“I hate these things,” Eunice said, holding up a rubber object. It looked like a transparent latex tube with a hoop at each end.

“It’s easy,” her friend, Erica said. “You slide the bottom hoop in like this.”

She demonstrated by inserting the smaller hoop between the folds of her vagina and pushing it up until the outer ring lay flat against her labia.

“See, easy,” she said. “And it won’t fall out.”

She gave the outer ring a light tug to show the female condom stayed in place.

The other woman pushed her condom up into her pussy. “It doesn’t feel right at all,” she complained.

Tim Logetty wasn’t sure the place was that type of massage parlour until the girl’s hands slipped down between his buttocks and fondled his testicles. This wasn’t an accidental touch either. He lifted his hips up and her skilful hand delved underneath and started to stroke up and down his erect penis.

Yep, he thought, he could be fairly certain it was one of those places.

It was silly he’d had any doubts in the first place. It wasn’t as if the establishment was sitting on the main high street and proudly advertising its wares. Tim hadn’t even been confident he was in the right building until he’d climbed a stair and seen a little poster in the glass case next to the door. Further evidence to the true nature of the establishment was provided as the door was answered by a woman wearing nothing more than frilly underwear and a see-through negligee.

In theory it could still be one of those massage parlours that were, in fact, massage parlours, in that the only services offered were a variety of therapeutic and legitimate massages to loosen muscles and alleviate tension. This did not look like one of those legitimate massage parlours. The buxom brunette answering the door in nothing more than frilly underwear and a see-through negligee certainly implied it was the sort of establishment that offered slightly more than a regular massage, but Tim could not be one hundred percent certain of this, and as long as he couldn’t be one hundred percent certain of this, he daren’t ask for anything beyond a regular massage.

Indeed, that was all he did ask for when the door was answered by a buxom brunette wearing nothing more than frilly underwear and a see-through negligee.

“I’ve come for a ... um ... massage,” he said.

The brunette’s green eyes twinkled as she gave him a warm smile. “Come in,” she said.

Tim couldn’t fail to notice that the brunette had a quite exceptional figure. This was very easy for him to notice as between her lacy black lingerie and gossamer-thin negligee there was very little of her figure left hidden. She was tall and curvaceous, but without an inch of excess fat. In fact, figure-wise, she was superior even to the scantily-clad girls that adorned the cover of the lads’ magazines he and his group had campaigned against so vigorously.

He followed her through to a clean and well-kept reception area. It didn’t strike Tim as being particularly seedy. This pleased him, but also fed his doubts as to the true nature of the establishment. Annette had assured him it was that type of establishment, but Tim wanted to be absolutely certain of this fact. He did not want to offend the girl--woman, he corrected--by asking her for a service she did not provide, or--and this was far more frightening--walk right into a police sting.

There was another girl--woman--in the waiting area, also wearing nothing more than frilly lingerie and a see-through negligee. She had a similar, equally stunning figure to the brunette, but possessed blonde--blond--hair and blue eyes instead. Aside from the differences in hair and eye colour they looked similar enough to be sisters. There was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she looked Tim up and down. She possessed an aura of intimate experience that Tim found a little intimidating.

He was more relieved there were no other men sitting in the waiting area. If he’d walked in and seen another client sitting in the waiting area he felt he would have had no other recourse than to give the two women his apologies and make a hasty exit. As there were no other clients sitting in the waiting area he sat down stiffly in one of the white two-seater sofas.

The brunette walked over to a small kitchen area in the corner of the room.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked. “A cup of tea?”

“No, thank you,” Tim replied, even though it felt like there was a hard lump at the back of his throat.

The blond woman walked behind the sofa Tim was sitting in. He felt a little uncomfortable when she left his field of vision. That discomfort jumped to shock as he felt her hands reach down to grip the meat at the point where his neck met his shoulders. The shock metamorphosed into a more pleasant sensation as the woman began to knead the muscles of his head and shoulders with deft fingers.

“There’s a lot of tension here,” the blond woman said.

“That’s why a friend suggested I visit here,” Tim said. He closed his eyes as the blond woman squeezed the meat of his shoulders with expert precision. “She said I looked a little stressed and this would help me unwind.”

Tim relaxed beneath her skilful fingers. He sank back into the soft sofa. As he did the back of his head came into contact with what felt like two soft pillows. His face reddened as he realised they were her breasts.

“Eunice will sort that out for you,” the blond woman said. Her mouth sounded very close to his left ear.

Tim presumed she meant the brunette. This was confirmed when the brunette--Eunice--sat in the chair opposite and said, “Yes, I will.”

She let her ephemeral blouse hang open, fully exposing the voluptuous curves of her body.

It seemed as though the two women had already decided between them who was to give him his massage. Tim felt he should have final say in the matter, but didn’t wish to offend either woman by overruling their decision. While he did enjoy what the blond girl’s fingers were doing to the muscles of his neck and shoulders, there was no reason to believe the brunette’s touch would be any less skilled and in terms of appearance there was little between them. Both were exceedingly attractive.

The blond woman ceased massaging his neck and shoulders and walked over to stand next to the brunette. Tim already felt a little looser, as if she’d started to unpick the knots in his muscles.

“It’s thirty pounds for half an hour and fifty for the full hour,” Eunice said. “Extras cost additional.”

Tim’s ears pricked up at the mention of extras.

“What kind of extras are we talking about?” he asked.

This was the critical question. Tim knew what he’d like the extras to be, but he daren’t ask for them directly until the women had established beyond all doubt that this establishment was in fact the type of establishment Tim thought--and hoped, if he was completely honest with himself--it was.

“What extras would you like?” Eunice asked.

Both hers and the blond woman’s faces were opaque to Tim. This presented a problem as he still hadn’t established whether this was the type of establishment that offered those sort of extras. He could come straight out with it and ask for the extras he thought were on offer, but it was still possible he’d misread the true nature of this place, and if that was the case they would almost certainly take offence at him asking for a vulgar service that wasn’t part of the package they offered. It could also be possible that this was some kind of undercover police operation, and they were waiting for him to incriminate himself by asking for a vulgar service.

Were the police even allowed to entrap members of the public in this manner? Tim did not know. And as he didn’t know a great many things when it came to these matters he thought it prudent to play it safe.

“Let’s start with just a massage and see how it goes,” Tim said. That should indicate he was receptive to the idea of extras providing the nature of those extras could be defined more precisely.

The two women shared a glance and smiled.

Eunice was starting to rise when Tim remembered the card Annette had given him. It wasn’t a business card. It was about the same size and shape as a playing card and had a similarly patterned back. He took it out of his pocket and placed it onto the glass coffee table.

“The woman who recommended I visit here--Annette--said I should give it to you.”

On the front of the card was a rustic painting of a lamb gambolling in a pasture. At the top of the card the legend, ‘The Lamb’, was painted in an elaborate font. Tim had no idea what it was supposed to represent. Maybe it was a tarot card.

“Does this mean anything to you?” he asked.

The two women shared a secret glance and their smiles widened. Again he sensed an aura of fearsome experience emanating from the two of them. While it intimidated him a little, he also understood it was a likely a good thing given his own relative lack of experience in such matters.

“It means you’re a friend of Annette Brite and we should give you the special treatment,” Eunice said. Her green eyes sparkled with the promise of sexy mischief.

“Oh,” Tim said. He liked the sound of special treatment.

He still felt a little apprehensive as Eunice took his hand and led him out of the waiting area and down a short corridor with two doors on either side. He wasn’t sure if this apprehension was because he still didn’t know what services were available and was afraid of embarrassing himself by asking for the wrong thing, or because his surmise was correct and he was about to have sex with a phenomenally attractive woman. Probably a mixture of both.

She took him through the last door on the left. The room beyond contained a massage table, but the rest of the furnishings and decor seemed too opulent to Tim for that to be the only purpose of the room. The walls were dark burgundy and the lights turned down low enough to make the room appear smaller and more intimate. Part of the room, almost half, was hidden behind a folding oriental screen. The artwork on the screen was a pattern of lurid flowers that resembled sensual red lips. An exotic assortment of bottles filled the shelves. Stylish pictures of ladies in various degrees of undress adorned the walls. Tim would have enjoyed them more had his enjoyment not been tainted with the guilt of enjoying pictures that clearly objectified women.

He also understood the hypocrisy in thinking this, considering he was currently guilty of traducing his companion to an object--a dispenser of services. For money. Annette had told him it was wrong to think that way, that he was in fact guilty of demeaning and belittling women that chose this work, but even though he saw the logic in her outlook, it was still hard to shed several years’ worth of preconception. To lessen his guilt he engaged her in conversation, thinking it would help to raise her from the status of an object and back to a human being.

“How long have you been doing this?” he asked her.

“A long time,” Eunice replied. Cryptically.

“And you don’t mind the work?”

“It has certain benefits,” Eunice answered, also enigmatically.

It reassured Tim a little as he undressed. He wouldn’t be going through this if he believed she’d been coerced. Eunice also insisted he remove his light-blue briefs as well, further bolstering his belief this establishment was the type of establishment he thought it was.

But infuriatingly not confirming it beyond all doubt, Tim thought as he climbed onto the massage table and lay face down.

As he thought about it more, he also realised there was no way to tell if her words from before were heartfelt. If she was not here of her own volition, if instead she hostage to the whims of shadowy figures off-screen, all Tim would hear was what she thought he wanted to hear, which was what the shadowy off-screen manipulators expected her to say.

“My, Erica is right, you really are tense,” Eunice said as her strong fingers gripped the meat of Tim’s shoulders and began to work his knotted muscles. “You’re not the type that’s easily wound up on trivial worries, are you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Tim said.

“Good. That’s a sure path to an early grave,” Eunice said.

Her fingers, slick with exotic oils, expertly manipulated Tim’s neck and shoulders. She was every bit the equal of the blonde girl. He had no cause to worry he’d been palmed off with the lesser girl.

“This type of massage is a new experience for me,” Tim said.

“I can tell. You’ve let years of tension build up here.”

She kneaded and squeezed until a pleasant lassitude settled over Tim’s head and shoulders like a warm duvet. Satisfied she had sufficiently loosened the kinks in Tim’s neck she moved further down his spine, exerting pressure and smoothing out the muscles of his upper back.

“How do you know Annette?” Eunice asked.

“We run groups at the same hall. On Tuesdays she has her Wicca group from seven to nine. I have the hall after that for my activist group.”

“Activist?”

“Oh yes,” Tim said. “We campaign on the important issues--feminism, LGBTQX rights and other social justice concerns. You might have read about some of our work in the local papers. I organised the protest against Page 3 outside the Co-op last month,” Tim said with more than a little hint of pride.

Eunice paused. “And you chose to visit here?” she said with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“Yes, it was Annette’s suggestion. She said one of the problems with mainstream feminism is that they regard--” Tim was about to say sex workers, which he realised would be massively offensive if Eunice did not in fact offer sexual services and was only a masseuse. “--providers of certain services as an issue and forget they are people with their own thoughts and opinions on how the world should treat them. She said I should broaden my mind to other opinions, and that I was starting to look a little too tense and should relieve that before it became unhealthy.”

Eunice resumed massaging Tim’s back. “Annette is a sensible woman,” she said.

“How do you know her?” Tim asked.

And that was the moment when Tim had his suspicions confirmed that this was in fact the type of establishment most people associated with massage parlours. Eunice’s hands moved further and further down his back until they reached his buttocks. Rather than skipping that part of his body and moving onto his upper thighs, instead Eunice’s hands slipped inside, slid smoothly between his legs, and fondled his balls. Tim jolted in surprise and lifted his hips. This allowed Eunice’s hand to delve deeper and Tim felt a buzz of sexual pleasure as her hand passed under his testicles and her lissom fingers tickled up and down his erect penis.

He knew then she was a sex worker. A normal masseuse would not aggressively touch his penis like this. He lifted his hips to afford her greater access and Eunice rewarded him by circling her warm fingers around his erection and gently tugging. Her other hand, fingers slick with warm oil, caressed the sensitive patch of skin between his scrotum and anus. She was as equally skilled at tending to this part of his body as she had been to his neck and shoulders.

“Mmm,” Eunice said, her finger lightly circling the rim of his anus. “I think we should move onto the extras, before you leave a mess on my nice massage table.”

That sounded eminently sensible to Tim, given that he was not so experienced in these matters and it had been a long time. He got off the massage table and watched as Eunice moved aside the screen to reveal an extremely large bed. It stretched from wall to wall and filled completely one corner of the room. The sheets were the same dark burgundy as the wallpaper covering the walls. The walls surrounding the bed were covered in mirrors. The far corner was piled high with plush round cushions. That corner of the room looked sensual and decadent, and almost certainly would not be present in a massage parlour that offered only massages.

“These extras,” Tim asked, “how far do they go?”

Eunice’s green eyes sparkled with lust as she removed her gossamer-thin negligee. Her frilly black underwear followed. Uncovered, her boobs were large and firm, with dusky brown nipples that drew the gaze like a hypnotic spiral. They looked better even than the uncovered boobs of the glamour models that could be found in lurid spreads between the covers of the magazines Tim didn’t like to look at as they objectified women.

“They go all the way,” Eunice said. “You need not worry about that.”

Her hand glided along the underside of his erection. His member twitched at her touch like a racehorse eager to be out of the starting gate.

Eunice looked at his throbbing erection. “If you do want to go all the way I think we’d better go straight to the fucking.”

Tim’s penis twitched again at the mention of fucking.

“Um, yeah,” he said.

While he would have quite liked to have experienced some of her other extras, in his current state of arousal they would likely constitute the entirety of his service.

He climbed up onto the enormous bed with Eunice. The mattress was very soft and had a lot of give. Eunice settled in the corner on a pile of plush cushions. She opened her legs wide and Tim’s penis twitched again as the hairless folds of her sex were revealed to him.

Quit it, Tim admonished his penis. It felt like steam was bubbling through his loins. If he didn’t rein his penis back in he was going to ejaculate all over her stomach way before he even got near to inserting his dick inside her.

Tim’s erection twitched again at the thought of being inside her.

Eunice’s sensual lips puffed up in a sexy pout. Her eyes burned with seduction as stared at him. She was extraordinarily hot, Tim thought. Despite this there was something missing--a barrier, or more precisely, a lack of barrier--that prevented him from rushing over to lie in her arms.

“Shouldn’t I be wearing a condom?” he said.

“You want safe sex?” Eunice asked with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

The animal part of him, the crocodile coiled around his hindbrain, would rather he didn’t. It wanted to experience her vagina without being impeded by a protective bag of latex. Tim’s more advanced cognitive functions stepped in and overruled his crocodile hindbrain. Yes, it would probably feel extremely nice, but what he had to take into account was the knowledge that if she was okay with letting Tim fuck her without a condom, then she must have been okay with letting other clients fuck her without a condom. And if this was the normal state of affairs then there was no telling what manner of nasty ST diseases she harboured within her flesh.

“I think it would prudent for me to wear a condom,” Tim said. “Just to be on the safe side.”