Covid Conquests Ch. 03

My mind was racing about many things, here, although I was trying to keep the conversation simple. Complicating my ability to think, I was internally asking myself what would it feel like to have my hand on Mary-anne's very toned perfect ass.

I decided to be a bit aggressive if I were to negotiate anything with her. I didn't really need her clinical massages. And I had only been paying $250 for a two-hour massage with her. That alone wouldn't cover her costs.

I started this part of the conversation with the mask issue. If I were to see her, even for an hour, I simply didn't want to be wearing a mask. It was a smart stipulation to begin with because it gave her a glimmer of hope that under the right conditions, I'd be seeing her weekly. I could very well be the only glimmer of hope that she had. I was guaranteeing her nothing.

"But where would me meet?" was her reply. "I haven't found a place yet."

She hadn't even bothered to answer my first demand about going without a mask. She was just giving in on it to work on the obvious more pressing issues. She was apparently willing to let me forego the mask. Already, I was finding this fun.

"As far as I can see, you're going to have a lot of trouble finding clients and also a clinic to work. I could probably find someplace unconventional to meet up with me," I started. "I can guess if I were paying you $500 a week instead of $250, it would go a longer way to helping you out here."

"You'd do that?" She was incredulous. I can't ask you to do that. It would mean I'd only have to find one or two other clients. It would be amazing. But I can't ask you to do that. I'd owe you forever. It wouldn't be fair." Mary-anne clearly didn't want to get her hopes up.

"Look, Mary-anne -- we've known each other for several years now. We are more than just client/massage therapist now. We're friends. So, let's, as friends, look at different ways of figuring out a solution that works for both of us. Maybe we will figure something out; maybe not. But let's try." She was listening intently to what I was saying.

I continued, "let's just hypothetically suppose that I was willing to cover you nanny's cost for you. That's more than double what I have been paying you for your two-hour sessions. In return, I'd want you to spend 6 hours a week with me, fitting my schedule."

Without hesitating, she said, "Ok." That was surprisingly easy. Quickly the look of hope was replaced with a look of worry, "I'm guessing you want more than just a massage." She said this quietly, this time. She added, "Where would we meet."

It had dawned on her that I was talking about some kind of sexual relationship. I hadn't spelled it out; it could have been massage therapist to massage parlour masseuse. But at the core, she inferred it would be something sexual.

"Your massage of me would be a very major part of what I get back from you. You're not going to get out of that. I definitely want to be pampered by you. I am going to insist on your foot massages too," I said. She smiled a bit at this. But the first thing is, neither one of us will be wearing masks. You'll have to be in close contact with me without a mask.

"That won't be a problem," she replied.

"Next -- I'll want you looking good for me when we're together."

"You mean like these jeans?" she asked, already knowing my penchant for seeing her in them.

"Yes -- any sexy jeans you own would be good, other outfits too. You have to understand -- I'm being upfront about this. This is between you and me only, as friends. I want you looking hot for me." I now used the word 'hot' deliberately.

Please understand, I knew Mary-anne well. There is no way she would have suggested anything like this on her own. She was far too straight-laced to have come out and offered this.

"I don't mind wearing skinny jeans for you. What other outfits do you have in mind?"

"I don't have anything in mind. I just want you looking good for me. I don't want to be just a client. I'd be particularly happy to see you in a bikini, for instance."

"A bikini??" It was clear this was a surprise answer to her.

"Don't forget, you see me in my underwear. It's time I saw you in a bikini or your underwear too."

"My husband would kill me. And I'd lose my license for sure. I don't think I can do this."

"Hold on a minute - this is just strictly between you and me. With what I'm offering you isn't what a registered massage therapist gets as compensation. I'm offering you much more. This isn't just a client relationship. This is just between friends. I'm offering you more; I'm expecting you to let this move beyond a client relationship too."

"As for your husband - he definitely wouldn't want you to be alone with me in a bikini or your underwear -- or even your tightest jeans for that matter. I understand that. I don't think he'd even like it that you put on a pair of jeans today to look good for another guy. I also know he wants you to get rid of your nanny. He wants you to be earning enough money if you're going to keep her. He gets what he wants this way. You get what you want. It's only fair that I, in return, should get what I want. If I'm stepping up to the plate for you as a friend, I want you to do the same in return.

"I'm guessing you want more than a massage, though," was her reply. She looked a little downcast or nervous.

"Let's take this step by step. Today, you put on your skinny jeans to look good for me. You knew I thought you looked good in jeans, so you wore them for me, and asked me if I noticed. You wanted me to notice. I don't think Adam would appreciate you wanting to look good for another man. But you know me and trust me. You wanted to convince me to help you. And you wanted to look good for me. Maybe I'm offering you more help than you were asking for; but I can't help but think it's actually a good offer for you."

I paused, for a moment as people passed on the sidewalk. And then I wanted to press my case forward again. "From a health perspective, I don't need massages now. My problem is over, thanks to your good work. If I'm coming to you for a massage, now, especially with this stupid virus messing everyone up, it would be because I like you, and I want to check you out with you looking good for me, and because I want to feel your hands on my body. It has to be different than what it was before when I needed you and I could barely get out of my car!"

We continued on our walk and it was clear that Mary-anne had become quiet, perhaps contemplative. I needed to get her engaged in the conversation. The best way to do that is to ask questions.

I continued, rehashing what I had just said, but by asking questions. "So truthfully, did you want to look good for me today?"

Mary-anne looked at me and said "Yes. You're right. I wore these jeans because you are always mentioning to me to wear them."

"And you knew I thought you looked hot in them, right?" I again replaced the word 'good' with 'hot' now. I wanted her to see that she had already started down this path.

"I know. I see your point," she replied. "I did want to look good for you." She had rejected my use of 'hot' and reinstated the word 'good.' As I always knew, she was a tough nut to crack.

"Good. And I appreciate it. Is there any other guy in the world, other than your husband, that you've deliberately looked good for, since you've been married? I wanted her to realize that she had put me in exclusive territory.

She smiled ruefully at this, and said, "No."

"So that already gives me special status with you. I'm the only other guy you want to look hot for." I paused for a moment.

I can figure out a solution for where we could meet -- just for you and me. It would be a hotel room. You wouldn't need to use your place. Hotels are still open. It would not get you in any trouble. I'm asking you to be not just my registered massage therapist, but a friend who will spend time with me each week, and wants to look good for me, and gives me a massage that is perhaps more playful than relaxing, and perhaps have a little fun while we are together."

We had reached the side street where my car was parked. I asked her to get in it, so that we could finish the conversation. I was going to look for the right time to kiss her if I was still maintaining her interest. She got into the passenger seat. It was her turn to talk.

"Everything you're saying is true," Mary-anne restarted the conversation in the car. "I know you're suggesting something sexual. I just don't think I could have sex behind Adam's back. I can't betray him like that. I love him. I do trust you. I like you too. I did want to look good for you. And I was hoping you'd be able to help me out, but never imagined you'd help out as much as you're offering." She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, and then said, "I'd be willing to go to a hotel with you. I'd be willing to look good for you. I just don't think I could have sex with you and look at my husband in the face again."

"You know," I replied, "There are other ways to please a man than by sex. You've had your hands almost all over my body already. Would you be willing to put your hands on some of the places they haven't been yet on me?" Here I was, finally directly asking for a sexual act from her.

"I don't know. I've never crossed that line before. I just don't know if could. I don't know what to say. Maybe I need to think about it a bit. I -- I don't want to close the door on this with you. But I don't know what to do. I don't want to do something I will regret."

"Would being alone with me -- just alone with me -- be something you'd regret?" I asked. I wanted her to think I was a little hurt.

"No. Not at all. I've been alone with you for massages. And I like you." She was trying to ensure she hadn't hurt might feelings.

I pressed on. "You wanted to look hot for me in skinny jeans. Would you really mind it if I were checking you out in a bikini?" The only path to success here was to take one step at a time down this slippery slope.

"Adam would mind," was her reply.

"But you wore skinny jeans for me, and he'd mind that too," I countered.

"That's true. Honestly, if all that were involved was wearing a bikini for you, I'd probably do it." That was a small concession in itself but offer me an inch and I'll attempt to take a yard.

"Ok. So how about we start there. We get together one day a week. You're going to look hot for me. We will likely call room service for lunch together. You're going to give me an amazing massage, and because I like it, you'll spend as much time on my feet as I want." This brought that slight smile back to her face again.

I continued, "Anything else that happens, has to be with your full, 100% consent. I'm not going to do anything you don't agree to. If you want to push your boundaries just a bit, that's great for me. If not, that's ok too. It has to work for both of us. If I'm thinking it isn't worthwhile, maybe I will back out. If you are finding you can't handle it, you may back out. But this isn't a business relationship; it is a friends-with-benefits relationship. Can we agree to this?"

"I guess I can agree to this," was her rather quiet response. I loved looking in her blue, worried, eyes.

It was the time to act. I moved over and kissed her on the mouth. It surprised her. She half-heartedly tried to push back for a second, but my persistent kiss wore her down and she accepted my kiss.

Kissing was more than what she was thinking would happen. But just as she agreed to look hot for me, every inch forward was creating a new reality.

I needed to press the point home to her. "So, you wanted to look hot for me -- and -- you seem to like kissing me too."

She didn't respond but had an accepting look in her eyes. I moved in and kissed her again. Our tongues met for the first time.

I asked her, "How much time do you have today?"

"Well, I told the nanny I'd be home for lunch, but I can change that."

"Change that, please," was my immediate response.

"Look. Honestly. I don't think I can get myself to go to bed with you. I'm married," she said with a pleading look in her eyes.

"I'm not going to try to get you in bed. I already told you that. I have been and will always be a gentleman," I said reassuringly. This was funny, given I had just tongue-kissed her. But she accepted it. "Let's go where we are alone and not sitting in a car. We can talk more, maybe kiss more." I reached over and kissed her again on the mouth. After breaking it off, "I'll be helping you out."

Mary-anne had been surprised by the kiss. I knew I was walking a fine line. But it was clear that she accepted my kiss. It was obvious that something was interesting to her in what I was saying.

I started the car. Mary-anne reached for her phone to text her nanny. It seemed we were going to move forward.

I knew I had to act fast. If she spent the time thinking about everything, she would get cold feet and call it off.

I started driving, having not stated my destination, which happened to be a hotel. As she was texting, I placed a hand on my knee. That's just my move -- the act of claiming her; acclimatizing her to the fact which she did not fully realize yet that she belonged to me. It was an overtly sexual move.

She paused for a few seconds to look at my hand, and then at me. It was an important moment. She was thinking about whether or not she would or should remove it, but she was not acting on her thoughts.

She had worn tight jeans for me. She surrendered when I kissed her and then kissed me back.

By leaving my hand on her knee, she was further acquiescing -- letting me take something more that was supposed to belonging to her husband. It was just one further step here. Without a doubt Adam would not want her looking hot for another man. He wouldn't want her kissing that other man. He wouldn't want the other man to put a hand on her knee.

I didn't know how much more I could escalate things. I Didn't know how much I would be scoring this day. But the goal was to keep scoring the occasional small points and gain new territory each time.

I drove to the closest hotel I knew. She had been very quiet, clearly having doubts, but choosing not to express them as I kept my hand on her denim clad leg, just above her knee. As I drove into the hotel parking lot, Mary-anne said, "I'll go with you, but I can't promise I'll be doing what you want."

"Mary-anne -- seriously -- I'm not asking for anything other than coming into a room with me and let me check you out, and if you're willing, I would want your hands on me. We won't be doing anything you don't feel comfortable doing."

"I didn't feel comfortable kissing," she replied. I think it took courage for her to say that. I had to acknowledge the point.

Perhaps I pressed too far with the kissing. I wish I had waited to do that in the room. But I had to find a way to move forward. "I'm sorry, I said, a bit dejectedly. "I've wanted to do that for a long time. And I have to tell you, I really liked it. I hope it wasn't too horrible." I actually was glad I did it, but sorry she wasn't comfortable with it. I was wondering if I should keep my hand on her knee.

"It wasn't too horrible," she said trying to make me feel better. It just caught me by surprise. I haven't been kissed like that by another man for a long time. For that matter, even Adam doesn't kiss me like that."

"So then. We'll be at the hotel soon. May I keep my hand on your knee?" The hand was already there. I was now just ensuring it was set as a precedent. She'd allowed it to be there. It would be hard for her to say "no" now.

She gave a furtive glance to my hand. She had to think about what to say here. After a brief pause, she turned to me, and said, "yes". I was definitely making headway with Adam's wife. This was good.

"Thank you. I would take it off if you asked. Let me ask you another personal question if I may." I was gently moving my hand on her leg. I was staking claim to ownership of it.

"Ok," she said.

"It's a simple yes/no question. Are you liking my hand on your knee?" I asked. She was allowing it to be there. But that's not the same thing as liking it there. Having been allowed to put it there, I want her to go that one further step and say she liked my hand on her knee. I wanted to hear her say it.

"You know I have mixed emotions about it," she replied, leaving everything else unsaid.

I persisted. I know you are concerned about being unfaithful. I'm not asking you for sex here. I just want to know in the overall balance, considering everything, right now, do you like having my hand on your knee."

Mary-anne again glanced down, looking again at that hand on her, hoping to see the answer there. She saw no obvious way to say no. She had already given me permission to put my hand on her knee. As she was realizing this -- and realizing it was a specific yes/no question, she quietly said "yes."

"Good answer," I responded. I wanted to reassure her now. "This remains strictly between you and I -- two friends. No one else is ever going to know. I'm pleased you like my hand on your knee. I want you to know I like it there too." She looked at me knowingly. She knew I had her going down a road. She knew I hadn't got her where I wanted to get her. But she knew where the road was leading.

Let me please ask you as similar question now, given you just said "yes."" I paused for effect and then asked, "You've now told me you like my hand on your knee. Do you -- just between us now -- do you also want my hand on your knee?"

I wanted to reassure her now. "Just between you and me. No one else is ever going to know. Do you want my hand there?"

For Mary-anne it was a terrible dilemma. She's given me permission to put my hand on her knee. She's said she likes my hand on her knee. It would take a lawyer's mind to find a way to wiggle out of saying that she didn't want my hand on her knee. But telling me that she did want it meant she was telling me she wanted something between us that was clearly sexual. And this in turn had her realizing she was, to some degree, unfaithful to her husband by what she was about to say.

I had such an advantage over Adam right now. I was the solution to her nanny issue. And I was there in the car at this moment, and Adam was far, far away. She saw that it could be her dirty secret. Her mind was thinking of all the angles.

The hotel was in sight now.

Mary-anne struggled with actually saying the words that I was confident she would say. As I turned into the parking lot, she acquiesced, again, and simply said, "yes." Total victory was no possible here. I got her into the car thinking maybe all I would get was a massage. Now I thought that even though I said there would be no sex, all was possible.

I parked the car but didn't get out. I wanted to press on and thought it best to do so before we had checked into the hotel room. I was confident it would help take down the barriers that were guarding Mary-anne's fidelity.

"I have just two more personal questions for you," I began. She said nothing but nodded that she was ready to be asked.

"You told me you didn't feel comfortable kissing me. I understand that. But -- I want to know -- did you like the kissing?"

If I were right in my guesswork, Mary-anne was feeling all kinds of mixed emotions. I think there was fear to be on the path she was on. I think there was nervousness. I think there was guilt playing on her conscience. And I'd guess there was a bit of excitement too, as this would be unchartered territory for her. This is the kind of territory where a person becomes alive again. The lessons of one's daily routine tell you nothing as to how to react. You're on your own here.

The logic of my questions was clearly playing out in her mind. How could she say she say she wanted my hand on her knee but didn't like the kiss? My castle was being built one logical brick at a time.