She laughed, agreeing with me. “I know, but they’re fluffy and quick and sometimes I just like something titillating.”
“Well,” I began, “You might like the website I enjoy – I think I told you that I had written a couple of stories and posted them online –”
I had been reading erotica for years and sometimes during my long commute to work, I imagined scenarios based on my own life experiences. A few months ago, I’d decided to try my hand at writing my own erotic story. Lamya was one of the few people I’d told about it, but I’d been too shy to send her the link so she hadn’t read them yet.
“What’s the site again?” she interrupted, eagerly. “And what’s your pseudonym?”
In for a penny, I thought, and told her. I climbed into bed next to her and lay on my back, watching her out of the corner of my eye. She plumped up the pillows and propped her iPad on her knees, quickly finding the first of my stories. I felt nervous, wondering what she’d think of them – and of me for writing about it.
“I like the fact that you start right away with dialogue,” she told me as I turned on my side, trying not to think about what effect my stories might be having on her. I know I got aroused writing them…
She was silent for a long time, the only sound her quiet breathing and the occasional rustle of the covers. “Wow. You’re a good writer, Kate,” she said finally. “You’ll have to let me know when you write the next one.”
“Thanks,” I responded as she turned out the light. “I will.”
It would be a long night, I decided as I tried to sleep.
*******************************************************
After breakfast the next morning – a continental affair of fresh fruit, cheeses, yogurt, and a variety of breads – we prepped for our next treatments. I had a facial with the infamous Marie followed by a 90-minute massage with Lucie. Between my experience yesterday and Lamya’s comments last night, I wasn’t sure what to expect.
I was directed to a different room this morning for my facial. It was down the stairs, away from some of the other treatment rooms and off to one side. I could actually see the sauna through the window and the river beyond it.
Lucie was waiting for me with a massage table draped in a clean white sheet and a rolling chair behind the head.
“Bonjour ma chère,” she greeted me. “Enlevez tous vos vêtements et couchez-vous sur la table, sous les draps. Je serai de retour dans un moment.” I’ve often been asked to remove my shirt and bra for a facial, but never all of my clothing. But I did as she asked, stripping off everything and lying under the sheet, my heart beating a bit faster as I waited for her to return, wondering…
She knocked briefly before re-entering the room and began to get her supplies organised, asking the usual questions about my skin type and any allergies. I started to relax, thinking that this might just end up being a regular facial, and trying to decide if I was disappointed.
I closed my eyes as she began layering on and removing different creams and lotions. There was the usual slightly unpleasant portion, involving cleaning out my pores and blackheads, and then the part that I always loved: the neck massage. Her hands were strong as they kneaded at my neck muscles, which had probably tensed during my fitful sleep as I tried to avoid brushing up against Lamya’s soft skin during the night.