Lucy
used her fingers, hands and forearms as she applied pressure to the middle of
the back of one of her regular clients, trying to ease the pain the man had
been complaining about when he checked in.
She
heard a small groan of appreciation and smiled softly, shifting around her
massage table to work on the other side, always maintaining symmetry in
movement.
She
sighed contentedly and began another series of sweeping moves along his back,
all while candles flickered and soft music filled the room. Lucy was an
independent massage therapist, but worked out of an office that housed three
therapists and an acupuncturist. Much like hair stylists had “booth rental”
rates, she had a “room rental” rate, but so far, it had been a great
arrangement. Lucy really liked her colleagues, the space was perfect for their
work, and was centrally located in Monterey. Most of her clients were locals,
but she did get the occasional tourist or two who just wanted some extra
pampering.
Perhaps
most gratifying was that most of her clients were repeat customers, which meant
she was giving them what they needed in terms of pain management and
relaxation, which was her ultimate goal.
As
always in her own massage room space, Lucy was barefoot, clad in yoga pants and
a soft cotton shirt, her thick hair pulled back into a bun to allow her to work
unfettered.
It
was her standard uniform when doing massages, and led her to absently wonder
what was an appropriate outfit to wear the farmer’s market with Spencer on
Tuesday.
She
wanted to wear something other than the baggy workout clothes Spencer was used
to seeing at the warehouse, but she didn’t want to appear that she was trying
too hard in any way.
Trainer-supervised
non-dates were a little confusing, she mused, leaning into a particularly deep
pressure point.
Surely
Brandt would have the answer, she thought, shifting position. He always knew
the dress code for every occasion, even if he sometimes took it a bit over the
top.
“Okay,
Jim, let’s go ahead and have you shift onto your back,” Lucy said softly.
She
started to grab the sheet to hold up so her client could roll over while
maintaining modesty, but he cleared his throat as though embarrassed.
“Um,
could we…” he paused and Lucy waited patiently. “Um, could I not do that
today?”
Lucy
cocked her head slightly. “Does it hurt to lie on your back? That could be
lower back muscles tensing…”
Jim
interrupted her, shifting uncomfortably. “No. Just, um… I, just, um, can’t.”
Lucy
quickly understood. It wasn’t uncommon for male clients to become aroused
during a massage, even though it was not sexual at all in nature. Frankly,
massage moved blood around really quickly, and it just happens, Lucy knew from
her training. Many of the men she saw were either unmarried or had long since
stopped having a physical relationship with their spouse, or so they said. Just
the sensation of being touched had that affect on some men, and it never failed
to embarrass them to no end.
To Lucy,
it was just part of the job and part of a body’s reaction, and nothing to be embarrassed
about.
Lucy
simply nodded and maintained her professional, but quiet, tone. “Sure, no
problem. We have a few minutes left – would you like me to focus on a scalp
massage or perhaps a foot massage? Your choice.”
Jim
sighed gratefully. “Scalp would be great. Thanks, Lucy.”
She
worked her fingers into his scalp, pressing and kneading gently, her
fingernails then scratching all over. Jim was practically purring as she did
that, and she smiled, glad she could make someone feel so much better in just
an hour.
She
wondered if Spencer felt the same way about his clients – liked seeing them
feel better, took pride in how he changed their lives, like Lucy did for her
clients.
She
doubted that male arousal was a common problem in the gym, but you never know….
She
made a mental note never to ask, though.
As
for women… well, one look at Spencer, she thought with a secret grin. Who
wouldn’t…
Shut
up, Lucy, she commanded herself, refocusing on her work.
**
“Jeans,
right?” Lucy asked, tossing a pair onto her bed where Brandt was reclining
against her pillows. “Jeans seem right.”
Brandt
nodded in agreement. “I would go jeans for sure. And some cute flats – you
don’t wanna dress up with heels or boots, but you don’t wanna dress down with
sneakers. It’s very cazh, right?”
“He’s
a trainer, though. Maybe sneakers are the right call,” Lucy said, digging
around in her closet.
“It’s
possible that we’re overthinking this,” Brandt said to Lucy’s back. “Jeans,
comfortable flats, and a tee shirt-dress shirt hybrid. Done.”
“A
what?” Lucy asked, emerging from the closet. “A hybrid?”
“Move,”
Brandt commanded, pushing her aside. “Where’s that green thing?”
“What
green thing?”
“Here,”
Brandt said, tossing her a green top that was made of cotton but had some shape
and dart detailing and a few flourishes by the neckline. “This is perfect. And
it makes your eyes look beyond fabulous.”
“Again,
it’s all about bringing fabulosity to our lives,” Lucy said with a grin,
shucking off her tee shirt to put on her green ‘hybrid’.
“Whoa,
Nelly. You are not wearing that
raggedy ass bra,” Brandt said before she could pull on the new shirt.
“He’s
not going to see my bra, Brandt!” Lucy exclaimed.
“Still,
that beat up cotton thing? At least put on something pretty – you’ll know it’s
there, at least, and it will up your fabulosity rating.”
“I
like this beat up cotton thing. It’s… comfortable,” Lucy defended, hands on
hips.
“Comfortable
has no place here,” Brandt insisted, digging around in her underwear drawer.
“Here,” he said, handing her a champagne colored satin style bra with lace
around the cups. “Wear this. And please don’t make me ask if you are going to
put on the matching panties, because I know
you are, right?”
Lucy
nodded meekly. “Yes, sir, Mr. Fabulosity, sir.”
“Good,”
Brandt said, flouncing out of the room. “Comfortable cotton, my ass. When this
‘transformation’ of yours is more underway, sister, we are buy you some damn
better underwear,” he called over his shoulder.
“Are
you going to be paying for it?”
Brandt
grinned. “Sure. What are gay besties for, if not to buy frilly underthings so
that his lady friend can get some action?”
“Brandt?”
“Yes,
my darling girl?”
“Bite
me.”
Brandt
was still laughing even has Lucy shimmied into her assigned underwear.
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