Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
MABEL
Oh. My. God.
My heart races as I stare at the floor through the peep hole. A million thoughts and scenarios run through my mind all at once. Did that really just happen?
Or is my overheated imagination playing tricks on me now?
His hands come to my shoulders and he begins to knead them between his hands, I close my eyes and get a vision of leaning up, undoing his pants and taking him into my mouth…. Put us both out of this misery.
I wonder how he tastes….
His breathing is ragged as if he’s barely hanging on to control, maybe it’s not just a me thing then.
If he asks me to roll over onto my back and I have to look him in the eye, it’s all over because there is no freaking way I can keep my legs together with his oiled-up hands touching me knowing what he has going on under those pants.
No woman is that strong.
I can see the headlines now: Sued for sexual harassment by her male masseur. Nope, that’s not happening. Not now, not ever.
Focus.
My panicked internal risk assessment is interrupted by the sound of his sexy voice. “Would you like to roll over, Miss Harrington?”
Would I ever?
“Can we just….” I try to collect my thoughts so I can at least sound coherent. “Work on my back today?”
“You don’t want your front rubbed?”
I bite my lip to hide my smile, this is getting comical. “Not today.”
“We’ll save that for next week then, shall we?”
Or not.
“Uh-huh,” I grit out.
ANDREW
My hands glide up the muscular thighs, she’s tanned and smooth. Her legs are slightly parted and I can see the shape of her lips through her underwear. She’s hairless, smooth and…. I get a vision of slipping my fingers beneath her white panties and massaging her for real.
She’d be so fucking hot around my cock.
Sweat beads on my brow as I battle my base needs.
Fuck.
I’ve never been this hard for someone in my life, it’s becoming painful, I glance at my watch.
Fifteen more minutes…and then I can get the hell out of here before I do something I’ll regret.
My mind goes back to my first visit here when Digby told me that they book her as a he to ward off predatory behavior, I get it now.
This woman is Aphrodite herself, the sexual energy radiating from her body is so powerful. The need to bury myself deep inside of her is out of control.
Primal.
This is just typical, the first person I’m insanely attracted to…is way out of my league. I’m a masseur, I wouldn’t even be on her damn radar. No, this woman would run with high society, billionaires and celebrities.
They couldn’t make her come as hard as I could.
My hands run down her back and her panties move as if she’s clenching.
Fuck.
Me.
I physically have to stop my hand from sliding in to find out if she’s creamy and wet. This is unbearable.
With my forearm, I wipe the sweat from my brow and glance at my watch.
Five minutes…just five more minutes.
My cock is painful, throbbing for attention, and damn it, I won’t even make it home. I’m going to jerk off as soon as I get down to my car.
Hard.
Or I could just…. I get a vision of dipping my head down between her legs for a little taste…. My mouth salivates at the thought, I bet she’d be so sweet.
Stop.
Women like Mabel Harrington don’t get down and dirty with the hired help. The fact that she’s trusting me in her home to do a clinical massage and I’m here imagining all the ways I could make her come…ride her so fucking hard that…. I shake my head, disgusted in myself.
That’s it, I can’t come back here. I can’t be trusted.
I step back from the table. “How was that?”
“Wonderful.” Her voice is husky and sexual, I can almost hear it up against my ear as she clings to me, I turn away from her in a rush.
Leave. Now.
“I’ll leave you alone to dress,” I mutter, distracted.
“Thank you.”
I rush from the room and down the corridor and stumble into the bathroom, I drag my pants down, close my fingers around my painfully engorged cock and immediately blow.
I jerk it hard and put my hand on the wall to hold myself up as silent ecstasy washes over me.
My breath quivers as I try to keep quiet and perspiration dusts my skin.
My eyes close.
I ride my hand as I imagine it’s her mouth…and damn it, even just as a nearly, she’s fucking incredible.
Ten minutes later, I wash my hands and splash my face as I try to fix my disheveled state in the mirror, my face is flushed and my hair is wild.
I need to get out of here.
With a long steely breath I brace myself, I open the door and walk out to see Digby waiting in the great room. “Hello.” He nods, his eyes drop to my toes and back up to my face as he judges me, well there’s no need to, Digby, I’m judging myself enough for the two of us.
“Miss Harrington has retired for the night,” he tells me. “She asked me to show you out.”
Of course she did.
“Thank you.” I get to packing my things up in a hurried panic, I throw the towels into the bag without folding them and slam the bed to its side so I can fold it away.
I get a picture of her upstairs, horrified, did she hear me in the bathroom? I rush faster.
Get the hell out of here.
I stuff my massage table into its bag and throw the strap over my shoulder.
“Thank you.” He walks me to the waiting elevator and I get in and face the doors as they close behind me.
Once alone, I drag my hand down my face and slump against the wall, relieved that it’s over, mortified all over again.
God.
What a fucking nightmare, I haven’t lost control like that since I was a fourteen-year-old kid. The doors open to the grand foyer and I glance down to see bare feet and the blood drains from my face.
No.
I did not just do that….
What?
I left my shoes up there, I glance at the elevator buttons as sheer terror runs through me, what the fuck are you doing, you idiot? I imagine her finding my shoes in the morning. Oh. My. God.
Should I go back up?
And say what…. Your boss is so hot that she has me wanking in the bathroom and completely brain dead?
I march through the foyer to the parking lot elevators with my tail firmly between my legs. It’s not like I’m coming back here ever again anyway.
Keep the damn shoes.
MABEL
“Your table is this way.” The waiter smiles and holds his hand out to gesture to one of the front tables.
“Thank you.”
A charity function is the very last thing I feel like but as a major sponsor for the event I couldn’t back out. He pulls out my chair. “Thank you.” I glance around the table at everyone already seated, “Hello.” I shake their hands, I know everyone here, the same old CEOs come to every event.
Pia, my dear friend and GM of our company, is seated beside me. “Hi.” She smiles as she raises her glass of wine.
“Started already?” I pick my glass up.
She gestures with her chin to the two empty chairs beside her.
I frown in question.
“Guess who’s been traded in?” she mouths.
“Hello.” a voice interrupts from behind us, we turn to see Enid Foster approaching.
“Hello, Enid.” I stand and give her a hug, Enid is the owner of Mergamind, a competing software company, and unlike the other cutthroat competitors we have, she and I have a loyalty to each other.
Both women in our forties, both CEOs of our own start-ups.
Successful, and neither of us have ever married or had children.
Nor have we ever wanted to.
There aren’t many of us in the world, our likeness and workaholic ways have formed an unbreakable bond. We get each other like nobody else does.
While we never discuss business semantics because we’re competitors, we are each other’s sounding boards.
Due to conflicting travel schedules we may not speak for months, and then at other times we may speak a few times a week.
Our friendship is free, without boundaries or expectation, and that in itself for a busy person is a huge blessing.
“Hello, lovely Pia.” She hugs her too. “How are you, darling?”
“Did you see?” Pia smirks.
“Oh my god, I did.” Enid rolls her eyes. “Honestly, it’s just becoming embarrassing now.”
“What is?” I look between the two of them.
“Three o’clock at the bar.” Enid sips her champagne. “Subtle.”
I casually turn to where they have directed and see Mason Cartright with a young blonde. “What am I looking at?”
“Mason traded down,” Pia whispers. “Again.”
“What?” I frown as I glance back to the pair.
“Seriously, these men are so stupid,” Enid whispers. “She’s young enough to be his daughter.”
For years we’ve watched the successful men around us trade in their beautiful wives. Women who’ve been with them from the very beginning are dropped for much younger women who have an agenda, with dollar and status signs in their eyes.
I sip my drink as I listen to them gossip.
“Apparently she was his personal trainer.”
“What would a personal trainer want with that old fat fool?”
“Let me guess, the attraction between them was too strong to ignore,” Enid mutters,
They keep chatting as my mind wanders off on a tangent to my recent unexpected attraction.
Andrew.
I’ve never had anything in common with these stupid men before, but there I was all night wondering how old my masseur is and how he’d feel on top of me.
“Please, the only attraction she has to him is his wallet and the paycheck waiting at the end of a two-year stint,” they continue.
“Can you imagine everyone knowing that a person is only with you for money?”
“A gorgeous woman like that could get anyone she wants and I guarantee it’s not him.”
“Please take your seats.” A voice sounds over the speaker and we all make our way to the table and eventually Mason sits down beside Pia. “Everyone, this is Tahni.” He introduces her to us all.
“Hello.” She smiles overenthusiastically.
“Hello,” we all reply and I can feel the silent judgment oozing from people’s souls.
They all know why she’s here and yet it’s just accepted.
As the table returns to their conversation I find myself watching the two of them together.
That will never be me.
ANDREW
The bar is busy and bustling and my eyes scan the room.
“You see anyone you like?” Trenton sips his beer as his eyes follow mine.
“Not yet,” I mutter, distracted.
“She’s nice,” Chip replies. “Blonde, blue dress.”
“No.” I keep looking. “I have a particular taste tonight.”
“For what?”
“Dark hair, older. Hot.”
“Older?” Chip frowns. “How old we talking?”
“I don’t know, forty something.”
“Since when are you into forty-year-olds?”
“Since I have this hot-as-fuck client that I can’t touch.”
“Why can’t you touch her? Is she married?”
“Probably.” I sip my beer. “Rich, gorgeous, and totally out of my league.”
“Yeah?” Chip smiles into his beer. “How hot?”
“Let’s put it this way, Wednesday night I gave her a massage and was so worked up that I couldn’t even make it to the car. I had to use her bathroom for some private happy time.”
“What the fuck?” Trenton gasps. “Isn’t that illegal or something?”
“That’s not even the worst part,” I continue.
“I was so rattled that I left without putting my shoes on and then somehow completely forgot and left them there.” I sip my beer as embarrassment runs through me.
“And now I can never go back because they one hundred percent know what I was doing in the bathroom.”
“Jesus Christ, how do you forget you have no shoes on.”
“Beats me.” My sight lands on a woman walking through the front doors, mid-forties, hot body and long dark hair.
“What about her?” Trenton says. “She fits the brief.”
“Hmm.” I sip my beer as my eyes linger on her legs, I imagine them up around my ears. “She’s not who I want.”
“Just squint your eyes and maybe she’ll do, at least until you turn the lights off.”
“I guess.” I stand, my eyes locked on to the target.
“What’s her name?”
“Who?”
“Your client?”
“You know I can’t tell you that?”
“Come on, who are we going to tell?”
“Later, boys.” I drain my beer and put the bottle down onto the table. “I have an itch to scratch.”