Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
My clothes were what I thought of as my work clothes. Soft fabrics. A peasant blouse with a wide neckline. A long, flowy skirt. I’d spent far too long wearing a uniform when I’d worked for a massage chain. These clothes made me feel mellow and calm—both necessary traits for giving a good massage. But best of all, they made me feel pretty, and the massage oil washed out of the fabric easily.
“Good morning.”
Tye was standing at the top of the stairs, looking across the room at me. I got to my feet and crossed over to him. Somehow, I’d figured it would be one of the other two men who’d come up here first. Maybe that’s because it felt like I knew them a little better. But Tye was my client this week, too.
“Good morning.” I gave him a smile. “Can I get you some water?”
“I’m good.”
“Okay, then why don’t we sit for a minute so I can find out what kind of massage you’d like.”
At this point, many of my first-time clients stopped to ask if that was really necessary, but Tye didn’t say anything as he chose an armchair adjacent to the loveseat. From what I knew of athletes, they had trainers and physical therapists working on their bodies quite a bit, so he probably knew how this worked better than most of my new clients.
I settled across from him and used my slow, calm, professional voice. “Do you know what kind of massage you’d like?” I was perfectly prepared to explain some options to him, but I didn’t need to.
“Probably deep tissue. The harder the better, except for my knees.”
“Your knees?”
“They’re messed up. I’m a catcher.” He caught himself. “Was a catcher.”
“All right, thank you for telling me that. It’s probably best that I just avoid that area entirely.”
“Don’t, please. Some days it really aches, especially in the morning. Just—be gentle.”
“I don’t have any training in physical therapy or medicine,” I warned him. “So I’m not sure if I should.”
“Can you try? I’ll let you know if something hurts.”
I thought about it. Evelyn was paying me generously for this weekend, and she probably wouldn’t like it if I left one of her nephew’s friends damaged. I wouldn’t like that, either. Truth be told, I had done some research into massage and therapy techniques for people with injuries, but I only knew enough to know that I didn’t know enough. People who weren’t properly trained could make things worse.
Still, Tye wasn’t ignorant. He likely knew there was a slight risk involved, and I believe that he would speak up if he needed to. “All right. How long of a massage would you like?”
Lines appeared on his forehead while he thought about it. “Forty-five minutes?”
I frowned. “Usually, for a deep tissue massage, it takes at least—”
He cocked an eyebrow as he interrupted me. “I’m pretty sure your average client isn’t preparing for a make-or-break exam. Can’t you just hit the highlights?”
He was being more personable this morning than he had been yesterday, and I couldn’t help giving in. “Okay.” I stood up, and he did as well. “I’ll step out of the room now. Please take off your clothing to your comfort level, and then choose whichever table you’d like. Drape the sheet over yourself and then let me know when you’re ready.”
He nodded, already heading for the tables.
I stepped into the hallway that led to other rooms on the top floor. I barely had time to take a few deep breaths—something I did before every massage—before he was calling me back in.
Tye was face down on the table, and from the way the white sheet draped across his ass, I could tell that he was naked underneath. His clothes were folded on a chair by the window, and I couldn’t imagine how he’d gotten undressed so fast. What was he, a speed stripper?
But it would give me more time to work on his muscles, and that was the important part.
I selected my favorite oil and began my routine, speaking in a soft voice and warning the client before touching him. Tye appeared to take all this in stride, and he said nothing when I started with his shoulders.
His skin was warm to the touch, and a pleasant tan color. From what I’d overheard, the three of them got down here at least four or five days before I did. Had his tan just come from this week?
It didn’t really matter, but I needed something to occupy my mind because working on his chiseled, well-defined muscles was an experience in itself—even after five years in this job.
His back was just so sculpted. And tense. Very tense. I don’t mean that he was deliberately tensing up, but his muscles were knotted with tension deep inside.
It was my job to change that.