A massage therapist has an unexpected client

Maggie was running late. It was so unlike her to be late, she was usually punctual to a fault, but not today. Today everything had gone wrong.

It had started the night before, really. When the discreet cardboard box had arrived on her porch, Maggie knew that her TV plans that evening were going to change. She had been long overdue for an upgrade, and the sleek teal silicone toy with its flared head and clitoral stimulation had been oh, so worth it. She had gone down a dark rabbit hole of porn, staying up late as she dove deep into the dominant/submissive fantasies she had been increasingly turning to. They reminded her of the kind of wild, wanton sex she used to have long ago, before even Derrick.

When she finally got up out of bed in the morning, groaning after the fifth or sixth snooze, it was a framed wedding picture of her and Derrick that greeted her from the bedside table, exuding happiness. She winced, wondering what her late husband would think of her crazed masturbatory marathon.

She knew what he’d say. He’d say, get out there Maggie girl. It’s time already. Find a good man, not a good vibrator.

She’d been on a whopping two dates since Derrick died nearly three years ago. The first year had been a haze of grief, dating hadn’t even been an option. His illness had come on so suddenly, and so soon after they were married that her whole life had been caring for him. After the second year her sister had urged her to date, setting her up with a couple friends of friends, but it had been excruciating. Sure, they were nice enough guys, but the sheer effort of prettying herself up, going out into the loud bar or dinner scene, and telling every mundane fact about herself all over as if she was in any way interesting or different had been too much. The mere idea of having to start all over with someone new was exhausting. But she was 27, not 87. She had all the time in the world.

But time was not on her side this morning, it seemed. After oversleeping, she had burned her eggs black enough to set off the smoke detector, forgot her lunch, and spent a good 15 minutes in unexpected traffic. Instead of a quiet cup of coffee in the break room as she looked over her daily roster of clients, she was changing frantically into her scrubs and shoving crackers into her mouth as she snuck into her room a few minutes after the hour.

“Hi, Mr. Harris. My name is Maggie, and I’ll be your massage therapist today.”

“Hi Maggie, you can just call me John. Nice to meet you.”

She glanced briefly at the man lying face down on her table. Youngish, nice figure, tousled brown hair. Standard towel over his lower half. Her gaze was caught by his clenching toes, and she smiled. He’s nervous.

“Alright, John it is. So, do you get a lot of massages? Any style you prefer?”

“Uh, no. This is actually my first massage. It was a gift certificate I won at work.”

She moved about the room, setting the timer, turning the thermostat up a bit, the lights down a little more.

“That’s nice of your work. What do you do?”

“I’m a banker. Thrilling stuff,” he laughed, shifting on the table. Yeah, he was a newbie. He probably thought she was going to give him a happy ending.

“Hey, it’s the best job in Monopoly,” she joked. “Would some music or incense bother you?”

“Have at it.”

She turned on some light piano music and lit a stick of jasmine incense, waiting a second for it to catch and get herself in the zone. She was supposed to radiate calm, not pent up energy.

Maggie approached the table, coating her hands in some unscented massage oil and rubbing them together. “I’ve got some oil on my hands, just to warn you. I’m going to take it easy here at first so you can get a sense of the pressure. We can always go up from there. If you work an office job you’ve likely got a lot of tension in your neck and shoulders. I’ll focus there, if that sounds good to you.”

She waited for his affirmative, her hands poised over his shoulders, but it took him a moment.

“Sure thing, Maggie,” he said softly, and she felt a ripple of awareness in the familiar way he said her name.

She started in, feeling the little jolt of pleasure at touching a human body again after the long weekend alone. His skin was warm and slippery under her oiled hands. She was right about that tension, she could already feel the bundled muscles of his shoulders. She could spend the whole hour just working these out.

He let out an involuntary sound, like a little moan of pleasure as she deepened the massage, testing him for signs of discomfort as she went.

“Ok to go a bit harder?” she murmured, not wanting to startle him.

“Definitely,” he groaned. “Man, this feels great.”

“Glad to hear it,” she replied in a low voice, rubbing her thumbs under the curve of his shoulder blade, feeling the knots bump underneath her touch like little dense balls. She set in on one in a gentle circling motion.

“So, how long have you been a masseuse?”

She bit back a small laugh. She could have bet he was a talker.

“Not too long actually,” she replied. “I got my license a while back, at the same time I was in cosmetology school. But I only started working here last year. I used to do hair at a place downtown.”

He was suddenly propping himself up on the table and Maggie stepped back, alarmed.

“Maggie?” his voice asked somewhat cautiously, and she saw his face for the first time.

She was suddenly transported six years back, to that face with its chiseled jaw, always with a bit of stubble, sharp aquiline nose, hooded eyes, dark, full brows. That face smiling at her. Lifting a frosted glass to his lips. Tracking her movements with his slow, burning gaze. That face looking up at her, mouth plucking gently at her nipple. That face triumphant between her trembling thighs. Wet, from her.

“JT?” she stammered, feeling her jaw slacken as she took another step back.

There it was, that steady gaze, drifting down her body appreciatively. He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes back up to hers, and ran a hand over his jaw. The awkwardness was palpable.

“I’m sorry, Maggie,” he said finally, and she could hear the sincerity in his flustered voice. “I wasn’t trying to spring up on you. I just… I remembered your voice.”

When she said nothing, still staring openly at him in surprise, he went on. “I swear I didn’t know it’d be you. I didn’t even know you were a masseuse. The confirmation email just said M. Kilpatrick.”

“That’s my married name,” she said faintly. She could see his chest, the sprinkling of hair she’d always loved. God, he was still so fit. Was he naked? Of course he was, she cursed inwardly. He was here for a fucking massage.

He said nothing now, looking at her a bit strangely. He cleared his throat again.

“Look, I can go. You definitely don’t have to do this,” he insisted, shifting his weight on the table and she rushed forward, her arms outstretched as if to prevent him from revealing more of his naked body to her.

“No!” she cried out and he froze, looking at her in alarm.

“I mean, I’m… I’m a professional. I see people I know all the time,” she stammered, lying easily. “I’m fine to continue, but I can certainly step out and check the other schedules if you want to switch. It would just take a minute.” She made the offer brightly, perhaps too brightly, but her feet stayed firmly planted.

He hesitated a moment. “If you’re okay with it…”

“Definitely,” she stated. “No problem. Just uh… just lie back down for me.”

God, she could hear herself like a pathetic little schoolgirl.

He slowly lowered himself down, that beautiful face disappearing in the cushioned headrest. She could smell the tension in the room. Or, dear god, was she smelling herself? She felt a distinct slickness between her legs. What the fuck was JT Harris doing here?

As if he could read her mind, he popped his head up and turned to her.

“The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable, Maggie,” he persisted.

“It’s fine,” she insisted, walking over to him and placing her hand on his bare back, applying some pressure to get him to lay back down. He did, and she took a deep breath before touching him again and resuming the massage. What had been before just pleasant, warm flesh felt utterly different now. How on earth had she not recognized his body? This was a body she had known intimately. Every inch had been pressed against her. She had loved this body once.

For the longest time they were quiet, and Maggie sensed that he wouldn’t speak now, not unless she did first. So she fell back into the familiarity of her work, feeling his tension all over now, reversing the benefits of her earlier efforts. Eventually though, her curiosity won.

“You’re back in town, then?” Maggie said a silent prayer of thanks at the steady nonchalance of her voice.

“Yeah, I moved back a few months ago for a new job in the business district. But I used to live just over in Cresson.”

Cresson, she thought. Not even an hour’s drive from her these past six years?

“I, uh, I thought you were going to travel. Didn’t you have a job lined up in France?”

They had talked about France in bed, she remembered suddenly. He had gone on a week’s trip to Paris at the expense of the company scouting him. The night he had returned he had kissed her, murmuring in her ear in that seductive, scratchy voice of his of the smell of pastries wafting as far as the metro stations, the chic shopping districts, a boulevard he had strolled down lined with perfectly manicured trees. At the time she had wondered if he was priming her, if he might ask her to come along, and her heart had thrilled at the idea of such a reckless adventure with a new love. Later, she had cursed herself for such fanciful, stupid thinking.

Suddenly she realized her hands had stilled, and he hadn’t said anything. Maggie felt a flush of crimson creep up through her neck onto her face, embarrassed that she had remembered such a detail, and concentrated again on her work.

“Yeah, I did,” he said finally. “But I had to turn it down.”

She wasn’t going to speak any more, or else she’d humiliate herself.

“It’s actually all related,” he went on after a moment’s pause. “You probably don’t remember this, but when we started seeing each other I had just gotten out of a long thing with a girl named Courtney.”

Oh, she remembered Courtney, all right.

“That night, when I took that phone call outside the pub, it was Courtney calling.”

That inexplicable, painful, confusing night. There had been snow on the ground, glowing in the moonlight. She had sensed something was wrong by his body language as he paced outside on the sidewalk, his breath pluming in large bursts of fog as he shouted. Eventually his pacing had stopped, and he had stayed outside for a long time. When he came back in, he could barely look her in the eye. And it was over within minutes. The most intense five months of her life, gone in an instant. For him to tell her now that it was his ex who claimed him back, that was just cruel.

“She said she was seven months pregnant,” he laughed, remembering the unbelievable story. “With my baby,” he went on, as if that wasn’t clear already. “I freaked the fuck out. I made her do a paternity test with our blood and I’ll be damned. It was mine. I tried to do right by her, you know. I married her at the courthouse a couple weeks before Aspen was born.”

Maggie processed this slowly, feeling the initial flare of her rancor fade rather quickly. She glanced at his left hand, outstretched flat on the table. There was a thin band of pale skin on his finger where a ring habitually lay. Had he taken it off for the massage?

Still her heart thundered. She didn’t want these confessions. She had put him out of her mind, hadn’t thought of him in years. Well, if she was honest with herself, that wasn’t entirely true. Images of him had come to her over the years, of the sounds he made in bed, of the weight of his hand on her body, squeezing her. The delicious cracking sound as he slapped her ass. Those images had been more prevalent of late, really, as she searched back in her mind for material when she touched herself on the long, endless nights alone.

“I’ve never forgiven myself for how I left things with you, Maggie. It ate me up. I should have called you, I was such an ass. But Courtney was so jealous, so angry that I’d been seeing someone since we broke up. As if I’d cheated on her, which I hadn’t.”

“It’s okay, JT,” Maggie said, mildly surprised she’d been enough to make anyone jealous. As if she could’ve compared to tan, perky Courtney with her white chiclet teeth.

“No, it’s really not,” he rejoined, his voice sounding angry at her lack of bitterness. “I was a dick, and I probably made you feel like we had nothing. But we really did have something, Maggie.”

She vaguely wished he’d stop saying her name, or stop talking altogether. It was getting harder and harder for her to get through massaging her ex-lover, whose sexy body now belonged to the woman he’d left her for. She tried focusing on the music, working down his back to massage his ribs and sides. She felt him loosen, seemingly satisfied with her tactile answer.

“I’m glad you found someone better than me,” he murmured. “I bet your husband’s the opposite of me, funny and carefree. I bet he makes you laugh, you always loved to laugh.”

“Derrick was funny,” she admitted with a smile.

“He’s run out of jokes already?” JT teased, and her hands stilled momentarily. She hated this part.

“He, uh, he passed away a few years ago.”

JT propped himself up again to crane back at her, the look of panicked guilt she had expected on his face.

“What? Jesus, Mags, I’m so sorry. I’m like rambling on and… God,” he swore, his hand coming to his chin again. Her heart gave a painful squeeze at the nickname no one had ever used but him.

“It’s okay,” she waved his apology away, knowing it wouldn’t work. It never did.

“Fuck, I’m genuinely ruining your whole day. I should go.”

“Whatever. Do what you want.” Maggie was surprised at the sudden vehemence of her tone. She had felt her frustration flaring, but she was downright icy. Could this day get any fucking worse? Get him off her table and give her half an hour’s respite before the slew of clients she had today. How would she use the time, she wondered faintly. Would she cry out of loneliness? Or would she rub herself raw to the memory of JT’s hard body under her hands? It was a coin toss. Perhaps a bit of both.

JT was staring at her dumbfounded, his expression concerned. The light music played on and Maggie turned away, going back to the side table and fiddling with her things. Just get dressed, she swore to him in her head. Just get out.

But a long moment passed and she heard nothing, not the squeaking of her massage table or the rustling of fabric. She felt her heart beat faster, shifting her weight restlessly. What was he waiting for?

“Come back, Mags,” she heard his soft voice beckon to her, and she shivered.

Then she did hear shifting, and turned to look over his shoulder. He had laid back down.

Tentatively she returned to him, realizing she still held a bottle of self-warming oil in her hand. Absently she poured a little on his back and used her knuckles to work on his vertebrae.

“It feels nice,” he crooned, and Maggie’s heart gave another strange lurch.

She continued her work, venturing down the length of his spine, finding the tension she had expected in his lower, center back.

“I was surprised when you just vanished,” she said, almost to herself, hearing the words and feeling surprised she had even spoken aloud. “Makes sense though, that you went off to do the right thing.”

JT sighed heavily. “I tried to make it work with Courtney, I really did. Aspen was just so sweet and innocent, we both wanted her to have a real family, and we tried. But Courtney and I have always been like two pieces of a puzzle that just don’t quite fit right. You can jam it and jam it all you want but it never really goes. We’d fight all the time at night when Aspen went down, and it eventually got to be too much. We tried living in separate parts of the house and co-parenting but I couldn’t do it. So we got divorced, and we share custody. I moved back to town where at least I could work at a place bigger than the local bank, get back into investing.”

As he spoke she increased the pressure on her closed fists as she rocked them into the tightness in his lower back. She leaned into it, feeling his stress, working it out. That job in France had been a big deal. He had given it up, his dream of working abroad, all for an angry ex and an unplanned child. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like, raising a baby unsure of the love of your partner.

JT groaned audibly, and she eased up.

“No, don’t stop,” he rushed. “Jesus, that feels so good.”

Biting back a little smirk she resumed, opening her fists and working her thumbs into the little dimples above his butt. She had forgotten about those.

“Ok if I go a little lower?” She asked huskily, her thumbs already slipping beneath the hem of the towel.

“Uh huh,” he groaned again, clearly enjoying her ministrations.

Wondering how bold she could be before he stopped her, Maggie let her thumbs glide into the muscle of his butt. So tight, even here. Trust a guy like JT to store tension in every possible place, even his ass. He was always wound so tight. He’d either be working out for hours or fucking her brains out to release it. She used to marvel at how her body could clear his mind, bring him sleep, coax his smile.

But that was six years ago, she reminded herself. Surely the span of years had made them both different people.

Maggie absently turned this idea over in her mind as she kneaded his ass, her fingers wrapping around to his hips. Was she different? In some ways, yes. She had felt true heartbreak after he left her, the kind that makes you doubt if love is even real. Then Derrick and the happiness with him, milder than JT but still so good. A wedding and then a diagnosis and then heartbreak of an altogether different kind. A widow at 27, not even financially stable or fulfilled in her work. The avalanche of medical and funeral expenses had nearly bankrupted her, and Derrick’s assets were long gone. It was certainly not what she had thought her life would look like.

But if you stripped that down and got to the core, she was still the same. She still felt that same schoolgirl thrill when JT looked at her with his burning gaze. Her appetite was the same, maybe even greater now with its added starvation. She still wanted that crazy love, the kind that fast forwarded time and made all the troubles in your life seem paltry and ridiculous. Nothing mattered, really, when you had a connection like that. Maggie remembered it vividly.

A gentle chime sounded, waking Maggie from her daydreaming. She straightened, easing her hands off of his butt. Jesus, not how she’d imagined her morning going, she thought with a gentle laugh.

“Flip over for me,” she said softly, going back to the side table for a little spearmint lotion. Something to wake him up a bit, keep him refreshed the rest of his day.

“On my back?” he clarified, his voice sounding a bit hoarse.

“Yeah. I can get your shoulders more that way in the time we’ve got left.”

She turned back to him, expecting to see him shifting, but he had propped himself up on his elbows once more, looking at her. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was blushing.

“It’s just,” he began awkwardly, looking down the length of his body. “The massage has felt really, really good.”

She laughed aloud in surprise, and he grinned a little despite his pained expression.

She turned back briefly, grabbing a bean-filled heating pad and handing it to him.

“What’s this for?”

“To weigh it down,” she laughed.

“It’s a boner pad?” he asked in disbelief, picking it up.

She laughed again, unable to help it. “Well, it’s technically a heating pad. You microwave it. I use it in my work sometimes when people have injuries. But guys get… well, you know. It happens plenty, and I use this.”

He stared at it, as if imagining all the men who had used it before.

“It goes over the towel,” she clarified.

He snorted, glancing up at her with a wry smile. “Yeah, I would hope so.”

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and began to flip over. Maggie turned away to give him some privacy, though all she could think about now was his dick. Such a beautiful dick. Girthy and long, almost a smidge too long for her, the way she liked it. Derrick had been a good, strenuous lover, she hadn’t gone unsatisfied. But nothing had ever quite compared to JT’s equipment and damn, did he know how to use it. During the months they were together she had grown used to the pure oblivion he could somehow hurl her into in a matter of minutes.

When she ventured a peek back at him he had laid back down and his breath was a little audible now. She wondered if he was nervous again. She certainly felt the flutters.

She moved to stand directly behind his head, slipping her hands under the base of his head to cradle his neck and knead the column with her fingertips. His eyes were open, looking up at her now, and suddenly the position felt too intimate.

“Close your eyes and relax, JT,” she urged him, and he fought a smile, closing his eyes gently.

“You know, I don’t go by JT anymore.”

“Well, no way I’m calling you John.”

He laughed that nice, deep rumble of his, smiling despite himself.

“Nobody ever called me Mags but you,” she said gently, after a while.

He was silent for a moment, his eyes still closed, but he lifted one hand from his side and blindly found her forearm, wrapping his warm fingers around it and stilling her circling motions.

The electrical charge in the room changed in an instant, and she felt with the simple gesture that he had crossed the line she had been hoping he’d cross the whole damn appointment. And just like JT too, to make a move at the last minute when they barely had any time.

“Mind if I dim the lights a bit more?” she asked briskly, slipping her arms out of his grasp and moving already to the light panel.

“Uh, sure,” he stumbled, and she could tell she had thrown him off.

She turned the lights to near darkness, going next to the stereo and slowly increasing its volume. By the time she clicked the lock to her room, she had slipped off her shoes and undone the tie of her scrub pants. It was quick work to divest herself of her remaining clothing, feeling like a risky teenager.

“Just relax,” she hummed, hoping he kept his eyes closed as she neared. He breathed deeply, and her fingers grazed ever so lightly over the surface of the weighted pad, knowing he couldn’t feel her touch through it.

Taking the utmost care, she hoisted one knee on the side of the massage table, leaning over him to grip the other side as she climbed atop him. As she did so, she slid the weighted pad down to the space between his calves, noting with a deep pleasure the outline of his thick erection under the towel.

“Whoa,” he exclaimed in surprise, his eyes flying open to watch her as she settled to sit astride his thighs.

“This ok?” she asked, hoping the nervousness wasn’t too obvious in her voice.

“Jesus, it’s more than ok,” he swore, his hands lifting to caress her legs. “Fuck, Maggie, you’re gorgeous.”

“I remember how much you always liked to curse,” she laughed softly, reaching up to undo her ponytail, shaking out her chestnut waves.

“Yeah, sorry,” he laughed without much humor, his fingers squeezing the soft skin of her upper thighs. Yes, that was what she wanted.

“Don’t be,” she replied. “It’s sexy.”

She started to move her hips against him, the towel still between them. It felt so good to be bad like this at work, felt simultaneously completely out of character and also like coming home to a version of herself she used to relish. The dim lighting gave her added confidence. She was sure her curves were a little rounder than they were six years ago, but JT had always loved her body.

If the way he was looking at her now was any hint, he still liked what he saw.

“Is this really happening?” he whispered reverently, and she bit her lower lip. Working up her courage, she moved over his erection, stroking its length with the heat between her legs. The fabric of the towel felt good against her sensitive flesh. She was so wet.

“It is, if you want it to,” she murmured, lifting his hands from her thighs to place both over her breasts.

“God, yes,” he swore, squeezing her breasts roughly. She laughed, reminded of his voracity in bed, his eagerness. JT barely knew how to make love, fucking was his domain. Five months of dating and she had just begun teaching him how to be gentle, how to savor. But gentleness was the last thing she wanted now.

Her gyrations over his crotch had shifted the towel, and she felt the difference in texture as she began grinding over his velvet hardness instead of the cloth. She kept going, a slow, steady pace, showing him what she wanted. His hands cupped her breasts, stroking and massaging them, rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. A moan escaped her, and he hissed between his teeth.

“I’ve got a condom in my wallet,” he ground out, his voice sounding harried. “But if I’m honest it’s probably a decade old at this point.”

She continued to stroke his length with her pussy, preparing him with her slickness. She felt his eyes intense on her body, but couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze just yet.

“I’ve got an IUD.”

“Jesus, Mags,” he swore again, his hips bucking once underneath her. Faintly she wondered how long it had been for him, if it had been anything near as long as her drought. May as well be honest, she thought. Get the best out of it.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the cascading piano melody. “I know I’m good. Are you good?”

His hands squeezed her breasts tightly, his body responding eagerly to her before his tongue even found the words.

“Yeah. I got tested at my last physical. Just in case. That was a couple of months ago and there hasn’t been anyone.”

At his ‘yeah,’ Maggie was already moving, coming up onto her knees to grip his erection in her hand and position it over her. JT was breathing heavily now.

“Good,” she murmured, half reply to him and half commentary on the whirlwind of sensations she was experiencing. Feeling his slick head begin to slip into her, she released her hand and let herself sink down onto him fully.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned as she bottomed out, his hands securing her waist to hold her against him. God, it felt so good. Better than she had remembered, better than any toy. Was there any feeling in the world that surpassed a massive cock fully inside her, with the promise of more to come?

She revelled in the feeling of it for a long moment, letting her head fall back as she breathed. She felt JT’s fingers stroke the skin of her belly softly, and the intimacy of his touch reminded her that it was not just any massive cock inside of her, but his. The best lover she’d ever had, the closest she’d ever felt to flying.

Suddenly needing that flight again she began to move, slowly lifting and sinking onto him, finding the delicious rhythm like second nature. God, she felt so full.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Mags,” JT whispered, his hands skimming all over her body now, and she laughed faintly.

“Yeah, sure. I’m hotter than ever.”

His grip tightened on her waist almost painfully, and he shoved her down onto him abruptly. She gasped, her eyes flying open to find his gaze already boring into her. His hair was disheveled, his jaw clenched. This was the JT she remembered, fierce, intent on nothing but her pleasure and his own.

“You look exactly the same as you did that night. With the snow falling in your hair.”

It wasn’t at all what she had expected him to say, and in her surprise she paused in her movements.

He gripped her still, keeping her fully seated.

“After I left I got back in my car and I cried like a baby. Partly because I was afraid of all the shit Courtney told me, but partly because I had really, really wanted to see where it went with you, Maggie.”

She was silent, feeling her own lips fall open as she looked down at him, blinking. She had never seen JT cry, never even imagined him capable of it.

“I’ve never had another woman like you my whole life,” he went on, his voice enthralling and insistent, like a devotion. “You were so easy to be around, so funny, easy to talk to. And we were fucking connected in bed, Maggie. You know we were.”

Maggie shivered at the word, afraid of how right he was.

He took a deep breath. “You were crazy for it, for me. I loved it. I could barely keep up with you, but damn I tried.”

He smiled as he spoke, easing his grip, sliding his hands around to grip her bottom.

She felt mesmerized by his words, so much so that when he took her ass in his hands and lifted her again, as if to signal her to move, she faltered.

“You were the most I ever had.”

He stopped, his eyes zooming back up to hers. They locked gazes, and in that moment, something shifted.

“The most ever,” she whispered again, in some kind of trance.

His hips lifted against her in reply, thrusting in the narrow space between them.

A sound escaped her, and it urged him on. He lifted her higher, slipping his cock inside her over and over, his eyes drifting down to the place where he entered her.

“You missed this, baby girl?” he ground out, his thrusts taking on an edge.

She felt the shift again, the shift she had wanted. Away from this unnerving talk and towards the abyss, the pure sensation, pleasure so strong it was almost pain.

In lieu of an answer, she angled down onto him on his next thrust, and he groaned again.

“Grind on me some more, baby girl. Show me that pink little cunt. Show me how much you missed this cock.”

His words were like gasoline, washing over the frantic nerves in her brain with a sweeping heat. She let it all drift away and came down onto his dick. She had missed it, her pussy so hungry for it, for him.

Her movements picked up, and she leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head as she tilted her hips to fuck him and grind against him at the same time, desperate for the friction. She needed to come now, needed it badly.

“Take it, Maggie. Take that cock,” he groaned, and that was exactly what she was doing. She was fucking taking what she needed from him, and the realization tipped her over the edge. She gyrated furiously, impaling herself over and over on top of him, oblivious to everything but the feeling of his cock pressed so deep inside her. His hands were everywhere. One gripped her thighs, squeezing her ass, sliding in between her cheeks to stroke the place only he had ever been. The other alternated between her breasts, stroking, pulling. She felt her orgasm come at her full force, felt a whisper of fear at the intensity of it, white hot and all consuming.

He must have sensed it too, because he lifted his head, taking a breast in his mouth and sucking deeply, one hand slipping between them to caress her clit. She cried out at the exquisiteness of the feeling, no longer in control of the movement of her body as she rode him. It was endless, and she felt wave after wave of sheer liquid pleasure roil over her like some kind of high.

“So fucking pretty when you come,” he groaned, as if to himself, and the curse made her buck again, the aftershocks of her orgasm sharp and tight. Her pussy milked him still, getting every last drop of her climax, holding him possessively inside her.

When she finally felt herself slide into the afterglow she sat up, leaning back and gripping his thighs for balance. His eyes went back to that place like she had known they would. He had always loved to fixate on his cock drilling into her. She lengthened her thrust against him, lifting off almost fully, hovering at the tip. It was about him now, it was about making him come meet her in that sacred place they had once known together.

He was close already, she could tell by his breath, frantic and wild, by his hands that no longer stroked her but instead tightened over her flesh, as if desperate to keep her from escaping. She let one hand drift behind her, bending back to take his balls in her gentle grasp. His back arched, his head thrashing from side to side as his own orgasm seized him.

“Come for me, baby,” she beckoned. Talking had never come naturally to her in bed, but JT’s words had reminded her how much he liked it.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he cried out, impaling her onto his cock with such force she could feel his hipbones dig into the soft flesh of her inner thighs. She felt the warm surge within her with a savage satisfaction, like some kind of animal. Breathing hard, she bent over him again, his arms trying to pull her even closer.

Just then the chime of the timer sounded, interrupting the music. It was set to sound louder than the stereo, which she had already turned too high.

JT stiffened, coming off the table with her still in his arms, pressing her breasts into his chest as if to protect her from some imaginary danger.

“Is that an alarm? Is there a camera in here?”

Even through the daze of her pleasure-drenched senses she couldn’t help but laugh as she pried herself away from him and stumbled off the table, feeling wetness drip down her leg.

“Time’s up,” she giggled, feeling giddy.

She turned off the timer, bending over as she fumbled in the towel rack to clean herself up, tossing a rolled towel vaguely in his direction. She heard the massage table groan as JT shifted his weight. Thankful the lights were still dim, Maggie reached for her clothes and began to hurriedly dress. An hour up meant her next client was already in the lobby waiting. Jesus Christ.

She was pulling her scrub top over her head awkwardly as the lights came up and she saw JT standing by the panel, in just his boxers. He was still staring at her in a kind of stupor.

“Sorry you didn’t get a full massage,” she laughed again, feeling like a teenager and yet suddenly flooded with embarrassment for practically seducing him.

“You kidding?” he laughed halfheartedly, reaching for his jeans and stepping into them.

Dressed now, she turned away with a degree of bashfulness as he fastened his jeans and pulled on his shirt. She saw her hair tie on the floor and bent for it, gathering her hair up again. She felt an unexpected wave of self-disgust. It was one thing to fuck him, but quite another to fuck him while was essentially paying her.

“Listen, JT,” she began, moving around the room briskly to reset things. “I want you to know I, uh, I don’t do this, ever. I’m not that kind of masseuse. I don’t know what got into me.”

“Some of that old Maggie, I guess,” he answered, and she turned to him, confused. With the lights bright now, and the music off, the scene looked strangely prosaic. They were both fully dressed, nothing to give their tryst away but their mutual flush and labored breathing.

He smiled, his eyes wrinkling. “The old Maggie,” he said again. “The one who blew me in my parent’s basement closet when we were supposed to be looking for Pictionary. The one who rode me in the back of my old Volvo in December, with her coat still on.”

Maggie laughed, feeling the surprised sound bubble up inside her chest. Then, unexpectedly, she frowned. “I guess I don’t feel much like that Maggie these days.”

“She’s right in front of me, and damn how I missed her,” he stated simply, reaching out a hand to her but letting it fall. He hesitated just the briefest of moments, taking a deep breath. “Maybe she’d let me take her to dinner sometime.”

She winced. She knew it was nice of him to ask, but it still felt wrong to be asked just now, like it was some kind of extra payment for fucking him.

“No strings attached,” he rushed, taking a couple of steps forward and shyly pulling her hand into his. “Absolutely none at all. I was going to ask even… before,” he laughed, running his other hand in his hair. “Just dinner, and conversation. I’d be the perfect gentleman.”

“You? A gentleman?” she scoffed, though her tone was gentle.

He laughed sheepishly. “You might be surprised. I just might be able to romance you now, Mags. That is…” he drifted off, as if realizing something. “That is, unless you’re not… dating… right now. I can wait.”

She felt a surge of gratitude for his attempt to acknowledge her strange situation, and squeezed his hand.

“Fine, dinner. But you have to get out of here, like now.”

He grinned like a little boy, giving her hand a squeeze back. Distantly she realized she hadn’t even kissed him. Damn, Maggie girl. Talk about horny.

“Give me your new number,” he urged her, shoving his phone into her hands.

“How do you know it’s changed?” she teased, entering herself as a contact.

“I tried your old one once,” he shrugged, and she felt that thrill again.

“Can I call tonight?”

She laughed, pushing him towards the door. “Maybe. Yes. But right now you have to leave.”

He grinned sheepishly, pretending to block the doorway and resist leaving. Maggie laughed, shoving him even harder.

“Morning, Maggie dear,” a gentle voice said happily, and Maggie froze, turning to her regular client Mary Jane, a demure woman in her 60s.

“Oh, hi Mary Jane. I’m just now ready for you. Sorry I’m running late already.” The words escaped her mouth in a frantic rush, and with a polite nod of the head JT slinked down the hallway, turning back to give her an apologetic grimace.

“No worries, dear,” Mary Jane said softly. “I would certainly have taken my time with a man like that.”

Maggie laughed nervously, leading Mary Jane into the room, her gaze darting frantically around, half expecting to see her bra somewhere.

“New incense fragrance, hmm?” Mary Jane asked mildly, moving behind the privacy screen to undress.

Maggie bit back a laugh, smelling the rampant sex in the air. She took a deep breath, turning the timer dial with fingers that trembled ever so slightly. Her day was certainly looking up.

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