up on her non-committal act. If it was anybody else the chances of her being drugged or something would be high. Mira was never that type of g
irl though. Maybe she was tired or nervous or something. Even as a kid she was always aloof and off in her own world.
“Just alright?”
Mira shrugged as she took a deep breath. She peered over at her desk and then back at me. She cleared her throat and quickly covered her mouth, catching a little cough in it before taking another deep breath.
“Um,” she finally said. “Alright isn’t bad, is it?”
I could tell she wanted to be vague. It was a bit annoying that she wasn’t being more open with me. But I wasn’t down to keep pushing. She said something else, but I wasn’t paying attention. Then I noticed she not only sounded even more breathy than before, but she kept heaving like she was gasping for air.
I wondered what the fuck was wrong with her, but remembered I was about to pay for her services so I dropped it. I ran my hand through my dark brown hair and smirked again, my gaze lowering from her face little by little. She turned slightly to pick something up from the desk so I seized the opportunity to let my gaze drop down even further.
She was just standing there, next to her desk, pretending to be busy with some sort of pamphlet, but I noticed her breathing wasn’t slowing down. I glanced at her breasts. They weren’t big, but they weren’t small either—a nice handful. But what made them really appealing was how perky they were. I was enjoying the rise and fall of them with each breath she took when I heard the shredding of a page.
“Oh no,” she muttered, quickly holding up two pieces of paper and pushing them together as if they would magically piece back together. She frowned and dumped both pieces on the desk before turning to look at me. “Well, there goes that.”
I eyed the torn paper. It looked like some sort of informative pamphlet she had planned on giving me. I wasn’t sure why though. I met her gaze again and shrugged, “So, should I get undressed?”
Mira gasped even louder, exhaling with an unsteady, “sure.”
I almost wanted to chuckle, but I was starting to get tired of whatever little act she was playing. I came with plenty of money to get an A-grade sports massage and she wasn’t doing much to inspire confidence in me that she was going to live up to the reputation Larry had played up for her. She nodded and motioned for me to get on the table. I walked into the little room, ready to finally get started. Just as I was about to tug my T-shirt off over my head, it crossed my mind how odd it felt to get naked for ‘little Randy’.
Then I recalled all the summers I spent in their pool; back then she watched me as avidly as…
I turned to look over my shoulder and saw that she was now avidly avoiding looking at me. I shrugged and took off my shirt followed by my jeans and then climbed onto the massage table, pulling the sheet over my hips to wait for her to come in.
I waited for what felt like a few minutes, but she wasn’t coming in. Getting agitated, I got up and opened the door.
“Ready!”
She still didn’t come in. I didn’t even see her. I stuck my head out from the doorframe and looked around the corner, peering into the main office area. That’s when I saw her. My eyes narrowed as I watched her pace in a circle before plopping down on one of the waiting room chairs and resting her hands on her knees.
She took a couple deep breaths and then got back up again. She went to her desk and snuck what looked like a cookie out from the top drawer and into her mouth. She stood back up, stretched a bit as she smiled a little, took another deep breath and then walked towards the massage room.
I quickly ran back inside and leapt onto the massage table, adjusting the sheet over my hips right in the nick of time.
I strolled into the massage room trying to look all cool and collected, but I was trying not to look at Axel. For all the deep, calming breaths I had taken I felt no calmer. My racing heart wasn’t stopping and it didn’t feel like it would any time soon. The only thing that managed to keep me somewhat sane was the cookie I had scarfed down at my desk before walking into the massage room. He was completely nude, save for the sheet covering a certain part of him. Thanks to the cookie, I felt totally ready for this now—or as close to ‘totally ready’ as possible.
I started by rubbing massage oil into the palms of my hands. It was my special combination of oils that I perfected over the years. It was soothing, but it also helped with ailments in the long run, perfect for my athletic clients. He was lying on his stomach. I was beyond thankful for that.
I placed my hands on the center of his back and started the massage. His beautifully tanned olive skin was smooth and a delight to run my palms over. He felt even more amazing than my frustrated teenaged self could have imagined back then. I ran my hands up to his shoulder and started working down his arms. That’s when I took note of his tattoos. He had a full-sleeve of ink on his left arm and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to slow the motion of my therapeutic hands to look at the artwork coating his skin.
Looking at the rest of him was even more distracting; his body was incredible. I might have been used to working on athletes, but there was something about Axel’s muscles that made the pit of my stomach stir. I closed my eyes and gulped as I tried to keep calm. This was definitely not the time to let my imagination run wild. I had to stop myself from looking at the raised sheet where his round and firm ass was covered.
I imagined what it must be like to sink my fingers into that flesh. I felt the scarred areas around his shoulder and slid my thumb along the muscle. Finally, I moved over to start the special deep massage for his torn rotator cuff. He let out a groan. I looked at him inadvertently, and saw that his head was resting on the side with his eyes closed and lips parted. That’s when I saw the scar on his cheek. I still remembered the day he got that scar. Now it was nearly obscured by his stubble, but the small crescent shaped white line would always be hair-free. I smiled as I finally started to feel my heart calm down.
I continued my massage, fixing my eyes on the muscles I was working on. Sure I had a crush on him when we were practically kids, even though he was an ass to me more sometimes. But he was my friend after all or at least my brother’s friend. As I kept working, I recalled times when he treated me like a sister, like when he trusted me the day he got the scar. Maybe making such a fuss about seeing him wasn’t the way to go. We had a lot of history together and now I had no idea what his life must be like.
I smiled sweetly as I ran my hands along his body, remembering how I had come to the aid of a panicked Axel and Zak when a broken beer bottle sliced open Axel’s skin to form that scar.
I closed my eyes and shook my head to rid myself of the memories and continued to work. If Axel was going to be my regular client he needed to know he was making the right choice. A lot rested on my ability to help him with his injured shoulder and I definitely had the knowledge and experience to make that happen.
He was silent throughout the whole massage, only letting out an occasional grunt or moan of either pain or satisfaction. I could imagine my kneading hands felt both good and bad, but what ultimately mattered was the results. I took a couple deep breaths and finished up focusing solely on the massage, eyes fixed on the movement of my fingers around his tensed muscles.
When I was done I stood beside the massage table, eagerly waiting for him to compliment me or tell me what a great job I had done. I wanted the confirmation I was good at what I did. I wanted to know he was going to return.
Axel turned to look at me after a couple minutes and I embarrassingly realized he was waiting for privacy to get dressed. With cheeks burning red, I walked out of the massage room and over to my desk.
"Good to see you, Randy," he said when he was all dressed and ready to go.
I looked up at him and then followed the movement of his hand, which he stuffed into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a crisp wad of bills. He pulled a couple out and laid them down on my desk. I stared at him in shock as he just walked out of my office without saying another word, leaving me with nothing but money and annoyance. I couldn’t believe he still had the
nerve to call me that nickname. I had always hated it, even when I was five-years-old.
I felt my face burn again, only this time it was out of anger. “What a total football douche,” I muttered angrily.
He was always cocky and he always had high expectations of others, but it was different when he was with Zak and I. Now he seemed worse—more arrogant and dismissive.
The person I used to know would’ve never pulled what he just did. I looked from the closed door of the office, to the bunched up sheet on top of the massage table, to the crisp bills lying on my desk.
I got even angrier.
I reached out to swipe the money off my desk. He left me a $100 tip. Normally this would shock me and now was the time to feel happy about it. But at that moment all I felt was a burning disappointment coursing through my veins.
I wasn’t running to my car, but I was speed walking to it like I was in a race to get there before someone else. I unlocked the car and slid inside, promptly shutting the door and slamming down the lock. I leaned back against the headrest with my eyes shut. I jutted my chest out and noted the difference in how my shoulder already felt. It hadn’t felt that great in weeks.
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