Lydia Jones stepped out of her beige Camry, tucked a loose strand of her sensibly cut brown hair behind one ear, and hitched her purse onto one perfectly straight shoulder blade. Inside aforementioned purse (which was a very similar shade of beige to her car) was the gift certificate her husband Mark had given her for her birthday. Four hour-long massage sessions at “Le Spa Sérénité,” which was supposed to be the best spa not just in town, or the state of Colorado, but practically the whole country. Looking at the graceful lines of the building, the perfectly manicured front garden, and the neatly dressed footman standing patiently to open the door, Lydia had to admit it made a very good first impression.
The trouble was, she didn’t particularly want to be there. She had better ways of spending her Saturday afternoon than being man-handled by some stranger while wind-chime music played in the background. For example, she could be re-balancing the books for one of her main clients. Forty-two cents might not seem like a large discrepancy to most people, but it was irregularities like that that set Lydia’s teeth on edge.
This, her husband insisted, was the exact reason he had given her the gift certificate. She needed to “loosen up and forget her cares for a little while.” It was well-intentioned, but Lydia didn’t think an hour of massage was going to exactly change her outlook on life. Still, Mark had been so proud of himself when he gave her the gift, and judging by customer comments and the looks of the place, she was sure the cost had been extravagant. Maybe too extravagant? Setting aside her unease that her husband had dipped into their savings account to afford her birthday gift, thereby disrupting her careful investment plans, she checked her watch and with a start walked briskly toward the entrance. Whether she wanted to be there or not, the appointment had been made, and she was not one to be late.
The footman opened the door with a graceful flourish borne from years of practice in the high-end service industry and ushered her into an opulent front lobby which she imagined would more likely be found in the Plaza than a spa. The immaculately dressed receptionist looked up from behind her desk and smiled warmly. “You must be Mrs. Lydia Jones. Olivia has told me your room is being prepared and will be ready shortly. Please have a seat and I will have John escort you in just a moment. Would you like anything to drink? Coffee, tea, sparkling water, champagne-“
“Champagne, please,” Lydia heard herself interrupting.
“Of course, Mrs. Jones, “ the receptionist smiled again and scurried off to a back room. Bemused, Lydia found a couch and sat down. She didn’t drink very often, and had intended to just ask for an iced water with lemon, but when she heard the word “champagne” it had just sounded too good to pass up. Well, today was obviously going to be one of firsts for her. The receptionist brought her a glass of the chilled bubbly and Lydia took a sip. It was delicious, but really, had she expected any different?
It was less than two minutes later that a hunky blonde came up to her. “Mrs. Jones? I’m John. Your room is ready for you.“
Is this my masseur? Lydia wondered as she followed John down the hall past several closed doors. The thought of this Ken-like god rubbing her body with oil had an appeal that made her blush in spite of herself. Lydia! She shook herself mentally. What had gotten into her today? Thoughts like that never crossed her mind. Ever. It must be the decadent atmosphere of the spa that was messing with her head.
Luckily John stopped at a door bearing the words “Suite 23” and said “this is your room Mrs. Jones. Olivia is waiting to begin your massage. Enjoy.” With a stunning smile he turned and strode back down the hall. Lydia gave a small sigh, of relief or regret she couldn’t say, and opened the door. Stepping inside she reluctantly closed it behind her and looked around. The room was softly lit both with overhead lights and an array of candles. Dominating the small space was a massage table draped in white linens. It smelled strongly of lavender and patchouli, and soft piano music piped from hidden speakers. In short, it was basically an upscale version of what Lydia had always supposed a massage room would look like.
Just then a door in the far wall opened and a woman, presumably Olivia, entered the room. She smiled at Lydia and held out her hand. “Hello Mrs. Jones, I’m Olivia, your massage therapist.”
Lydia shook the woman’s hand lightly. “Please, call me Lydia.” Somehow, she felt more at ease being on a first name basis with someone who was going to work on her body. After all, the woman wasn’t a doctor. She was, however, very pretty. She was in her late twenties, close to Lydia’s own age, with artfully highlighted dark brown hair and expressive green eyes that Lydia found mesmerizing. There was something in their depths that invited her to somehow shuck the veneer of professionalism she had built up around herself and go for a walk in the rain, just because she could. Lydia found herself wondering idly if the woman was married.
“Okay Lydia, I’m going to step into the bathroom here and give you a chance to undress. Of course you may strip to your own comfort level, but I would like to stress that the less you have on, the less I’ll be hindered in giving you a fully relaxing massage experience. When you’ve undressed, go ahead and climb onto the table and lie face down under the blankets. I’ll knock in a few minutes to see if you’re ready.”
Olivia slipped back into the far room and closed the door gently behind her, leaving Lydia in a quandary. She really wasn’t comfortable with stripping completely naked, but leaving her bra on would be uncomfortable, and leaving only her underwear would seem fairly pointless. Reluctantly she decided to go the full Monty. After all, she would be under a blanket. Hurriedly stripping, she folded her clothes neatly and placed them and her purse on a small chair set in the corner of the room. Gingerly she climbed onto the table. Finding it to be very solid and more cushioned than she expected, she slipped under the covers and settled as comfortably as she could on her stomach. She was just pulling the top sheet more securely over her body when Olivia knocked softly.
“Come in,” Lydia called nervously, very aware that the only thing between her and total nakedness was a very soft but very thin sheet.
Olivia re-entered the room and smiled warmly at her. “Let me help you get settled more comfortably, then we can begin.” Going to the head of the table, Olivia gently took hold of Lydia’s arms and re-arranged them so that they rested by her sides. She then adjusted the head rest and, sweeping Lydia’s hair away from her face and over one shoulder, directed her forehead to the center of it. Lydia now only had limited peripheral vision, but she had to admit she felt more comfortable than the awkward way she had been lying before. Lydia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her body to relax as she listened to Olivia’s quiet rustling. Presently her sheet was gently pulled down to reveal her shoulders and half her back. She started slightly as Olivia’s hands, slick with warm scented oil, rested on her shoulders. After a moment of just holding them there, Olivia began to work the oil into her shoulders, gently at first, but with increasing firmness as she found each tight muscle. Lydia found it easier and easier to let go of her tension as those expert hands kneaded, rubbed, and massaged; with a perfect amount of pressure.
Steadily Olivia moved down to her lower back, and Lydia was mortified to realize that she was becoming slightly aroused. She knew that men sometimes got erections during massages, so she supposed she shouldn’t be too shocked by her body’s natural response to stimulation. She was just glad that there was no glaring physical evidence of it! Olivia re-covered her back, but then lifted another section of the sheet, exposing her bottom and legs. Lydia took a deep breath, wondering where this was going. More rustling and Olivia’s hands, slick with fresh warm oil, started massaging the globes of Lydia’s ass! She gasped in shock and squeaked “Is this part of the massage??”
“Yes,” Olivia answered serenely, “you have paid for a full body massage. If you’re uncomfortable I can stop.”
“No, it’s okay,” Lydia answered, feeling her face flush. She didn’t want to sound like a total dork incapable of handling a full body massage. Olivia resumed massaging her bottom and Lydia had to bite her lip against the sudden groan that wanted to escape her mouth. Against her will, she felt her body responding to the massage therapist’s innocent touch, and warmth flooded between her thighs. In another minute though Olivia had moved on to her legs, kneading them gently and paying special attention to her feet while Lydia struggled to get her libido under control.
“Okay, Lydia,” Olivia said quietly, “I am going to lift your sheet and blanket now. Please turn onto your back.”
Nervously, Lydia did as she was asked, feeling better when she saw that Olivia was holding the blankets in such a way that she could not see Lydia’s naked body.
“I’m ready,” she whispered, and Olivia gently covered her with the sheet. She left the table for a moment and came back with warm hand towels, which she wrapped around Lydia’s feet. Lydia felt herself relaxing again, relieved that she hadn’t made a fool of herself. Olivia started at her head again, using a hard bristled brush to massage her head and pull through her hair. It was so decadent that Lydia couldn’t quite contain the small moan of pure relaxed pleasure that escaped her lips.
Olivia continued on to her shoulders, then moved the sheet gently down to expose her breasts. Lydia’s breath caught in her throat. “This is a full body massage,” Olivia reminded her gently, “which includes the mammary glands.” Before Lydia could decide whether she was really okay with this, Olivia placed her oiled hands on her breasts and began to knead them firmly but gently, her thumbs lightly brushing across Lydia’s nipples with each pass. Lydia desperately tried to relax her body and close her eyes, but she found herself taking quick peaks down at her own breasts, fascinated by the small but strong female hands manipulating them. The arousal that had abated returned full force, and every brush against her nipples sent pulsing waves directly to her pussy. Lydia began to pant slightly against her will, equally mortified by her reaction and unwilling to have the luxurious torment end.
All too soon, Olivia replaced the sheet over her breasts, but the light rubbing of the material against her erect nipples was enough to keep Lydia on edge. Olivia continued to work her way down, kneading her hips and outer thighs. She pulled the sheet so that it exposed one thigh and began to massage up and down its lean length. Lydia found herself freshly tortured as each circle Olivia made with her hands inched its way up her inner thigh towards her covered but throbbing pussy. Her back arched and she prayed silently to herself. For it to stop, for it to continue? She wasn’t even sure at this point.
Then it happened. Olivia made a kneading circle with her hands on Lydia’s right thigh so close to the top of her pussy that her thumb brushed over the sheet that was covering her groin. The digit hit the top of her slit where her engorged clitoris was throbbing for attention and Lydia clenched her teeth against a moan as her body erupted in a short but powerful orgasm.
When she had the barest control back Lydia’s face flushed crimson and she looked at her therapist in abject mortification, all manner of apologies and pleas for forgiveness on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t say any of them, because far from looking angry or even surprised, Olivia continued her massage down Lydia’s leg, her serene face not giving anything away. But she had to have known Lydia just had an orgasm. She had to have.
Lydia laid back against the headrest, not paying the least attention as Olivia finished up her massage, removing the towels from her feet and rubbing in some sort of Lavender oil. Her mind was racing with all that had just happened. She didn’t believe Olivia wasn’t aware of her faux pas, but the massage therapist seemed so genuinely unconcerned that Lydia was afraid to bring it up on the off chance she didn’t know. Finally, dazed and bemused, Lydia wrote it off as something the professional had witnessed before as a natural response to stimulation of the body and was being incredibly polite about it.
Olivia brightened the dim lighting a fraction and placed a glass of cool water with a lime wedge floating in it on the table next to Lydia’s head. “When you are ready, please drink this water to help flush the toxins from your body. I suggest sitting up slowly, massage treatments can leave a person feeling a little weak and unsteady on their feet. Through this back door is a private bathroom. It has a large whirlpool tub. I’ve already prepared it for you if you would like to take a few minutes to relax and freshen up before dressing. Please take your time, there are no other clients booked for this room today so there is no need to rush. When you’re done make your way to the lobby to book your next appointment.” Olivia smiled kindly at her and left the room, closing the outer door softly behind her.
As soon as she was gone, Lydia tried to sit up and felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Olivia hadn’t been kidding. She tried again more slowly, and when she was in a sitting position on the table she reached for the glass, taking a long sip of the refreshing water. Part of her wanted to dress and leave as quickly as possible; she was still incredibly embarrassed by her body’s betrayal. But Olivia had said the room was hers as long as she needed it, and she had to admit a warm bath sounded nice. It would help wash the oil from her body before putting her clothes back on if nothing else. Standing on wobbly legs, she made her way to the chair where she had placed her neatly folded clothes and scooped them up, blushing as she felt the moisture at the juncture of her thighs start to trickle down her legs. Quickly she made her way into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
She shouldn’t have been surprised really, but the bathroom was as palatial as the rest of the spa, with gleaming brass everywhere and expensive tiling. What most impressed her though was the large Jacuzzi tub, already full, the water steaming slightly. Carelessly she dropped her clothes and stepped into it, settling her bottom on the low seat. The water was blissfully warm and smelled like rose petals. Groaning she leaned back, content to let the water carry her away for a few minutes.
Belatedly realizing that the tub had jets, Lydia opened one eye and searched for the controls, which were conveniently located next to her head. It was a simple timer, and she turned the knob to twenty minutes. Immediately, jets began to whoosh, turning the water into a warm bubbling mass. She felt jets hit her shoulders, lower back, and the sides of her legs. And…. her pussy?? Lydia awkwardly felt between her legs and realized that, yes, there was a jet in the middle of the low seat. Experimentally she rocked her bottom back and forth, and found that depending on how she sat, she could control where the pressurized stream of water hit her. Lydia was flummoxed. This seemed intentional. Maybe the spa wasn’t quite as innocent as she thought?? Or maybe, she thought, they’re just incredibly serious about the relaxation of their clientele.
Smiling in spite of herself, Lydia rocked back in the seat, letting the jet hit between her legs, perilously close to her clitoris but not quite touching it. She couldn’t deny the sensation was incredibly arousing, and absently started rubbing her own breasts, aware that a small amount of oil still slicked them. She pinched her nipples gently and moaned, then flattened her hands over her breasts and kneaded, a parody of what Olivia had done to her earlier. Gently she rocked back and forth, letting the jet hit closer and closer to her most sensitive spot. Finally she could take no more and held herself directly above the stream of water. Her orgasm washed over her, not as intense as the one she’d accidentally been treated to by Olivia’s expert hands, but longer lasting.
The waves gradually dissipated and Lydia realized the water was no longer bubbling. She’d been in the tub for over twenty minutes. Reluctantly she stepped out and dried herself with the fluffy white towels waiting by the side of the tub and hurriedly dressed. She had no idea when the spa closed and didn’t want to be the last one to leave. How mortifying if they even suspected the reason she had been so long in the bathroom!
Lydia grabbed her purse and left the massage room, not even noticing in her haste that all the candles had been extinguished and the table stripped of its linens. By sheer luck she made her way back to the front lobby. It was quiet but not abandoned, and she breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t the last person there.
The woman in front of her finally stepped away from the front desk and Lydia stepped forward, wallet and date book in hand. The receptionist beamed at her.
“How was your massage, Mrs. Jones?”
“It was very…relaxing,” Lydia murmured, desperately trying to keep a blush from her face.
“That’s wonderful,” the receptionist said, smiling kindly. If she had any idea what Lydia had been up to, she didn’t show an iota of it. “Would a week from today be okay for your next appointment?”
Lydia quickly scanned her date book. She had nothing scheduled. “Yes, at the same time if possible.”
The other woman quickly tapped away at her keyboard. “We do have that time available, with Olivia. Will that work for you?”
Lydia’s heart beat a little faster. “That would be perfect.”