What Lucy Wants (Mosaic) (2 page)

Lucy approached the counter and the receptionist stood to meet her at eye level. He was not as skinny as she’d
first thought. His body was tight with lean muscle and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Wearing white shorts and a polo shirt, he reminded Lucy of a personal trainer she once had.

John had never found out about the particular brand of work out she’d indulged in. Once he’d even complimented the trainer, saying he’d done a good job. If only he’d known that the trainer’s cream was still seeping out of his wife…

Lucy cleared her throat, banishing the images. There’d be none of that here.

“Hello,” she said, returning the receptionist’s warm greeting. “I was hoping to make an appointment. My friend gave you the highest of recommendations.”

“Certainly, madam.”

Madam?
Well that makes me feel old…

“When’s good for you?”

“Gee…I don’t know.” She laughed. “This is kind of a spare of the moment thing. To be honest, if I made a booking for a few days’ time, I dare say something will come up and I won’t make it…so…I’m sorry for wasting your time. What I get for going with a whim, I suppose!”

“I don’t believe in whims,” said the man. “Something brought you here today. Why not listen to your body, your heart, yeah? I have so many clients walk through my door and get cold feet. They listen to their brain too much.” He checked the large diary that lay open before him. No technology here. “Our next client is at three. That gives you plenty of time if you want a session.”

Lucy checked her watch. It was slightly after two.
Plenty of time to enjoy a nice long massage. If was anything like Alice had described…

“You’ll feel mellow as fuck, Luce, I promise,” her friend had told her as they’d left the bistro. “His hands…they’re the only way to get high legally.”

“What the hell,” she said, coming back to the present. “I’ll listen to my heart, right?”

“Okay then,” said the man. He took down a few detail
s and escorted her through the door at the side of the counter. It led into a small changing room with another door on the opposite side.

“Have you had this kind of therapy before?” he said.

“What? This?” Lucy placed her handbag on a chair. “Yes. Plenty of times.”

“Okay then. In the cupbo
ard are robes and towels, whichever you prefer. When you’re ready, just pop through this door here and we can make a start. I’ll just go and prepare things.”

He stepped through, and Lucy enjoyed the smell she’d been expecting: incense and rich oils.

After he had left the small room, Lucy locked both doors and began to strip. Kicking off her heels, she shrugged off her jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. Her blouse followed, each opened button revealing more of her pale skin. She spread the fabric wide and stared down in shock.

“Ah shit. Why don’t you think, Lucy?”

She still wore her new sexy underwear from the night before. After her disappointment with John, she’d gone straight to bed, and this morning had quickly dressed, eaten and left the house to look around the shops before meeting Alice. Some of her friends, Alice definitely, liked to have their massages nude, loving the feel of a masseur’s firm touch and knowing that a flimsy piece of towel was the only thing between them. Lucy had never done such a thing and didn’t intend to now!

He won’t see it
, she thought, quickly pulling off her blouse and tugging her jeans down her legs. Wary of the lacy straps, she added he bra to the growing pile of clothes. She grabbed a towel, wrapped it around her body and looked in the dress mirror.

She could have been
completely nude under the towel. She could also be wearing a swimming costume. The masseur would never know that she only wore her sexy new knickers.

A little more confident that things were back to normal and she’d avoided an embarrassing scene (but what a story for Alice later!), Lucy unlocked the door and slipped into the next room.

The man stood by a unit that contained a sink, stereo and various bottles of dark and golden liquids. He looked over his shoulder and smiled.

“Just hop up onto the table and lie on your front please, Lucy. I’ll begin in a moment.” He pressed play on the stereo, and the room filled with calming tones and sounds of nature.

“Wait…you’re doing this?” she said. “You’re the masseuse?”

He shook his head. “Not quite. I’m a therapist. My medical degree is on display in reception if you don’t believe me. Let me guess—” He gave his long dreadlocks a tug. “I don’t look like a doctor, right?”

“No kidding,” said Lucy and climbed up on the table. What the hell, she’d had worse with their hands all over her in the past.

“Well I don’t think of myself as a doctor,” he said, drizzling oil into his palm. He replaced the bottle and rubbed the thick, amber liquid between his hands. “My name’s Heath. Not
Dr. Heath or anything like that. Just Heath. I hope to cure the body and the soul so I stay away from the more traditional medicinal titles. But you’ll know all about that if you’ve had a few sessions of this kind of therapy. Better to keep the atmosphere relaxed and informal.”

Lucy nodded and settled down. A massage wa
s a massage. Some might see it as therapy, but for her this was sheer indulgence. Someone finally giving her body some attention.

“Listen to me chatting away,” said Heath.
“I’m sure you’re keen to get started and we are a little pushed for time...”

Lucy closed her eyes, and over the tranquil sounds from the stereo, listened to
his footsteps pass by.

“Listen to my voice,” said Heath, his
voice now lowered to barely a whisper, “and let yourself unwind.”

Lucy nearly flinched from his first touch: he’d grabbed her foot.

“Just relax,” he said, gently lifting her leg so that it bent at the knee and her bare toes pointed at the ceiling. He applied a firm pressure to the middle of her foot with his thumb.

Lucy sighed. She wasn’t into guys touching her feet, but Heath seemed to know which nerves endings to rub. Still, she moved her other leg in closer to save the therapist a glimpse under her towel.

Heath spent a few minutes working on her foot before lowering the leg and turning his attention to her calf. He kneaded with both thumbs, firmly up and softly down.

God
, she thought,
Alice was right. This guy is magical.

Every moment he massaged
he seemed to flick off switches inside her, like her worries were connected to a fuse box, and Heath’s meticulous attention turned them off one by one.

He moved on to the other foot and after a few minutes, her leg.

“Just relax” he cooed. “Listen to the music. Breath in the scents…”

Lucy smiled, euphoric and on the verge of sleep. Yet through the haze, she realised that her legs lay open on the massage table.
As she tried to close them, Heath’s fingers moved higher, pressing into the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

“What…what are you doing?”

“We’re entering the next stage. I’m going to need you to take off your underwear. Or I can do it. Most clients come in already prepared.

Lucy shook her
groggy head and pulled her legs away from him, but her limbs were dead weights.

“Most clients?
I…I don’t understand.” She looked back over her bare shoulder.

Heath had stepped away from the massage table and stood with his hands on his narrow hips.

“Level with me, Lucy. You don’t really know what this place is, do you?”

“
Should I? I thought this was a massage place.”

Heath headed towards the unit in the corner. “Before you think me some kind of sex pest or molester,” he said, “you might want to have a look at this.”

He pulled a pamphlet from a stand and returned to the massage table, stopping by Lucy’s head. He held the folded paper in front of her face.

“S
exual massage?” she read. “Sexual massage?”

“This isn’t about happy endings in
the backrooms of Oriental parlours,” explained Heath. “I’m
registered
to practice. I have qualifications. If there was something seedy about all this, would I really put it on the promotional material?” He placed the pamphlet on the table next to Lucy. “Now that you really know what we do here, I wouldn’t be offended if you chose to end our session early.”

“But what is it that you…do?” said Lucy. The massage had been ecstasy. Although he wasn’t her type per se, if he was as good with his cock as he was with his hands…

“Strictly no sex,” said Heath, “which is a common misconception. I’m still bound by law. Furthermore, this is a patient-doctor treatment with no emotional attachment whatsoever. Trust, me, I’ve had problems with patients before.” He sighed. “This practice is to mend the spirit via sexual practices, Lucy. I don’t just offer the physical, more I use the physical to shape the
spiritual
. How do you feel? What brought you here?”

Lucy thought b
ack to the previous night, and in fact, quite a few similar nights before that. Being ignored; overlooked because John had a deadline. Was this how life was due to play out? She felt part of an old retired couple. Only Alice made her young again, and hadn’t all this been her best friend’s idea?

“I… I…guess… I don’t know,” she said.

I’m such a fool
, she thought.
I’m lying here with a complete stranger in nothing but a towel and see-through underwear, on the verge of bawling my eyes out! What the fuck has happened to
me?

“Is everything okay?”

“No,” she admitted. “It’s not.”

Heath nodded, understanding. “I can try and help, if you want me to.
I can’t guarantee to right all the wrongs, but my clients, those who embrace the treatment, experience a change within themselves. They leave here more positive, confident. Is that something you think you’d be interested in?”

Lucy nodded, picturing John sat at his desk tapping the occasional computer key, adding words to a tired manuscript.

Heath returned to the unit and reapplied the viscous, golden oil to his hands. As he rubbed it around his fingers, he said “Please remove your underwear, Lucy, and lie back on your front.”

She swallowed, feeling a slight swell between her legs.

No. This isn’t sex. No need to get all fired up. This is more like…like a medical examination.

Lucy rolled onto her back and reaching underneath the towel with both hands, hooked the elastic of her underwear up by her hips. Lifting her bum from the table, she pulled them down her long legs and off over her feet, which still tingled from Heath’s pliant fingers. Unsure what to do with
them, she tucked the garment into her towel before rolling over and lying on her front as instructed.

Still she pressed her legs together tightly, feeling exposed.

Heath, rubbing his lubricated hands together, approached the foot of the massage table and sat down.

“As I
now
know this is your first time,” he said softly, “I’ll talk you through exactly what I’ll be doing. Should anything make you feel uncomfortable, just say and I’ll stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“Beautiful. Now, Lucy, I’m just going to move your legs. If you could help me, that would be great.”

Lucy took a long breath, closed her eyes and gradually opened her legs. She imagined what Heath must be seeing: the towel draped over the smooth curves of her backside, casting shadow
over the warm, wet spot within. She felt open and exhibited. Would he be bored with such a sight? A man in his profession must surely see glistening pink folds every day.

She moved a little, pushing her breasts harder against the massage table.

“Keep still,” said Heath and placed the ball of his hand lightly at the small of her back. “Let’s work on your upper legs.”

She shivered as both his hands found the backs of her legs, and his oiled fingers manipulated the muscle beneath her curves. Lucy gasped the first time his attention rose higher and his strong fingers pressed into the softness of her cheeks. With every visit, he rubbed in an outward circle. Skin pulled taught, and she opened for him further.

Lucy licked her lips. Going ahead with the treatment was the best decision she’d made in a while.

“Tell me one of your problems,” said Heath.

“My husband,” she said, no hesitation.

“What is it about your husband that upsets you?”

“His work,” she said and sighed, both from the thought of John, who was probably still sat at his desk, typing away, and from what Heath was doing. He now worked solely on her bum, squeezing the softness like fresh dough. “He only has time for his work.”

“And that leaves you feeling rejected,” said Heath. “Time may fade the attention of a good marriage, the way many washes will fade
a colour. Your husband is wrong to not spend his time and heart on you, Lucy, but only you can change that. Do you agree?”