The Masseuse by Sierra Kincade

red ring from the face pillow on his pasty cheeks.
    “I just want to apologize again for my behavior last time, Anna. I was out of line.”
    “I accepted your apology earlier,” I told him, gently pushing him back down on the adjustable headrest. “And I accepted your apology last session for the time before that.” I didn’t want to be rude, but it was important to set boundaries in a field where you slid your hands over someone’s greasy body.
    “It’s just difficult to think straight, you being so beautiful and—”
    “Melvin, we’ve talked about this. You can’t say things like that if you want to stay.” I removed my hands from his deltoids and waited for him to get himself under control.
    “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll just lie here.”
    “Relax.”
    “I’m relaxed.”
    In the quiet, I worked my way down from his shoulders to his lower back and he let out a low groan. Most clients did this, so I didn’t stop, but Melvin’s leash was getting shorter by the second. I’d made it to his right hamstring when he spoke again.
    “I’m so appreciative of all everyone does here.” His voice was muffled by the face pillow. “Tax season has me so stressed. I really look forward to these appointments.”
    “I’ll pass that along,” I said, knowing full well I was the only person he saw here.
    “I brought a box of chocolates—for everyone. Since everyone does such a good job. I thought maybe you
all
might enjoy them.”
    It took a lot of will power to hold back my sigh. After the flowers he’d sent last month, I was sure Derrick had made it clear he couldn’t bring gifts.
    “That’s very thoughtful,” I said. “You didn’t have to do that.”
    “But I wanted to,” he said.
    I reached over him for the edge of the sheet, careful not to touch him with my body any more than necessary.
    “I’m going to lift this up,” I told him. “Go ahead and roll onto your back and scoot down for me.”
    He did, and when I put the sheet down, I blinked in surprise at his very obvious erection. Melvin Herman pitched quite a tent.
    “Melvin,” I warned.
    “Hmm?”
He grinned sleepily.
    “Melvin.”
This time I was more direct. “I’m going to leave the room. I’d like you to get your things and go, please.”
    Melvin sat up quickly, noticing, as if for the first time, what might have accounted for the sudden change.
    “Oh,” he said. “Oh, dear.”
    “Oh, dear is right,” I said on my way out. I made my way quickly toward the break room. Only once I was inside with the door firmly shut behind me did I shake off the creeps and wash the cinnamon-infused oil off my hands. He wasn’t the first male client to get hard during a massage; it happened occasionally. But I wasn’t about to put up with it from a man who had such a difficult time with the word
no
.
    I’d have to tell Derrick that Melvin had indeed gotten sassy with me, but I wanted to give him the chance to leave with some dignity first. I reached into the cubby marked with my name in glittery letters, and pulled my cell out of my purse.
    There was one text, from a local number I didn’t recognize.
    Ready to collect on that favor.
    Alec.
    My body hummed to life. Ten different images of what he might mean—ranging from dinner to sweaty, sheet-fisting sex—flashed through my mind.
    He must have gotten my cell number from Ms. Rowe—she had been the one to call me first to make the appointment for her employer. The fact that he’d not only asked about me but gotten my number sent a little jolt through my veins.
    What did you have in mind? I texted back.
    I waited a minute, pacing around the break room. Another minute passed.
    Out in the hallway, a door closed quietly, and I could hear footsteps padding quickly toward the exit to the salon floor. Melvin was leaving, which meant I needed to get out to the front to talk to Derrick.
    Reluctantly, I put the phone back in my purse, but just as I was turning, I heard it vibrate