But for the record, I've seen and touched enough naked bodies to know--"
"--to know that all bodies are beautiful. Yeah, you used that line on me before."
"It's not a line," he said, irked. "And I was gonna say, to know how to make a woman forget her self-consciousness."
He had his work cut out for him tonight. And he read my mind at that instant.
"Tell you what. We'll just talk--about anything you want. Music, the weather... you see the game last night?"
We started talking about the Yankee game, and next thing I knew, it was as if we were sitting across from each other at Junior's rather than a candlelit bathtub. It occurred to me then that my initial resistance had little to do with self-consciousness and more to do with the fact that I actually wanted him to see and touch my bare body, to find it desirable. Pretty soon I moved closer to him, first running my foot along his calf, then turning around so that he was behind me, caressing a lavender-scented puffy sponge along my neck and down my back while we talked quietly. And, sure enough, I forgot all about my self-consciousness and my naked body and leaned into the protection of his firm, sturdy arms. That night, I understood the secret of why his clients kept coming back for more. Indeed, he knew how to make each one feel sexy, uninhibited, beautiful, and like each one was the only woman in the world.
But how did he feel? I wondered. Was he aroused? Fighting to keep from doing more than just sponging my back? Or was I just another client? Had he successfully learned to emotionally and physically detach himself from the women he serviced? Was that even possible? After all, he was a man. Unless he was gay...was that it?
As the votives started to go out and the suds broke up, he stood up and reached for the full-length towel waiting for me. I tried to look for signs of an erection, but he was too quick for me.
"Here." He closed his eyes and held the towel out in front of him and open for me, still standing there, dripping. "Say when."
His gesture struck me; he'd just spent the last hour--or more--with my naked body, and yet he still respected my privacy without judgment. I stood up and moved into the butter-soft towel as he practically hugged me with it before I stepped out.
"My God, this feels good. Did you use the whole bottle of fabric softener?"
"That's cute. Can I open my eyes now?"
"Oh yeah, sorry. Thanks."
"You're welcome." He quickly stepped out of the tub and grabbed a towel for himself. "So? What'd you think?"
"I think we should start doing this once a week from now on."
He grinned. "You did great. You relaxed and got comfortable with me. I'm proud of you."
I glowed. Then I looked at him, perplexed.
"Why'd you get into the tub with me? You said you don't usually do that."
"The situation warranted it--you needed the presence of a man's body, and to see that there's nothing sinful about it."
"If that's the case, then why didn't you get completely naked?"
"I didn't want to overwhelm you. I mean..." he blushed and looked away, laughing nervously. It was nice to see I wasn't the only one who got flustered.
"You're that good, huh," I said more friendly than flirtatious.
He didn't answer me; didn't need to. I could feel a connection between us at that moment, and liked it.
I then wondered why I'd never spent an evening like this with Andrew. In fact, I don't think I'd ever had such an intimate encounter with anyone. Not that Andrew didn't want to do such sexy, romantic things with me. He would take me out for candlelit dinners or serenade me with a folk song that he wrote just for me, but I'd avoided many of his more personal advances, and suddenly I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. Why had I never trusted him? I was engaged to him, after all. How could I be more trusting of a man that I've never even kissed, a man I barely knew, than of my fiance?
Devin peered at his watch in the dimness of the room, then moved in close to me, pulling my
"--to know that all bodies are beautiful. Yeah, you used that line on me before."
"It's not a line," he said, irked. "And I was gonna say, to know how to make a woman forget her self-consciousness."
He had his work cut out for him tonight. And he read my mind at that instant.
"Tell you what. We'll just talk--about anything you want. Music, the weather... you see the game last night?"
We started talking about the Yankee game, and next thing I knew, it was as if we were sitting across from each other at Junior's rather than a candlelit bathtub. It occurred to me then that my initial resistance had little to do with self-consciousness and more to do with the fact that I actually wanted him to see and touch my bare body, to find it desirable. Pretty soon I moved closer to him, first running my foot along his calf, then turning around so that he was behind me, caressing a lavender-scented puffy sponge along my neck and down my back while we talked quietly. And, sure enough, I forgot all about my self-consciousness and my naked body and leaned into the protection of his firm, sturdy arms. That night, I understood the secret of why his clients kept coming back for more. Indeed, he knew how to make each one feel sexy, uninhibited, beautiful, and like each one was the only woman in the world.
But how did he feel? I wondered. Was he aroused? Fighting to keep from doing more than just sponging my back? Or was I just another client? Had he successfully learned to emotionally and physically detach himself from the women he serviced? Was that even possible? After all, he was a man. Unless he was gay...was that it?
As the votives started to go out and the suds broke up, he stood up and reached for the full-length towel waiting for me. I tried to look for signs of an erection, but he was too quick for me.
"Here." He closed his eyes and held the towel out in front of him and open for me, still standing there, dripping. "Say when."
His gesture struck me; he'd just spent the last hour--or more--with my naked body, and yet he still respected my privacy without judgment. I stood up and moved into the butter-soft towel as he practically hugged me with it before I stepped out.
"My God, this feels good. Did you use the whole bottle of fabric softener?"
"That's cute. Can I open my eyes now?"
"Oh yeah, sorry. Thanks."
"You're welcome." He quickly stepped out of the tub and grabbed a towel for himself. "So? What'd you think?"
"I think we should start doing this once a week from now on."
He grinned. "You did great. You relaxed and got comfortable with me. I'm proud of you."
I glowed. Then I looked at him, perplexed.
"Why'd you get into the tub with me? You said you don't usually do that."
"The situation warranted it--you needed the presence of a man's body, and to see that there's nothing sinful about it."
"If that's the case, then why didn't you get completely naked?"
"I didn't want to overwhelm you. I mean..." he blushed and looked away, laughing nervously. It was nice to see I wasn't the only one who got flustered.
"You're that good, huh," I said more friendly than flirtatious.
He didn't answer me; didn't need to. I could feel a connection between us at that moment, and liked it.
I then wondered why I'd never spent an evening like this with Andrew. In fact, I don't think I'd ever had such an intimate encounter with anyone. Not that Andrew didn't want to do such sexy, romantic things with me. He would take me out for candlelit dinners or serenade me with a folk song that he wrote just for me, but I'd avoided many of his more personal advances, and suddenly I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. Why had I never trusted him? I was engaged to him, after all. How could I be more trusting of a man that I've never even kissed, a man I barely knew, than of my fiance?
Devin peered at his watch in the dimness of the room, then moved in close to me, pulling my
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