Second Chances by T. A. Webb

dinner, then went to the movies. Van Helsing was out and I got my eye candy with Hugh Jackman and he got to see Kate Beckinsale and we both left the theater happy men.
    When we got back to his apartment was when things went a little wonky. I gave him his present—D&G cologne and bath gel, ’cause damn, but that stuff smelled like sex on him—and he liked it. So did I. We had a couple of glasses of wine and were good and relaxed. And then his mood just went… off a couple of bubbles left of center.
    Did I call out the elephant in the room, or let him get around to it? As laid back as I was, and it being his birthday and all, I figured the best bet was to let him tell me when he was ready. Seemed like we did this dance a lot lately. He got all quiet and looked at me funny.
    It was our regular Thursday night together, so I decided to ask him if he wanted his massage first. Over the years, this kind of was a back and forth thing. Sometimes he went first, sometimes I did. It was nice, and not every week ended up with a massage, but that was okay too. “How about since you’re the birthday boy, I give you your massage first?” I asked.
    “Hmmm? Okay, that sounds fine,” he said. But I could tell he wasn’t really paying close attention. Something really was on his mind. I knew how to set up the table, so while he went to take a piss, I got things together and even heated up the oil. I lit a couple of candles and put on my favorite music. He went first, I picked the music. My rules. So I put on Loreena McKennitt and really got into the mood.
    He came out of the bedroom already stripped down and looked at the table. He seemed surprised I already had everything all set up, but climbed on facedown and settled in. I stripped down then and rubbed the oil into my hands then started on his back. The muscles were tense, but I kneaded and stroked until I could almost feel his sigh when he let go and relaxed. I kept up the steady, deep pressure and finally got him to the point where his muscles were loose and his arms hung over the side of the table.
    I had him turn over and started on his chest. His tension level dropped down to almost nothing. Thank God. Maybe he’d talk about it. I just couldn’t figure out where his mood swings came from sometimes. It wasn’t money, because I knew that business had been good. In fact, Antonio was picking up work doing custom laptop installations and setting up software. He kind of just taught himself to do all that kind of hardware and software stuff while waiting for business. He spent most mornings and early afternoons on the computer chatting up potential clients.
    When I was done with him, we swapped off, and I took my place on the table. He had such damn good hands that the stress just melted out of my muscles. I was almost dozing by the time he finished with my back and legs, and when he tapped my foot to tell me to turn over—stick a fork in me, I was done.
    But I flipped over and settled down again and he started with my chest. It was almost always the same routine: chest, arms, hips, legs, back up the other side and ending up behind my head while he massaged my temples and scalp. I swear I could almost feel myself purring like a cat.
    This time, though, something different happened. I felt his hands still on the sides of my head. I opened my eyes and looked up to see if something was wrong. He looked down at me with something that looked like a cross between sadness and hope.
    Then he bent down and gently kissed me.
     
     
    I WAS too shocked to say anything right then. The kiss was so light I could almost say it didn’t happen. But it did. His lips were against mine, then he pulled back and looked back down at me. His eyes were so open, so clear, and all I could do was hold my breath.
    Then he bent down and kissed me again. I felt his tongue as it pressed against my lips and for a minute, I forgot myself and kissed him back. But then I remembered who I was and who he was, and he