Student of Massage

“It’s now or never!” I thought as I stubbed out my fourth cigarette then drained the final dregs of my third cup of coffee of the hour. I stood up, straightened my pink halter-neck dress and glanced once more at the non-descript house on the opposite side of the street. As I hurried across the road I thanked God that I was in a town three miles away from where I lived and studied at Lord Shearer’s College. Hopefully no-one that I knew would see me as I walked up the stone steps to the front door.

My mind was racing as I stared at door, “This is crazy!” I told myself, “You can’t do this…its bloody madness!” Then I remembered why I was turning the golden handle…I was broke! Completely penniless…nothing in the bank…in fact I had LESS than nothing in the bank! My credit cards had both been stopped and I needed to pay back three weeks rent a couple of loans from friends by Friday night… plus… I needed to eat (and drink of course!).

“Yes?” The middle-aged woman sitting behind the reception desk asked as she looked up from her magazine.

“I was wondering if…” I mumbled, “You have any vacancies?”

“Vacancies?” she grinned as she looked me up and down from behind her horn rimmed spectacles, “What sort of vacancies?”

This was always going to be difficult for me and I didn’t need this fat bitch taking the piss. My face was bright red as I mumbled, “You know…as a…you know?”

The receptionist turned towards a couple of women that were sitting in their underwear in the far corner of the room, then back towards me, “You do know what we do here? Don’t you?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Have you done this sort of thing before?” The woman asked as she stared coldly into my eyes.

“Yes.” I lied.

There was then an uneasy silence until I finally shook my head. “No…not really.”

“I presume that you’re a student at the College?” the woman asked rhetorically; as she stood up and walked around the desk, “Ran out of money…have you?”

I nodded in agreement. “Your name?” The woman enquired as she waved me towards the other women.

“Susan…Susan Stranks,” I told her as I sat next to a black girl wearing matching red underwear and a pair of white plastic boots who was reading a magazine.

“Well Susan,” she addressed me in a well worn manner, “this is a massage parlour…NOT a brothel. We charge £50 which gives the punter a full topless massage and a wank or a fuck. You get £15 a time and pay me £20 a day for the use of our facilities.” The phone rang, so she left me with the white girl.

“Chloe; can you go through the rest please?” the receptionist shrugged her shoulders and nodded towards a young woman in a white Basque, knickers and stockings.

Chloe gave me cup of coffee and offered me a cigarette. As I sipped my drink and nervously puffed on the cigarette Chloe and Sapphire explained that most guys were happy with a wank or a blowjob but some guys wanted “special stuff’, uniforms spanking, pissing or fucking you up the bum! I raised my eyes in shock but she smiled and told me not to worry as this would boost the charges.

My head was spinning and I was now beginning to have second thoughts.

“Well?” The older woman asked when she returned, “Are you still interested?” I nodded and weakly smiled. “It’s the wrong job for a shy girl!” She laughed.

“I’m not really shy,” I responded, “It’s…just …all a bit…you know…weird.”

Chloe laughed out loud, “If you think that this is weird wait until your old maths teacher wants you to shit in the shower for him!”

When they had stopped laughing Mrs. Hunt the receptionist, explained that I needed a ‘working name’. After a bit of teasing we settled on Bambi because of my big brown eyes and ‘innocent looks’. I’m quite petite (5ft 2, size 10) and have what guys call a ‘cute face’ with a slightly turned up nose, shoulder length brown hair and my bra size is 30b – at least two of my ex-boyfriends referred to them as ‘perky’. I think that my best feature is my arse which is neatly round and firm. Because I look so young, Mrs. Hunt made me show her my driving licence to prove my age and then she gave me a guided tour and told me where everything was kept. As we returned to the Lounge she explained the parlours’ shift system and we agreed which afternoons and nights that I would be able to work and not affect my college work.

“Are you still sure about this?” Mrs. Hunt asked again. I nodded and smiled, “Yes…it sounds like fun!” “Jesus Christ!” Chloe howled, “It’s not Pretty fucking Woman! You’re not going to find Richard fucking Gere in this place!” Mrs. Hunt scowled at Chloe then told her to get Simon and she’d see what I was made of, as she returned to her desk.

“Simon?” I mouthed to the black girl as Chloe left us. The girl looked to the Heavens then whispered, “He’s her son.” When she took me by the arm and led me into the back rooms, I must have looked stunned as she sighed, “This is your induction. You’ve got to give Milker a massage and a wank in front of the boss; that’s how she’ll know if you can do this.”

“But…he’s her son!” I said with a sharp intake of breath. The girl shrugged her shoulders and opened a bedroom door. “That’s the bed, there’s baby oil on the table and towels in the drawers.” She told me as I looked around the Spartan room, “don’t worry; get your tits out, rub his chest and give him a wank and it’ll all be over in a couple of minutes and as long as you tell him that he’s got a big cock he’ll give his mother a good report.”

“Why did you call him Milker?” I asked as the door re-opened and a big lump of a man wearing a shabby tracksuit appeared. He must have been 6 feet tall and about 16 stone. His hair was a mess and he looked a bit dopey. “You’ll find out for yourself!” she giggled as she hurried out of the room.

“Hello,” he said as he held his hand out, “I’m Simon.”

I shook his hand and replied, “I’m…Bambi.” “I like that name,” he chuckled as he started taking his clothes off, “Bambi was a deer.” “Oh shit!” I thought, “He is simple!” Before I had the chance to reply he was naked and lying on the bed with his hard cock sticking out from a forest of black pubic hair.

“Ooh! that looks…huge!” I lied, remembering what I’d been told earlier. “All of the girls tell me that,” Simon said as he proudly looked down at his three inch dick! “Can I see your tits please?”

For a few seconds I’d forgotten why I was in a room with a naked man.

My stomach churned as I unfastened the halter on my dress and shimmied until it fell onto the floor.

Simon’s smile got even broader when his mother, Mrs. Hunt came into the room. “Carry on,” she told me as she stood beside the door with a blank expression on her face. Simon held his hand out to touch my tits as they bounced when I stepped out of my dress. I shivered as his podgy fingers stroked my young flesh and teased my erect nipples. Unsure what I should do I quickly poured some baby oil on him and began rubbing it into his hairy chest. As soon as my fingers touched his skin he began moaning and groaning. My hands were trembling as I worked my way down his belly knowing that sooner or later I would have to actually touch his quivering cock.

“Go on,” Simon urged me, “milk it…go on milk it!”

I took a deep breath and curled my oily fingers around his red hot shaft making him gasp.

“Yes…yes…yes,” he gulped, “milk ‘er, milk ‘er!” My hand was now a haze as I rubbed it for all I was worth, the baby oil making my fingers glide up and down the shaft with ease.

“Yes…yes…yes!” Simon quickly gasped, “that’s it…milk ‘er…oooooohhhhh.” As he flopped back onto the bed I watched in amazement as a trickle of white juice ran down his cock onto my hand.

“Oh…Bambi that was…lovely,” Simon heaved a sigh, “that was the best I’ve had for months.”

“Mmmm me too” I lied again, “and there was so much stuff!”

“You’ll do nicely.” Mrs. Hunt exhaled noisily then made a sharp exit.

Simon sensed my unease as I stood in front of him only wearing a tiny thong with a handful of spunk. “You can wash your hands in the sink,” he told me as he swung off the bed; his cock already hiding in its shell.

When I walked back into the lounge the other two were giggling like schoolgirls, “Oh…oh… milk ‘er, milk ‘er!” they laughed.

“So that’s why you call him Milker,” I admonished the black girl (Sapphire), “but…his…you know!” I opened my thumb and forefinger a little way to demonstrate the size of his dick which had looked like an acorn.

“I know” Chloe giggled hysterically, “It’s like a cock…only smaller!”

“Girls,” Mrs. Hunt hissed, “be quiet, there’s someone at the door.”

As I was making a cup of coffee; a tall, respectable looking man with grey hair walked into the reception area and spoke to Mrs. Hunt, the receptionist. When she’d took his money she brought him into the lounge,

“Girls, this is Mike, can you make him welcome?”

As if by magic Chloe and Sapphire suddenly turned on the charm and immediately became sex Goddesses as they tried to charm the man into going ‘out back’ with them.

“What about you? What’s your name?” the man turned away from Chloe and asked me.

“Oh…ehm…Sus…Bambi!” I blurted out, “But I don’t…I’m not…”

Chloe took my hand and smiled at the tall stylish man; “It’s her first day and she’s a bit shy.”

The man beamed, “First day…eh? Would you like to join me?”

“Go on darling!” Sapphire gently pushed me, “he won’t bite!”

“If he does,” Chloe laughed, “charge him an extra 20 quid!”

Her joke ‘broke the ice’ and I took him by the hand and led him to one of the rooms.

I was shaking with nerves and excitement as I asked him if he wanted to take a shower first. “No thanks, I’m fine.” Mike told me as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t worry,” he assured me, “I’ve done this before…I’ll keep you right.” I nervously busied myself arranging the towels and oils as he took off his smart clothes, desperately stopping myself looking at him.

When he was completely naked he winked and told me, “It would be nicer if you do it topless.” I was flustered and smiled as I nimbly unfastened the bow at the top of the halter. I let the top fall down exposing my perky breasts, then as sexily as possible I wriggled out of my dress making my tits wobble when it got stuck around my knees as he lay face down on the bed with a towel covering his buttocks.

It was only at this point that I remembered that I’d put a clean white thong on this morning!

As soon as I poured the baby oil onto his back he began chatting which relaxed me. I couldn’t help thinking that he looked a bit like the football presenter Alan Hansen as he rested his head on his manly arms. I wondered if he was his father – probably not, I guessed as he wouldn’t have been old enough.

Mike moaned as I dug the ball of my hand into his firm shoulders and caressed his powerful neck with my fingers, then, remembering that Chloe had told me to try and finish him in half an hour, I removed the towel and poured some oil on his hairy arse. For a guy in his 50’s he was still quite muscular, which made my squeezing and stroking his flesh a lot easier.

“I’ll turn over if you’d like.” Mike wheezed as I ran my hands across his firm thighs, “I think I’m ready for a bit of …relief now”.

“Okay,” I told him as he rolled onto his back. Mike caught my gaze as I stared at his stiff cock standing out from a neatly trimmed forest of grey/brown pubes and winked again, “don’t tell me that it’s the first one that you’ve ever seen.”

“No it’s not,” I chuckled, “it’s just the…first time that I’ve done…this!” “Wanked a man for money?” Mike asked.

I nodded as I ran a red fingernail from his hairy balls to the tip of his circumcised knob. I then poured some oil onto my hand and began massaging it into his stiff 5 inches which had the desired effect of making him groan.

For a few brief minutes I forgot that I was being paid for my services as I rubbed and stroked his lovely cock even rubbing my bouncing tits across it which made him pant with pleasure. “Suck me…go on…suck it!” Mike gasped.

Knowing that this was going to be a major part of my new job and bent forward until his bell-end was level with my mouth; with a gulp I opened my ruby red lips and swallowed about half of his throbbing dick.

Thankfully I love giving blow-jobs and used all of my teenage experience as I swept my tongue around his swollen shaft and flicked the velvety tip with my tongue as I kept rubbing the tube with my greasy hand.

It didn’t take long before I felt his balls began to tense; so I stood upright so he could get a clear look at my tits and viciously rubbed faster until his milky white fluid shot out like a bullet and landed on his belly. I kept a tight grip on his shaft and slowly squeezed another two dollops of lumpy spunk out of the tiny hole.

“God that was good,” Mike sighed as I let go of his shrinking member, “are you sure that you’ve never done this before?” “Only with my boyfriends,” I chuckled as I wiped my sticky hands on a paper towel.

As Mike sat on the edge of the bed wiping his brow I told him that I would leave him to have a shower.

Mike smiled as he put something into my hand, “Let’s call that your…tip. Will you be here all of the time?” “I guess so,” I grinned as I stared at a beautiful £10 note in my hand.

I left Mike to clean up just like I’d been told earlier and strode back into the lounge with my financial bounty.

“Thank you very much.” Mrs. Hunt smirked as she whipped the money out of my fingers, “that’ll do for tonight; anything else is yours.” “Shit!” I gasped as I stared at my empty hand.

Chloe, Sapphire and another girl were nearly in hysterics as I looked completely devastated with my jaw hanging open.

I stayed another 4 hours; servicing another 6 clients earning £90.

Over the next few days it became obvious that the other girls had their regular punters and being the new girl I only got the passers-by and the cheapskates! I didn’t mind because I loved sex and I was now earning about £100 a day for wanking and sucking a few lonely guys and letting them play with my tits; I wished that I’d thought of it months before. Every night when I got home my dildo went into overdrive as I fucked myself silly thinking about all of the different cocks that I’d seen and played with! The following Tuesday afternoon as I was reading a magazine and drinking coffee, Mrs. Hunt put the phone down and called me to the desk, “I’ve got a special request for Thursday at 8.”

My ears suddenly perked up at the mention of ’special request’, this usually meant extra cash.

“What is it?” I asked slightly apprehensively.

“Don’t look so worried,” she chuckled, “Nina gets all of the kinky stuff. This guy wants a girl in a school uniform and I thought that you would be perfect.

I agreed when Mrs. Hunt told me that I could charge an extra £20 just for dressing up.

As I walked home from University the following day, I went into a local Charity shop and bought a pair of shiny sensible shoes, a grey pleated skirt that was a size too small and a blazer with a black and white striped tie from the local Grammar School all for £4.50. Back in my flat I hunted out a white blouse that would complete the outfit.

Constantly horny from my new occupation, as soon as I arrived home I put my new school uniform on with a pair of white knickers, black stockings and a black suspender belt that I already had. I then danced around my bedroom listening to a 50 Cent cd, swigging from a bottle of lager as I stared at myself in my long mirror as I practiced bending over showing off my stockings and arse. As I slurped from a second bottle I thought that something wasn’t quite right; then it dawned on me! I needed to put my hair into pigtails. Once I’d done that I shocked myself – I looked incredibly young…too young? Shit! I didn’t care…I was horny and looked very, very sexy. I opened another beer and lay on the edge of my bed and faced the mirror with my stocking covered legs splayed wide apart and fucked myself silly with my dildo. It felt soooooo decadent as I guzzled beer while ramming a buzzing 7 inch plastic cock as far up my hairy quim as my cervix would allow while pictures of every cock I’d sucked off in the previous few days flashed through my mind. It seemed to take bloody ages before I came but when I did it my orgasm made my head spin it was so fierce.

After another boring morning at College I arrived at the Parlour as usual at 2.30 on the Thursday. Mrs. Hunt had given me a key for the more discreet side-door so I didn’t have to endure the nightmare of walking to the front door.

“Have you got something to wear for that guy?” Mrs. Hunt greeted me. I told her I had and opened my holdall to show her the neatly folded items. “Excellent,” she told me, “just put your normal stuff on for now, he won’t be here until about 8; so make sure you’re free then.”

Dressed in a pair of white 10 denier hold-up stockings a thin white lacy thong and matching camisole I serviced two guys as I waited for my mystery punter to turn up; giving each one a topless massage a wank and a sloppy blow-job. The older of the two (he must have been over 70) stroked my pussy through my knickers; pressing the gusset deep inside my wet gash as I played with his cock. After he’d ejaculated onto my tits he asked if he could buy my panties off me. No one had told me that this might happen so I hadn’t brought a spare pair with me! After that I always carried two spare pairs in my bag. This became very lucrative as I would buy my g-strings and thongs from the local market at 3 pairs for £5 and sell them as ‘dirty, worn and sticky’ at £10 a time! Some nights were so good for me I had to travel home on the bus ‘commando’!!!!

The phone rang at 7.30 and Mrs. Hunt told me that my client was on his way and I should get ready for him. I grabbed my bag from a locker and went into one of the spare rooms to put my uniform on. From the second that I unclipped my bra until I applied the last stroke of red lipstick my heart was beating like a drum and my stomach was turning somersaults.

“Fucking Hell!” Nina, our resident German Dominatrix (but was really called Janet and came from Stretford!) gasped when I eventually walked back into the lounge, “You look younger than my fucking daughter!” I did a twirl for the girls and a couple of regulars, which made the short pleated skirt, lift up to show my knickers, stockings and suspenders. Just as a fat man asked if I would go out back with him the front door opened and a short, chubby middle-aged man with wavy grey hair, wearing a smart blue suit and shiny tan brogues walked in to the Parlour. He instantly smiled when he saw me, then nodded to Mrs. Hunt, “For me, I presume!” Mrs. Hunt took his entrance money then sent him over to the Lounge. It was obvious that he was a regular by the way that he greeted Sapphire and Jayde, so I relaxed a little when he held out a hand to me. “Hi, I’m …George,” the man introduced himself, “and you must be Bambi.” His blue eyes twinkled as he slowly looked at every inch of my outfit. Without letting him know I’d recognised him, I remembered him from the local news as he was a local politician known as ‘Gorgeous George’.

“Do you approve?” I asked as I spun around. “I most certainly do,” he grinned, “I most certainly do!”

My voice is still a little high pitched but I really exaggerated it when I asked him if he’d like to come through to the back with me, which made Jayde giggle.

“Would sir like to take a shower first?” I tittered in my best ’schoolgirl’ voice.

He replied that he would and he’d like me to stay in the room and watch.

George was very polite and had a lovely smile and manner about him as he stripped off and hung his clothes in the open robe. I took to my new role with gusto, gasping and laughing nervously when he took off his cotton boxer shorts and strode to the shower with his semi-stiff cock waving in front of him. As he quickly showered and dried himself I busied myself by bending over, teasing him as much as possible, flashing my stockings, suspenders and black thong as I tidied the room. When he was ready his 6 inch cock looked as hard as stone and pointed directly up to the ceiling. I guessed that he’d done this before but the look of eager anticipation on his face was only matched by my own! George swung onto the bed and lay on his back making his cock stick up like a flagpole. The guy wasn’t my type of lover at all, but the whole scenario was turning me on like crazy. My nipples were sticking out like thimbles and my pants were sticking to my quim like glue.

“Look, John - I got to go. I will see you later.” She left my table with a quick squeeze of my hand, and drifted off, suddenly the seductive and self-possessed stripper again. I gazed at her departing form, lost in thought for some time before I realised. She had used my real name.

* * *

The next Monday at the office Lucy was her usual calm, brisk and efficient self. I was not. Images of her beautiful body overwhelmed me whenever I was close to her, and her brilliant smile and her dark eyes were enough to leave me tongue tied like a schoolboy. The pretence of distance, which I had earlier felt to be so necessary, seemed like unbearable torture. I wanted to talk to her, and yet I did not know what to say. I kept to my office, and the rest of the office staff, familiar with my dark and abstracted moods from earlier times, kept a respectful distance. At 4 PM she came into my office for a reason, and plunked a mug of tea down on my desk.

“Thought you might want some, and I was making,” she said. “You been in here all day!”

“Thanks,” I said, disconcerted by her presence, by the beauty that even the lumpy jersey she wore could not conceal, by her obvious concern.

“You got to take care of yourself, OK?” And she left as quickly as she came, leaving behind a faint cloud of perfume.

For some weeks after that life passed uneventfully - at the surface at least. Lucy was friendly but kept her distance, and I tried to keep my mind focussed on the work before me. Thankfully there was plenty of that - our company was tendering for a big job, one of those huge jobs that you just know will change the company’s history if you got it. We were trying for the big league and it was make or break. It stretched us to the limit - and that suited me fine. I could lose myself in the technical details and forget my feelings for hours at a time.

Lucy and I had to work together quite a lot, and after a week or two, I had a hard time remembering that this quiet girl who fired off emails and churned out reports with such efficiency - God, what would I give for a PA like her - was the girl whose warm skin and heavy breasts had filled my hands so enticingly at Happy Joe’s. For the first time, the job of preparing a tender with Charles Gaunt’s department was not complete torture. I had a colleague who could be relied on, and who could go the extra mile. And yet, from time to time, as I walked into the legal department on yet another late night, to receive yet another stack of staggeringly detailed and competent docs (the first time Charles’s department had actually done its job for years), I found myself wondering about this baffling young woman. What was up with her? In vain did I look at her for a spark of recognition, a hint of shared knowledge. She treated me with the same friendliness she treated everyone else. Was she simply a tease? Had I alienated her for some reason? What about the rumours that she was a lesbian? With these thoughts I haunted myself as a trudged back to my empty flat downtown.

So the weeks passed, and it was early spring by the time that the news arrived: we had won the contract. For a day or two the office basked in the glory. Charles tried to take the credit, but everyone knew that our success had been in spite of him: we’d succeeded only because we had twice ignored his addle-brained advice, and that had been possible only because of Lucy’s assistance in penetrating the dark veil of obfuscation and secrecy that had enveloped the legal department. Charles was angry, with the special bitter fury of a man who knows he’s snookered. He could not fire Lucy, because without her he could not get on top of the details of a deal he barely understood, and he was terrified of keeping her. And now, as was traditional in our office, he had to take us out to celebrate.

It was a perfect night for celebration: soft and balmy, with the sea glistening in the full moon. Lilting jazz from the Cape Verde islands played on the bar’s sound system, and all my senses felt alive. I had hesitated about coming, but in the end another night of isolation in front of my TV had seemed too depressing. I had a sense that things were about to change. I could not live this isolated life any longer. Tonight I had to make things happen. Either I would alienate Lucy forever or I would take her home. I allowed myself to feel the cool night air and taste the salt on the breeze. The café Riviera was the centre of the world, I felt, and I was at the pivot, ready, for the first time in years, to take risks, and to love the sweetness of life.

And when Lucy showed up - God, looking stunning again even in her drab jeans and denim jacket - I could look her full in the eye, and publicly toast her, thanking her for her lovely spirit and the pleasure of working with her. She smiled brilliantly at the applause and then, to my surprise, gave me a brief, tight hug and a peck on the cheek. All my cool vanished at the smell of her perfume. I felt an erection stirring in my pants (fuck, I was getting a hard-on even at the touch of this girl) and hoped nobody would notice.

She seemed oblivious of the effect she was having on me, and kept her arm linked through mine while she accepted a drink from someone - a whiskey sour, I noticed - and chattered animatedly with Vanessa, our HR manager. I was overwhelmed with conflicting feelings - desire on the one hand, and embarrassment and fear on the other - but somehow I was able to keep up my end (as it were) of the conversation, responding in kind to their jokes and gossip. My erection was now a complete reality, and I had to keep my jacket clumsily folded over my lap. Her arm was soft within mine, and her hip nestled against mine, friendly and warm.

Then she excused herself - she had to go to the bathroom, she said - and she let go. For an instant, as she brushed passed me, her thigh was firmly pressed against my groin, and I found myself looking into her unfathomable, cool, deep dark eyes. This was a woman, I realised, who could make me feel I was alone with her even on a crowded patio. And then she was on her way, as if nothing had happened.

“Beautiful girl, eh?” Vanessa commented a few minutes later.

“Eh?

“Claudia. She’s beautiful.”

I stared at her dumbstruck. Had she just called her colleague Claudia?

“I wonder what’s up with her”, Vanessa continued. “I can’t make her out. So sweet. But separate. Keeps her private life private.” She noticed my silence. “Don’t look so amazed, John. I’ve met Claudia, too. And her girlfriend. Liu Mi, she’s called. Such a lovely couple. Makes me quite envious, sometimes.” I continued my imitation of a man struck by lightning. Was Vanessa gay, too? She talked on, oblivious. “But it’s not something that comes to everyone. Finding the one for you…” She sighed. “You know about that, don’t you. You stuck by your wife even through the most difficult times. I admire that.”

“Th - thank you.”

“Sweet man” she said, and for the second time in a night I got a peck on the cheek and a friendly touch from one of what seemed to a growing number of gay female colleagues. But there must be some kind of pheromone for platonic touches, because this time my loins did not stir. We stood for a while nursing our drinks and continuing with our gossip.

And then I noticed two things.

Lucy was gone. And there was a slip of paper in my pocket. A note of some kind. She had slipped in there while she had stood next to me.

I excused myself and made way to the toilet. My mouth was dry again. The place was empty. I looked at myself in the mirror. A tall, hawk-nosed man with greying temples looked out at me. His face was sad, and there was something grim about his eyes. Something was going to happen to this man, or he was going to make something happen. What was it? Where would he be in two, in three hours’ time?

I opened the message. It was a red slip of printed paper. One the one side it had a simple design of what looked like a flame or a fire, and below it, printed in small, elegant letters, the words *Republic of Desire*. There was also an address - in an upmarket part of town, I noticed, not far from my own apartment - and what appeared to be some numbers. On the back of the slip was written, in Lucy’s handwriting

“Midnight”.

“I need you. ”

“C. ”

I looked at my watch. It was ten PM.

“To be continued…”