The Alhambra

As soon as the last glass was filled and the last plate touched the table, which didn't take long, Julian rose to make a toast. I was starting to get embarrassed by all this attention, but I quickly grabbed my glass and stood along with everyone else at the table.

"To Michael Whelan and his excellent presentation, may our respective companies long prosper," Julian toasted, and we clinked glasses around the table before sitting back down. Again, I couldn't help but notice that everyone at the table, except me and Julian, were all very attractive young women. Oh, don't misunderstand, I enjoyed it alright, just a little curious.

The first course to my surprise was a cold gazpacho. I love gazpacho, but sometimes it can have a little too much onion for my taste. Not this one, it was fresh and zesty, with only the slightest hint of onion -- it was delicious. The main course was a slice of Quiche Lorraine with a small salad of garden greens tossed with balsamic vinaigrette, fresh blue berries and sliced strawberries mixed in. I only mention the menu because I could not have planned a more perfect lunch if I tried. Then, if that wasn't enough, they brought a thin slice of key lime pie and coffee for dessert. Key lime pie is also one of my all-time favorites, and I couldn't help but wonder how they knew that.

I don't normally eat lunch at all, as it makes me sluggish. But this was light, refreshing and not overly filling. It was just perfect, plus I realized it was intended to be as much social as nourishing. And socializing it was. Every woman at the table spoke to me personally, seemed to already know more about me than I would have expected, and genuinely seemed interested in what I had to say. I was more than just surprised; I was actually flattered.

As we finished the most pleasant luncheon, we all returned to the elevator for the short ride back to the 53^rd floor. But to my surprise, only Julian walked with me to the conference room. All of the others calmly peeled off in other directions after stopping to shake my hand and express how much they enjoyed meeting me and sharing lunch.

As we entered the conference room the first thing I noticed was that there were two rows of legal documents lined up on the table. Julian smiled and said, "Well Michael, it looks like we have a done deal here."

The documents were two original sets of our contract. Neatly organized and bound with binder clips. As I was expecting further negotiation, all I could manage to say was, "Oh -- wow."

"Michael," Julian said, "we loved your presentation and that just sealed the deal. Our legal department has prepared all of the required agreements. You and I just need to initial each set as an agreement in principle. We'll forward electronic copies to your lawyers and your home office. The hard copy is for you to take back with you on the plane. So, subject to a final review by your legal team, I think we're all set."

I was completely stupefied, but it looked like I had just completed the biggest deal of my life. Julian and I sat down and initialed each set of documents and then shook hands to seal the deal. As I was packing my laptop, one of the paralegals came in the room to pick-up Julian's copy. As she walked out of the room, Julian said, "Alright Michael, it's time to celebrate. I understand you like single malt scotches."

Still somewhat in shock I simply answered, "Sure."

"Great," Julian said, "I know just the place. You can leave your things here. I'll have them delivered to your hotel room."

"I haven't even seen my hotel room," I joked.

"Oh, no problem, it's all taken care of. You'll love the Four Seasons, it's a fantastic hotel with an amazing level of personal service," Julian assured me with a wink and a smile.

"Okay, let's go," I said. And off we went, down the elevator and into the building's parking garage. In a reserved parking space was Julian's black BMW 720 and off we went.

The drive was only seven or eight blocks, we could have walked. But then I wouldn't have had the thrill of Julian's Formula One driving style. We pulled up in front of a red brick building about three or four blocks south of Central Park between Fifth and Sixth Avenues. The building looked like one of those private clubs built during the late 19th century. It was probably six stories tall, red brick with many bay windows accented with intricately carved limestone. A doorman met us at the curb and after Julian turned the car over to him, we hiked up the impressive front steps.

At the top of the stairs were twin massive oak and leaded glass doors. Mounted on the wall beside the door was a small, but highly polished, brass plaque that simply read, "The Alhambra -- A Private Club."

Inside we were warmly greeted by two stylishly dressed young ladies. Julian didn't introduce us, but they certainly seemed to know who we were. One of them quickly escorted us to a small room just off the entry hall -- simply labeled the 'Library.' Entering the room was like stepping back into 19^th century London. The room was decorated in the style of a classic British gentlemen's club of the era. The room was basically square, with century old oak floors and exquisite oriental rugs. It was a windowless room, but warmly illuminated by antique brass chandeliers and table lamps with dark green glass shades. Three of the four walls were lined with floor to ceiling bookcases and there was even a library ladder on rollers, though I doubt it had been used in years. The fourth wall was a masculine bar of dark mahogany, with a marble bar top and even a brass foot rail -- but no bar stools. Overstuffed red leather chairs finished out the décor and were tastefully arranged throughout the room into seating areas of various sizes.

Once we were comfortably seated, an attractive young bar maid, wearing about the shortest skirt I have ever seen, appeared from behind the bar with two Scotch n' Rocks on a silver tray. We hadn't actually ordered anything, they just simply appeared. As she set the drinks down in front of us, Julian picked his up and held it in the air as if offering another toast and said, "Michael, here's to a long and mutually beneficial relationship." We clinked glasses and he added with a glance towards his glass, "I think you'll really like this."

I took a sip, "Wow," I said. "What is it?"

"It's a Macallan 21-year-old fine oak. It might not be the most expensive Scotch in the house, but certainly one of the smoothest and one I thought you'd really like," Julian responded.

"Wow, this is very nice. But how did you know I liked single malt Scotches," I asked.

"Well, let's just say we did our homework," Julian chuckled as he took another sip.

"So, what is this place?" I asked.

"Well, this is the Alhambra Club. It was originally just a private club for the executives of NOVIC, but about ten years ago, Mr. Gould opened it up to other friends of his and renamed it the Alhambra," Julian explained.

Trying to put a place to a name I asked, "So like the city in Southern California?"

"Oh no," Julian laughed. "It's named for a medieval castle in Southern Spain -- near the city of Granada. Mr. Gould is Swiss, and when he was growing up, his family had a villa on the Spanish coast near there where the family would spend their summers. Legend has it that Mr. Gould lost his virginity in the castle one summer evening. And so, he has always been fond of the name ever since."

Taking another sip of my whiskey and reflecting on my own first experience, I paused before saying, "Wow, that's rather interesting -- I guess if I owned a private club, I'd have to call it the Buick."

"Well, my good man," Julian said after a short laugh and another long sip from his glass. "Drink up, because we're just getting started. We have a lot of celebrating to do and I have you booked for a massage next."

"A massage," I stammered almost choking on my drink.

"Yes," Julian exclaimed. "We have some of the finest masseuses in all of New York working here and you have a two o'clock with Maya."

I was speechless. I hadn't had a massage in probably five years and that was on a Caribbean cruise with some old girlfriend -- I can't even remember her name. And it seemed a little creepy considering this was a business trip, not a vacation. But we were celebrating, and I have to admit, all of the beautiful women associated with the NOVIC corporate office had gotten me sort of in the mood. So, what the hell, "Okay," I said gulping down the remainder of my drink.

Within minutes we were in the elevator heading to the basement. As the door opened, I realized we were in a very upscale gym -- or maybe a gym spa combination. Upon stepping out of the elevator, I noticed that to the right was a very well-furnished gym with all the usual gym equipment and mirrored walls. However, Julian turned left, and we stepped into an elegant spa. The spa lobby was very tastefully decorated in what I would call Contemporary Oriental, with hard wood floors, sea-grass textured wall coverings, white and black leather upholstered furniture, and a large tropical fish tank against one wall.

In the center of the room was a reception desk and as we entered the room a woman sitting at the desk smartly stood and offered a welcoming handshake. "Mr. Whelan," she said gripping my hand, "we have been expecting you."

Still not comfortable in being addressed as Mr. Whelan, in accepting her handshake I said, "Michael, please call me Michael."

"Michael," she said with a smile, "I am Maya, and I will be your masseuse today."

"Well," said Julian, "it looks like you're in very good hands Michael." And chuckling at his own pun turned to walk out. He then added, "I'll meet you upstairs in the Leda Room after your massage. Maya, will you direct him?"

"Certainly Julian," she responded politely. Now turning back to me, "Michael, if you will please follow me," she said with a smile as she pointed down the hall before taking off assuming I would follow.

I quickly followed her and couldn't help but notice how cute her tight ass was as I gazed at it swinging from side to side as she walked. As our introduction was short, I really didn't have time to study her, but she certainly wasn't American. She looked somewhat Asian, maybe Filipino. I couldn't tell her age, not that it mattered, but she had dark olive complexion, black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She couldn't have been more than five-foot-two, but very athletic looking.

She was wearing a short kimono-like satin robe with baggy short sleeves, tied at the waist with a fabric belt making the robe look sort of like a sexy martial arts jacket. The robe was black satin with the Alhambra Club logo stitched on the upper left side. The front of the robe was pulled close enough to cover her nipples, but low enough to make it obvious that she wasn't wearing any kind of bra. As I hurried to keep up with her, I couldn't help but notice how short the robe actually was. It barely covered her ass and if she was wearing anything under the robe, I couldn't tell, but it certainly did make a man wonder.

I doubt she weighed more than a hundred pounds, and every ounce appeared to be pure muscle. As I raced to keep up with her, I couldn't help but joke to myself -- even at half my weight I bet she could probably kick my ass. Little did I know.

She soon motioned for me to enter an open door and once in the room, she stepped in behind me and closed the door. Surveying my new surroundings, it was about the size of a typical hotel room, except there were no windows. The front half of the room was decorated much like the reception area and hallway, only with a large massage table right in the middle. There were several shelves along one wall neatly stacked with sheets, towels, and an assortment of massage oil and lotions.

The back half of the room was basically a large bathroom or wet room. One wall was a vanity with double sinks. The opposite wall had a large Jacuzzi tub, and the back wall was one large walk-in shower. The floor of the entire room was very attractive travertine tile, as were the walls up about three feet. There was an enclosed toilet room, and the most interesting feature of the room was another large massage table positioned over a floor drain. The massage table in the bathroom, was not covered in a sheet, but was some sort of waterproof fabric, and there was a shower head hanging on the side.

The room was illuminated with soft natural lighting, the scent of incense hung lightly in the air, and as you might expect, the melodic tones of some unidentifiable new age music gently filled the room.

Maya gave me a moment to soak in my new surroundings before speaking. "Michael," she said softly, "please completely undress, there is a closet next to the tub to hang your clothes. The toilet is right there," pointing to the separate toilet room. "Please feel free to relieve yourself before we get started."

I thought that was a rather strange request, but I nodded my understanding.

"You may shower if you like," she continued. "But it is not necessary as we will be starting with a full body shampoo. I'll step out now for a few minutes and if you will just lay face down on the massage table when you're ready, I'll be right back." And with that she pointed to the waterproof massage table in the middle of the bathroom.

It was a little weird with her leaving the room, but I guess it was just to allow me a little personal time, just in case I needed it. I did avail myself of the toilet and hung my clothes neatly in the closet as suggested before lying face down on the massage table. I felt a little exposed, but in a weird way, the whole ambience of the room was somewhat arousing.

As promised, Maya returned moments later as I was getting comfortable on the table. To my surprise, the table was actually warmed, not sure how they did that, but it did feel good. Maya slipped out of her sandals, before turning on the water to allow it to warm up and to fill a basin hanging on the edge of the table. As the basin filled, she added body wash to the water and applied a long drizzle directly to my back. Then using a large terrycloth mitt, she began slowly and luxuriously scrubbing my back, arms and neck.

The warm water and soapy massage felt so good. I didn't actually realize how tense I was until that soft terrycloth and warm soapy water massage started working its magic on my sore muscles. I guess working the long hours on this proposal, the travel and of course the nerve-racking presentation had taken their toll on me and relaxing like this just felt so amazing.

After about ten minutes of gently scrubbing and completely rinsing my back side, Maya said, "Okay Michael, if you'll roll over for me, we'll start on the front."

This is what I was waiting for -- both with anticipation and a little bit of anxiety as I was getting a fairly decent erection and I wasn't quite sure how well that would go over with Maya.

Well, I shouldn't have worried, for as soon as I rolled onto my back, my reawaken sexuality became apparent and Maya said, "Well, I see I haven't lost my touch." And with that she gently stroked me several times with her soapy hand as a broad grin filled her face.

"Well Maya, you do have an amazing touch," I said as it became clear this was more than just a massage.

She untied the belt holding her robe closed and let it fall open. The robe was already soaking wet from my body shampoo, so I wasn't really all that surprised that she was ready to remove it. Letting the robe slip from her shoulders exposed her cute little breast and poky hard brown nipples. She turned to hang the wet garment on a nearby hook and I couldn't help but look to see what, if anything, she was still wearing. Not shocked, but still a little surprised to see that she was still wearing a sexy black thong. The thong was made of the same silky material as the robe and as it was very tight fitting to her body, it left no doubt as to what lay beneath.

As she turned back around, a broad grin filled her face as she observed that I 'noticed' her sexy and nearly nude body. She slid the terry mitt back onto her hand, dunked it several times in the basin of warm soapy water and started on my front side. She gently scrubbed my neck, arms and chest before starting to work her way down to pleasure land.

As she progressed south of my waist, she spread my legs so that as she washed each leg with the foam-covered mitt on one hand, she gently rolled my balls and stroked my now rock-hard dick with her ungloved soapy hand. It felt amazingly good -- almost a little too good and I had to indicate to her that if she didn't slow down, it would soon be all over -- so to speak.

With a final spray from the hand-held shower, she completely rinsed me off, first on my front and then had me roll over to rinse my back for a second time. While still lying on my stomach she began applying some sort of gritty paste to my back. It must have been some sort of salt scrub as it felt like kosher salt and smelled like menthol. As she rubbed it into my skin, I realized it must be some sort of exfoliating scrub. I'd never had anything like this before, and I wondered how much skin she was going to take off, but oh my God it felt so good.

After several minutes of gentle, but deep scrubbing, she rinsed me off, had me roll over and gently did the front. As I was lying on my back again, sunny side up, I couldn't help but notice that her black thong was now soaking wet. "It looks like you're as wet as me," I said with an impish smile.

"Well, so I am," she responded with a mischievous smile of her own. And then added with a flirtatious tone in her voice, "One of us is clearly over dressed and that's just not right." She didn't immediately pull her thong off as I had hoped, but she did turn to the counter and grabbed a big fluffy towel.

"Now that I have you all cleaned up, would you please stand up so I can dry you off," she said as she held the towel open for me to step into. Sliding off the table she wrapped the towel around me and as I stood there on the tile floor, she carefully blotted me dry head to toe.

As soon as she felt I was suitably dry, she loosely wrapped the towel around me and directed me to the other massage table. I wasn't sure why we were moving, but the other table was bigger, and it did have a nice clean dry sheet on it. As I got settled on my stomach, I felt her squirt warm oil up and down my back. She then applied more oil to her hands and rubbed them together before applying her hands to my back and started to massage.

Now this was really beginning to feel good -- the harder she pressed the more I oohed and aahed, which only caused her to rub harder. "I'll give you thirty minutes to stop that," I joked.

She laughed and responded with, "First time I've ever heard that."

"Well Maya, I doubt that, you're extremely talented," I said. I figured I didn't really need to flatter her, but under the circumstances, being nice certainly wouldn't hurt either.

After maybe ten minutes on my stomach, she had worked her way down across my butt cheeks and then down each leg. She spent considerable time on each foot which to my surprise I actually enjoyed. Normally I can't stand for anyone touching my feet, but it felt so good when she did it. I wasn't just in the hands of a trained professional -- I was truly in the hands of a Goddess.

She then did both arms, both hands and all individual fingers, before instructing me to flip over. And when I returned to the sunny side up position, she was pleased to see I hadn't lost any of my enthusiasm for her personal touch. She purred softly as she ran her oily fingers up and down my erection. "I think he likes me," she said in a seductive tone.

"Oh yes, Maya. I think he's in love," I said breathlessly.