I’ve been working the parlor for five years now, and it’s told me a lot about humans. About their strangeness, their uniqueness, and above all their yearning. For love. For belonging. And for desire. My job is to fulfill those needs. I’m paid to do exactly that; in the form of a happy ending. And though that can be interesting in and of itself, the humanness factor is much more fascinating.
As for me, I’m a collector of stories. Good stories about humans being humans. This is one of my stories.
Joe With the Mean Wife is one of my favorite clients. He comes in once or twice a week, depending on how stressful work has been. Or how stressful his wife has been. I think his wife is more the culprit for his need for my services.
“The usual today, Joe?” I ask, straightening the sheets. His expression tells me that this fight was worse than most. H
e solemnly nods, and begins disrobing.
After he gets himself arranged, bare and flat on his back on the table, I take my place at his side and begin working my magic. As I begin the deep muscle massage of his thighs, he tells me with a deep regretful sigh, “I did the best I could, but they had to admit her to in-patient psych yesterday.”
His emotion-laden words halted any further motion, and I shifted sideways so that I could look into his conflicted face.
Reaching down, I caress his face, smoothing his cheek and his brow, which had begun furrowing, betraying his angst.
“I’m sure you did your best, Joe,” I comfort him, my palm resting against his chin and cheek.
In that moment, we peered at each other, eye to eye, and it seemed a change took over Joe. Something in the desirous way he looked at me.
He had always been strictly professional with me: I’d massage him, listen to how his day or week was going, and after the right amount of time, I’d start a slow, erotic massage of his genitals. He was always the proper consumer of the parlour’s services: taking care to keep quiet upon completion, giving no verbal confirmation of the types of services he received, and to keep the discussion on casual life occurrences. There were, in fact, recording devices- inside and out of the room, ready for a federal prostitution investigation, should any evidence be fettered out.
This was different. I knew from talking with Joe, and from taking care of his needs, that his relationship with his wife was a tumultuous one. He’d always used humor to cover the pain, our peri-orgasm discussions a mixture of complaints decorated with sarcasm and humor. Those discussions possessed a certain polite restraint; a superficial element, holding back the tenuous emotions that betray these types of professional relationships.
This Joe was highly emotional and sad. Raw. Defeated almost. My heart went out to him- this client I’d grown to care about- who I developed a sort of relationship with.
Suddenly, his hand cupped the back of my head, and he pulled me in for a kiss, throwing me off balance so that my body perched precariously atop his. It was nearly as shocking as it was erotic, and it made me lose my breath and see stars. I’d never kissed one of my clients before, and my trained reluctance at shared erotic contact had me balking at first.
As Joe’s mouth overtook mine, I allowed myself to be seduced by him. Finding myself fully on the table, straddling him, my legs tangled in his, we two began grinding against each other. As his hardened shaft moved, it found its way into my robe, thrusting against the inside of my hip. I couldn’t help but push against him, and before I knew it, the silk lapels of my robe had fallen open. We found ourselves naked. Skin to skin. Breast to breast and pelvis to pelvis.
His mouth affixed on mine, we devoured each other. His hands roamed my body, caressing intimate spaces long abandoned. I felt his hands move beneath my robe as they cupped my cheeks, while his cock pushed against my throbbing core. With a quick upward thrust, he entered me, a singular moan escaping my lips. He soon covered those lips with his, and we devoured each other. Partly, I knew, in an effort to quiet our forbidden deeds. But also, for me, because I was so overtaken with desire, my fiery lust burning out of control.
Suddenly, Joe flipped us, and I found myself pinned beneath him. His mouth continued devouring mine as we moved into each other, and was the only thing that kept me from crying out my pleasure. Faster and harder, we thrust into each other, mouths and bodies joined, until Joe reached his climax, pushing into me deeper than ever before. Only then did his lips release mine as he withdrew from me completely, the sudden emptiness plaguing me.
In an effort to recover what was lost, I pulled him closer, my legs tightening around his waist. I was unsatisfied and wanted more. I wanted him to satisfy me, and I was unwilling to let him go until I was fulfilled. Taking his hand in mine, I guided him down my body, until our joined hands hovered over my clit. I then swirled a massage there, showing him the way I liked to be touched.
Joe quickly took over my clit, rubbing and circling, needing very little guidance from me. My hips moved up and down slightly, as I was still pinned beneath him. The confines of my movement, instead of taking away, served to exponentially increase my pleasure. Before long, I was rocking back and forth, and riding the wave of ecstatic pleasure.
“Right there,” I whispered in his ear, as he began fingering and massaging me. My motions and his became more jerky as we moved- he fucking me with his fingers, and me surging against him. We continued our erotic tango as he stabbed deep and I moved into him. Back and forth. In and out. Until finally I came, gloriously riding the waves of ecstatic pleasure.
I then lay back, my hips cradled against his as he held me, bare skin to bare skin. We settled against each other, cuddling for a time. Until the timer nestled covertly in the corner of the room announced that our session was complete. We then moved away from each other, silently clothing ourselves while stealing shy glances at each other.
The rest of our time was spent in charged silence. I wondered, as I’m sure he did, if the exquisite connection we had just made was more than two human bodies coming together and discharging animalistic energy. Or was it more? I’d spent plenty of time with Joe over the last few years…touching him…learning about him…getting to know him. Could the passion that we had just shared translate into more than that? As I watched him watching me, I was sure it wasn’t a one sided question. He slowly dressed and then reluctantly left. That was the first of many times Joe and I made love; connections which continue to resound within my body and soul.