“Yes, please!”

Kira’s eyes light up. “Yes, please, Dr. Harrison,” she says. “That would be wonderful.”

“Please, Kira, call me Ben,” I tell her. “As of now we’re both done with work, so I’m not a partner in this practice and you’re not an employee, I’m your masseur and you’re my client.”

“Thank you, Ben,” she says softly, eyes sparkling.

I lead her to the massage room and unlock the door. “Go in, get naked, put up your hair so I don’t get any oil in it, and lie face down on the table. Grab a towel and lay it across your butt to cover yourself.” I’m sorely tempted to add, “Unless you don’t want to—I won’t mind,” but I bite my tongue. I don’t want to scare her off . . . I find a suitable oil and start it warming; I want something both sensual and edible, and choose rose oil in rosehip oil. “I’ll give you time to do that, and the oil time to warm up,” I tell her. “It will probably be a few minutes after you’re in position before I come back; just rest and breathe slowly and deeply.”

“All my clothes?” Kira asks, her voice strained. I turn to look at her; she looks tense, and even a little scared. I walk over to her and lay my hands on her shoulders.

“Yes, Kira,” I say tenderly. “I can’t do this right with fabric in the way. In particular, I can’t use oil if you aren’t naked.” I kiss her forehead softly; she blushes. “Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you, I won’t shame you, I won’t hurt you in any way, and I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” I gently lift her chin with two fingers so I can look deep into her beautiful amber-green eyes. “How long have you known me, Kira?”

“Three years?” she responds hesitantly. “More?”

“Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?”

“No, sir—Ben,” she responds.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do,” I repeat softly. “I just want to make you feel good.” Just how true that is, you will soon find out.

“OK,” Kira says, her confidence returning.

*******

The scent of roses fills the air when I return to the massage room, telling me the oil has warmed. Kira is in position with her face in the cutout and a towel over her ass—it’s just a little low, leaving the very end of her crack peeking out the top. Her big tits are bulging out the sides; my fingers twitch. Down, boy! Plenty of time for that if you take it slow.

Before oiling my hands, I begin with a scalp massage, earning myself numerous little noises of satisfaction that make me smile. I get some oil and move on to Kira’s neck and shoulders. “You weren’t kidding, sweet girl,” I tell her. “You’re hard as rock through here.”

“Like I said, Ben,” Kira murmurs, “I carry my stress in my back.”

“What are you stressed about, may I ask?” I bet I have one guess . . . I wait to see if she’ll answer me and work my thumbs under her shoulder blades.

“Ummmm . . .” Kira says evasively, “I’d really rather not say.” Then she yelps a little when I dig in just a bit too hard.

“Sorry about that,” I say calmly. “I hope it’s not the job. Is everyone here treating you right?”

“Oh, yes, yes, working here is wonderful,” she replies quickly. “I love it here. No, it’s . . . personal stuff. Nothing you’d find interesting.”

I bet I would, I think. Aloud, I respond, “If I didn’t find that sort of thing interesting, I wouldn’t have become a psychiatrist. I certainly wouldn’t have spent all that time on systems theory.”

“Well . . . that’s true, I guess . . .” Kira says uncertainly, then falls silent. I let the matter drop and focus on loosening up her shoulders and neck.

Once I have those knots worked out, I take some more oil and start working her back as a whole. I start with long, gliding strokes between her shoulders and the towel, taking care not to touch her ass crack—I don’t want Kira realizing her exposure. I stroke her up and down, sometimes with my fingers spread, sometimes with them together. I move my hands in circles, one at a time, each circle overlapping the last. I stroke her sides, just brushing her boobs, so lightly as to seem unintentional, watching her reaction closely. She doesn’t tense up at all at the contact; instead, she gives the faintest breath of a sigh. I lift my palms from her skin and stroke her with just my fingertips, painting her body with oily brushstrokes.

I add oil and return to deeper strokes. I knead Kira’s muscles firmly, giving her shoulders some more focused attention and working my way downward. Once I get below the level of her breasts, I include wringing strokes across her torso. Then I start addressing specific areas of tension with my thumbs, fingertips, and the heels of my hands, finishing up by walking my fingers up and down her spinal muscles.

“How does that feel, sweet girl?” I ask softly.

“Wonderful,” Kira responds, almost moaning. “I feel looser and more relaxed than I have in . . . I don’t even know. Your hands are amazing, boss.”

“Not your boss here,” I say with a chuckle. “Not really your boss at all, in fact. OK if I move on to your legs?”

“Please,” Kira answers with a heartfelt groan.

*******

I spend a while on Kira’s legs; from the sounds she makes, they must have been pretty sore. When I lift her foot to work on it, she twitches. “Don’t you want your feet massaged too?” I ask.

“I’ve never had that done before,” she murmurs.

“You’ve never had a foot rub?” I ask in unfeigned surprise.

“No.”

“Well then.” I hold her foot between my palms and caress it firmly, then start milking it—pulling it firmly with each hand in turn. Kira’s moans grow louder and more sensual with each stroke, a trend that only increases when I start massaging her sole with a thumb. I do that for quite a while until I feel the muscles loosen up, then pull on her toes and roll them between my fingers. I wrap both hands around her foot and work it gently as a whole for a little while before setting it down and doing the same to the other one. By the time I’m done with her feet, Kira’s practically panting.

“Now I need to take the towel off so I can massage your ass,” I tell her, sliding it off slowly. She makes an incoherent noise, and it looks like she tries to tense up, but she’s too relaxed. Before she can say anything, I have a tight little globe in each hand. I start with gentle caresses, and soon she’s moaning again. When I start kneading her firm cheeks, I can see little shivers running through her body. I try pinching her flesh, which some people find pleasurable, and am happy to see that she’s one of them. I even work my thumbs down into her ass crack just a little; she only moans louder.

“Here, I need to spread your legs apart,” I say; Kira doesn’t argue or resist. I oil my hands again, cross them, and caress the insides of her thighs with large, gentle strokes. “I need to tell you, Kira, that Scarlett talked to Lily about me a couple months ago.” There’s a note of suspicion in the interrogatory noise I hear, which suggests that self-protective instincts are beginning to pierce the haze of pleasure currently enfolding her. I move my hands up a little. “She told Lily that she, and all you girls, wanted to fuck me, and Lily gave her permission. They agreed that each of them would get a turn.” The strangled sound that comes from Kira’s throat this time is beyond categorization. I let my hands drift a little higher.

“So far, I’ve fucked Scarlett, Abby, and Bailey”—this time she does tense up, even lifting her head off the cushion; I move my hands the very little bit higher needed for the tips of my fingers to brush her pussy lips—“and Bailey told me that you want me as well.” I reach into Kira’s pussy, which is dripping wet, and lightly caress her lips with my fingers; her head drops back down. “If she’s wrong, of course, and you’re not actually interested, I’d be happy to stop.” I reach down with one finger to find her clit, which is quite large, and trace circles around it. I probe her quim more deeply with the other hand until I reach her fuckhole, then tease it. “Like I said, sexy girl, I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do, so just let me know if you want me to be done.” I rub the tip of her button with one finger, and push another into her tight, hot box.

Kira screams into the pillow as her body erupts in orgasm; she writhes and bounces on the table. I shift a hand to her ass to hold her down—at least enough to keep her from bouncing all the way off.