What Lucy Wants (Mosaic)

by Davis, Kirsten S.

God, she thought, Alice was right. This guy is magical.

  Every moment he massaged he seemed to flick off switches inside her, like her worries were connected to a fuse box, and Heath’s meticulous attention turned them off one by one.

  He moved on to the other foot and after a few minutes, her leg.

  “Just relax” he cooed. “Listen to the music. Breath in the scents…”

  Lucy smiled, euphoric and on the verge of sleep. Yet through the haze, she realised that her legs lay open on the massage table. As she tried to close them, Heath’s fingers moved higher, pressing into the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

  “What…what are you doing?”

  “We’re entering the next stage. I’m going to need you to take off your underwear. Or I can do it. Most clients come in already prepared.

  Lucy shook her groggy head and pulled her legs away from him, but her limbs were dead weights.

  “Most clients? I…I don’t understand.” She looked back over her bare shoulder.

  Heath had stepped away from the massage table and stood with his hands on his narrow hips.

  “Level with me, Lucy. You don’t really know what this place is, do you?”

  “Should I? I thought this was a massage place.”

  Heath headed towards the unit in the corner. “Before you think me some kind of sex pest or molester,” he said, “you might want to have a look at this.”

  He pulled a pamphlet from a stand and returned to the massage table, stopping by Lucy’s head. He held the folded paper in front of her face.

  “Sexual massage?” she read. “Sexual massage?”

  “This isn’t about happy endings in the backrooms of Oriental parlours,” explained Heath. “I’m registered to practice. I have qualifications. If there was something seedy about all this, would I really put it on the promotional material?” He placed the pamphlet on the table next to Lucy. “Now that you really know what we do here, I wouldn’t be offended if you chose to end our session early.”

  “But what is it that you…do?” said Lucy. The massage had been ecstasy. Although he wasn’t her type per se, if he was as good with his cock as he was with his hands…

  “Strictly no sex,” said Heath, “which is a common misconception. I’m still bound by law. Furthermore, this is a patient-doctor treatment with no emotional attachment whatsoever. Trust, me, I’ve had problems with patients before.” He sighed. “This practice is to mend the spirit via sexual practices, Lucy. I don’t just offer the physical, more I use the physical to shape the spiritual. How do you feel? What brought you here?”

  Lucy thought back to the previous night, and in fact, quite a few similar nights before that. Being ignored; overlooked because John had a deadline. Was this how life was due to play out? She felt part of an old retired couple. Only Alice made her young again, and hadn’t all this been her best friend’s idea?

  “I… I…guess… I don’t know,” she said.

  I’m such a fool, she thought. I’m lying here with a complete stranger in nothing but a towel and see-through underwear, on the verge of bawling my eyes out! What the fuck has happened to me?

  “Is everything okay?”

  “No,” she admitted. “It’s not.”

  Heath nodded, understanding. “I can try and help, if you want me to. I can’t guarantee to right all the wrongs, but my clients, those who embrace the treatment, experience a change within themselves. They leave here more positive, confident. Is that something you think you’d be interested in?”

  Lucy nodded, picturing John sat at his desk tapping the occasional computer key, adding words to a tired manuscript.

  Heath returned to the unit and reapplied the viscous, golden oil to his hands. As he rubbed it around his fingers, he said “Please remove your underwear, Lucy, and lie back on your front.”

  She swallowed, feeling a slight swell between her legs.

  No. This isn’t sex. No need to get all fired up. This is more like…like a medical examination.

  Lucy rolled onto her back and reaching underneath the towel with both hands, hooked the elastic of her underwear up by her hips. Lifting her bum from the table, she pulled them down her long legs and off over her feet, which still tingled from Heath’s pliant fingers. Unsure what to do with them, she tucked the garment into her towel before rolling over and lying on her front as instructed.

  Still she pressed her legs together tightly, feeling exposed.

  Heath, rubbing his lubricated hands together, approached the foot of the massage table and sat down.

  “As I now know this is your first time,” he said softly, “I’ll talk you through exactly what I’ll be doing. Should anything make you feel uncomfortable, just say and I’ll stop. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Beautiful. Now, Lucy, I’m just going to move your legs. If you could help me, that would be great.”

  Lucy took a long breath, closed her eyes and gradually opened her legs. She imagined what Heath must be seeing: the towel draped over the smooth curves of her backside, casting shadow over the warm, wet spot within. She felt open and exhibited. Would he be bored with such a sight? A man in his profession must surely see glistening pink folds every day.

  She moved a little, pushing her breasts harder against the massage table.

  “Keep still,” said Heath and placed the ball of his hand lightly at the small of her back. “Let’s work on your upper legs.”

  She shivered as both his hands found the backs of her legs, and his oiled fingers manipulated the muscle beneath her curves. Lucy gasped the first time his attention rose higher and his strong fingers pressed into the softness of her cheeks. With every visit, he rubbed in an outward circle. Skin pulled taught, and she opened for him further.

  Lucy licked her lips. Going ahead with the treatment was the best decision she’d made in a while.

  “Tell me one of your problems,” said Heath.

  “My husband,” she said, no hesitation.

  “What is it about your husband that upsets you?”

  “His work,” she said and sighed, both from the thought of John, who was probably still sat at his desk, typing away, and from what Heath was doing. He now worked solely on her bum, squeezing the softness like fresh dough. “He only has time for his work.”

  “And that leaves you feeling rejected,” said Heath. “Time may fade the attention of a good marriage, the way many washes will fade a colour. Your husband is wrong to not spend his time and heart on you, Lucy, but only you can change that. Do you agree?”

  “Um-hmm,” she mumbled, thoughts more on her vacant, wet opening. Every time he pulled her wider, she wanted to be filled. Her hard nipples were mashed between her body and the massage table. How she ached to roll over and let Heath’s hands do some magic on those!

  “Lucy,” said Heath. “I’m going to touch your clitoris now. Would you like me to stop?”

  “God no…” she moaned, spreading her legs further, allowing Heath a better view of her shaven slit. She bit her lower lip and gasped the moment his thumb brushed her hard, throbbing nub. “Fuck…”

  Ignoring Heath’s request to not move, Lucy arched her back and propped herself up on her elbows. The towel fell away from her chest, and Lucy’s heavy breasts swayed with her slight rocking. Her nipples stuck out, demanding the attention that she could now give them.

  If only these were lips, she thought, loving the stroke and pluck of her own fingers. Heath’s lips, or better yet, John’s. I’d make him suck my nipples while my young therapist tongues my hot button…

  “Keep listening to the sound of my voice,” said Heath, his calm tones at one with the peaceful chimes and sounds of water from the stereo. His finger kept up a slow, even pace. “Picture your husband. He’s hard at work. Imagine taking his attention…because you deserve it.”

  “Yes…” she hissed, giving her nipple a light twist.

  Heath increased his speed and pushed a little firmer.

  Lucy’s mouth hung op
en and she closed her eyes tight. Hot and sweating, her senses were drunk on the heady, fragrant aromas, transcendent music and the low, needing ache of her body. She breathed shallower, the wave of orgasm cresting.

  Heath, sensing the change, returned to his slower fingering of her clitoris.

  Lucy pressed he teeth together, wanting to scream.

  “This power you’re feeling deep within,” said Heath, his words so quiet and mingling with the tribal sounds from the stereo it was hypnotic, “is the power to change the world.” He let her swim in sensation for a little longer. “I’m about to enter you now, Lucy. Would you like me to stop?”

  She thrashed her head from side to side. Fuck no!

  Feeling his tentative fingertips exploring her lips, Lucy lay back down on the table, trapping her arms beneath her body so her hands could continue to clasp and tweak her breasts.

  All the way in, you teasing bastard, she yelled in her head. Up to your fucking knuckles…

  Instead, Heath barely penetrated her, inserting his fingers only a couple of inches within her juicy pocket. He explored her front vaginal wall until she gasped.

  “There we are,” he whispered.

  Slow and meticulous, Heath gently rubbed Lucy at her most intimate while she groaned and squeezed, cursing yet full of adoration for his teasing. She lost track of the minutes passing by as she floated with pleasure.

  “Feel the energy build within you,” he said.

  Lucy did feel something start to build within her…but it certainly wasn’t energy.

  The wine, her groggy mind thought. Too much wine…

  “I…need…to get up…” she mumbled.

  “Would you like me to stop?” said Heath.

  “No…just…I need to go to the bathroom.”

  He again tenderly placed a hand at the small of her back to hold her in position. “It’s a normal sensation,” he said. “Close your eyes and enjoy it.”

  With a slight reluctance, Lucy stayed on the table. While his fingering was masterful, the last thing she wanted to do was pee all over him.

  “Try and find your place again,” said Heath, his stroke constant and unrelenting. “When the moment arrives, I want you to scream, Lucy, scream so that your husband hears you and has to give you the attention you deserve.”

  “Mmmm,” Lucy sighed. Already her orgasm was building, and so was the sensation to go to the bathroom. She closed her eyes tightly and fought to hold back, but it was too late. Heath’s expert manipulation was quickly bringing her to climax.

  “Yeah… Yeah…” she cried.

  “You’re a goddess,” said Heath, working her G spot faster and faster. “Say it.”

  “I’m…I’m a …goddess.”

  The tension could be heard in his voice as he strained to keep up his quick, hard circling. “You’re a goddess!”

  Oh God, her mind screamed.

  “I’m a… I’m…a…”

  “Scream for me, Lucy.”

  She tried, but her body had locked with the sheer onslaught of orgasm. Eyes wide, and back arched, she struggled to cope with the intense rush inside her. She felt her sex squeeze.

  Lucy finally managed to snatch in a lungful of air, and on exhaling, released a throat-burning cry.

  “There we go” soothed Heath, slowing his movements and easing his fingers from her. “There we go… Good girl.”

  Lucy rode out the aftershocks of her climax. I was like she’d been wrapped in a warm, tingling blanket and she lay on the massage able in absolute bliss. But still, she needed filling, and only one thing could give her the full satisfaction she craved.

  She gazed up.

  Heath had returned to the sink in the corner. He allowed the music to continue but set to work washing his hands. The front of his pristine white polo shirt was wet.

  Did I do that? Lucy thought. Wow. I’ve never done that before…

  She propped herself up on shaking arms, knowing how this would push her generous tits together and give him quite the eyeful.

  “Now fuck me,” she said.

  ***

  Lucy opened the front door and threw her handbag down onto the table in the hallway.

  “That you, sweetheart?” came the call from the lounge.

  “Yeah, it’s me” she grumbled. She removed her coat and hung it up.

  “Good day?” asked John. His words brought a slideshow of images.

  “Not bad,” she replied. “You? Any luck with the book?”

  “Me? Nah,” he said. “I’ve added about five hundred words all day, and not very good words either. Spent most of the time staring at the screen or watching YouTube.”

  Lucy headed for the kitchen. A chilled half bottle of dry white was waiting for her. It had been one of those days, certainly filled with ups and downs!

  Filled glass in hand, she walked into the lounge and collapsed into an armchair.

  “Rough day at the office?” said John, peering over his computer monitor.

  Yes, it had been a rough day at the office. Lucy recalled the shadow that had passed over Heath’s face as she lain on his table, offering herself to him. Was it distaste or boredom? She saw a line of his clients, all women, all begging him to stick his cock inside them after their treatment. Had he done it so often that it failed to excite now?

  No, Lucy mulled, cradling the cold glass between her hands. He actually seems a straight up kinda guy. Probably wouldn’t go near a client in that way.

  That’s something we’ll have to change.

  Heath hadn’t directly forbid her from returning. On his request, she’d humbly climbed from the table and with her cheeks burning and legs still wobbly, retreated to the changing room. Dressed and back in reception, she’d paid for the treatment on her credit card and not a word was shared with the sexual healer. He’d still worn the polo shirt she’d squirted all over.

  “You look deep in thought,” said John. “I didn’t think that was possible after spending the day with Alice. Does an afternoon drinking really require such contemplation and reflection?”

  Lucy smiled sourly. You can be such a dick at times. Why the hell did I ever marry you?

  She realised one of the reasons was his books. She’d fallen in love with the man behind the stories! While the words – and other things – had dried up of late, he still had his imagination.

  “We had a debate,” she said, kicking off her shoes and flexing her toes. Her feet ached a little from the hard massage Heath had given them, but what was pleasure without a taste of pain? “Alice thinks that a woman couldn’t overpower a man. We got talking about rape of all things, and Alice thinks that if a man ever tried to rape her, that would be it. Game over.”

  “Women overpower men all the time,” said John. “I wouldn’t recommend raping Alice though, what with her rugby player husband and all his mates.”

  Lucy ran a finger around the rim of her glass, remembering Heath’s controlled actions. So confident in his morals. Would never make the wrong choice and fuck a client.

  “So go on,” she pressed. “Let’s just say I wanted you…I don’t know…completely submissive to my every whim. How could I do it? You write thrillers. I’m sure this has passed through your filthy little writer’s brain many times.”

  John laughed and scratched his head through thinning hair. “Part of the job! Well, you could bash me over the head, I guess. Or drug me. Blackmail is always a less violent option.”

  Lucy weighed up each suggestion. “No. These things are either too lethal or need too much planning. Come on, John. How could I have you all to myself, but you know…awake and breathing.”

  John tapped his chin. “Well…I guess there’s only one other option…”

  ***

  Lucy held out for a few more days before finally making a second appointment under a fake name. If Heath recognised her voice as she made the booking, he didn’t let on. He confirmed the time and date and said he looked forward to seeing her.

  Damn right you’ll look
forward to seeing me, thought Lucy, passing an eye over the various items of clothing she’d laid out on the bed. You won’t be able to fucking say no this time.

  She opted for a simple but sexy black miniskirt that hugged her figure, fishnet tights and boots. Slightly superstitious, she wore her new scarlet underwear for luck. They had led her to Heath in the first place. A white blouse, generously open, showed off her ample cleavage and just a hint of bra. What kind of man can refuse this?

  Lucy called a goodbye to John when she reached the door. No need to raise any suspicion by giving him an eyeful. The treatment with Heath had imbedded in her the feel for power, that rush of energy. If she wanted something, it was up to her to make it a reality. While John’s books provided the money and the lifestyle she enjoyed so much, why should she stay so desperate for the sex she so desperately craved? From now on, if she wanted something, she would get it.

  “I’m a goddess now,” she whispered and left the house.

  ***

  She paused on the street outside the Rest and Relaxation sign as her doubts surfaced. Was this going too far? She had a right to use her new found confidence, but surely this was illegal. In John’s books, bad people got away with doing bad things. In the real world, could a good person get away with doing a bad thing?

  Because the bad thing she had planned was very, very bad.

  She pushed the misgivings aside, knowing what she wanted.

  Walking up the steps with purpose, Lucy swept the bead curtain aside, entered the reception and without missing a beat, grabbed the door and slammed it shut. She turned, pushing her back against the wood, her fingers already locked on the top button of her blouse.

  Heath, sitting at the desk, stared up, a confused from on his face. His eyes widened. “You?”

  “Me,” said Lucy and popped open the button.

  Heath sighed. He wore the same uniform as last time: polo shirt and shorts, both a dazzling white. “Look, I told you last time. It’s not that you’re not an attractive woman, but you’re a client.”

  “Probably not after this,” said Lucy, unfastening another button.

  “I swore an oath of professionalism,” Heath continued. “I would not be ethical to indulge in any…sexual behaviour.”