by Lyric James
The Pleasure Club:
The Masseur
By
Lyric James
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Masseur
Copyright© 2010 Lyric James
ISBN: 978-1-60088-511-2
Cover Artist: Croco Designs
Editor: Stephanie Parent
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Cobblestone Press, LLC
Hwww.cobblestone-press.com
Dedication
As always…
To Henry, for continuing to encourage me and believe in my dream.
Dear Ms. Moore,
We’re pleased to welcome you to The Pleasure Club.
As you have already signed and returned the contract and filled out all the necessary forms to ensure you receive your every wish, we will be in touch with you shortly with the details of your first Pleasure Night. Your Wish List and Pleasure Forms have been turned over to our staff of highly trained Pleasure Guardians, and they are hard at work finding your perfect match.
We will endeavor to meet your personal fantasy.
When you are contacted again, you will be given a location where your Pleasure Night will begin, and you will also be given a safe word to use should at any time you become uncomfortable. There is no shame in changing your mind. We’re here to pleasure, and should your safe word be used, your match for the evening will cease all activity, and the game will be put on hold until a mutual agreement between you can be reached.
Once again, welcome to The Pleasure Club.
Please feel free to contact the office at any time should you have any questions.
Yours truly,
The Pleasure Club Management
* * * * *
Ms. Moore,
Your Pleasure Night will be held at Pamper You, Friday, September 4th. Please arrive at precisely 9:00 p.m.
Your safe word is Therapy.
Sincerely,
The Pleasure Guardians
* * * * *
Lynae Moore turned around to face the mirror, adjusted the cap on her head and moved the tassel to the left side of her face.
“It was the single most erotic experience in my life,” her sister, Celeste, told her.
She couldn’t wait until the dean of colleges announced that they were all college graduates and she could toss the square blue contraption up into the air with the rest of her classmates.
Celeste was recounting the tale of her “night of pleasure” with The Principal four months ago, before she’d completed her residency in anesthesiology and moved to Atlanta. Lynae couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wrinkled her nose. “But it was with a complete stranger,” she said. “How could you do that?”
“Girl, when I walked into that office, the only thing I could think about was how fine that man was and what he was getting ready to do to me.”
She shook her head. “He could have been a rapist or a serial killer, or both.” Turning and pointing a finger at her, she said, “You’re nuts.”
“Oh, he had nuts all right. Big, gorgeous, sinful, chocolate nuts, and they were delicious,” she said with a wicked grin on her face.
Lynae grinned. “O-M-G, you are so nasty. I’m your little sister, remember?”
Celeste laughed and stood, then came forward and straightened Lynae’s gown, looking at her from head to toe. “I am so proud of you.”
“Me? For what?”
“You’re graduating from college.”
Lynae shrugged her shoulders. “Well, you inspired me.”
“I did?”
“Yeah. Going to college, then medical school and completing your residency. I’m the proud one. I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t motivated me.”
“You’re still thinking about going to massage therapy school in September, right?”
Lynae glanced at the huge white envelope sitting on her nightstand. She’d already begun filling out the paperwork. She had to complete the application packet and send it in by the end of next week if she even wanted to be considered a candidate for the classes starting in mid-September. “Yes, I’m still thinking about it.”
“Then look at it like this.” Celeste grabbed her around the waist, turned them both around to face the mirror and hugged her from behind.
They were different as night and day, literally—her creamy white skin, Lynae’s caramel-colored features—stepsisters who’d become the best of friends.
“I spend my days sticking needles in people’s arms and backs. You, on the other hand, when, and I do mean when you finish massage therapy school, people are going to pay to have your hands all over them, and they’ll walk away with smiles on their faces.”
That conversation was five weeks ago. Now, Lynae was sitting outside Pamper You, the most expensive, sought after spa in Atlanta, about to experience her own single most erotic experience of her life. Why had she let Celeste talk her into this? But she knew why. Because deep down, she hadn’t been thoroughly fucked since she’d gone back to college.
When Celeste graduated, Lynae had seen how proud her father and stepmother were, so she’d decided to take the plunge too. She’d never even considered college when she was in high school. All she’d ever wanted to be was a cosmetologist. She’d loved doing hair ever since she could remember.
In middle and high school she’d had her own little shop in her house, doing her friends’ hair almost every weekend. Then, right after high school, she’d gone to cosmetology school and, after graduating, worked for one of the most exclusive salons in Dallas and never looked back or regretted one minute of it. She’d met the man of her dreams, a handsome law school student who treated her like a queen. They’d dated. He’d even proposed. But two months before the wedding, right after he’d graduated from law school, he’d told her that he couldn’t possibly marry someone who was only a cosmetologist, who’d never even gone to college.
It didn’t matter that she loved him or that he loved her. He’d only been thinking about his reputation in the ritzy ditzy law firm that had offered him a job, and what type of woman he wanted seen on his arm at their office parties.
And that person wasn’t her.
He’d even asked her why she couldn’t have been like her sister. That was what dug into her soul the most. When Celeste’s mother had married Lynae’s father ten years ago, she’d wanted to hate Celeste and her mother for taking her dead mother’s place, but they’d both been so loving and patient with her in the beginning that she couldn’t help but love them. She’d gained a new mother and an older sister, and her father had been the happiest she’d ever seen him. She and Celeste became the best of friends despite their age difference, and not once had she been jealous of her or resented her presence.
But after what her ex had said, she’d begun to doubt herself, doubt the choices she’d made. And after Celeste graduated and announced she was going to medical school as well, Lynae had made up her mind that she could do it too. She’d worked another couple of years and saved enough money so she wouldn’t be destitute. Then she’d gone to college to get a degree in business administration and had sworn off men, at least for the time being, anyway. She hadn’t wanted or needed any distractions while she was in school.
However, her love for the field of cosmetology never wavered, so she decided she’d use her degree to open her own day spa and salon and not only have hair stylists, but manicurist
, makeup artists, massage therapists, and skin experts. When she opened her salon, it was going to be the one-stop shop for women of all colors, all races, to come and be pampered.
During school, she decided that she wanted to add at least one more field to her repertoire and began thinking about going to massage therapy school as well. Just today she’d received confirmation that she had been accepted and she needed to report for orientation next Tuesday.
But tonight…tonight, she sat outside Pamper You, a salon almost like what she wanted to open, waiting to have sex with a complete stranger, a masseur. She was sure her sister appreciated the irony, since she was the one who’d set the whole thing up. When she’d gotten that first letter in the mail, she’d called Celeste and asked her what the hell she’d done. Celeste laughed and told her to think of it as a late graduation/early massage therapy school acceptance/congratulatory present.
She picked up the embossed linen note she’d received in the mail last week and read it again.
Lynae looked down at the clock on her dashboard. Eight fifty-eight.
It was now or never.
She climbed out of the car, locked the door, and took a few tentative steps toward the front door.
What the hell am I doing?
She’d chastised her sister for doing exactly what she was about to do, but she couldn’t stop the erotic tingle that spread up her spine with each step she took. Lynae reached the door and paused. Was she supposed to knock? Ring the doorbell? She turned around and walked back to the sidewalk, but stopped.
Don’t be a chicken shit, she heard her sister say in her head.
She smiled and turned around. She could do this. She would do this.
Back at the door, she pulled the handle and found it was already open. She stepped inside. Soft music wafted over her as she took in her surroundings. Plush white chairs sat in several groupings around the huge lobby. She’d bet money that the rug she stood on was authentic Persian. Paintings of serene landscapes hung on the walls, and several plants were interspersed all throughout the area, as well as lit, white, taper-thin candles. A mahogany check-in desk with a white marble top sat against the back wall.
Moving forward, she saw a room off to the right with several manicurist chairs on one side and pedicure stations on the other. To the left on both sides of the room were stylist stations. Lynae was about to venture further down a hallway when the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life walked out of the office behind the check-in desk.
She only saw him above the waist, but what she did see made her breath stall in her chest. Her breasts began to tingle, along with the rest of her.
He smiled. “Good evening, Ms. Moore. Welcome to Pamper You.”
He had perfect, straight white teeth, an enigmatic smile, and expertly cut short, wavy blond hair. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were because of the dim candlelight. He wore a white jacket like the one she used to wear at her old salon, except he wore no shirt underneath.
Muscles.
Muscles on top of muscles rippled down his chest, disappearing behind the desk. Damn, she wanted to see the rest.
“My name is Jared, and I’ll be your masseur for the evening.”
Lynae sent a silent “thank you” to her sister and promised herself she would send her a dozen roses first thing Monday morning.
Jared stepped from around the corner, and she was rewarded with the sight of the rest of him.
My, my, my.
“Please follow me.” He turned to walk down the hallway beside the desk, and she followed, enjoying the view. A pair of white pants encased his legs, matching his jacket. She couldn’t wait to see what he looked like without any clothes.
Maybe this was a good idea after all.
He led her to the back and into a massage therapy room. A massage table sat directly in the center, already prepared for her with clean white sheets and towels. Several candles were lit on top of a long counter along the left wall. A counter to the right held different bottles of massage oils, a sink, and more towels.
He let her pass, then walked back to the door. “Please take off all your clothes.” His deep baritone voice was like milk chocolate running over a rich warm brownie, and God, she wanted to taste it. “Lie on the table, on your stomach, and cover yourself with the top sheet.” He smiled. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
A soft click sounded when he shut the door. Nervous flutters zipped around in her stomach. She circled the table, lightly touching the cool, crisp white sheets.
I can’t do this.
I can’t do this.
It appeared that the bravado she’d felt earlier had left with him. She grabbed her cell phone out of her purse, found her favorites in her phone book, and double tapped the screen to dial her sister.
“Please tell me you didn’t chicken out,” Celeste hissed when she answered.
“I can’t do this, Celeste. I can’t,” she whispered.
“Are you there now?”
“Yes. He just left. He told me to take off all my clothes and lie on the table.”
“Well, he is a masseur. Is he cute?”
Lynae recalled his image in her mind. “O-M-G, he’s gorgeous. But that’s not the point.”
“I swear on my life if you don’t go through with this, I’m going to come down there myself, tie you to the bed, and let him have his way with you, and you will enjoy every single damn minute of it.”
“Celeste,” she whined.
“How many times have I told you to be brave? Don’t become a chicken shit now.”
“Ugh…I hate it when you say that.”
“You said he was cute, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then just think of it as a one-night stand. You just went out, you met him at a bar, and you decided you wanted to have hot monkey sex with him. Now, all you gotta do is do it.”
She did have a point. “Are you sure this is safe?”
“The Pleasure Club has a sparkling reputation. It’s word-of-mouth and referral only. Believe me, if they were doing anything illegal or underhanded, or if someone had been hurt or raped, they wouldn’t still be in business.” Lynae heard her sigh through the phone. “Come on, little sister, you can do this. Live a little. Enjoy yourself and this man and everything his body has to offer. You won’t regret it.”
Lynae could already feel acquiescence slipping through her veins. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it.”
“Good. Now, take off your clothes and get up on that table. Tomorrow you can call me and tell me all about it.”
She smiled and said, “I will. Bye.”
Glancing at her watch, she noticed she only had about four minutes left before he returned. She slipped out of her shoes, then stripped out of the capris and shirt she wore. Thank goodness she’d decided to dress casually when she came. She’d already been nervous enough. Having to think about something fancy to wear would have driven her crazy.
A little chilly, she climbed up onto the massage table and under the lightweight blanket and covered herself from neck to toe. She understood the mechanics of what was going to happen. After all, she’d read up about massage therapy techniques when she’d decided she was going to try for her license. But actually being “on the table” made her nervous as hell.
When he walked back in the room, he was shirtless, and the pants he wore hung low on his hips. He walked to the side of the table, and she tried to relax, but she felt the tension building in her shoulders.
“Are you ready?” he said.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I guess.”
No. What the hell am I doing?
She felt him touch her back, and she flinched.
“Would you like to hear some music?”
“That would be great.” Maybe it would soothe her, calm her down. This man was drop-dead gorgeous. Hell, if she had met him on the street, or in a bar, she’d definitely want to fuck him. Why couldn’t she do what Celeste said? Treat it like a one-night stand.
&nb
sp; He walked to a panel on the wall she hadn’t even noticed and pressed a button. Soft music filtered through the room. The next thing she felt was air on her feet.
“I’m going to start with your feet. Is that all right?”
Lynae nodded into the face rest. “Uh huh,” was all she could manage.
She heard the soft clack of a jar top being placed on the counter, the slick rubbing of his hands over each other as he applied the liquid to his hands. Scents of apricot and jojoba wafted through the room.
Then she felt his hands on her right foot, and she had to physically prevent herself from jerking it out of his touch. From the ball of her heel, to the sensitized pressure of his thumbs on the inset of her foot, to each and every single toe and in between, he caressed her slowly, easily. Sluggishly, the tension in her body ebbed away as he moved to her ankle, tracing the outer contour of her calf muscles. He applied the exact right amount of pressure, the correct wisp of his fingers that made her want to beg for more.
Yet, she kept silent.
Up and down, up and down he applied pressure, gliding his fingers gently along her skin, soothing her, until he came back to her toes. Switching to her left side, he did the same thing. She knew he was taking his time, allowing her to get used to his touch. And it was working. The emotional stress she’d felt walking into the building had just about eased away.
Lynae felt the towel move higher on her thighs to just below her ass, and she tensed. He moved to the right side of the table. Soon after, he rolled his hands over her skin and kneaded her thighs. Slowly, her taut muscles began to unwind.
It felt incredible.
He made continuous, rounded, soothing movements over her muscles. She felt one hand, then two, then one again. Jared knew exactly what he was doing. Either he was a masseur, or he’d gotten an expert crash course. Whichever it was, her body melted. To think this gorgeous man was here for her pleasure sent a sensual shudder through her pussy.