Chapter 18

“It’s set for a hundred and three, so you might want to get in slowly,” he said.

“Mmmm. Sounds good already.”

“You go ahead. I’ll be right back,” he said.

He ran back through the heavy curtain and Megan stripped. The cover lifted on some kind of springs or piston device, and steam rose from the surface of the crystal clear water. She climbed a set of three steps to a redwood apron, large enough for two people to stand on. There was a stainless steel handrail the cover had not covered. It swiveled and clicked into another stainless steel tube in the tub beside three steps. She held on to that while she dipped her toes in the water. It did, indeed, feel hot.

She was submerged to her breasts and making “Ooo” and “Ahhh” noises as she slipped ever lower in the water when he got back. He had a double handful of items that he dumped out on a tray at the end of the massage table. Then he came to the tub and stripped down.

He made waves that caused her hair, which was floating on the surface of the water, to move and ripple.

“My hair floats when it’s oily,” she said. “I’m going to get your beautiful, clean water all dirty.”

“That’s why there’s a filter,” he said. “I should have brought you some shampoo.”

“I use special stuff,” she said. “I have to wash my hair standing up or it will get tangled. I thought you knew that.”

“I’ve seen you doing that. I just didn’t know why.”

“If it gets tangled it takes me an hour or more to brush out. I should have cut it short years ago, but when it’s long like this it makes me feel pretty.”

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, pulling her and spinning her gently so her back went against his chest. His hands went around her stomach and her hands went on top of his.

“You’re biased,” she said.

“I have the eye of a fashion photographer,” he said. “I’m a professional. You may not argue with a professional.”

“Right.”

He pulled his hands up to cup her heavy breasts.

“These are beautiful, too,” he said. “If you were ten years younger I’d tell you to go into professional modeling. Even now they’d kill to do swimsuit pictures of you in Sports Illustrated.”

“At least they wouldn’t want to take pictures of me naked,” she said.

His laugh was loud and there was a faint echo from above.

“Girl, you crazy. If you were doing that kind of work you’d get hit on five or six times a day.”

“Is that why you think you’d make so much if you photographed me naked?”

“That’s a different audience, believe it or not. If you were in the mainstream they’d be selling exorbitantly expensive clothing and swimsuits that couldn’t survive a light rain, much less a pool or the ocean. Now, if you decide to do what I was talking about, that’s just raw sex. Men would be looking at you and salivating, coming in their pants, knowing they can’t have you, but the son of a bitch who photographed you maybe did. In the industry that’s not true, usually. Photographers don’t sleep with the models. They have to be unbiased, so that when they say, ‘Gorgeous!’ the model believes it. If you’re sleeping with girl A, when you tell girl B she’s gorgeous she won’t believe you, even if it’s true. And Girl A will be jealous and that’s how cat fights get started.”

He squeezed her breasts and tried to find her nipples. The hot water had made them flat, though.

“Happily, I only have one model, so I can have sex with her as much as I want.”

“You have two models, you beast,” she said.

“Okay, but the other one isn’t jealous of you.”

“So you think. She asked me to put her on the pill.”

“Oh she did, did she?”

“Yes. She said was because of Josh ... and you.”

“Me? Nonsense.”

“Until Josh came along she said she was positive you would be her first.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been. What I already do with her is more than enough.”

“Now that Josh is on the scene, yes, but if he hadn’t come along, you might have had to fight her off, one of these days.”

“I would have just kept it buried in you, so she couldn’t get to it,” he joked.

“The school board might not have appreciated me teaching like that.”

“When do you think they’ll start school again?” he asked. “They can’t keep going like this.”

“Oh, most of it is online already. About half of the teachers agreed to do some online work. I only teach one class and it only takes me half an hour to do that because some commercial outlet already had an online course available for home schooling. This year’s seniors won’t ever go back to brick and mortar. They aren’t even going to have a commencement ceremony. There’s only a month left in the school year for them.”

“Wow,” said Bob. “They’re missing so much.”

“You know what they’re upset about the most? It isn’t no commencement. It’s because they can’t have prom.”

“I can see that,” said Bob. “That’s a big rite of passage.”

“I suppose,” she said. “At least I won’t have to go chaperone it this year.”

“I’m surprised they let you chaperone,” said Bob.

“What do you mean?”

“With you at the dance for the boys to see, they’d have boners all night and the girls would get disgusted with them. On the other hand, that would please the parents, because as we all know, every boy dreams of nailing his prom date at the after party. If she’s disgusted with him for horning out on Mrs. Blaylock then there will be fewer unplanned pregnancies.”

“You’re awful.”

“Trust me. If I was a boy at Prom all I’d be dreaming of was seeing you naked.”

“You’re trying to get lucky, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

“Might I offer you a massage?”

“Mmmm, that would feel wonderful,” she sighed. She floated away from him, went underwater and stood, letting the water comb her long hair for her.

“Good grief, you’re beautiful,” he said. “If I didn’t already have a stiffy you’d have just given me one.”

They went to the steps.

“Crap,” he said. “I completely forgot towels.”

“We can drip dry.”

Once out they left wet footprints moving to the massage table, which had waterproof vinyl upholstery on it. Nimbly, she climbed up on the table and let herself down, hanging her thick hair over one shoulder and putting her face in the hole in the table.

“Your back is beautiful,” said Bob. He put both hands on her back, but only lightly. “Oil. I need some oil.”

He opened one of the bottles he had brought in. He’d gotten them from the inventory of items to be photographed. Now he dribbled the contents on her back.

“Tell me if this feels warm,” he said.

He put his hands on her back again, but this time he moved them all over at medium speed, spreading the liquid all over her back. Then he pressed and began putting pressure on her as he moved.

“Yes, It’s warm,” came her muffled voice.

He moved his hands onto her ass and did a wax on - wax off pattern.

“It’s not warm,” she said, lifting her head. “It’s hot!”

“The heat is activated by friction. Is it too much?”

“No,” she said. “It feels like the heat is deeper than the skin.”

“Well, I’m going to heat you up all over.”

He didn’t massage her so much as he just stroked her skin in long, sweeping movements that went from calf to neck. She purred as the oil, called Hot Stuff, did its work. The initial lubricative feature began to lessen and he could no longer press as he stroked. He was back to letting his fingers just drift lightly over her body. He chose another bottle and dribbled it like he had the last.

“That’s cold!” she complained.

“Not for long,” he said.

This was actual massage oil and again his hands could slide easily over the contours of her skin. Now he pressed, feeling for muscle and bone. He wasn’t a trained masseur but he knew what felt good when somebody did it to him, so he just tried to move things around under her skin. Again she purred. He worked her calves and then her thighs. Her butt was next and then around the bottom of her ribs. Her scapula moved so much he was worried, but she only made happy sounds.

He moved his hands back to her ass and slid his middle finger down her butt crack, pressing as it went over her rose bud. Her hips lifted up and she made a noise. He leaned over and put his lips right by the ear that was uncovered.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Uh huh,” came her muffled reply.

“Do you really trust me?”

She lifted her head and looked at him.

“Yes. Why?”

“I’m going to do something you may object to, initially, but I want you to trust that I know it will feel good, eventually. Think of it like losing your virginity. That hurts, initially, but that goes away. This won’t hurt. It will just feel odd.”

“What are you going to do, Bob?”

“Do you trust me?”

She stared at him.

“Yes,” she decided. She put her face back down in the hole.

He went back to rubbing her ass and began stroking his finger over her rectum and down towards her pussy. She shifted her legs so she could open them. Then, without warning, he let the tip of his pointer finger push into her ass to the first knuckle.

Again, her hips bounced up off the table and the sound she made wasn’t a happy one.

“Calm down,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you to feel how many nerves you have there.”

“Bob,” her voice came.

“You know how good it feels to go when number two is urgent. The reason it feels so good is that the nerves are stimulated. That’s what I’m doing now. I’m only going to stimulate those nerves. I won’t go in very far. Just try to feel the nerves.”

He began removing and then pushing the tip of his finger back in. Her hips bounced and she said, “Bob” several times, but, suddenly, she lifted her head again.

“I do not believe this,” she said.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it,” he said.

“Where the fuck did you learn this?”

“I knew a woman one time who wanted me to fuck her in the ass. I thought that was crazy and I asked her why. She did to me what I’m doing to you. She liked pushing those nerves to the point where there was pain. I didn’t understand that and I know I wouldn’t want pain, but the pleasure part was ... intense. If you’re a man, and the doctor pushes his finger in there to press on your prostate, it makes you cum a little bit.”

“Why are you doing this now?” she asked.

“Do you still trust me?”

“As long as you don’t want to fuck me in the ass,” she said.

“I’m not going to fuck you in the ass. I’m just going to stimulate those nerves while I stroke your pussy.”

“You’re a kinky bastard, aren’t you?” she said.

“I just want to make you feel good in every way that I can.”

“I love it when you make me feel good.”

“Okay, get up on your knees, but leave your face in the hole.”

She did so and he oiled her butt up again. He started running his finger over her ass to her pussy and back up. Then he went into her ass with his fingertip again, while he rubbed her lips and clit with the other.