1. Nash
At nine am Saturday morning, I grudgingly walk into the dimly lit entrance of the Mellow Moments Spa. The name of the place alone threatens to send me into an allergic reaction.
My mother, in her infinite wisdom and persistent nagging, booked this massage as my birthday present, insisting I need to "relax." She tends to forget I’m a divorce attorney whose life is eternally tangled in other people's shattered vows. In the end, I figured it was better to endure an hour of sanctioned touching than to listen to my mother's lecture about not appreciating her kind gesture.
The atmosphere assaults my senses the moment I step inside. The mingled scents of eucalyptus and lavender, a concoction designed to lull the masses into serenity, fill the air. To me, it's like walking through a greenhouse at a yoga retreat. The hypnotic blend of flutes and chirping birds playing quietly in the background does very little to soothe me.
Striding in, I cast a quick glance at my watch and see I’m right on time. An hour of this, then I’m off to the office, back to the comforting chaos of infidelity and custody battles.
Just when I’m considering ditching this whole charade and making a dash for the exit, a massive figure fills the hallway. This guy looks like he moonlights as a sumo wrestler, with a gentle smile that somehow doesn’t fit his bear-like stature.
“Good morning,” he tells me. “Are you Mr. Hart?”
“I am.” I glance around uncomfortably, wondering if I’m the only person here. Fuck me. If this turns out to be a scam, I’m going to have a strongly worded complaint for my mother.
“Right this way.” He points down the long, darkened hallway. “Leni will be doing your massage in room three.” That relieves me a little bit. Unless “Leni” turns out to be another sumo wrestler wannabe. He leads me into a room, gives me instructions in a voice so soothing it would be effective in de-escalating a hostage situation, and exits, leaving me to contemplate nature's cruel joke. Seriously, I hope he's not my masseuse. Not at all relaxing and definitely potentially fatal.
The softly lit room is awash with flickering candlelight that dances across the walls. The massage table sits like an altar in the middle, surrounded by an aura of tranquility I’m stubbornly immune to. I strip off my polo and jeans with the enthusiasm of a man facing a firing squad and tentatively lay on the table, adjusting the towel so it offers some semblance of modesty.
I sink into the surprisingly soft surface, face pressing into the cradle. The room’s warmth hugs me, each whiff of eucalyptus and lavender smothering my resistance. Begrudgingly, I allow the tension in my shoulders to ease just a fraction.
As the music weaves through the air, I close my eyes, letting the sound trickle into the fortresses of my mind. In this serene jungle, I’m momentarily detached from the whirlwind of legal drama consuming my everyday life. When the door swings open quietly, I don’t bother lifting my head.
Her soft, sultry voice flows over me like melted honey on warm toast. “I’m Leni, I’ll be taking care of you today.” Holy hell, my brain short-circuits. I lift my head, and my breath catches.
Standing framed in the gentle glow of the dimmed lights is the most breathtaking woman I have ever seen. My heart does a little flip in my chest before resuming in a crazy rhythm.
She’s short and curvy in all the right places. Fuck. It’s like she was designed by some divine architect just for me. There's a playful charm to her heart-shaped face, accented by a sprinkle of freckles dancing across her nose and cheeks.
Her emerald green eyes hold mine captive as my cynical facade cracks, and I feel like a hapless fool gazing at the stars for the first time. Warning sirens blast through my brain, but I’m too entranced to care. This isn’t just any random distraction. She’s my goddamn future.
She steps closer, her movements fluid and confident. “Are you ready for your massage?” she asks, her voice a soft melody I could easily listen to on repeat.
“Yeah,” I manage. Is that a croak? Smooth, Nash, real smooth. I clear my throat, trying to regain some semblance of control, but I know I’m not pulling it off. “I’m ready.”
As she approaches, tension I wasn’t even aware of begins to melt away. Her infectious smile obliterates my usual skepticism. For a guy who spends most of his days dissecting the wreckage of other people’s love lives, I didn’t ever expect to feel this jolt of… desire? No, that’s too goddamn tame. I can’t put a name on what I’m feeling, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Sheer disbelief that such a gorgeous creature exists in the same world flows through me.
She glances at the dim lights overhead, then back at me, and there’s mischief glinting in her eyes. “Relax.” There's a teasing lilt to her words, and hell if that doesn’t make my heart kick into overdrive.
I chuckle awkwardly, kicking myself internally for acting like some blubbering idiot. “This is relaxed for me.”
Her laughter bubbles forth, warming my soul from the inside out. “We’ll have to work on that,” she replies, leaning in slightly, and I can’t help but notice the way her hair shines, the reflection catching the ambient light. “Relaxation is vital.”
“Just… go easy on me, alright?” I say, half-joking, half-hoping she’ll be the answer to all the madness in my life. As she positions herself at the side of the table with her hands poised, I feel that same surge of electricity pulsating through the air. It isn’t just physical. And it’s goddamn scary as hell.
“Oh, trust me, you’re in good hands,” she replies, and I swear there's a hint of challenge behind those words. Something in her eyes tells me she sees right through the rough exterior I’ve built, and for the first time in my life, I consider letting someone in.
Her firm, gentle strokes send electricity flowing along my nerve endings. Fuck. I’m in trouble. When she leans close and her warm breath brushes against the back of my neck, my heart nearly pounds out of my chest. My eyes cross as my cock grows painfully hard, trapped between my body and the fucking massage table.
I’m going to make sure Leni feels the same way. If I survive the goddamn massage.