I had called the massage place earlier in the day to make an appointment... the woman who answered (Bonnie) set me up for a one-hour session with Doris, at 2:30.

I arrived around 2:20, early for once. No one was sitting at the front desk; apparently, they were a bit understaffed today. A well-dressed man came out from the back, looking to pay and leave. He asked if I was there to see Doris; when I said yes, he told me "She's back there, in room 7 - why don't you just go back?"

I declined, making some lame excuse about waiting for a phone call, just as Doris came out from the back hallway. She was in her 50s, dumpy and pudgy, like you might expect from the name "Doris." She quickly rang up her previous customer - he paid with a credit card - and then took me back to room 7.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," she said, which of course is massage parlor speak for "get butt naked and get on that table, towel over your ass." She left, closing the door behind her.

While removing my clothes, I glanced at the doorknob to see if it had a lock. Some of the rooms at this particular establishment do, some don't. I was dismayed to see that this was one of the rooms without a locking doorknob.

You see, massage is a somewhat sensual experience, and I'm alway fairly turned on by the end of the hour. So, I normally "take matters into my own hands" and masturbate to orgasm after the therapist leaves the room.

The last time I had been at this place, my therapist (Cathy) came back in without warning and caught me - or came close enough, anyway. I'm still not sure quite what she saw before she backed out of the room, apologizing. I threw the small towel over my cock, which was gripped tightly in my right hand. In any case, she either explicitly saw what I was doing or figured it out easily.

So, I hadn't been back for about three months, and was pleased that Cathy was nowhere in sight. I doubted she would have told anyone else. Probably I'm not the only guy who does that after a massage, I reasoned.

Anyway, back to the present. After removing my clothes and stacking them neatly on the chair, I climbed on the table, face down, and arranged the small towel so it was covering my ass. After waiting a few minutes, I heard a tap-tap on the door.

"Come in," I called, expecting to see Doris. Instead, it was a different woman. Now, if this were a fantasy, instead of reality, she would have been 21, with long blonde hair and 36D tits.

However, this is a true story. This woman looked to be in her mid-40s, not exactly a looker but much easier on the eyes than Doris, that's for sure. Wavy frosted blonde hair, a little pudgy all over but not too bad.

She rested one hand on the small of my back. "Hi, honey. Are you just looking for general relaxation massage today?"

I said yes, and in particular I was having some lower back pain from moving a bunch of computers this week. "Okay, general relaxation with focus on lower back. Gotcha."

She left the room, closing the door behind her, and I wondered what that was all about - normally, therapists don't relay information to each other - the usual practice is for the therapist who'll be working on you to ask those questions herself.

Two minutes later, the door opened, and the same woman returned. She closed the door behind her, and asked me, "Do you prefer to be draped or undraped during a massage?"

The question startled me, and I had to ask her to repeat it. I had read on the Internet about "open-minded" therapists who would massage a client that was completely in the nude. However, I had never had the courage to ask a therapist to do so, for fear she would freak out and think I was a pervert.

All of my sexual activities at this massage parlor had been conducted by myself; I had never even seriously considered asking a therapist for a "helping hand." (The signs all over the place saying that "sessions will be terminated immediately if a client acts inappropriately" scared me, I suppose.)

Anyway, after the second time she asked the question, I answered "Um, undraped is fine, I suppose." After all, massage therapists usually uncover each ass cheek in turn anyway, so what was the big deal?

"Are you sure?" she asked. "If you're shy or something, that's OK."

"Nah," I responded, more confidently. "I've had enough massages that I'm fine with it."

She pulled the towel - my only covering - off my backside, and suddenly there I was, completely naked on the table. Oiling her hands, she began to rub in hard strokes over the small of my back.

"Do you just want a massage on your lower back, or everywhere?"

"Everywhere," I responded. "Okay," she said. "I just like to make sure, as sometimes people are uncomfortable when I touch their butt."

She started rubbing the oil into my buttocks, and it felt darn good. "I'm going to tell Doris that I'll take you, and she can take Paul," she said. Tossing the towel over my butt once more, she left the room.

She returned shortly, and removed the towel once again. "Oh - I should tell you sweetie, the credit card machine is broken."

"That's OK," I said. "I have cash today, though I wouldn't always." I wondered how the credit card machine had broken since the last customer used it, but put the thought quickly out of my head.

The therapist moved on to my legs, massaging in long strokes from my feet all the way up to my ass. She then started using her fingernails, dragging them lightly along my skin and drawing goosebumps over the entire lower half of my body.

"People carry a lot of tension in their butt," she said, dragging her nails across its surface. "I know a lot of people don't liked to be touched in certain places, but it can definitely help get you relaxed."