An actress turned masseuse no longer believes the lies L.A. whispers on a daily basis. Until she runs into an avant-garde client who turns the table (the massage table, that is) around.
Previously published in Radclyffe's Road Games (Erotic Interludes).
Jeremy Edwards said: "I love your "20-Minute Rule"--so sweet and delicious!"
EXCERPT:
To my great delight, she chattered throughout the entire massage. It was as if she'd never had a massage before, or as if she were simply getting a rubdown from a good friend. She didn't seem to want to relax in the slightest, more concerned with helping me to do my job well. When I lifted her hand in mine, she raised her whole arm for me, and I had to tell her, "No, let me do the work. Let me position you," and gently shake the limb until she let loose. And when I rubbed the palm of her hand, caressing and soothing, she tried to return the favor, her thumb pressing back into my own palm, sending a wash of heat cresting over me.
Maybe she was stressed, but my fingers didn't feel it. There were no knots to discover in her back, no tight spots to slide away. Regardless, I gave her my best work, and she cooed and sighed in between discussion of her art and her travels, but as far as I could tell, she was as easygoing as a house cat whose sole job is to find the best sunbeam to sleep in.
Previously published in Radclyffe's Road Games (Erotic Interludes).
Jeremy Edwards said: "I love your "20-Minute Rule"--so sweet and delicious!"
EXCERPT:
To my great delight, she chattered throughout the entire massage. It was as if she'd never had a massage before, or as if she were simply getting a rubdown from a good friend. She didn't seem to want to relax in the slightest, more concerned with helping me to do my job well. When I lifted her hand in mine, she raised her whole arm for me, and I had to tell her, "No, let me do the work. Let me position you," and gently shake the limb until she let loose. And when I rubbed the palm of her hand, caressing and soothing, she tried to return the favor, her thumb pressing back into my own palm, sending a wash of heat cresting over me.
Maybe she was stressed, but my fingers didn't feel it. There were no knots to discover in her back, no tight spots to slide away. Regardless, I gave her my best work, and she cooed and sighed in between discussion of her art and her travels, but as far as I could tell, she was as easygoing as a house cat whose sole job is to find the best sunbeam to sleep in.