A World of Possibilities

The time was almost noon and Melanie was feeling sleepy and more than a little looped from the wine. She called room service and ordered lunch and then decided a quick shower might help her wake up.

Lunch came just as she was drying off and she made herself comfy in a thick, floor-length terry robe she found in the closet. Maybe this, she thought, is what passes for romantic eveningwear in Vermont. She turned on the television and was delighted to discover that HBO was showing "A Little Romance", one of her favorites. She spent the next hour wishing that she could magically become twelve again, and enjoy her first kiss while riding in a gondola floating under the Bridge of Sighs at sunset.

By the end of the movie, the combination of wine and food had taken effect and she knew she'd never make it till three without a nap. She set the almost empty bottle of wine on the nightstand and slipped naked under the sheets. Good old heart-shaped bed, she thought. It's just you and me now. Her head found the pillow and in moments she was fast asleep. She began to dream almost immediately.

In the dream it was last Valentine's Day and she was once again in Paul's office, about to surprise him and be surprised in turn. She saw the two men; Eric, with his expression of orgiastic ecstasy, and Paul, on his knees performing the magic trick of making Eric's dick disappear into his mouth. Eric looked at her and this time she felt no embarrassment or shame under his lustful gaze. Instead, she felt her nipples harden and press against the coarse fabric of her coat and her already moist pussy lips began to expand and swell.

Melanie thumbed the buttons of her coat, letting it fall to the floor behind her. Wearing only a skimpy thong underneath, she smiled at her good fortune. She'd come prepared to seduce her husband. Now she would have them both. Paul held Eric's dick out for her to inspect as she knelt beside him. She took it in her hand and milked it gently.

A crystal-clear drop of pre-come oozed from Eric's slit and Melanie leaned forward, capturing it on her extended tongue. She turned to Paul and presented it to him, a signal of both submission and her approval of the wanton position she'd discovered him in. As the two of them kissed, she rubbed Eric's meat over her nipples, smearing them with his leaky fluid.

She then turned to the task at hand, swallowing Eric's cock. He groaned his approval and Paul said to him, "See what I mean? I knew you'd love her. She sucks cock just like a man." Melanie blushed at the compliment, taking the thick pole even deeper into her throat. Paul fondled her breasts, tweaking her nipples, and Eric's fingers were tangled in the strands of her hair, holding her head in place while he fucked her mouth with slow, deep strokes.

She felt her thong being tugged aside and a long, slender finger inserted into her sopping cunt. She heard Eric's voice above her.

"It's about time you got here."

A shudder rolled through her at the thought of an unknown fourth person joining them in the room. Her mind ran wild with the possibilities of who it might be as a second finger joined the first one inside her and a third began massaging her aching clit. Hot, sultry breath scorched the inside of her thigh. She came hard when she heard the voice of Paul's secretary come from between her legs. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

The phone rang, startling her.

Oh God, she thought, still in the throes of her climax. Just ignore it. She tried to suck harder on the cock in her mouth. Please just let it ring. But something was wrong. She still felt the fingers thrusting inside her, but the room had faded into darkness and her mouth felt strangely empty. She opened her eyes and looked around her, completely disoriented. Then she remembered. It's Valentine's Day. I'm in Vermont. Alone, in the Honeymoon Suite. Then why--?

She threw back the covers and gasped at the sight of her hand, coiled around her pussy, three fingers shoved inside as far as she could get them. Moreover, her fingers were still moving, as though they had a mind of their own, sliding back and forth within her silken crevice, urging her towards yet another orgasm. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, abandoning herself to the wave of pleasure about to wash over her.

The phone rang again.

Fuck! Who the hell is calling me? Then she saw the time. Oh, my God! The massage! She sat up, her still throbbing pussy grudgingly releasing her hand. She used her other hand to pick up the phone. "Hello?"

"Miss Nichols?"

"That's right." Melanie held her hand up. Her sticky juices coated her fingers like syrup.

"I'm Mark, the hotel's Massage Therapist. We had a three o'clock appointment."

"Oh, yes." She stared at her hand, spreading and flexing her fingers, watching her come slowly congeal and dry on her skin. "I'm sorry. I was taking a nap and I guess I lost track of time."

"We can reschedule if you'd like." He sounded disappointed.

"What? No, of course not." Not after I made you come over here in this weather, she thought. "What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing. I'll be up in a few minutes." He paused. "Oh, wait. One quick question; if you're uncomfortable with it being just the two of us in your room, would you like me to arrange for a female employee of the hotel to be present while I administer the massage?"

"No, I don't think that will be necessary, Mark." Melanie wondered if Linda had said something to him. "But I very much appreciate your thoughtfulness and professionalism in offering it to me." She thought a moment. "Now let me ask you a question."

"Shoot."

"I've never been given a massage before. How should I be dressed?"

"Comfortably. Normally I use oversized towels that I can arrange so that only the area I'm working on is uncovered. You should find some in the bathroom. But if that's not enough, you're welcome to wear a bathing suit, bra and panties or some loose-fitting sweats, if you'd prefer. You tell me what works for you, and I'll take it from there."

"All right. I'll think about it. Do I have time to take a shower?"

"Go ahead. I'll be about ten minutes."

"See you in ten." Melanie set the phone down and hurried into the bathroom. She held up one of the oversized towels in front of her and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Two of these should be more than sufficient, she thought. I'll just make sure I'm good and clean. She showered quickly, taking special care to lather her pubes thoroughly. God, I hope I don't smell like I just had sex.

She had just gotten out of the shower and into her robe when she heard the knock on the door. "It's open," she yelled from the bedroom. She heard the door open, followed by a thump. The door closed a few moments later. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Take your time. It'll take me a few minutes to set things up."

Melanie went back in the bathroom and checked her appearance. Christ, she thought suddenly. Why do I care what I look like? Oh, I don't know, she heard Peg's voice answer, because you're about to get naked in front of a total stranger in a hotel room? Oh, now. C'mon, she answered back. This isn't any different than having a doctor see me. And besides, he won't see me. I'll be covered up.

Is that so, she heard Peg answer. Of course, you could make sure, by putting on the bathing suit you have in your suitcase, or at least a pair of panties, for crying out loud! Melanie shook her head. I'll be fine, she insisted. Then why, Peg asked, is your skin all tingly? Beads of gooseflesh sprouted instantly on her arms and shoulders. She tugged the robe tighter around her.

That's not what I meant, the voice said. Melanie sucked her breath in sharply. Oh, no! I am wet. And getting wetter by the second. What is wrong with me? Am I still hopped up from my dream or am I really getting turned on by the thought of that man in the other room – a man I've never even seen – giving me a massage?

Now you're talking, kiddo, she heard Peg say. No, she said firmly. This isn't me. Since this morning, everything has been messed up. First, the wake-up call, telling me the airport was closed, then losing my room and having to come here to the Honeymoon Suite, and then that dream, that unbelievably incredible dream! And to have it be Valentine's Day, of all days, one year to the day after it happened.

It's like some weird episode of the Twilight Zone. But whoever heard of the Twilight Zone in Vermont, for Christ's sake? I mean, all they have here are cows, and Ben & Jerry's, and flannel and snow and –

And they're all gay.

That's it! He's gay! Oh, thank you, Peg! God, why didn't I think of that before? Of course, he's gay. Why else would he be a 'Massage Therapist'? To score with chicks? I don't think so. And certainly not with this chick, anyway. Oh, wow, that's it. All I have to do is remember he's gay and after he leaves I'll play with myself some more and everyone will go home happy.

"I'm ready whenever you are," she heard Mark call out.

"Be right there." She took one last look in the mirror. Gotcha, she said to her reflection. Are you sure? Peg was still hanging around. Absolutely. Now, go home, Peg. I'll be fine. She opened the bathroom door.

Okay, kiddo. Peg's voice was faint. Just remember one thing: Be careful what you wish for. Melanie folded the two oversized towels over her arm and walked into the anteroom.

The man sitting on the sofa stood up and extended his hand. "Hi," he said. "I'm Mark Cooper."

Melanie smiled. "Nice to meet you." Her hand seemed to disappear in his. Hooo, boy! What big, strong hands you got there, grandpa. Not to mention the shoulders and pecs that go with them. They stood like that for an awkward moment and then Mark saw the towels she was holding.

"Oh, you brought the towels. Good." He took them and motioned her to the table he'd set up. White and sturdy looking, it reminded her of a hospital gurney. "Linda told me about your flight getting cancelled and almost losing your room. Sounds like it's been a rough day." He turned away from her long enough to toss the towels onto the table. "So, how are you holding up?"

"I'm gay," she said. Oh, Christ! "I mean; I'm good." Oh, you idiot! Stop staring at his ass. "I'm…okay." Luckily, he appeared not to have noticed.

"Can I offer you a glass of wine before we start?" He held up a bottle of Zinfandel. Melanie shook her head no, hoping he couldn't see her cheeks turn the color of the wine. I'm already over my limit, she thought. "Okay, then." He put the bottle down and handed her one of the towels. "Why don't you wrap one of these around you under your robe. Then you can take the robe off and lie down and we can begin." She took the towel and turned away from him, loosening her robe.

"Why don't you start out on your stomach?" Mark suggested. When she was settled, he draped a second towel over her, which started above her waist and extended to her ankles.

"Now, I'll need you to loosen the first towel for me so that I can adjust it as I move around the different parts of your body. Yes, that's it. Just let it hang over like that." He moved to the counter where he had several bottles lined up, each containing different color liquids. "Any questions?"

Melanie folded her arms under her chin. The thin fabric felt like fine sandpaper against her skin, exciting her nipples and bringing them to full attention. "Yeah," she said. "Why aren't you named Helga?" Mark laughed out loud.

"Is that," he asked, "in reference to it being a 'Swedish' massage, or is it because I'm not a woman?"

"A little of both, I guess." She sighed, closing her eyes. In this position, the pressure on her clit felt wonderful.

"Well, it was developed by a Swede back in the 18th century, but today calling it a Swedish Massage refers more to the technique, or what kind of massage it is, rather than the country of origin." He laughed again. "When most people think of Swedish Massage, they usually think of a tall blonde who also doubles as a spiker for the Swedish National Volleyball team." He selected a bottle filled with a golden yellow liquid and came over to the table. "And that, I think, explains your second question."

He opened the bottle and poured a small amount of the liquid into his hands. He held it there for a few moments, warming it, and continued, "Actually, you'd be surprised just how many men there are in this profession. A lot more than most people think." He opened his hands and let the liquid drip onto her shoulders and neck. "Of course, when I tell people what I do, the first thing they usually think is that I'm gay."

Melanie's eyes snapped open. What?

And then his hands were on her shoulders, those, large, powerful hands, and she forgot about everything else. A rich, exotic scent drifted up from her skin and she inhaled deeply. "Hmm, what is that you're using?"

"A mixture of oils, mainly sandalwood." His thumbs dug into the soft muscles on either side of her neck. "Don't worry. It's not greasy and your body will absorb most of it. I like sandalwood because it does an excellent job of relieving stress and at the same time stimulating the senses." Amen to that, she thought. Her nipples poked at the coarse fabric like diamond-cutters and she couldn't help wondering just how much more stimulated they could get.

"Be sure and let me know if I dig in a little too hard. Sometimes I get carried away." Don't worry. She fought back a moan. You'll be the first to know.

She closed her eyes again, letting herself float away on the tide of his marvelous hands. Mark kept talking as he worked, his voice soft and comfortable. "One of the keys to relieving stress is to speed up the flow of blood as it returns from your extremities." Like my tits, she wondered. Would they be considered 'extremities'? Cause they're feeling kind of, um, extreme at the moment. He lifted her arm and began twisting it. "The quicker we rid the system of the unoxygenated or toxic blood, the better we feel.

"By stroking against the muscles, rather than with them, I can help to flush your system of lactic acids and actually increase the circulation without increasing the load on your heart." She had a sudden image of him, sitting on her chest, her inflamed tits sandwiching his thick cock as it plummeted between them. Would that load be 'regular' or 'heavy'?

He dribbled more oil on her lower back and began spreading it. "If this is boring, let me just tell you that I'm one of the few men you'll ever meet who won't be offended if you fall asleep, so please feel free to doze, if you wish." From the small of her back, his fingers slid upwards, gliding past her rib cage and ending just below her armpit. Fully half of her breast must be exposed, she knew. He's probably staring at it, watching the soft, gelatinous skin as it flattens out against the table.

Without conscious thought, her hips moved, just a little, and her clit exploded like a cherry bomb. She couldn't suppress her moan and his fingers paused. "Are you okay?" he asked. Oh, God, she thought. Yes. I'm more than okay. I just needed to, um, release a little steam from the boiler. "I'm fine," she managed. She felt his stare, felt it as surely as she did his hands. After a few moments, as though nothing had happened, his hands began working again.

For the next 40 minutes, Mark worked nonstop and the two of them hardly spoke. She lost herself in the feeling and his hands became her entire world, stroking, lifting, kneading, and twisting her body until she felt like a blood-filled pretzel. But her nipples remained erect and her swollen clit was once more crying out for release. Then the time came for her to switch to her back.

She rolled over and one of the towels almost slipped off her. She had a sudden thought: What would he do if he knew how turned-on I am right now – What would he do then? Melanie stretched out and closed her eyes. Knowing my luck, probably nothing.

She felt him move the towels around, followed by the slow drip of oil on her skin. Was it just her imagination, or had he arranged the towel so that her breasts were more visible? She kept her eyes shut and teased herself, using her imagination to visualize what he must be seeing. In her mind's eye, her breasts seemed to expand under his touch, growing fuller and more round. And her nipples! Oh, her nipples must seem like ripe, budding shoots threatening to burst up through the towel.

Still, his hands were circumspect, rubbing near but never actually on her breasts. As he moved on to her shoulders, she groaned inwardly. She needed release so badly now. Her right hand slipped under the bottom towel and began to creep towards her pussy. He stopped for a moment and adjusted both towels, so that her left side and leg were both accessible to him. Again, it seemed that his arrangement exposed more of her than was necessary. Maybe he did know.

Or perhaps he was only indulging himself in a voyeuristic fantasy, recognizing her need and prolonging it, keeping her in torment while he made her wait and wonder. Maybe he did prefer men and her obvious state was nothing more than a joke to him, something to laugh about later while his gay lover sucked him off. "Can you imagine?" he'd laugh. "She actually came on to me!"

But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except for his skillful hands massaging her flesh and her fingers as they edged closer to the swollen lips of her cunt. Mark poured more sandalwood oil onto her hip and upper leg. A few drops trickled down the inside of her thigh, finding a home in her glistening pubes. There! Her index finger slipped past her engorged lips. Melanie had to bite her lip to keep silent. Mark shifted his hands downward, one behind her knee and one under her ankle. He lifted her leg.

And then both towels slipped off.

All the air seemed to go out of the room at once. Melanie knew how she must look; her breasts heaving, her finger buried to the second knuckle inside her gaping slit. But she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. He set her leg down gently and she expected him to reach down and pick up the towel, covering her with it. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then she felt his wet breath on her skin and he said softly, "Let me help you with that."

The touch of his mouth was like a gentle mist on her overheated sex and she let out her pent-up breath in a long sigh. The stubble on his chin scraped her finger as he removed it from his path. Then his tongue was inside her, burrowing like a liquid cock, darting back and forth, rooting for her secret juices. The joyous surprise of his lips and tongue had stopped her in mid-orgasm, pausing her breathtakingly on the edge, and now she was climbing higher and higher, the spiral of pleasure building like a spring coiling tight.

Her fingers were in his hair, wrapping and coiling like snakes around the loose strands, clutching him, jamming his face into her flowing pussy. His response was to slip his hands under her ass, lifting her legs up and over his shoulders. He squeezed her cheeks, and managed to raise his mouth up far enough to fasten onto her clit.

His tongue swirled like a pinwheel around her hard, pea-shell mound, showering sparks in all directions, but he was deliberately avoiding her clit, keeping her suspended in desire, poised on the brink of the relief she so desperately needed. After a few moments, Melanie couldn't stand it any longer and she opened her eyes.

She saw him staring at her, his eyes dark and remote, his gaze intent, studying her, gauging her responses. A breath of sanity rushed through her then, warning her how crazy this was, cringing at how vulnerable she'd allowed herself to become in front of this total stranger. But that thought only served to ramp up her excitement another notch, galvanizing her further, and in a voice she didn't recognize, she found herself hissing, "Now, Goddamn it! NOW!"