THE KID WAS NERVOUS.
Terrified might have been a more appropriate description given how his chocolate-brown eyes darted wildly over Erik and then into the shadows behind him as they shook hands. His palm was cold but clammy. His lips quirked as he realized it too. “Ah, sorry about that.” He wiped both palms on the front of his thighs, leaving dark streaks on his faded jeans. “I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Erik said with a comforting grin as he ushered the kid in the back door and out of the cold dusk. He always instructed his extracurricular clients to use this entrance. It’s not that he was worried about anonymity; his office assistant and the other massage therapists he shared the practice with were gone for the day, and he’d already given the kid this address and his first name, but he preferred to be discrete. He supposed discretion must seem very old-fashioned these days when everything got posted to Facebook or Instagram, when a good sex tape launched celebrity careers and privacy was nothing but a fond memory. Then again, he considered himself to be a bit old-fashioned despite his current, distinctly non-old-fashioned activities.
He led the way down the narrow, carpeted corridor and past two other small rooms before he came to the one he wanted. He was relieved to see the young man’s tenseness easing with each passing second as he surveyed the immaculate, dimly-lit room with the professional massage table in the center. Erik knew exactly what he was thinking. “I bet you thought you’d be in some guy’s dingy basement, right?”
“Yeah.” The kid shucked his down-filled coat, hugging it awkwardly in front of him for protection. He was tall—the same height as Erik—but without all the extra layers Erik saw that he was on the lean side, and gawky, as if his body hadn’t quite caught up to the rest of him yet. Erik took the coat and hung it up on the coat rack behind the door. The cold radiated off the waterproof fabric. The calendar may have said March, but the weather apparently hadn’t flipped the page yet.
Erik turned back to the kid just in time to see his eyes widen as they landed on the array of dildos and vibrators displayed next to the massage oils on the nearby shelves. He looked away and then back. Good , Erik thought, he was curious . His body tingled in anticipation of a enjoyable session. The more open his clients, the better the experience. For all of them.
Erik loved his work as a massage therapist; he thought, more than ever now, that touch was the most powerful and most important of the senses. Unfortunately it seemed to be the one we all too often did without. Touch could bring comfort, desire, relief, healing. Pain too, but he preferred not to dwell on that. He was an optimist at heart. With his very own hands, he could ease someone’s pain, bring someone pleasure. For a little while at least.
These monthly after-hours sessions, which he had begun with some trepidation, were now an occasion he looked forward to. Each client brought something special to the table—literally. He didn’t take just anyone. He spent hours online finding the right client, chatting them up and getting to know them before he extended an invitation. He wanted someone who would get as much out of the session as he would. Sometimes it didn’t always work out, but more often than not, they both left satisfied.
To his surprise he found he loved young men most of all. Not for their hard, youthful bodies or tight, glowing skin, but because they were still new and shiny. More open to everything. For them it was all about getting off. They didn’t care as much about how it happened. But they could still be surprised. While they may have fucked like bunnies, almost none of them had ever really been touched or shown what their bodies were capable of. Awakening them was his job. He considered himself their teacher.
But as much as this kid was arousing his interest, looking at
Terrified might have been a more appropriate description given how his chocolate-brown eyes darted wildly over Erik and then into the shadows behind him as they shook hands. His palm was cold but clammy. His lips quirked as he realized it too. “Ah, sorry about that.” He wiped both palms on the front of his thighs, leaving dark streaks on his faded jeans. “I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Erik said with a comforting grin as he ushered the kid in the back door and out of the cold dusk. He always instructed his extracurricular clients to use this entrance. It’s not that he was worried about anonymity; his office assistant and the other massage therapists he shared the practice with were gone for the day, and he’d already given the kid this address and his first name, but he preferred to be discrete. He supposed discretion must seem very old-fashioned these days when everything got posted to Facebook or Instagram, when a good sex tape launched celebrity careers and privacy was nothing but a fond memory. Then again, he considered himself to be a bit old-fashioned despite his current, distinctly non-old-fashioned activities.
He led the way down the narrow, carpeted corridor and past two other small rooms before he came to the one he wanted. He was relieved to see the young man’s tenseness easing with each passing second as he surveyed the immaculate, dimly-lit room with the professional massage table in the center. Erik knew exactly what he was thinking. “I bet you thought you’d be in some guy’s dingy basement, right?”
“Yeah.” The kid shucked his down-filled coat, hugging it awkwardly in front of him for protection. He was tall—the same height as Erik—but without all the extra layers Erik saw that he was on the lean side, and gawky, as if his body hadn’t quite caught up to the rest of him yet. Erik took the coat and hung it up on the coat rack behind the door. The cold radiated off the waterproof fabric. The calendar may have said March, but the weather apparently hadn’t flipped the page yet.
Erik turned back to the kid just in time to see his eyes widen as they landed on the array of dildos and vibrators displayed next to the massage oils on the nearby shelves. He looked away and then back. Good , Erik thought, he was curious . His body tingled in anticipation of a enjoyable session. The more open his clients, the better the experience. For all of them.
Erik loved his work as a massage therapist; he thought, more than ever now, that touch was the most powerful and most important of the senses. Unfortunately it seemed to be the one we all too often did without. Touch could bring comfort, desire, relief, healing. Pain too, but he preferred not to dwell on that. He was an optimist at heart. With his very own hands, he could ease someone’s pain, bring someone pleasure. For a little while at least.
These monthly after-hours sessions, which he had begun with some trepidation, were now an occasion he looked forward to. Each client brought something special to the table—literally. He didn’t take just anyone. He spent hours online finding the right client, chatting them up and getting to know them before he extended an invitation. He wanted someone who would get as much out of the session as he would. Sometimes it didn’t always work out, but more often than not, they both left satisfied.
To his surprise he found he loved young men most of all. Not for their hard, youthful bodies or tight, glowing skin, but because they were still new and shiny. More open to everything. For them it was all about getting off. They didn’t care as much about how it happened. But they could still be surprised. While they may have fucked like bunnies, almost none of them had ever really been touched or shown what their bodies were capable of. Awakening them was his job. He considered himself their teacher.
But as much as this kid was arousing his interest, looking at
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