Shy massage client

Erik has, objectively enjoyed, massaging and learning with Brandon. But it’s still work and it’s still time away from doing things he REALLY wants to do.

One of those things is hanging out with Vi, holding her, kissing her, and… telling her everything.

The post-nut clarity hit him like a ton of bricks. It’s all he's thought about the last 2 days; almost as soon as she sauntered out of the room, the realisation that he did it again, that he let it happen again drowned him in that lustful regret.

He had quickly grabbed his pants off the floor, rushing out of the penthouse; Maki hadn’t even undressed for her shower before he was out of the damn building.

‘How the fuck do I tell her now?!’

He usually would have hated having spent so much time away from Vi. But right now? While he figures this shit out in his mind? He’s kinda glad she’s spent the last two days with Ari.

What makes him feel worse? What only adds more weight to the guilt on his shoulders? Is the fact that they were supposed to hang out today, but he cancelled this morning after Brandon asked if he wanted to help out with a notoriously quiet client, actually planning on her being quiet, thus, giving him another look at a session with someone who doesn’t love to speak?

He stares at the texts, once again; fortunately for him, when he sees Vi tomorrow, it’s within the context of a Halloween party. So it’s a natural excuse to not have to tell her again.

The issue however, is that it’s at Maki’s club, right under where she…

“Fuck me, dumbass!” Erik slaps his forehead, immediately feeling silly.

Maki won’t bring it up; she won’t try anything, he hopes. His cock stirs in his shorts.

She’ll be busy. This is a big event for her. But…

He shakes his head, trying to shake these ideas out of his head.

He forces himself out of the car, nodding at the receptionist who buzzes him in; he heads towards Brandon’s office, knocking on the door.

After not getting a response, he opens the door and he sees Brandon sitting with headphones on, looking up at the movement.

“Oh shit.” He says, sliding the over-ear headphones onto his neck, “Sorry bro, I didn’t hear you. Come in. She’s not here yet.”

Erik closes the door behind him and sits across from him, “Sup bro.”

“You alright?” Brandon asks, studying him.

“What?” Erik asks, taken aback.

Brandon looks at him carefully, “You seem off. Something happen?”

‘Did he just roll a nat 20 on a perception check? What the fuck?’

“I’m chilling man, just a bit tired; we had exams and then just a busy set of holidays.”

He nods, accepting that answer, leaning back, “For sure. Anyway, the client.”

Gratefully, Erik asks, “Right. What’s her name?”

“Jennifer,” Brandon grins apologetically, “As far as I’m aware, she doesn’t work for Blake.”

Erik chuckles, closing his eyes as he does so, “I told you it’s calm man; Vi is fine with it too; there’s no bad blood between the models.”

Brandon sighs and nods, “Still. If it can be avoided…”

He clears his throat, “But yeah, this woman…”

“Yeah?”

“Look. She’s friendly enough. But she doesn’t say a fucken word. Like ever. Only when she introduced herself to me, and when she says thanks after the session.”

“I guess some people are just shy, no? I feel like a high school version of me was like that.”

Brandon nods, “A high school version? Yeah. It would make sense for a teenager, but not a woman in her 40s.”

“Oh.”

“Exactly. I think she might be a bit… Cooked in the head, to put it nicely.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk like this about a client.”

Brandon scoffs, “She’s weird, man. Like, tinfoil hat vibes. She comes in with a cap, a face mask and is always covered up head to toe. She'll take it off for the massage but she never actually looks at me during it, she'll go out of he way to turn away... Which is fine. Just weird. She only pays cash, when she signed up for the gym, she paid extra money to sign up without an ID.”

“Is that legal?”

Brandon sighs and shakes his head, “Of course not. But you try telling a small business owner not to take three bands under the table.”

“Bands?”

Brandon gives him a judgmental look, “Damn, you’re cool, but you’re so white. Band is a K.”

“Oh, right. I actually knew that. I’ve heard that in music before.”

Brandon shakes his head, “Don’t say that around other brothers man.”

Erik smiles sheepishly, Brandon smirking.

“Anyway,” Brandon continues, “when the front desk calls, we go into the bathroom or just generally away from the office so she can come in and undress. We wait for 5 minutes, and then come in and conduct the massage.”

“You’re joking.”

“Like I said.” He chuckles.

And the call does come, and they wait; Erik is tempted to take a look, to catch a glimpse of the weird woman, but Brandon holds him back, saying that the only reason she doesn’t go the nine miles with him is that she knows him somewhat.

Erik realises that they’re doing this because of himself.

…

Erik closes the door behind him and takes a look at the woman lying face down on the massage table, her clothes neatly folded on the desk, turned away from the duo. He’s kind of surprised. He was expecting a fat, frumpy freak on this table… Instead, it’s a really toned, tall blonde woman.

“Hey Jen, how you going?” Brandon says, “We’ve got a trainee with us, as I told you beforehand, is that still okay?”

“Yes.” Her voice is hushed, seemingly trying to mask it, almost putting on a voice.

Brandon nods at him; time to get started.

“I’ll be walking him through some basic back massages, just making sure he has the skills down, uhm, say yes if it feels good, or just no if it feels bad.”

She moves slightly, holding up a thumb before relaxing down again.

Brandon nods.

Brandon stands by his side, letting Erik take the lead in the session after guiding him where to start, letting Erik focus on the side where Jennifer has her head turned away from him, Brandon standing on the other side and giving Jennifer a nice double massage to speed it up slightly.

Erik has improved rapidly since he started this; he always was good at picking up new skills and techniques. His fingers instinctively move across her back, down the side of her spine. Brandon nodded approvingly, only offering small tips on the use of his wrists and elbows.

“See that?’ Brandon nods at the lower muscle in her back. And Erik is shocked that he does, her muscles visibly relaxing under his fingertips.

“Hmm. Yes.” She says softly, shifting beneath them both.

The quietness of the room, the fact that he doesn’t have to think as hard, doesn’t help with the fire that rages behind his eyes.

The spiralling guilt when it comes to Vi, the feel of his stepsisters' lips around him. All may be coming to a head tomorrow night. He can only hope that the party is a rager, enough to keep his mind off it.

Brandon steps back, folding his arms watching his apprentice work the thick upper muscles in her upper back. Impressed when Erik switches away from using his fingertips and instead uses his palms and weight to lift, and compress the muscle in slow, rhythmic patterns.

It gives him a great sense of pride when she sees Jennifer’s shoulders relax, a soft exhale coming from her mouth, her breathing slowing. He’s getting so good that the woman seems to be dozing off.

“Good job,” Brandon says, handing Erik a towel.

“Yes… Good.” The woman says softly.

“We’re going to leave you now Jennifer, payment here with me or at the front? Yes for the first option.”

She’s silent for a moment. “Yes.”

Brandon turns to Erik, “You can head home man. I just wanted you to..” He nods behind him.

“Yeah. All good. Bye mate, thank you Mrs… Jennifer.”

“Miss.” She corrects, her voice still hushed, but a bit more forceful in its delivery.

Brandon’s eyebrows are high on his face, apparently a new behaviour from the woman; he turns back to Erik and ushers him out, nodding reassuringly.

Erik feels kind of cheated that he only got one client, questioning if only one client was worth coming down for. But...

He shrugs as he exits the bathroom, having ducked in to take a quick leak. He makes his way across the gym, pulling out his phone.

As he gets near the front door, he takes a quick look up.

“Shit.” He mutters, looking down again and diverting his path, taking a slightly longer route as to not walk past her. Cap, face mask, covered up, it's obvious who it is. She didn’t see his face, so it would be fine. But still. Getting fired is probably not ideal.

But he has to admit something. For a freak conspiracy terrorist, she seemed kinda hot, even with the mask; the way her hair is tied up kind of reminded him of Anya.

Is it her? No. He pauses, phone in hand.

“No…”

He grabs his phone and sends her a text, not risking looking over his shoulder to see if the woman answers.

He shoves his phone back into his pocket. Not at all clocking her abruptness.