Ask an 'innocent' question

As I head in for my next massage, I think through my plan. It's about as low risk as possible, but maybe it's a little too subtle. Then again, I can always escalate if I need to. Like always, I find Diego waiting by a massage table.

"Greetings Morgan." He says.

"Hey."

"You ready for today's massage?"

After a nod, I lay down on his table, eager to feel his hands on me once more. As he begins the massage, Diego says "You seem rather tense."

"Yeah. It's been a busy day." That's not really true, but I can't let him on the fact that I'm kinda stressed. Not yet anyway.

"Well I suppose that's good in a way."

"Sure is. What about you?"

"Nice and steady."

"That's good to hear. I don't think I know what I'd do without you."

Diego lets out a slight chuckle, so I let the massage continue. My heart begins to race as I think of how exactly I want to drop the bomb. Do I really want to do this? I mean, if I do I won't be able to take it back. What if he says no, or even takes it as an insult? I guess then again if I don't, I may never know the answer, and the question of maybe will always drive me crazier than 'yes' or 'no'.

"Diego?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever heard of Nuru massage. My friend says they're quite nice."

"Oh..."

"Something wrong?"

I sense him bend over and loom over me, before feeling his breath on my ear. He then whispers "There's no friend is there?"

God, his words already have me throbbing. He cuts through every bit of my failed misdirection right to the truth. Maybe he feels the same way?

"No." I confess with a whimper.

"You know what a Nuru massage is, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I can't give you one here."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd scream too much."

Dammit Diego, why did you have to say that? That sentence is going to be in my head all day, right until I can touch myself at bedtime. Hell, I might not even make it to bedtime.

"Maybe at my place. You free this weekend?"

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"Well, I think that concludes your massage. See you soon Morgan."

"See you."

I leave Diego's and head off for lunch. After eating, I try my best to focus on anything but that fucking sentence he had said: "Because you'd scream too much."

There was confidence and cunning in every word he spoke. It's like he knew he'd have this effect on me. It affects me throughout the day, from typos, to creeping over the speed limit, to spilling sauce when I cook dinner. It's only at bedtime when I can close my eyes and picture how the weekend will play out, as my hands do their best to simulate what I'm imagining.