CHAPTER THREE
Everly
W aking the next morning, I slam my hand down on my alarm clock to stop the alarm blaring. Ugh! Didn’t I just go to bed? My tired eyes finally focus and see that it’s eight fifteen. Why did I have to wake up? I was having the dream of a lifetime about meeting a guy and making out in a car. Wait…
Quickly sitting straight up in bed, I look around the room. It DID happen. A smile graces my exhausted face, thinking about how last night played out.
Lincoln.
My second alarm goes off, this time from my phone, alerting me to get my butt moving or I’ll be late.
Begrudgingly, I slip out from the warm comfort of my bed and into the small bathroom of my one-bedroom apartment.
The pricing in LA for a place to live is outrageous but to be in a safe area you have to pay for safety.
It’s not much but it’s been mine to call home for the last three years.
Saylor, my best friend, lives down the hall in a spacious two-bedroom apartment.
Her grandparents were planning to buy her a new home in a gated community up in the hills but she’s been protesting against it.
She doesn’t want to be that far away from the clubs, bar and action, as she puts it.
Saylor thinks this is our time to shine, be young and free and to sow our wild oats.
She also doesn’t work at the spa but owns her own bakery.
She’s been open for almost a year and has had such great success so far.
She’s truly gifted in creating sweet treats that everyone drools over.
We’ve been best friends since I was ten and she was twelve years old.
Our dads were in the Navy together and we lived next door to each other on base.
Our friendship was instant from the start and she would always defend me against the older bullies.
We tried living together at the beginning but I quickly learned that I needed my own space.
Saylor can be on the messy side, after always having had someone to come and clean up after her.
Me on the other hand, I’ve always tried to keep myself and living quarters tidy and manageable.
Hopping into the shower, I let the hot water wake my lazy body to be able to function for my half day of work.
The thought of Lincoln calling me later has me hurrying through my routine so that my day can start then be over quickly.
Once shaved to perfection, I go in search of my work uniform, which usually consists of a tight, thin white blouse along with tight black dress pants that hug you snuggly across every inch of your body.
On weekends, like today, we are to wear a pair of tight short black hot pants with black killer heels.
It shows off more skin than I prefer but the tips from the men are a nice balance, I guess.
I give myself one last look in the mirror by the door, making sure my hair has the right amount of bounce and curl. Heading down the elevator, I can’t help but check my phone to make sure I’ve got enough battery life to last me throughout the day.
Don’t get your hopes up Everly, he might not call. My cynical self rears its ugly head.
Allure Spa and Wellness is a large two-story modern building in the premiere area of Hollywood Boulevard.
Everyone who’s anyone comes here to get pampered.
Our clientele list hosts an array of people through all the upper-class socialites from actors, directors to musicians, songwriters to bankers, businessmen and so forth.
Our prices are amongst the most expensive but people come from all over just to say they’ve had treatments here.
“Hey girl,” Lisa, our receptionist, greets after I place all my things in my locker in the staff quarters.
“Good morning Lisa, how was your evening?”
“Wonderful, as usual. Frankie and I curled up on the sofa and watched a thriller movie.” She beams when talking about her cat. Everyone here calls her the cat lady but I think she’s just been tainted by too many bad relationships.
“That’s great. How’s the schedule look today?” I ask, coming around the desk to print out my day so that I can keep a copy with me.
“Well,” She pauses for a moment then gasps. “It looks like all four of your clients have been reassigned.”
“What!” I hiss in the quiet lobby.
“It shows that someone moved your people and you’ve got one person who’s going to fill up those four hours.”
I practically shove her out of the way to get a better look at the screen. I might be little but I can pack a punch when necessary.
“I don’t understand? Why would anyone want a four-hour massage?”
“Could be an athlete that has a lot of tension needing to be worked out.” Lisa shrugs and checks in a guest, who’s waiting to be signed in.
“You better hurry, they checked in ten minutes ago. It says they specifically asked for you.” She playfully shoves me back out of the way and begins typing on the computer.
Great. Just great. I usually get a break in between clients but this person is going to give my hands and fingers cramps if I’m working on them the entire time.
My room is number nine down the long hallway of the treatment rooms. Our clients each have their own individual rooms with a locker, which is basically a waiting room until we’re ready for them to come in.
The treatment room is colored in calming dark gray-blue colors.
I’ve got a water feature in the corner, with lit vanilla candles, and soft cords of music playing over the speakers.
Once I make sure everything is in order with the sheets and my lotion, I knock on the waiting room door for my client to come through. The door opens and I’m shocked to see who’s standing on the other side, in a white robe and flip flops.
“Lincoln? What…what are you doing here?” I can’t believe he’s here, standing in front of me.
“I asked for a demonstration last night, remember?” he says like we had this planned from the start.
“Yes, but I didn’t think you’d get an appointment right away. You do know that by blocking off four hours, you’re going to be paying thousands of dollars, right?” I inform him. “I could’ve done this for free at my place if you’d have waited.”
“But then I wouldn’t get to see you in your element.”
“This is crazy,” I mumble. “Come lie down, let’s get you started.”
I walk over to the cabinet and grab a bottle of my favorite lotion. We have different types of oils and lotions depending on what the client likes; some have allergies so we have to have a variety that caters to all.
“Should I be on my stomach or back?” Lincoln asks as I’m still facing away from him.
Turning with the bottle in my hands, I almost drop it on the wooden plank floor. Like playing a game of toss ball, it takes me three attempts to secure the bottle as I try to avoid eye contact with him.
There standing next to the table in all of his ripe and wonderful glory, is Lincoln.
Naked as the day he was born, sans robe and sandals.
He’s tall, maybe six-two or three, with a body to die for.
An Adonis. He’s chiseled in all the right areas with an eight pack.
My tongue would love nothing more than to dive right in those hills and valleys on display.
He obviously takes pride in his body and the perfect v at the bottom of his stomach points directly to his large, oversized…
“Everly?” I can hear the mirth behind my name and it snaps me out of my daze.
“Huh?” My eyes slowly follow back up to his face.
“Back or stomach?” He grins, knowing the state he’s just put me in.
Shaking my head, I cast my eyes down to the floor to get myself under control. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a naked man on my table, but this certainly is the first time I’ve ever lusted for a man about to get on my table.
“Sto—stomach.” Good lord, this is going to be the longest four hours of my life and I’m just praying I can leave here with my virginity in tack.
He thankfully lifts the sheet and settles on the table facing down.
Starting with his feet, I decide that area will give me a chance to get myself back in order and calm down before the hard part comes and I have to flip him over.
His soft moans aren’t doing anything to calm the heat in the room and I think about turning up the a/c to cool things off.
For some reason, I’m feeling a heatwave flowing through the room.
Lincoln starts to groan, as my fingers dig into the arch of his foot, and I swear I break out in a sweat. This is a bad idea. A very bad idea.
“Is there a specific place you want me to touch?” I babble on not really thinking before speaking.
Lincoln pops his head up, turning to face me.
“Oh, there are several places. I didn’t realize happy endings were on the menu.” He smirks and lets out a breathy chuckle.
Releasing his foot like it was a hot potato, I straighten up, placing both hands on my hips.
“That is NEVER on the menu,” I forcefully say, aggravated that he would think that was something I did.
Lincoln clearly notices the change in me and shoots up from the table. I try my hardest to not look at his member, but definitely catch a glimpse of it as he tries to reach over to me. The grim look on his face tells me all I need to know.
“That was a poor attempt at a joke. Sorry if it offended you. I guess you bring out the immature teenager in me and I forget myself and my brain. Please forget I even said anything.”
I know he didn’t mean any harm. Hell, he’s not the first one to ask about happy endings and I’m sure he won’t be the last.
Quirking an eyebrow, I playfully shake my finger up at him.
“Don’t do it again or I’ll have Bubba come in to show you all about happy endings.” I’m grinning by the end of my sentence and we both laugh.
“Bubba? Really?”
“He’s our security guy who watches the monitors and walks around the building.” I shrug.
Waving back towards the table, Lincoln turns and I watch his muscled butt retreat back to his spot on the table.
“I meant, do you have any areas that need more attention than others? Like your shoulders or lower back?” I resume my attention on his arch then switch to the other one.
He groans as he tells me his shoulders could use a little work then says, “You’re really good at this,” His voice is muffled as he’s face down.
“Thanks, I’ve had years of practice.”
Lincoln goes silent for a while as I make my way up his toned body.
Every inch of this man is like a gift from God.
He obviously takes pride in his workouts and what he eats.
If you could create a perfectly sculpted body, this man right here would be the recipient of it.
I can only imagine what his parents must look like.
The farther up his body I get, the more vocal he seems to be.
The grunts, moans and groans have me checking the clock to see if our time is any closer to being done.
I’m sweating up a storm and I’m finding it hard to keep my own moans to myself.
My bottom lip is going to have a hole through it, as I keep clamping down on it to stop him from hearing me and my wayward thoughts.
“How do you feel so far?” I ask the usual question I ask all my clients.
“Fucking amazing,” he murmurs.
Now comes my biggest challenge.
“Ready to turn over?”
“God, yes!” He almost falls off the table switching sides.
I’m not sure why he is so relieved until I see the very large tent pitching the sheet up in his mid-section.
“Oh,” I can’t stop the words from slipping through my lips.
“Ignore him if you can.” I can hear the smile on his face but can’t stop looking at his bulge.
I quickly turn my back to him, trying to calm myself and give me a few seconds to get my professional-self back in order. I know if he saw my face, he’d be able to tell just what I’m thinking.
“Would you like an eye mask? Some like to have them on when they’re turned over to the back.”
“Naw, I think I’d like to watch the master at work.” He winks and my stomach does a flip.
How can one little gesture make me as nervous as a dog going in for a visit to the vet? Why do I feel like I have something to prove to this man? A man I only met twenty-four hours ago.
“So, Linc, what law firm do you practice at?” I ask but don’t look up from his shins as I knead them with my fingers. I need to focus on the task at hand or I’ll be distracted by other things going on with this handsome man on my table.
After a few groans he answers.
“Ahh, I work for myself at Thorne Law Firm. I started it about three years after completing law school. I did a few years as my father’s shadow before venturing off and doing my own thing. When Levi passed the bar, he came along and joined me and the team.”
Placing the sheet back over his lower leg, I move around the table and expose his other leg from under the thin fabric. I add more lotion on my hands and start to work above his ankle, giving him an excellent rub down.
“I like it.”
“What?” I stop my fingers from going any farther.
“Linc. You call me Linc instead of Lincoln. Everyone calls me by my full name and I’ve always wanted it that way until you said it last night.”
Thank God, I thought I might have said one of the several other names I’ve got rolling around my head at the moment. None of which are appropriate, and I’m sure my heated cheeks are giving it away.
As the minutes pass, I work my way up to his thigh.
He’s a lot more tense in these muscles as I try to focus on relaxing him and not on the large tent in the sheet that my hands are so close to.
It continues to twitch as my own body flushes with heat.
The thought of me being able to bring a man like him to this state boosts my confidence that I’m able to please a man.
“Are you okay?” I ask as he fidgets under my fingers.
“Ah,” Linc doesn’t say anymore but when I look up for more of an answer, he’s staring straight at me with a look in his eyes. My eyes tune in and I’m lost. His blue eyes are a shade darker.
Linc’s hands are holding onto the sides of the table as if they are a life raft in the middle of the ocean.
“Linc?”
“Stop. Touching. Me,” his voice grits out and I’m taken aback and immediately take a step back.
Did I just cross a line?