Saturday, 7 April 2018
Free 7th & 8th April The Masseur by Cyra May a Short Sexy Read
One of the Professional Series
The Professionals Series
A SHORT SEXY READ
Warm hands and cold water are the perfect cure for a stiff neck.
Housewife and author, Stella, seems to suffer with a lot of health niggles that can only be sorted out through a massage. Each visit miraculously cures her problems and also supplies her imagination for her next book.
FOR A TASTER
Stella knew if she didn’t do something soon she would end up with a headache, and she already knew what she needed.
Her back and shoulders were tight, every movement she made sending twinges up her neck. Sitting at her desk in the chilly study didn’t help, but Doug had suggested they were being too extravagant with the heat and ‘maybe we shouldn’t switch it on until late afternoon’.
“Okay for him to say. He doesn’t sit here most of the day. His job keeps him active, and warm,” she muttered under her breath. How was she supposed to type when her fingers were numb?
She heard the front door open. “Oh joy,” she said sarcastically. “Lunch time already.”
“Hello, are you there?” he yelled, rather than climb the stairs to see.
“Yes, of course, I’ll be down in a minute. Put the kettle on and I’ll get you some lunch.”
Stella finished the paragraph she was working on, and while hoping the movement of getting food ready might help ease her neck tension, she was already working on a much better plan.
Entering the kitchen, she found Doug chatting animatedly on his phone, the kettle still cold and empty by the sink. Turning on the tap with one hand and picking up the kettle in the other, she listened and watched as Doug laughed and joked with whoever was on the other end. He was always different on the phone. As if to confirm her thoughts, he said goodbye, slipped his cell into his pocket, and picked up the newspaper as he sat at the table. His head disappeared behind the black and white paper wall and silence filled the room.
Stella clicked on the kettle and headed to the large refrigerator, scanning the shelves for inspiration. “Anything you particularly fancy?” she asked, turning towards the printed barrier, which shook slightly as a “No, anything,” floated out from behind.
“Okay, I’ll do grilled cheese.”
A moment’s hesitation brought no response, so she grabbed what she needed and headed to the bread box.
“Is there any of that pasta left from yesterday? I liked that.”
“So not anything then,” she grumbled, more to herself than Doug.
Putting the cheese back, Stella rummaged around for the leftover pasta. She popped the lid and after scooping the tuna and creamy tomato pasta out of the pot into a bowl, she placed it and a fork in front of the newspaper while she made coffee. She placed a mugful next to the bowl and sat in the chair opposite her invisible husband. “Lunch is ready.”
All she could see were hands clutching the paper’s edges, and the top of his head, revealing the evidence of thinning hair. She sipped her coffee. “Lunch is ready.” She repeated, her voice a little louder and firmer, before exaggeratedly stretching her head from side to side.
Doug must have noticed the edge in her tone. He dropped the paper, seeing her for the first time, watching her movement. “Stiff neck?” he asked.
Without waiting for a response, he shoved the paper aside and scooped a forkful of pasta into his mouth. “Urh, it’s cold!” He blasted, pushing the bowl towards her. “You could have heated it up.” He selected his coffee instead.
Stella said nothing as she picked up the bowl, maneuvered out of her chair, and went to the microwave. She didn’t stay quiet for long though as a small shriek left her lips.
“What’s up?” Doug managed between slurps.
“My neck, the way I moved there, and the pain building in my head. I’m worried it’ll turn into a migraine.”
She let the words hang in the air, waiting for Doug to work that situation through. The microwave beeped and Stella placed the now hot bowl in front on Doug and retook her seat. “I‘d better take some pain pills,” she announced, rising again.
She poured a glass of water and popped two pills, Doug silently watching her while shoveling food into his mouth.
“There are a few frozen TV dinners if I’m already in bed when you get home tonight. Maybe I’ll just go lay down, see if I can shake this off before it gets too bad. Would you pick the kids up from school and make sure they eat dinner?”
Stella had always suffered with migraines. Doug had known that since they’d met in their late teens fifteen years ago. He’d shown a little sympathy in the beginning, but not being able to understand the pain and symptoms, it soon became an inconvenience when Stella was unable to do her ‘homemaker’ duties. Okay, she admitted to herself, I do lay it on thick occasionally, punishment for when he’s being selfish or when I need some time out. This was definitely one of those times. She smiled as she rested her head on folded arms on the table. She needed a pampering session.
“Maybe you’ll feel better after half an hour’s rest or sleep?”
Stella heard the hope in his voice. “Maybe,” she mumbled from under her armpit. “If I do, I’ll call to let you know and pick the kids myself, but don’t count on it, I feel really rough. This one could last for days.”
She was being a little sneaky, knowing Doug hated looking after the children. Needs must come first, she decided.
“I hate seeing you like this, darling. Why don’t I treat you to a massage? Worked last time, didn’t it? You were up and about after an hours’ rest.”
“I was, but we can’t afford a massage session every time.”
“Better safe than sorry. Give Betsy a call, see if she can fit you in.”
Doug stood, noisily slurping the last of his coffee and scraping the chair along the floor, making Stella grimace with annoyance. Raising her head slightly, she watched him throw a couple of bills on the table and head towards the door. “There you are, honey, my treat. See if we can fix it before it sets right in. There’s a meeting after work so I could be late.”
So, he’d taken it for granted that the massage would work miracles and had no intention of picking up the children. He was so predictable, and so out of touch. Stella hadn’t seen Betsy for over a year. Glancing at the money, she smiled.
Tidying the kitchen, she carefully washed the two pills down the sink before calling a number from memory. It was answered after two rings. “Hello?”
“Hi, Ben. Any chance you could fit me in this afternoon for a massage or something? I can feel a tension headache coming on from my stiff neck,” she giggled.
“Stella, what a lovely surprise. Of course, I’m always free for you. A massage or something sounds fantastic; I could do with a break. I’ll tidy up the studio, have a shower, and be ready in thirty.”
“Perfect” she purred, “I’ll see you then.”
Just hearing his sexy voice had eased the pain in her neck and relaxed her muscles, sending a warm glow through her body.
FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS WHEN SHE GETS THERE